So had an idea for the opening scene of the story/comic.
In a cell. The cold metal walls and floor bare with only a slab for resting on and a single dim light set in the ceiling. There is a single occupant in the cell, his eyes with the look of failure. he is clad in a simple crème colored robe, bound at the waist with a rope, an Imperial fists icon is emblazoned across the back of the robe.
Occupant internal monolog: Has it been weeks? Or hours? I can no longer tell. Time has lost its meaning in here. But perhaps that is the point, the loss of meaning. The loss, the failure. My Failure.
The door to the cell opens and 2 Imperial Fist astartes step in.
Occupant internal monolog: I can not even look upon them because of my failure.
Astartes 1: Come with us.
The occupant raises and walks out of the cell between the two astartes who each flank him as the trio begin their journey down the hall way. his face turned down to the floor only occasionally catching glimpses of their boots as they escort him. They pass Imperial servants and other astartes, from the occupant's perspective they all glare at him with hatred and disdain, as if his very presence dishonors each of them.
Occupant internal monolog: I cannot blame them.
The trio pass a servitor, it's face blank and expressionless.
Occupant internal monolog: There are stories that being turned into one of those is the fate of those who fail the chapter, but are still deemed to be of some value. It would be a mercy were that to be my fate.
The occupant is lead into a chamber with a domed ceiling, perhaps 4 meters high. Much of the details of the walls are obscured in darkness, with a single bright light being projected from the center of the domed ceiling bathing the center of the room in harsh light.
"There!" A stern, monotone voice commands. The Astartes usher the occupant into the center of the room under the light. he drops to knees, his head sinking to his chest, a condemned prisoner waiting for the headman axe.
"Leave us." the voice commands. The Astartes bow, making the sign of the Aquila across their chests and quickly leave the chambers. At the very edges of the light, the barest details of a large figure is seen. He towers over the occupant, and would have even if he had been on his knees like the occupant. Even in the low light it's obvious he is armored and that armor is ornate. Details of gold and silver reflect the light. He drops something to the floor and shoves it forward with his boot. As the boot comes forward, it can be seen that it's a black, large armoured boot. The item he droped slides across the floor and comes to rest by the occupants knee. Now in the light, he can see the device is shaped to fit around the left hand and fore arm. It's design is reminiscent of the internal skeletal components of a power armor gauntlet, the parts and mechanics that allow the armored plate to move but this item is locked in form as to force the wearing to wrap their hand into a fist to wear it.
"Put it on." the voice commands. The occupant complies with the command, though the armature is several orders too large for him to wear it. He wraps his fingers around the palm grip and flexes tightly, forcibly holding the gauntlet on in order to comply with the command. The individual in the armor raises his hand and presses a button on a device he is holding. The gauntlet activates, tightening metal tension straps around the occupants arm and driving needles into his flesh about his hand and wrist while small sparks of electrical energy dance about the gauntlet. The Occupant screams in sudden torment, his teeth clenched and his eyes forced shut.
Occupant internal monolog: Pain! It's like a searing hot arrow in my flesh, burning from the inside! But pain can be controlled.
Slowly, the occupant begins to focus past the pain.
Occupant internal monolog: Pain can be used to focus the body.
The occupant releases the tension in his body, and slowly lets his muscles rest in opposition to the pain coursing through his nerves.
"You may remove the pain gauntlet at any time of your choosing, but to do so will be to admit weakness. To survive this day, you will show no such weakness. Do you understand?" the figure in the shadows explains as he steps forward slightly revealing himself to be a Chaplin of the Imperial fists, the light catching the edges of his armor and skull faced helm giving him a sinister look.
Occupant internal monolog: I will face my fate with honour, and integrity as any Son of Dorn would, no matter his failure!
"I do, my lord." The occupant says, his voice being forced through the pain by sheer will power as he raises to his feet.
"Then begin, Chaplin Amalger" commands a voice from a form the occupant had not seen before. He stands to one side, covered in a heavy robe. The combination of the hood and the shadows obscure this individuals face. A large shield with the Imperial Fist insignia is fastened to a chain that hangs about his neck.
"Of course, Brother captain." responds the individual now identified as Chaplin Amalger. He turns to the occupant and again presses the stud on the control for the pain gauntlet. A brief surge of power courses over the gauntlet and the occupant grunts in pain as his muscles involuntarily contract.
"Declare yourself!" Amalger commands.
"I am, initiate...(the occupant stutters as he focuses through the pain of the gauntlet) Maurus, of the Imperial Fist, the honored sons of Dorn! Formally under the command of Honored Sergeant Hywel my Lord!" the occupant now identified as Maurus responds complying with the order.
"And declare your actions, initiate!" Amalger again commands.
"I am guilty of a base sin, Lord Chaplin Amalger!" Maurus responds. Amalger again presses the stud, further intensifying the work of the pain gauntlet. Maurus's arm flexes and his teeth clench once more but he forces his will to over come the pain.
"I have given(...) into fear, desperation(...) and anger on the battle(...) field. This failing lead(...) to the death of my battle brothers. I now(...) stand before you, seeking judgement for(...) my failings." Maurus responds. The response being broken as Maurus must refocus his will over the pain.
"Then tell your tale, and be judged for you actions." Chaplin Amalger responds.
And that would conclude the first scene that would act as a book end for the real story of how Maurus and his squad went into the war zone, uncovered some sort of important intelligence and then worked to be get out with the intel while being hunted by some form of dark-mech monster and cultists. The failure that Maurus talked about is supposed to be when the surviving like 3 or 4 scouts are engaging the monster and one of them sacrifices himself in a vain effort to get the thing to swallow the one melta bomb they have. He told the others to get out of there, but Maurus was momentarily aw struck by the sheer brutal force of the monster and his psycho-training took over forcing him to pull back for better advantage. He mis-interrpreted this as fear and then convinced himself that because he ran, the other scout died needlessly.
I don't have as clear an idea for the ending of the story, back in the cell where Amalger would deactivate the gauntlet and proclaim Maurus fit for duty, and ready to serve in a line battle company, but I do know that I want the third figure in the chamber to be Lysander, and have him confirm that Daurus will be posted to the Third company.
Last edited by Maverike Prime; 10-26-14 at 04:29 AM.