Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, The Tower of Brass, The Brazen Gates
243.817.M41
Hour 6 System Sidereal Time
Tselomas Dorel harrumphs, and speaks without turning, keeping up his quick pace.
"If it will assuage your fears, Brother Librarian Vex can mindwipe the poor man, it matters not to me, he is altogether broken and half-mad from his experiences on that doomed moon. What little our own savants could glean from him would barely fill a page on a dataslate."
He stops before the doors to a quarantine suite, the entry as unremarkable as any of the score you have already passed thus far. Tapping in a lengthy code with dextrous fingers on liver-spotted hands, he first places one palm against a glossy black plate, before leaning in to hold his eye before a biometric reader.
"Watchphrase 224; Duty Holds the Breach."
It is spoken without emphasis or particular inflection, and the doors open.
"The lone cell at the end of this corridor holds your chief concern, Astartes. I'll assume you wish a private word with him, so myself and and Nihl Zee will remain here with our escort. If you still wish to meet with the surviving elements of the Karlack 2nd, that can be arranged as well. I am happy to say that they have all cleared our most thorough examinations and lengthy debriefings. They are kept in isolation for now until the final screening can be concluded, but I suspect they will be allowed to muster together once again in due time. I for one will be grateful for that, as it has become a most annoyingly recurring question as to when they can see their comrades again throughout these endless interrogations."
Sensing your hesitation, he sweeps his hand down the corridor toward the waiting door at its end.
"Be my guests, perhaps you will succeed where our countless hours have failed."
His tone suggests how preposterous he believes the statement to be, but he smiles subserviently to both of you nonetheless.
Proceeding to the door, side by side, Brother Vex depresses the opening stud on the exterior panel. The door slides open to reveal a brightly lit cell, all four walls shining and white with a thin layer of waxy plas padding. A solitary figure lies curled in the corner, either unconscious or asleep. Roge Halis has given up his tattered and bloody adept coverall for red paper medicae trousers, and a loose shirt of the same material. As if sensing your presence, he stirs fitfully in his sleep, the smell of his body odor washing over your enhanced senses as he stirs. The man stinks of fear.
I ignore Dorel and look into the cell. Letting Brother Quintus diplomacy deal with the disrespectful acolyte.
I have pity for the man who is Roge Halis. Pity for the fact that if my fears are correct that he was forced away from the light of the Emperor by no fault of his own. But by the indomitable will of on an unrelenting Hive Mind. And wonder if we can save the mans soul in any way other than death.
"Are you well Roge Halis?"
I use my long range Telepathy to scan his mind for any echo of the Hive Mind no matter how faint. It should be easy to pick out the grain of sand that stands out now that it is not hidden on the beach among a trillion times and trillion minds. Just one thought, one echo. Has the taint of the Xeno corrupted Roge Halis?
Taking a few moments to ponder the revelations the planetary datafax contains, Brother Emeric ruminates on Brother-Chaplain Strome's possible connection to this misappropriated piece of intelligence.
My research: too many disparate threads right now. Too many variables. Brother-Chaplain Strome is of the highest repute on Erioch. Shall I seek counsel from the Black Shield?
Perhaps it would be best if Brother Vex consulted the more recent, non-archived mission logs of the other Kill-teams with his clearance as Librarian. It is almost surely classified information, even if the Deathwatch were involved.
Dare I reach out to the Librarian? Why not? His service with me has been exemplary. And we are now away from battle and the dangers from his witchery should be greatly lessened. Yet something deep within stirs against when I consider this course of action.
I feel pulled in many directions: retrieving the Magos, obeying the Inquisition, serving the chapter. I will look to those who went before me for guidance. The servo-skulls have yet to return. I head into the vault-stacks. Becoming more familiar with the cataloging system, I search for annals of Saint Enoch the Thrice-Martyred.
"Hahaha Attalus you're a sly one!"
"Decius, more?"
To much talking I need more as I'm struggling to keep my drink for this is a strong.
Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, The Tower of Brass, Quarantine Block Tertius
243.817.M41
Hour 6 System Sidereal Time
Even as he speaks, the Librarian plumbs deep into the broken man's mind, probing his innermost thoughts and the deepest bedrock of his consciousness with an ease that is almost surprising.
It is with great relief that he detects not so much as a scintilla of the Devourer's presence within Roge Halis, save for terrified images of the monstrosities that are graven in his shattered psyche from the Munitorum adept's horrifying experiences on Tantalus. Brother Vex is grateful for once that he can concur with the Inquisition's assessment. Their scans are certainly as stringent as his own, perhaps even more so for their ruthless nature.
In fact, Halis' mind holds nearly no secrets, and his examination is as easy as peeling away the layers of an onion; a barely capable man who once masked his own failings with false confidence and a forthright demeanor he never really believed in. A marginally competent, Munitorum Adept-Minoris promethium assayers clerk who constantly felt his superiors were only days away from deducing he was only just capable of fulfilling his required duties. His deep-seated inadequacies stem from a lonely existence moving from one windswept, icy waste to another, scarcely finding even a passing friendship due to his grating, always obsequious nature, a trait that simultaneously inspired both loathing and pity from his fellow adepta. Deeper still, the Librarian uncovers the unrequited love of a girl from Nova Cruxis, a childhood spent as the lodestone of bullying peers, and the abusive father, a man who beat his child for the same self-doubt his son would feel half a lifetime later.
The Dark Angel wishes to go no further, but must be certain, so he peels away the last vestiges of Roge Halis' psychic dignity, revealing the abject terror that still howls like a banshee in his shattered mind, caused by the very real monsters that tore apart his every living acquaintance at Pyroclast-Gamma-9. A memory of he, himself, sealing a storeroom door in the magtrain loading station against the frantic, bleating screams of his fellows as they were slaughtered just outside. Only the darkest kernel of self remains within, bolstered by constantly pumping adrenaline and denials about what he had to do to survive, rationalizing all the horrors he witnessed and allowed. Perfect fear, even of the black-armored Imperial titans who were his rescuers.
His voice is scarcely a croak, the slurred, tremulous words of a lost soul.
"Well...well, well? I am well, if it is what you wish me to be, I am well...well, well...hah...no, sorry...not my fault, not my fault that I am well. They said they were done. Done. Done. Why are you here again? Why? Why? Please, you made them all come, all of them. They might come back again. They could get through that door. Please. Please. Close the door...yes, I beg of you. I am well. Please close it. Please..."
Watch Fortress Erioch, Refectory of the Spavined Skull
242.817.M41
Hour 18 System Sidereal Time
The Iron Snake finishes his tankard first, but when he slams it to the table it clanks clumsily off the metal edge, clattering to the floor. Brother Decius stares blankly into space for the span of a few seconds before his bleary eyes blink thoughtfully, as if ruminating on some half-remembered mystery of the universe, his head then slamming face-first into the refectory table.
Brother Hrothgar's tankard crashes down empty next, and the Fellhand's is hammered down so sharply that it rings like a tuning fork for a few seconds afterward, graven half-moons notched in the surface from the frustrated force applied. He belches loudly, shaking his head as if to clear his vision. His eyes briefly lose focus on his fellow Space Wolf as the servitor pours, yet again.
"Hah! Hah Hah! You flag, little brother! I will understand if you beg off now, like a mewling woman. No need to shame yourself like this one here!"
Brother Hrothgar smiles a wolfish grin, and raises his cup once more.
Even Hrothgar's vision swims with this final tankard, the room slowly rolling from left to right, like a longship cresting a particularly steep swell on storm-tossed seas. He looks into Attalus Fellhand's eyes and the giant stares back at him, either glaring, or oblivious to the workings of the world around him, Brother Hrothgar cannot be sure which. Their gazes remain locked for several dual-heartbeats before the larger Space Wolf's Oolitic Kidney admits defeat. The Space Wolf champion blinks comically, belches an acrid trickle of vomit that hisses when it strikes the table from the effects of his unrestrained Betcher's gland, and then keels over backward, pulling the attendant servitor over with him, and both land with a concussive crash that shakes the refectory to its foundations. Brother Hrothgar leans forward, slowly, ever so slowly, to see that his besotted foe is truly down for the count, and laughs heartily when he sees that the giant still clenches the confused servitor to him, like a pup clinging to its mother.
Seeing that the room persists in spinning even when he ardently wills it to stop, Brother Hrothgar looks up to the ceiling at the leering ork skull suspended above, its empty eye sockets and grinning mouth seeming to mock him. He thinks of a salty retort for the dead greenskin, but never quite gets it out of his mouth, deciding instead it would be better to rest his head upon the blessedly cold tabletop for a time.
Yes, just for a short time.
Brother Hrothgar sleeps the sweet dreams of the victorious.
Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, The Librarium, Stack 23
243.817.M41
Hour 2 System Sidereal Time
The conundrum of his confused allegiances and internal conflicts driving him to action, any action, Brother Emeric rises and sets off into the vault-stacks, confident that when he returns from his sojourn into the librarium the servo-skulls will have collected some of the materials he sought.
His search ends in a narrow defile of books and slates arrayed on shelves spaced so close together that they lean forward high above him to nearly form an arch above his head. Methodically picking over several shelves of worn tomes detailing the lives and deaths of Imperial saints, he finds what he is looking for.
One is a worn, leatherbound chapbook sized for Astartes hands called the Psalter of the Saint Enoch of Hychalter. The second is a weightier tome, with a midnight black cover etched with leaf of gold and filled with yellowed parchment pages, entitled The Litany of the Thrice-Martyred: Saint Enoch of the Deathwatch.
"Victory!"
Hrothgar pumps his fists into the air, before slamming the floor with his bulk. A satisfied smile decorates the Space Wolf's flushed features.
As he drifts into the dreamtime, Hrothgar had a thought: Space Wolves are different from the other Astartes in that they do not forget that they were once men.
So many texts... so much information... Walking through the Librarium brings a sense of calm. It is wise of the Deathwatch to accumulate such books.
Yes, this is the hagiography level. The proper accounts should be here...
...he finds what he is looking for... the Psalter of the Saint Enoch of Hychalter. The second... The Litany of the Thrice-Martyred: Saint Enoch of the Deathwatch.
Praise the Omnissiah for directing my steps!
Finding the psalter and the litany tome brings a thrill to my heart. To read the accounts of the Thrice-Martyred! I find any immediate place I can to set these holy books down and carefully examine them, hoping to find further guidance.
As much as it pains me to delve into the mind of the shattered Roge Halis. I consider the merits of him having his mind wiped for the protection of his own soul. With so much tragedy and abuse I can't see his functioning in his duties for the Emperor or society in general in his current mental state.
Yet still I delve into his mind, and look into every dark shadow and recess. For all it takes is for one hidden seed of corruption to take root. Though my concerns of the Xeno's infestation while present are secondary to those of more malign intent. It is often those like Roge Halis that the great enemy seeks to use as there pawn to overthrow and subvert humanity.
"It is I Brother Vex; Roge Halis. I had promised to visit you. I see that you are tired so I will close the view port, and leave as you requested."
Poor soul....
But what of Decius's vision. I will need more pratical advice than that of our busy White Consul. To whom should I seek such advice?....
I freeze for an instant as I finish up my mental scan of Roge Halis. Maybe its the glint from the Ultramarines power armour. Maybe its old memories of facing elements of the many headed Hydra before. There is still many holes in my memory with my battle against the Arch Tyrant...
What is the history of Tantalus?
While I remove any lingering doubt with the poor man inside the cell. I keep in mind the revelations of divination is often like trying to follow a trail of disjointed clues and scattered bread crumbs. I make a mental note of the woman from Nova Cruxis should I have opportunity to investigate there. Remember her eyes, her lips, gestures. Anything I can use later to identify her.
One I am finished here. I will have to go to the Librum. Decius's vision is only the beginning. Do I trust to share my concerns with Uriah that I think elements of the 20th Legion are active in the Jericho Reach?
I need to make a report of this, but to whom do I give it to? What is the protocol? If this is a foreshadowing of what happened on Solace then I have to be even more careful. I must protect my Chapters Honor, its Secret. For I am Unforgiven....
"What have you found, Brother Lyriel?"
I gesture with my hand to Brother Quintus to wait while I finish my scan.
Watch Fortress Erioch, Viewing Gallery Overlooking Berthing Cradle 66
243.817.M41
Hour 7 System Sidereal Time"Is something troubling you, my brother?"
"Trouble is too strong a word, I am merely considering that which concerns me of late."
Finally coming back thru such "enlightening" experience with fenrisian mead I guess I'm better at standing up poison than this good drink as I finally open my eyes to see a smiling Hrothgar I can stand by my self and we still need to settle the other more physical competitions aching to defeat him.
"Chainswords, Decius?"
Hrothgar then turns to Attalus.
"We shall be honored if you would stand as arbiter."
I challenge it is your right to choose the weapon
Watch Fortress Erioch, Viewing Gallery Overlooking Berthing Cradle 66
243.817.M41
Hour 7 System Sidereal Time
"Trouble is too strong a word, I am merely considering that which concerns me of late."
The Brother Chaplain keeps a respectful distance, but the whisper in his voice is gone now that he has Brother Syne's attention.
"There are few among us who can witness the demise of one of the God Emperor's worlds and not feel some measure of grief, or guilt. Feel no shame in a mission accomplished, brother. Even the use of Exterminatus is justifiable if the sacrifice of one world, already doomed, saves so many more."
He inclines the silvered skull faceplate of his helmet in your direction, his blurred reflection in the viewing window turning slightly, the relaxed, almost apologetic set of his posture suggests he did not mean to interrupt your private thoughts.
"I did not intend to disturb your reverie, sometimes our own introspection provides all the solace we need. I just offer my counsel freely, if it is needed. You are recently seconded to the Long Vigil, and we have not been introduced, I am Brother-Chaplain Titus Strome."
Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, The Tower of Brass, Quarantine Block Tertius
243.817.M41
Hour 6 System Sidereal Time
The troubling thoughts roil through Brother Vex's mind like an approaching thunderstorm. Standing outside of the cell and watching the pitiable wretch, Halis, he recenters himself and focuses, intensifying his scan and peeling away the older memories of the man like the brittle leaves of an ancient book, probing still further despite the growing effort it takes. He returns again to the man's mental image of the woman from Nova Cruxis who spurned him, and stops short, like a nearsighted man holding a page with fine text, struggling to read the words. Halis' recollection of her is indistinct, almost inchoate, nothing about his first love is either vivid or defined. Perhaps it is his recent trauma, perhaps it is the passage of so many years. Still, the memory is like a half-painted picture, the emotions it stirs in him, flat, almost affected.
Perhaps it is something else. Knowing the profound effect of love himself, Lyriel Vex gives pause.
I close the slide to Roge Halis's cell. More troubled than I was before I made my petition here. I feel the locket press against my chest, and I can feel the warm of it. Memories, seven years worth of laughter, tears. Little things, subtle things only one who cares enough to pay attention to such things would know.
He doesn't remember any of these things. A touch, a smile, the glint of her eyes. The memory is flat. Like it was programmed, inserted. Time can't fade certain memories. Memories that can make the heart rush.
I walk back down the hall toward the Senior Acolyte. Filling out a quick data slate report for his troubles.
<<Recommendation: Roge Halis to be further detained for further analysis.>>
I exit the facility without a word and head toward the Librum stacks, and Brothers who might prove amiable to assisting me with a further scan of him if the Inquisition gives us a second chance.
Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, The Librarium, Stack 23
243.817.M41
Hour 2 System Sidereal Time
As Brother Vex will turns the pages of a man's memory hours from now, Brother Emeric now turns the yellowed leaves of the two holy texts, taking care with the fragile pages, his ocular enhancers magnifying the spidery, hand-copied script.
The passages from the Psalter of the Saint Enoch of Hychalter read almost like an epic poem, the deeds and accomplishments of the long-lost Black Templar techmarine flowing into one another with all the vagueness and mystery that such accounts often do:
'...and Brother Enoch of Hychalter came unto service of the Long Vigil, during an Age of Shadow in the sector Jericho, centuries after the Apocryphon Conclave of Orphite IV, he took the oaths of the Deathwatch, and the mantle of their sacred catechism adorned his armor forevermore. He spake oft that the whispered words of dead saints, canonized long ago, and the warbling utterances of anointed data-looms on Mars had called to him in his long meditations in the chapels aboard the Libertus Non, or machine-aided cogitations in the holy places of the Mechanica, urging him to sojourn to the 'the bleeding stigmata on the precipice of mankind's vast domain' to seek the counsel of the 'clock that sleeps fitfully in the eternal vault'. He would become one of the greatest heroes to serve the Deathwatch in Sector Jericho, one of the sons of the Reach...'
Brother Emeric tries to commit as much of the disjointed parable to memory as possible before turning his attentions to The Litany of the Thrice-Martyred: Saint Enoch of the Deathwatch. Therein he finds still more about his curious antecedent:
...he would never speak of what he took from the Omega Vault, but his Kill-team in their loyalty saw no need to question him, such was their respect for the one who had led them so many times before into the claws of the Void. He gathered them to counsel, one and all, and broke bread with them a final time, speaking to each of the eleven in turn, telling them that if they followed him, they surely would not return. None refused. They then set out from Erioch aboard the Mourning Shrike, bound for fallen Samech via the hidden path of Altair's Arrow to purge those who had been declared Apostate en Maxima so long ago by the priesthood of Mars. All that remains of their record rests in the fragmentary, static-filled transmissions returned to the Mourning Shrike that were relayed astropathically before the legendary vessel met its untimely end. He described a place of rust and ruin, an Irradial Forge tempered in the nightmares woven by daemons and the worst excesses of the priesthood, he spoke of the Dark Magos Vayze and his endless machinations, machinations that had compelled the vault to speak to Saint Enoch in dreams, he spoke of how this day he would die for the third and final time, but would know only contentment, as the sacred relic gifted to him by the Omega Vault had found its place of sanctuary amid the ringing hells of the Iron Pit, where it would wait out the long years until another hand would take up his pious quest once again...'
There is a great deal more in both volumes, but even as Brother Emeric pauses to reflect, the servo skulls begin to whir through the air about him, a pair of mono-tasked servitors burdened by the weight of heavy books following their darting path up the nearest spiral stair.
Watch Fortress Erioch, Refectory of the Spavined Skull
242.817.M41
Hour 24 System Sidereal Time
Even the renowned potency of the draught of Fenris is not enough to long trouble the legendary constitutions of the Astartes, and after a time, the drunken battle-brothers awaken to the company of each other again. Attalus is last to rise, and when he hears the challenges being bandied back and forth between the members of Kill-team Umbra, the brash young champion poses and ill-informed question that almost makes Brother Hrothgar laugh aloud.
"Hah!, so I take it you think that the prospect of another challenge will take away the sting of defeat at my hands, eh?"
He snorts derisively.
"Feh!, now that I have won, Brother Hrothgar, I am weary of petty games---I would hear of your Devourer's lore as you promised!"
Hrothgar almost doesn't have the hearts to tell him.
Brother Caledonii, the skin of his face still red and ash-flecked from the fires of the forge then strides into the refectory. It is obvious from his irritable expression that he has been searching for his brethren and is in no mood for such frivolity. His stern gaze is drawn in the direction of the somewhat haggard Brother Decius and the grinning Brother Hrothgar before finally alighting upon the huge, blustering Space Wolf across from both.
I challenge it is your right to choose the weapon
"Alright, since you put it that way, I choose to fight with chainswords."
Watch Fortress Erioch, Refectory of the Spavined Skull
242.817.M41
Hour 24 System Sidereal TimeHe snorts derisively.
"Feh!, now that I have won, Brother Hrothgar, I am weary of petty games---I would hear of your Devourer's lore as you promised!"
Hrothgar almost doesn't have the hearts to tell him.
Brother Caledonii, the skin of his face still red and ash-flecked from the fires of the forge then strides into the refectory. It is obvious from his irritable expression that he has been searching for his brethren and is in no mood for such frivolity. His stern gaze is drawn in the direction of the somewhat haggard Brother Decius and the grinning Brother Hrothgar before finally alighting upon the huge, blustering Space Wolf across from both.
"Fellhand, strong you may be but I won the challenge and drank you under."
Let it be so as I see Hrothgar with grim determination, pausing only to signal the servitor to bring us the weapons and take us to a proper dueling ground First blood? I utter as we make our way.
As I stride in and see how 2 of the members of my team have been killing time I shake my head. But seeing the elder Wolf I gleam some understanding as to how this got started.
When Brother Hrothgar names the wolf and that he has won over him I turn my gaze back with a look of surprise but of pride in that he was able to win in a bout of drinking over the veteran.
Then when the newest member of our team that still cant walk straight is trying to get going for a duel of swords I shake my head and in a stern voice say.
"Brother Decius, it looks like you have been trying to keep up with a fen troll in a boxing match with nothing but your bare skin. It is time we start your training by getting those legs that have been freshly mended a stretch to loosen them up, a 100 miles should do the trick. During this time I will give you the history and duty's of the Deathwatch while we run."
That might help him get clear headed enough for the rest of the training. I was hoping that he would have been more proactive in starting his training by at least reading the codex for new arrivals.
Turning to the elder Wolf. "Please excuse us I will return the looser to both of you for what ever he lost in the wager."
With that I clap Brother Hrothgar on the shoulder and nod in farewell and smile so Felhand does not see and mouth "Well done."
"Coming Brother Decius?" I say as I am heading for the training area.
There is a great deal more in both volumes, but even as Brother Emeric pauses to reflect, the servo skulls begin to whir through the air about him, a pair of mono-tasked servitors burdened by the weight of heavy books following their darting path up the nearest spiral stair.
Spellbound by the tomes, it takes the noise of the Librarium's drones to break my reverie. This brief perusal produced such fascinating information... The Omega Vault! Speaking to the Saint through dreams? Yielding reliquary gifts?
More time will be spent in these texts later. I bear them with me and return to the study-cell shown to me by Ghanu.
Looking at Hrothgar We will finish this at another time as I then approach Caledonii Yours to command as I obediently follow the orders of the squad leader acknowledging his authority.
Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, The Tower of Brass, Quarantine Block Tertius
243.817.M41
Hour 6 System Sidereal Time
As Brother-Librarian Vex exits the quarantine block, he passes Tselomas Dorel, and hands the snide inquisitorial adept the data-slate without a word. Something about the marine's expression gives the irritably insouciant throne agent pause, and Brother Quintus watches as he quickly skims the information on the 'slate, his eyes narrowing with concern and following the still silent Dark Angel as he steps into the main corridor.
The storm troopers fall into formation behind Brother Vex and Brother Quintus follows in turn. They have not gone more than a dozen paces when Dorel calls out, rather stridently from behind them, all of the former arrogance gone from his voice, replaced with something akin to urgency.
"You've found something haven't you? What is it then? Tell me what you have found that our psy-scans did not."
Glancing back, Brother Quintus notes the dangerous looking acolyte in the ebon bodyglove and cloak stands perfectly still, his expression never changing, so much so that he almost appears carved from stone. Somehow though, the Ultramarine garners the impression that he is paying very detailed attention to this exchange.
Watch Fortress Erioch, Refectory of the Spavined Skull
242.817.M41
Hour 24 System Sidereal Time
"Fellhand, strong you may be but I won the challenge and drank you under."
Still somewhat impaired by his libations, Fellhand grunts condescendingly, looking down his nose at Brother Hrothgar as he bristles with petty indignation.
"Bah, who is to say who succumbed first, your Iron Snake was no good witness to the final outcome!"
Watch Fortress Erioch, Proving Ground Green 2, The Coliseum of Creusulos
243.817.M41
Hour 3 System Sidereal Time
Brother Caledonii begins to break a sweat after the thirty-third mile, his thick legs pumping inexorably onward around the mile-long circuit of the coliseum. The Iron Snake, despite his relative youth, lags a few lengths behind. The Storm Warden allows himself a self-satisfied grin as he hears the slightly labored breathing of Brother Decius in his ears. This is only the beginning.
Not wanting to discourage the young marine after all he has endured, Caledonii ponders a means to further motivate him without resorting to the usual demeaning, abusive banter employed by his chapter in such situations. This is no Neophyte just out of the Scout Company, but he needs to understand that the Deathwatch is something unto itself. Decius has much to learn.
Hearing the Adepts words as he chases behind me like a novice. If his people did there duty and full filled there responsibilities to Emperor with a tenth of the zeal that Inquisitor Quist has shown.
I continue to walk away. My answer obvious on the data slate. Otherwise I never would have bothered to write it.
Let them scan Roge Halis again and perform there duties. It is only from learning from ones mistakes do they learn to serve the Emperor better.
Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, The Librarium, Stack 23
243.817.M41
Hour 3 System Sidereal Time
Back in the solitary study carrel, Brother Emeric pores over the rather extensive information on Karlack brought to him by the buzzing servo-skulls and their menial monotask servitors. He skims over the vast majority of the 'slates, texts, and tracts, ignoring the bulk of the material, as it is mostly common knowledge to him. This datum relates specifically to the world's recent history, Karlack's vital importance as a primary military hub to the Crusade, and location of the the sacred Cenotaph of Tiber Achilus, the spiritual resting place of the former Warmaster of the crusade to retake the Jericho Reach.
As we leave the Quarentine area I will turn to the IG.
"I thank you for your efforts on our behalf. Duty is important to all of us. "
I will go to study The Codex Astartes and think on what I just saw.
Mostly Imperial-approved pablum. Nothing particularly note-worthy. Guess I'll dig just a bit more...
Watch Fortress Erioch, Refectory of the Spavined Skull
242.817.M41
Hour 24 System Sidereal Time"Fellhand, strong you may be but I won the challenge and drank you under."Still somewhat impaired by his libations, Fellhand grunts condescendingly, looking down his nose at Brother Hrothgar as he bristles with petty indignation.
"Bah, who is to say who succumbed first, your Iron Snake was no good witness to the final outcome!"
Hrothgar smiles as he realizes that the mighty Fellhand seeks to save face.
"Granted that Decius did kiss the floor earlier than the both of us, he is clearly not a witness to the final outcome of the contest. However, we both know what happened. Russ and the Allfather know what happened."
"Be that as it may, I will be doing our Chapter a disservice if I do not augment you with lore on how best to deal with the xenos."
"Fellhand, judge for yourself if what I tell you now is worthy of the introduction you promised."
Hrothgar then recounts the mission and the conclusions he has made on the manner of the tyranids.
Watch Fortress Erioch, Viewing Gallery Overlooking Berthing Cradle 66
243.817.M41
Hour 7 System Sidereal TimeThe Brother Chaplain keeps a respectful distance, but the whisper in his voice is gone now that he has Brother Syne's attention.
"There are few among us who can witness the demise of one of the God Emperor's worlds and not feel some measure of grief, or guilt. Feel no shame in a mission accomplished, brother. Even the use of Exterminatus is justifiable if the sacrifice of one world, already doomed, saves so many more."
He inclines the silvered skull faceplate of his helmet in your direction, his blurred reflection in the viewing window turning slightly, the relaxed, almost apologetic set of his posture suggests he did not mean to interrupt your private thoughts.
"I did not intend to disturb your reverie, sometimes our own introspection provides all the solace we need. I just offer my counsel freely, if it is needed. You are recently seconded to the Long Vigil, and we have not been introduced, I am Brother-Chaplain Titus Strome."
"Well met Brother-Chaplain, though I fear you misunderstand the nature of my thoughts. The ships are merely a focus for...larger things."
Watch Fortress Erioch, Refectory of the Spavined Skull
242.817.M41
Hour 24 System Sidereal Time
Attalus Fellhand positively glowers when Brother Hrothgar gently chides him about the truth of the contest. Were it not for his shamefaced look when Hrothgar mentions the ever-watching eyes of Primarch and Emperor, the slightly older Space Wolf would almost believe the hulking brute was pouting.
The masterstroke of Brother Hrothgar's quiet words comes when he suggests to Fellhand that his hoarding knowledge of how best to slay the Great Devourer's children would be an affront to the chapter.
He cannot help but laugh inside as he watches the realization ever so slowly dawn on the arrogant young champion regarding what he intends. This one may be the bane of greenskins everywhere, but he is clearly not the keenest blade on the wall.
His features soften considerably, the curious boy he once was still evident in the ruthless hunter of xenos he has become. He even smiles, whatever little guile he possesses finally getting an inkling of the face-saving compromise that Hrothgar is putting before him.
As the older Space Wolf recounts every detail he remembers of the Tyranid on Tantalus; from the stalking lictor to the towering terror of the hive tyrant, Attalus Fellhand listens with a rapt, spellbound attention that only the very young can sincerely convey. He laps up the lore like a suckling pup, asking questions, often quite perceptive, but largely listening respectfully to what Brother Hrothgar imparts.
After some hours, when Hrothgar has finished speaking, Brother Fellhand positively beams with goodwill again. Comfortable now with Hrothgar, his brash and defensive front has largely dissipated. He grins broadly, clapping his brother goodnaturedly on one shoulder with the force of a grox kick from across the table.
"We must raise our tankards together again soon, my brother. My word is my bond. Though there is no sun or moon here in this benighted place, come to the Foundry level when dawn would rise on Fenris, and I will provide the introduction you seek to Iron Priest Greyweaver, the Forge Master. The tracks of the Wolf among the Deathwatch are few, we must maintain the ties of blood and tradition even in this place.
Watch Fortress Erioch, Viewing Gallery Overlooking Berthing Cradle 66
243.817.M41
Hour 7 System Sidereal Time
"Well met Brother-Chaplain, though I fear you misunderstand the nature of my thoughts. The ships are merely a focus for...larger things."
Brother Chaplain Strome replies, his fatherly voice tinny and distant sounding from behind the silvered skull-mask. The mock seriousness of his words seems a good-natured attempt to get you to open up to him.
"Pray, tell me then what it is that troubles you. If the doom and devastation represented by the kill-ships is but a microcosm of this burden you seem to bear, it must be a weighty thing indeed. It is my duty to look after the spiritual well-being of my brothers, perhaps if you share with me your doubts I can offer insight into how to dispel them. Do not underestimate the power of the Emperor's word in such matters."
Erioch System
Watch Fortress Erioch, The Librarium, Stack 23
243.817.M41
Hour 6 System Sidereal Time
Three more hours of intensive study, poring over texts and slates specific to Karlack, and Brother Emeric finds little more than rote accounts of the world's history, mostly recent, though some material exists describing the planet during the Age of Shadow and prior to the fall of the Jericho sector so long ago.
One undercurrent hinted at within many of the recent Administratum and Munitorum reports on Karlack hint at a nascent civil unrest, even on this, an intensely loyal linchpin world of the Crusade where the original Warmaster was memorialized. The oppressive tithes of materiel and manpower for the war effort seem to be taking a toll on the populace, although it is never specifically mentioned, only inferred.
Lost in thought, Brother Emeric raises his head and is taken slightly aback to see Brother-Librarian Vex standing in the doorway to the now cluttered carrel.
"Hail Emeric. Can I be of any assistance in your studies? I'm planning on being here for quite awhile. Hopefully your research will be quicker than my own."
Lost in thought, Brother Emeric raises his head and is taken slightly aback to see Brother-Librarian Vex standing in the doorway to the now cluttered carrel.
Inwardly I chide myself for lack of awareness. I should be more aware of one's approach. The Warp-Caster!
"Hail Emeric. Can I be of any assistance in your studies? I'm planning on being here for quite awhile. Hopefully your research will be quicker than my own."
Templar dogma states that sanctioned witches are still witches; to be shunned. His blood is not of Dorn. Yet like Brother Rafel of the Fists with whom I served, there is something innately trustworthy about the Dark Angel. He has proven himself in combat and displays a profound sense of duty. Ignoring certain warnings from the logi-center of my internal cogitator, I choose to commune with the Librarian.
"Hail Lyriel Vex. Your visitation is a divine appointment and your steps are guided by the Emperor. I seek help but I ask that our words stay between us. May we speak in confidence, Brother?"
After training tirelessly with Caledonii Caledonni Sir! taking a moment Is there any news on the fate of the Karlack survivors?
"One of the many roles as Librarian is to be an adviser, and confidant. What troubles you Brother?"
Funny that merely hours before I was being belittled for this quality by the White Consul. Yet it is this distinction my Brothers seek me out.
"The integrity of my chapter has been challenged. There is word that Black Templars, or at least those wearing Black Templar heraldry, have slaughtered Imperial Guardsmen on Vanity in the Cellebos Warzone. My research is focused on learning what I can to help restore our honor."
"Additionally I seek to learn why our Inquisitorial masters fear the message borne by the Magos. Or at least discern why they fear that I shared it in good faith with my Battle-Brothers. I have discovered that Aurum, a planet at the far end of the Jericho Reach is a source rich with ore, crystals, and promethium. An ore hauler from the planet, the Shoulder of Stepatikos, apparently carried tainted xeno material."
"A survey on indigenous lifeforms states that Genus Dolinae is a subterranean lizard species able to adhere material to its skin for camouflage purposes."
I hold out the slate containing the Aurum Planetary Datafax.
"Why would the Inquisition fear this information so? What might they be trying to hide?"
I listen intently to Emeric's word and read the files of Aurum. Knowing its roots lay during the Great Crusade, and Emeric's confession of the allegations against his Chapter put me on edge. My concerns of about the Hydra are taking shape. I wonder if the Librum's records are extensive enough for my research. Is there another Dark Angel here that I can share my concerns with. I need my Chapters resources for my inquiries. I fear only our memories will reach far enough back for the answers I seek.
"Each members power armour is unique, and is its heraldry. Have you been able to trace in who's care this armour was intrusted to? Do you have records of any suits that are missing?"
"It would also be prudent to examine records of those who are Excommunicatis that bear a personal enmity wishing to discredit your Chapter..."
I pause for a moment.
"I half expect either a summons, or a visit from Inquisitor Quist. I am not sure how closely you wish me to work with you regarding Aurum."
"I recommend you research the tribal legends. History and myth have a unique habit of over-lapping."
Am I living Solace again?