I step forward. The warrior who acts out of honor cannot fail. His duty is honor itself. Honor is a reward and there can be no failure, for it has come through duty. Emeric displayed great honor as he acted, therefore, and he will know no fear. So shall I stand before him and for him also for his actions were right giving a step forward and standing firmly in front of the Inquisitor The deeds of one bold warrior can alter the course of a battle. I have such men as my brothers besides me here and now, and our every deed changed the shape of how the outcome of this war will go. Like my brother has spoken are ways of engaging an enemy might vary from chapter to chapter but in the end we are brothers, we are Astartes and our honor is beyond question and doubt
"You need not lecture me on honor, Iron Snake."
"Your loyalty and deeds in aiding the Deathwatch in this mission, while they will never be recognized beyond these walls, are understood and appreciated by all in this chamber. However, your exposure to the knowledge contained in the Magos' missive complicates matters. I, as all here, mourn for the noble sacrifice of your chapter-brethren on Tantalus. It has been decreed by the Deathwatch and the Ordos that for now, you are to be counted among the Iron Snakes' dead. You will be seconded to the Deathwatch, and Kill-team Umbra specifically from this moment forward."
Her gaze speaks volumes, a telling look that suggests what a refusal may mean.
"Do you understand, Brother Decius? If so, your training will begin immediately under the auspices of your new brothers."
"Inquisitor, by "pursue this investigation further", do you mean to say that we have another mission?"
"Just so we are clear on the matter."
I listen to Quist's tongue lashing. Is it Pride or Ignorance that makes her think only the Inquistion keeps secrets? Like her, Libarians are the keepers of lore that stay hidden til the knowledge needs to be revealed. Dark Angels have more secrets than most. If she wasn't part of the Ordo's I would correct her of such an error in thinking. Yet all I want is for this meeting to be over, and distance myself from this over zealous offical. To speak now would only draw her attention, and ask questions. Some of which I am unwilling to answer. All I want to do is be left alone.
As for the Iron Snake joining the Kill Team. I have mixed feelings. I am sure Brother Hrothgar will be happy...
Inquisitor Quist turns to the Space Wolf, her eyes lingering upon Brother Vex for a fleeting second before moving on, as if sensing the Dark Angel's thoughts.
"Yes, in time, Brother Hrothgar. I must first confer with the Inquisitor of the Chamber and apprise her of this debriefing. In the interim you and the rest of Kill-team Umbra will be provided with ample time to recover and prepare for your next mission."
Then there are somethings I must do and send my thing back to my chapter so they are passed down to another future Iron Snake that is worthy of wielding them
"I am Astartes. Know I will always do my duty. Threats from you or your master do nothing to change this."
What have I learned Inquisitor Quist? I learned that I need be wary of you and your Ordos.
Seeing things falling apart rapidly, and putting undue stress on the relationship between the Astrates, and the Holy Ordos I decide to intervene. Its perilous to make an Inquisitor your enemy. Even a young one.
"Inquisitor, perhaps it would be best for us to reconvene this debriefing at a later time? The blood of battle still pumps swiftly through our veins and the psychic onslaught we opposed has made our tongues sharp, and our tact thin."
Gesturing to the entire group including Quist.
"All of us have been under tremendous pressure to ensure the success of this mission. Let us continue our discourse when boths sides are calmer?"
Inquisitor Quist turns to the Space Wolf, her eyes lingering upon Brother Vex for a fleeting second before moving on, as if sensing the Dark Angel's thoughts.
"Yes, in time, Brother Hrothgar. I must first confer with the Inquisitor of the Chamber and apprise her of this debriefing. In the interim you and the rest of Kill-team Umbra will be provided with ample time to recover and prepare for your next mission."
Hrothgar seems crestfallen but accepts the inquisitor's words and salutes, "We live to serve. For Russ and the Allfather."
Inquisitor Quist finally, after what seems like an eternity, averts her gaze from Brother Emeric, her eyes then falling on Brother Vex, albeit briefly.
"Brother Vex speaks truly and with wisdom. I believe this debriefing has been sufficient to the Inquisition's needs for the present time. You may return to the Watch Fortress proper, Astartes."
"Thank you Inquisitor"
I stand up from my seat, and place my hand on Emeric's shoulder to prompt him to follow suit. I'm sure my interference in there dispute will come back to haunt me later.
Can I have a word with you Librarian Vex? with a bit of concern in my words I have some questions that might be in your jurisdiction to answer, for those things are better known to you mastars of knowledge
"Certainly."
I motion for Brother Decius to follow me to a more discreet place to hold a conversation.
When we are in a more discreet place Brother Vex, if I may ask of you for advice in such matters with still some doubts in his voice Well when we were heading towards the wreckage to make our last stand, I had a vision of great Leviathan.. pausing for a moment It reminded me fo the great sea serpents we have in Ithaka, it was a long moment to me but in real time it might have been merely seconds silent for another moment in deep thinking I do not know why I had such vision, never had that happen to me before so I just was thinking it was some sort of omen of what it was to come
"All of us have been under tremendous pressure to ensure the success of this mission. Let us continue our discourse when boths sides are calmer?"
Although my last words were a simple statement of fact, the Librarian makes a valid point about adjournment. I cannot help if the Inquisitor is squeamish about matters Astartes or Mechanicum. She rattles her saber out of fear.
I stand up from my seat, and place my hand on Emeric's shoulder to prompt him to follow suit.
I do not move when I feel the gauntleted hand of the Librarian on my shoulder. Yet I feel revulsion, abhorrence: Witch! The hand that channels warpcraft touches me! I give a simple grunt of acknowledgment and rise.
As I stride from the sanctum I reflect on the Kill-Team's debriefing. Would the Inquisitor actually attempt to mete out her version of justice upon me? If so then what the Librarian did, he did on my behalf. How can this be? First the Hive Tyrant and now the Inquisitor... Preservation and intercession! My prior revulsion is replaced by... what?
I do not like this line of cogitation. Passing through the chamber's bulkhead I instead use my data-bank to access schematics of a standard Astartes bolt-pistol.
I am silent for a long moment as I consider Decius's words.
"Divination is a fickle thing. Often open to debate, and interpetation. It can take many years of study to determine if it was a foreshadowing of the Hive Tyrant we faced, or something greater looming over the horizon. This will be found out in time with diligence, and record keeping. I will be important for you to keep a journal of these visions, or any instances of deja vu."
"My main concern is with the grief over the loss of your Battle Brothers may have awakened your inner mind. You must be tested to see if this is the case. If so you must be trained immediately to shield your thoughts. For there are many malign beings that would do much to try and subvert the loyalities on an Astrates."
I have a look of concern and sympathy in my eyes.
The Emperor protects! as I draw in thin air the aquila with my hands with some concern I will keep a record of such things if they ever happen again with some grim and concern when I say the words again and a face of hoping it doesn't. Thank you for your wise counsel and words, I do must face the ghost of my fallen phratery and show them that I'm worthy of surviving by purging the Tyranid filth almost spitting the words when saying tyranids.
"Then by your leave I will speak to the other Librarians of the Watch Station. You will be descreetly tested to see if you have any latent psychic talent. Exspecially in the field of Divination. If so we will teach you the rites to ward your mind from predation. If not... Then your notes need to be as complete as possible about these visions."
"As I would need to do extensive research."
"Is there anything else you would ask of me?"
As you command brother Vex nodding like accepting an order I must go train to improve, pray excuse me and thank you for giving me some of your time taking my leave ot go find my dreaded friend and rival Hrothgar to challenge him to another round of tests to see who wins, to distract my mind from this subject.
I nod as Brother Decius takes his leave.
Knowing full well the perils of what lies in the warp, and the possibility of xenos manipulation. I seek out the Watch Stations Master Libarian for futher council. Siding on caution to protect the soul of a Brother Astrates.
Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, Briefing Sanctum Umbra
242.817.M41
Hour 15 System Sidereal Time
Brother Quintus intones a quiet, grateful prayer of thanks to the Primarch under his breath for Brother Vex's unexpected intervention during the strained conclusion to the debriefing. Dismissed, the others depart the Kill-team's briefing sanctum, but as the Ultramarine rises, the Inquisitor waves her slender hand in a subtle but still imperious gesture, bidding him to remain seated. She never raises her eyes from the glossy black glass of her data slate, her straight, iron-gray hair hanging over her augmetic eye so that only a pinprick of red light is visible behind the thick strands.
She waits until your brothers are well and truly gone before she deigns to speak.
"You are to be commended, Brother Quintus, the mission was in all respects a success. The challenge of your first command for the Deathwatch was a daunting one, but you exceeded my every expectation. For all Brother Emeric's apparent agitation at my censure, I can bare him no ill will, as he performed his role to perfection, as I surmised he would when assembling this Kill-team. I presume the Magos will deign to speak to him when he has...recovered from his ordeal...I will make no move to oppose this, as even the Inquisition's authority has its limitations with regard to the servants of the Machine God. If he seeks your counsel in this, grant his request. There may be more to learn from Magos Vyakai."
She meets your eyes.
"I am not one to lavish praise unnecessarily; the Throne teaches us that such indulgences can only breed overconfidence, hubris, and in the end, weakness. The strongest sword is that which is tempered in the hottest crucible. Even so, it must eventually be quenched if it is to be wielded at all."
Inquisitor Quist nods toward the data slate.
"We now share a secret that must never pass the lips of those that were in this room a moment ago. It is my expectation that you keep it this way, for yourself and for all of your brethren. I am certain I need not explain why the Iron Snake will have his secondment sealed under Inquisitorial writ, nor why I must withhold the truth of his survival to his chapter, a lie that troubles even my conscience. Wherever the revelations in the Magos' missive may lead, your team will ultimately be responsible for assuring that the interests of the Throne and the Crusade are protected and served."
The inquisitor sets the 'slate down and lays her hands flat upon the glossy black basalt of the table.
"Kill-team Umbra has my utmost confidence, Brother Quintus. Forging this 'sword', it is a shared duty, a burden we all must bear. Never forget this, even during the pains of its tempering."
"If you have no further questions of me, you are dismissed. I have my own report to make, and the ire of my mistress to face. Pray to your honored primarch for all our sakes that I emerge with only a tongue-lashing as well."
"No questons, Inquisitor Quist. Whomever leads the next mission will do well, such is the nature of Deathwatch. A weapon must be tempered. We are the Emperor's weapon, attached to your Ordos, so we are your weapon to use as necessary."
Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, The Tomb of Saint Enoch the Thrice-Martyred
242.817.M41
Hour 19 System Sidereal Time
The chapel is cold, empty of life, devoid of anything save the sound of the Black Templar's quiet respirations. The evening vespers of the chapter serfs have long since concluded, and the isolated shrine to Saint Enoch the Thrice-Martyred is far enough removed from the more populous levels of the Watch Fortress to serve its present purpose. Even with several hours intervening, and a lengthy vigil of prayer and castigation just now concluded, such an unexpected display of emotion as elicited from him by the Inquisitor troubles the techmarine. He cannot help but consider it a failing, a sin against both pillars of his dual faith. Compounded by the Librarian's inscrutable act of selfless camaraderie Emeric sought solace here to properly order his mind once again.
The simple, polished brass cataflaque in the center of the chapel holds the bony remains of the long-dead techmarine, a Templar, like himself, and a servant of innumerable vigils in the service of the Deathwatch. The sainted one's resting place draws his eye once again, a touchstone to meditate upon. Were he only able to hear the wisdom of Saint Enoch himself, perhaps his own dilemma would make more sense.
Just then, a deep voice speaks from immediately behind Brother Emeric's stone pew, no one was there just a moment ago.
"What vexes you, my brother?"
Enough sense of what is humorous remains in Brother Emeric's cogitator-enhanced mind that he cannot help but smile at the battle-brother's ironic choice of words.
Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, Briefing Sanctum Umbra
242.817.M41
Hour 15 System Sidereal Time
"No questions, Inquisitor Quist. Whomever leads the next mission will do well, such is the nature of Deathwatch. A weapon must be tempered. We are the Emperor's weapon, attached to your Ordos, so we are your weapon to use as necessary."
As the Inquisitor rises, her lips approximate a grim grin.
"I could not have said it better myself, honored Astartes, it is the reason that Inquisitor Carmillus selected the members of your Kill-team. You are all leaders, whether you know it or not yet. When the time comes, you will all know whose hands will be the proper ones to hold the sword."
She turns on the heel of her skull-shaped boots and takes her leave, footfalls echoing down the corridor that leads toward the Citadel of Brass proper. Her voice resonates in the echoing expanse of the shadowy briefing sanctum.
"The Emperor Protects, Brother Quintus."
Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, Deck 12 Apothecarium Quarantine Hospice
244.817.M41
Hour 6 System Sidereal Time
The room is spartan and cold, the medicae bed utilitarian and draped in stark white sheets that in other settings could be shrouds, but such are the preferred environs of the Astartes, who forsake comfort even when recovering from injuries as grievous as Brother Sepheren's.
His leg immobilized in an ancient, enameled stasis casket, the Blood Angel lowers his gaze to his naked chest, as if counting the ghosts of the scars painted across it.
"My wounds, in a sense, dishonor me. My vigil will be at an end before they will heal sufficiently for me to accompany you, my Deathwatch brothers, on our next mission. I suppose I should be grateful at least that I will return as Sanguinary Priest to my own brethren, free from the taint of the Devourer's touch. Still, I wonder sometimes if my true place was always here, another pale shade in this forlorn tomb of a station."
He sighs, staring at the mangled greave, painted Deathwatch black and adorned with the white skull of his home chapter company, the Sunderers of the 9th, 1st Squad. The jaded apothecary seems lost in thought for a time, before finally turning to meet the much younger Dark Angel's eyes.
"They will die."
The bleak set of his gaze is unsettling, even to Eli.
"Some, at least. No matter your skill, or faith, or ministrations. But I sense you know this already. We are in some ways alike, Brother Syne."
Kill-team Umbra's one-time apothecary looks upon his much-younger successor with a wistfulness for the youth he believe he never had.
"Are you truly ready, Eli?"
"The Emperor protects, Inquisitor Quist."
Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, Deck 12 Apothecarium Quarantine Hospice
244.817.M41
Hour 6 System Sidereal Time"Are you truly ready, Eli?"
"No one is truly ready, but I am prepared to do what is necessary, whatever comes."
Just then, a deep voice speaks from immediately behind Brother Emeric's stone pew, no one was there just a moment ago.
"What vexes you, my brother?"
"Saint Enoch. I have read his many glorious deeds. But I cannot help but wonder... Did he face internal struggles?"
I rise and turn to greet my interlocutor.
Hrothgar decides its time to seek the company of Wolves, the usual palaver of mead and boasting is long overdue.
Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, The Tomb of Saint Enoch the Thrice-Martyred
242.817.M41
Hour 19 System Sidereal Time
"Like our first Chapter Master, the High Marshall Sigismund, his crusade knew no end, lest it was his death. Saint Enoch served both our chapter and the Deathwatch with equal fervor, although some would say that his obsession with expunging the hereteks of Samech was a sin of pride. Still, many were the corrupted Magi who died upon his power-axe, the vindicator's voulge, Cruentus."
Turning around, Brother Emeric perceives the gleam of the chased silver etching of the Catechism of the Xenos on the pauldron of the marine speaking to him, his Deathwatch armor blacker than black in the gloom of the small, dusty chapel. His opposite pauldron bears the stern skull and cross of the Black Templars. Helmetless, the marine's scarred, wrinkle-limned face is dour and unremarkable, his eyes narrow and focused with fervent faith, alighting not upon Brother Emeric, but instead on the holy one's sarcophagus. His jaw is set and square, corded with tense muscle as if he favored chewing spent bolt shells to break his fast.
Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, Proving Ground 17-Blue
242.817.M41
Hour 21 System Sidereal Time
The bolter cracks, the gas-assisted recoil compensators in the Storm Warden's gauntlet dampening the comforting push of the weapon on his shoulder as he stares down the iron sight again. His eyes squinting as he snaps off another shot, the nine-hundred and ninety-third of his penance by Brother Caledonii's reckoning, is still echoing in his ears when he hears the soft, slippered footfalls of one of the chapter serfs behind him. Bearing a chain and leather bandolier, filled with additional bolter clips, he sets the heavy burden down on the munitions bench. The pale-faced young man watches in admiration at the grizzled Storm Warden's preternatural accuracy for a time, waiting until Caledonii is exchanging clips before clearing his throat, and speaking in a deferential voice.
"Lord Astartes, forgive me for interrupting your penance, but the Forge Master, Mac Zi Vin, has granted your request for an audience at his forge on the Foundry Level. I have been sent to escort you there, if that is your will."
Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, The Chantry of the Torn Angel
242.817.M41
Hour 22 System Sidereal Time
Brother Vex treads cautiously into the psy-warded Chantry of the Torn Angel, passing beneath one of the lancet arches ringing the circular room on all sides, and gazing in reverent awe at the fading frescoes of the chamber's namesake on the domed ceiling, a nameless, beatific, blindfolded female angel whose silver wings have been violently ripped away by a ringing circle of daemons. It almost seems as if her feathers float and dart of their own volition about a power-armored figure in the center of the chamber's smooth, marble floor. It takes the Dark Angel a moment or so to realize the feathers are in fact hundreds of silvered, teardrop-shaped knives that dance a whirling dance under the telekine attentions of the Deathwatch Librarian slowly rotating in the middle of the chantry.
Without so much as looking in Brother Vex's direction, Epistolary Axineton, originally of the White Consul's chapter, speaks in his brother-librarian's mind, his voice caustic, blunt and to the point.
"Why do you disturb me, Brother Vex?"
The knives continue to swirl in a hypnotic, synchronized pattern, and Brother Vex is reminded of the perfectly synchronized flight patterns of migratory birds. They begin to radiate further and further outward from their controller, orbiting point first, and cutting the air with rhythmic hissing sounds.
Replying back in kind with telepathy.
"There is an Iron Snake named Decius who has just been attached to my Kill Team. He came seeking council for a vision he had recieved. I have concerns that his mind has awakened under the stress's of the loss of his battle brothers, and the oppressive blanket of the hive mind. I wish to have him tested to see if this is so, and not mental fatigue. That his mind can be trained against the predations of the warp, and the xeno."
"Like our first Chapter Master, the High Marshall Sigismund, his crusade knew no end, lest it was his death. Saint Enoch served both our chapter and the Deathwatch with equal fervor, although some would say that his obsession with expunging the hereteks of Samech was a sin of pride. Still, many were the corrupted Magi who died upon his power-axe, the vindicator's voulge, Cruentus."
"Hail, Brother Richter. It is good to see a fellow Templar this evening."
I follow his gaze to the resting place of our departed Saint. "How goes your service for the Ordos?"
Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, Proving Ground 17-Blue
242.817.M41
Hour 21 System Sidereal Time
I pull my eyes from the target down range to look at what my hands have done automatically in reloading the bolter. I then shift my eyes to the serf in the same focused manner. After a second I shake my head and my eyes lose their hard penetrating focus and acquire a glint that goes along with the smile blossoming on my face. I raise my hand in a waiting gesture as I go through the rights of gratitude toward the machine spirits
and a promise to complete my penance once I am done with my talk with the Forge Master.
I turn to the serf and say "Lead on to your master, I hope he has news that is favorable to my request."
Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, The Chantry of the Torn Angel
242.817.M41
Hour 22 System Sidereal Time
"There is an Iron Snake named Decius who has just been attached to my Kill Team. He came seeking council for a vision he had recieved. I have concerns that his mind has awakened under the stress's of the loss of his battle brothers, and the oppressive blanket of the hive mind. I wish to have him tested to see if this is so, and not mental fatigue. That his mind can be trained against the predations of the warp, and the xeno."
Epistolary Axineton is not a handsome man, his face is lean with a sharply pointed jaw, his eyes narrow and severe beneath thick, beetle-black brows. Short-cropped, tonsured dark hair grows atop his steep brow, which is furrowed in either concentration or irritation at the Dark Angel's interruption. He speaks with an air of arrogance you have become accustomed to in your dealings with him. Despite his own recent secondment, he is greatly respected by your peers and possessed of power that dwarfs your own. He is renowned amongst both the White Consuls and the Deathwatch for his mastery of telepathy and lore relating to the Tyranid threat, while at the same time being reviled for his sneering pedantry.
"Lexicanium Vex, either your question is a rhetorical one meant to try my patience unnecessarily, or there is truly something of worth in your testimony to me on this matter. You know full well that there are but two fates for those of our ilk who show the touch of the Immaterium. Either the one of which you speak is a liability to both your Kill-team and the Deathwatch itself for this aberrant gift, or you truly believe he displays some measure of worth and possesses the potential for training. It is a simple matter of one or the other."
The hissing knives have collected you in their orbit as it widens to the edge of the chantry, their passage making the ringing candelabra's flames flicker with their passage.
"So then, do you come to doom this newcomer, as he deserves if unworthy, or is he a potential candidate?"
Still not looking directly at you, his eyebrow arches as he considers something you said, surmising that it might posit a third possibility.
"Your implication is that there is the touch of the Great Devourer's hive mind upon this awakening. I know you lately return from the Orpheus Salient, so, would you care to elaborate more expediently on just what has transpired, or is your goal to further waste my time with this entirely vague line of questioning?"
He finally looks you in the eye.
"I know you Dark Angels are covetous of your secrets."
Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, The Tomb of Saint Enoch the Thrice-Martyred
242.817.M41
Hour 19 System Sidereal Time
"Hail, Brother Richter. It is good to see a fellow Templar this evening."I follow his gaze to the resting place of our departed Saint. "How goes your service for the Ordos?"
"The sentiment is shared, Brother Emeric. I abide, such is my duty. The Great Crusade continues wherever it may bring me."
He paces past you, running one hand along the smooth stonework that tops the pews.
"I do not come to you with intention of exchanging pleasantries. I bring grave tidings from our chapter, and would have you hear them, as I have shared them with other Templars tasked to Watch Fortress Erioch."
Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, Refectory of the Spavined Skull
242.817.M41
Hour 18 System Sidereal Time
Were it not for the powerful Fenrisian spirits, Brother Hrothgar would long ago have succumbed to the brooding loneliness that pervades this spartan festhall. Despite his offers to his battle-brethren, it seems none of Kill-team Umbra has taken up his invitation for libations. Though sized for a company of Astartes, the refectory is empty save for him and the gray-skinned, lobotomized servitor that continually refills his tankard. A collection of long, scuffed, durasteel topped tables bounded by uncomfortable stone benches fill the long chamber. The only nods to any effort at decoration a candle-filled chandelier suspended from the deformed and cracked skull of a truly gargantuan specimen of Ork, pierced through with metal rods that look like nothing less than iron rebar liberated from hive construction pillars. For the fifth time in the last hour, he half-drunkenly wonders what confluence of bizarre and violent events could have contrived to bring the foul greenskin to such a state. He stares irritably at the limping servitor as it moves to refill his tankard again. The accursed thing sloshes and spills half of what it pours.
He is considering a spiteful punch that will put the pitiful thing out of its centuries-long misery, when to his surprise, another Space Wolf, clad in the night-black armor of the Deathwatch saunters into the cavernous dining hall, smirking cheekily, as if he himself had been imbibing somewhere just around the corner.
"So, I am not the only young pup cast to exile in this great haunted tomb of humorless xenos-killers, after all."
He is imposingly large, a full head taller than Hrothgar, his face scarred and tanned, curly black ringlets of hair hanging past his shoulders, braided and entwined around teeth of all shape and size. His eye are predatory, and his mouth puckish, still smiling and seemingly genuine in the friendliness of his greeting.
"Have you enough to share, brother?"
"I have no need or desire to waste your time Epistolary. I am simply relaying the facts as they were presented to me. As is ones duty."
I never take my eyes off Axineton. My gaze clear even though my eyes are concealed in the cowl of my chapter robes.
"I am here to petition for him to be tested. It is the councils decision if we need to toll the bell, close the book, and blow out the candle. Or welcome him, and formally begin his training."
While I appreciate his skill, and his rank. I care little for the fact that he flaunts these over brothers he is suppose to consider his equals. Arrogance leads to temptation. Temptation leads to folly. Folly to damnation.
"He had a vision of a great leviathan from his home world. I feel the symbolism and timing warrants further investigation. His skill in divination needs to be tested."
I match his gaze with my own.
"I have asked him to keep a log of any visions he remembers. I have read countless records of brothers having powers manifesting only when there minds were tested. The hive mind and the amount of synpase creatures encountered could certainly trigger..."
There were no Tyranids there. We only encountered Roge Halis......
"If you would excuse me Epistolary. I will leave you to consider my petition. I have questions I need answered in the Infirmary."
Perhaps the Apothecaries instruments can not find anything wrong with there scanners. But I wonder if I can sense the elements of the hive mind that have taken seed in any of the human survivors of Tantalus?
I bow respectfully and depart.
"Aye, brother, enough to share. But be warned: my thirst is great."
"I do not come to you with intention of exchanging pleasantries. I bring grave tidings from our chapter, and would have you hear them, as I have shared them with other Templars tasked to Watch Fortress Erioch."
Disconcerting. I cannot help but wonder at the wisdom that brought me to Erioch and away from by Battle Brothers. My cogitation main-frame immediately calculates numerous scenarios of difficulty and woe that the Black Templar chapter might face. I shut down this part of my enhanced brain so that I may receive Brother Richter's message with full attention.
"No pity. No remorse. No fear. I am ready, Brother, state your news."
Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, Refectory of the Spavined Skull
242.817.M41
Hour 18 System Sidereal Time
In a friendly, but boastful bit of one-upsmanship, the hulking Space Wolf proclaims, "I have yet to meet the Wolf who can outdrink me, so I pray that you have much and more, my brother."
He practically roars at the ancient servitor:
"Metal-thrall! Fetch me a tankard!"
He then looks Hrothgar up and down, blatantly taking the measure of him, brow knitting as his nose loudly sniffs the air, nostrils flaring.
"You yet have the stench of the brood-swarm yet about you, brother. Tell me truly, do you come from battle with the foul Devourer's spawn?"
His question is almost antagonistic, with a hint of---could it be jealousy?
Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, The Tomb of Saint Enoch the Thrice-Martyred
242.817.M41
Hour 19 System Sidereal Time
Brother Richter sighs deeply, deciding to dispense with further pleasantires or preamble and cut right to the heart of the matter at hand.
"There has been an affront to the honor of our chapter. Word has come to me through contacts in the crusade forces besieging the poisoned waste-world of Vanity in the Cellebos Warzone that a company of elite Imperial Guardsmen of the 16th Maccabian Janissaries were slaughtered to a man---by Astartes girded in power armor bearing the markings of the Black Templars."
His dark eyes bore into you, leaving countless questions unanswered.
Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, Refectory of the Spavined Skull
242.817.M41
Hour 18 System Sidereal Time
In a friendly, but boastful bit of one-upsmanship, the hulking Space Wolf proclaims, "I have yet to meet the Wolf who can outdrink me, so I pray that you have much and more, my brother."
He practically roars at the ancient servitor:
"Metal-thrall! Fetch me a tankard!"
He then looks Hrothgar up and down, blatantly taking the measure of him, brow knitting as his nose loudly sniffs the air, nostrils flaring.
"You yet have the stench of the brood-swarm yet about you, brother. Tell me truly, do you come from battle with the foul Devourer's spawn?"
His question is almost antagonistic, with a hint of---could it be jealousy?
Hrothgar takes a long pull before replying, "I say 'aye' to both of your queries, brother."
"We fought the Devourer's minions and took home the head of one of its more cunning progeny, one that is like a chameleon."
"Me and the rest of the members of my kill-team gained insight into the Devourer's strength and weakness."
"Such lore I am willing to share with you, if you desire it, brother."
Hrothgar again takes another long pull.
"That is if you can outdrink me hahahaha!!!!"
After searching for Hrothgar for a while to do a good training session that is well overdue and in order, I finally stumble upon him talking to a overgrown version of him with longer fangs and a bit more hairy.
Hrothgar! pray excuse my interruption but I was here to challenge you again and your friend if he is up for it I see no reason not to compete against 2 opponents, but I see you have started drinking so we might start with that challenge? smiles with a sly grin proper of a snake.
"Ho Decius! Come join the pack!" Hrothgar waves his tankard at Decius.
"Here is the precious elixir of Fenris."
"There is a lot here but not enough to quench my thirst hahahaha!!!!"
"There has been an affront to the honor of our chapter. Word has come to me through contacts in the crusade forces besieging the poisoned waste-world of Vanity in the Cellebos Warzone that a company of elite Imperial Guardsmen of the 16th Maccabian Janissaries were slaughtered to a man---by Astartes girded in power armor bearing the markings of the Black Templars."
In the face of this news I remain impassive, yet beneath my ire raises. Blasephemy! My logic systems deem the story at face value as improbable. Mis-identification or subterfuge by the Enemy are more likely explanations. Yet Brother Richter's somber countenance means there must be some legitimacy to the report.
What of this planet?
<<Accessing.........>>
Vanity -- Former hive-world/Corulsiem/Former Cellebos sub-sector capital
Age of Shadows/circa M37/Planet embroiled in civil war/Atomics used
Corulsiem made barren waste-world/Result of leaders' "vanity"/Planetary identification re-designated
Proximate location to Blood Trinity and Hadex Anomaly/Chaos insurgency confirmed
Planet currently contested: Imperium no firm hold but denies Enemy the same.
First I make a confession, "I was unaware our Templar Brethren were deployed in the Jericho Reach."
Secondly, questions, "Has an investigation been launched? Will Deathwatch be involved?"
Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, Deck 12 Apothecarium Quarantine Hospice
244.817.M41
Hour 6 System Sidereal Time
"No one is truly ready, but I am prepared to do what is necessary, whatever comes."
Brother Sepheren stares wistfully away into the middle distance, jaw clenching, eyes closing slowly, before reopening again as a wave of pain caused by his injury flows through him. He acknowledges Brother Syne's words with a slight nod, but the Dark Angel can tell the other apothecary is somewhere far off, reliving experiences he would rather forget.
"At the Siege of Golgotha I was as pure as a freshly-cast neophyte could be among the Sunderers of the 9th Company; idealistic, proud, full of the crusader's spirit. In a word, I was naive to what the universe held for our kind. The indoctrination, the martial platitudes of the chaplains, they were as meat and drink for me to sup upon. Like the meticulously laid plans of any battle, however, such follies of youth are eradicated at first contact with the enemy. At the walls of that accursed hive my mentor, Brother Zorael...perished...gone in an eye-blink, a friendship and rapport of decades severed in an instant. He was not even solely the victim of the Enemy's fire, but, instead something within him, within all of my chapter, a rage borne of loss; red and blind. I tell you this because I felt it myself for the first time that day as I tried to save the ruined bodies of my brothers, but in the aftermath of battle, I deluded myself into thinking I had mastered it. I was quite wrong. It returned on Tantalus in the face of that horror born of the Great Devourer. I could feel the memories of all those who had perished before me stoking a white-hot fury that all my will could not master. Were it not for the intercession of Brother Vex, I would not be speaking to you. Instead, I will be returning to my chapter soon, once again a Sanguinary Priest, but I fear it will not be long for me now, regardless of whether or not this wound ever heals."
He turns, his eyes once again focusing on your own.
"I tell you this, not because I judge you the naive neophyte that I once was, long ago. No. Far from it. I can see the burden of the truths that your soul is encumbered with---it is, after all the duty of an apothecary to notice such things in his charges. You were changed as I was, in the crucible of battle. For all your chapter's obsession with secrecy, Brother Syne, it is writ clear upon your face to one such as me."
He coughs, wincing, his hand going to his ruined leg with reluctance stemming from pride.
"My point is this. You are correct, no one is truly ready to face what comes. In your words there is wisdom. However, what I endeavor to teach you before you assume this sacred duty is a simple thing, though oft-overlooked. Though you may shed the last drop of your blood, offer the ultimate sacrifice to preserve the physical and spiritual welfare of your brethren, never forget that as selfless as your duty calls you to become, if you do not master your own fears, faults, and failings, and look after yourself as well, you are next to worthless when that time comes that your battle-brothers need you."
He sighs, slowly slipping away to slumber from the effects of the heightened pain dampeners. His voice becomes distant as his eyelids flicker, but you sense he still cognizant that you are there, listening.
"Know this, as well. As much as you strive to hide what darkness there is within you, if I can see it, there may be others that can as well..."
Brother Syne watches the uneven rise and fall of Brother Sepheren's chest for a long time before finally leaving the hospice and his disquieting vigil over the Blood Angel.
Don't think there is a sea big enough to clench your boasting if that is the case Hrothgar as I approach the pair of space wolves, giving a slow bow I'm Decius of the Iron Snakes pleased to be your acquaintance stretching a hand towards the unknown wolf.
Watch Fortress Erioch, Refectory of the Spavined Skull
242.817.M41
Hour 18 System Sidereal Time
The stony gaze of the burly Space Wolf turns with an unspoken challenge aimed at the Iron Snake as he comes in to the refectory, sizing him up in a glance. He takes his hand, making every effort to crush the bones within it, and Brother Decius cannot help but wince slightly at the Space Wolf's prodigious strength.
His dark eyes dart back and forth between Brother Decius and Hrothgar.
"Attalus Fellhand accepts your challenge, Hrothgar. He will show both his boastful kinsman and his late-coming serpent-friend what it means to drink a man beneath a table. Pray only that you have enough that I may properly slake my thirst."
As the blank-faced servitor returns with additional tankards, Attalus Fellhand sits up straight to his full seated height, his burly frame dwarfing those of even his fellow battle-brothers. A brash antagonism, absent any guile or cunning whatsoever, seems to fuel him.
"Har. What is a challenge then without stakes, Brother Hrothgar?"
He looks meaningfully toward the massive ork skull dangling from the ceiling, pierced through by metal.
"I have slain the greenskin a thousand-score times or more, I have butchered their grots, nobz and weirdboyz until an ocean of their foul blood pooled at my feet. I have wrenched the very heads from the shoulders of their warbosses in battle with my bare hands. But now I am learning to kill a new foe. I was sent here to this dusty tomb from the Orpheus Salient, where the Great Company still fights on. I have seen and slain the Devourer's host on Castobel but they are still as a new foe to me, and I would learn more of their ways. You speak of trophies from this ice-moon you and your brethren lately return from, of foes I have yet to face. I am covetous of this lore."
He bangs the tankard loudly atop the table, and the servitor fills it.
"The only question that yet remains, is what do the two of you seek in return from me. Though you cannot possibly win, I have been told time and time again, it is not polite to dismiss my own stakes in a such a challenge."
Attalus Fellhand turns his neckless head toward Brother Decius with a look that could only be charitably called less than contemptuous.
"Your tankard, it is not overlarge for you, is it, Iron Snake?"