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  Topic Review (Newest First)
06-21-15 01:08 AM
darkreever The moment the doors closed and the question was asked the air in the elevator instantly turned to ice. Sergeant Amadias closed his eyes for a moment, a whisper of breath escaping his lips before he answers. "Yes brother, I was there. I served under Chaplain Cassius for before coming to the Watch I was an Assault-Sergeant of the Third. You have read the records of the battle for my chapters homeworld I assume? And you have read the records of what the Third found at the Polar Fortress's? That is all I will say on the matter, and if you have not read the reports then you will be able to access them in the Watches Librarium Archive. Those were dark and terrible days for the Ultramarines Chapter and we thank to the Primarch that the Chapter recovered quickly."

"Aye sergeant, more than read the aftermath records I lived them. The Marines Errant were one of the chapters that responded to the call of the Ultramarines and aided in driving the Tyranids from the system." Rien responded, his mind taking him back to those days and the horrors they held. Amadias took this knowledge in stride, not saying a word himself. "I fought alongside the Third during the Corinthian Crusade, and was honour to stand before lord Macraage at crusades end." Rien continued, the hum of the elevator a constant background noise to his thoughts.

Cutting through the silence between them, Amadias speaks up. "You will find that you will be fighting along side battle-brothers of many other chapters Brother-Nicodeme along with the Ultramarines Successors: The Sons of Sanguinius and their Kin, The Wolves have a presence here aswell though you are far more likely to hear them before you see them." Amadias chuckles at that. "The Dark Angels, their Brothers, The Raven Guard and theirs are here also. Every major chapter has sent marines to fight within the Watch and while there is some bad-blood between chapters In-Fighting will not be tolerated is that understood?" Brother-Sergeant Amadias then presses the button to open the elevator door when you hear and feel it come to a smooth halt and steps out into yet another seemingly identical corridor with the only indication of where you are being an Mechanicus numerical stamp above each door as the Sergeant begins to lead you to your room.

"Yes watch-sergeant, I understand fully. The Marines Errant have fought side by side with the brothers of other chapters for centuries. Though we may not agree with the methods of some, we all work towards the same goal in the Emperors name."
06-14-15 09:14 PM
Kaiden The Greenskins fought like bezerkers in the presence of their chieftain, until Lord Agemann took the foul leader’s head in single combat.” Daxos paused for a moment, mentally reliving the memory of the captain standing atop the fallen giant, feeling the pride swell in his chest. It wasn’t long until the swine broke and fled, straight into the teeth of our guns. Squad Crastel of the tenth proved themselves true astartes that day, focusing their firepower on the larger beasts, throwing the Orks into confusion; they will make fine battle brothers in time.”

The two Ultramarines had been walking for close to thirty minutes, trading stories of their time in the third company. Daxos quickly took a liking to Amadias, he was hard spoken as many Astartes were, but there was a warmth to his voice and a broad smile would cross his face when he spoke of past victories. Occasionally Amadias would prompt Daxos to talk in more detail about how he had dispatched various breeds of xenos. The Sergeant’s intention, though not spoken overtly was clear to Daxos.

To any onlooking observer, the pair would have looked every part long lost brothers exchanging war stories, but beneath his jovial exterior Amadias was carefully crafting every question and statement. He was testing, evaluating, analysing, directing the conversation to gain a measure of the new arrival’s knowledge and understanding. As a brother of the first company Daxos was no stranger to such behaviour, Chaplain Cassius had an unnerving way of weaving an interrogation into seemingly causal conversation. However Daxos saw no good reason to conceal what he knew from the Sergeant. He described how his squad had tracked and killed Ork looters, Eldar pirates and Renegades alike, and though Amadias features darkened at their name, he recalled how he had waged bloody war against the Tyranids.

After following the long corridors of the Watch station for several more minutes, Amadias led Daxos through one of the many doors and into a large open room. There were other Astartes assembled here, each accompanied by a Deathwatch battle brother in full war plate. The new arrivals were unarmed and wore simple combat fatigues bearing the heraldry of their chapter. Many Daxos recognised instantly, Blood Angels, Raven Guard, White Scars but there were other chapters represented that he only knew by their iconography and reputation.

This is why you chosen for secondment Daxos.” Amides gestured to the assembed warriors. Being worthy of this honour is about more than your skill in battle, you must earn the trust and honour of those outside the chapter, they must become your new battle brothers.” Daxos nodded, seeing the truth in his words. Not all Ultramarines were suited for such a secondment. Though the chapter had earned untold glory throughout it’s long history, the sons of Guilliman were not without their faults. Some were far too rigid, dogmatic even in their adherence to the codex. Some saw themselves as above other chapters, viewing them as undisciplined savages. To forge bonds with sons of other primarchs would require a calm demeanour and a flexible mind.

There were several corridors leading out of the assembly hall, Amadias signalled for Daxos to follow him through one towards a cell at the far end. The room was simple and without decoration, it reminded the Ultramarine of the training quarters he had been assigned during his time as a scout. A reinforced bed, a simple desk with lumen globe and a weapons rack was all that furnished the room. Daxos noted his weapons had been carefully unloaded and were now displayed upon the rack. His bolter was freshly forged by the chapters tech marines, a stalker pattern bolter fitted with a M40 targeting system and an autoloader for various types of ammunition. Along side the firearms rested his power sword, an relic Ingelldina Pattern, that hasd held many names throughout its centuries of service. Daxos had been entrusted with the ancient blade upon his elevation to the Tyrannic Veterans and it has been the end of aliens and heretics alike.

“This is where I must leave you Daxos, there are other new arrivals I must attend to. You have a sharp mind, I am sure you will bring glory to Ultramar, I look forward to serving with you.” With that Amadias turned and left.
06-13-15 06:58 PM
Boxagonapus The veteran spoke and he could sense the faint tinge of pining from the watch member welcoming him. It was clear the veteran had been here for quite a long time and had seen countless foreign battlefields filled with untold xeno horrors and spilt their blood. With the veteran's age it was unlikely that the two had known each other before and Serafeim dared not ask the man if he had any family left behind on Nocturne. The man didn't need such memories clouding his mind now. They would only bring a greater sense of longing.

Ornar knew the absence of Nocturne and he expected would come to miss the warm embrace much in the same way as he served the watch so far from home. Serafeim thought on the words though, of a permanent Secondment and the implications thereof. To forever march in the cold expanse where no furnaces burn as bright warmed only by the Emperor's light and the fire within. More ominous still was the possibility of interment within the sacred sarcophagi of the Dreadnoughts. It was a great honor to be sure but not one he was sure he wanted.

The two walked in silence for some time and it became more apparent that the fellow Salamander had spent such a great deal of time away from his chapter that he'd lost a degree of his personable nature and was merely attempting to make the devastator feel welcome. The conversation was now as barren as the very halls they walked that looked identical and would make a common man dizzy and lost in the endless maze.

His robes danced along the hard floor just barely touching it as he followed the armored giant in front of him explaining the details of his armor and the training that he would be undergoing as they entered into a final hallway where other seemingly recruited marines followed their caretakers. It was a bit to take in but it was straight forward enough. His gaze turned over a few of the others being led into the hall like himself before he was ushered into one of the cells. The sergeant lingered a moment longer and Serafeim turned to face him.

"Thank you Brother Ornar I appreciate your warm welcome. I will strive to bring honor to our chapter and to bring fire and fury to the Watch."
The veteran spoke and he could sense the faint tinge of pining from the watch member welcoming him. It was clear the veteran had been here for quite a long time and had seen countless foreign battlefields filled with untold xeno horrors and spilt their blood. With the veteran's age it was unlikely that the two had known each other before and Serafeim dared not ask the man if he had any family left behind on Nocturne. The man didn't need such memories clouding his mind now. They would only bring a greater sense of longing.

Ornar knew the absence of Nocturne and he expected would come to miss the warm embrace much in the same way as he served the watch so far from home. Serafeim thought on the words though, of a permanent Secondment and the implications thereof. To forever march in the cold expanse where no furnaces burn as bright warmed only by the Emperor's light and the fire within. More ominous still was the possibility of interment within the sacred sarcophagi of the Dreadnoughts. It was a great honor to be sure but not one he was sure he wanted.

The two walked in silence for some time and it became more apparent that the fellow Salamander had spent such a great deal of time away from his chapter that he'd lost a degree of his personable nature and was merely attempting to make the devastator feel welcome. The conversation was now as barren as the very halls they walked that looked identical and would make a common man dizzy and lost in the endless maze.

His robes danced along the hard floor just barely touching it as he followed the armored giant in front of him explaining the details of his armor and the training that he would be undergoing as they entered into a final hallway where other seemingly recruited marines followed their caretakers. It was a bit to take in but it was straight forward enough. His gaze turned over a few of the others being led into the hall like himself before he was ushered into one of the cells. The sergeant lingered a moment longer and Serafeim turned to face him.

"Thank you Brother Ornar I appreciate your warm welcome. I will strive to bring honor to our chapter and to bring fire and fury to the Watch."
06-02-15 03:28 AM
BulletToDieFor Ghati stood upon the embarking deck of the Deathwatch Thunderhawk, the transport that brought him from his place in the 2nd Company of The White Scars Chapter vessel, Fury of The Steppes, to the immense Watch-Fortress. He kept his surprise to himself at the sight of such a structure. How could such a thing be built by human hands, the novice space marine wondered to himself. Then again, The Imperium was full of strange and wondrous buildings and tokens of elite craftsmanship. Would he fit in here, Ghati wondered. Or would The Scar stick out like a sun against the void of space? A slight shutter throughout the Thunderhawk alerted Ghati that they had arrived at their destination. Now began his new life as a Deathwatch member.

As he exited the craft into the open hanger bay of the Watch-Fortress, Ghati’s possessions were hauled off by servitors and serfs in the black and gray of their Liege lords. The pilot of the Thunderhawk emerged from the cockpit, removing the helmet to reveal a striking female face. Among mortals, she would have stirred the hearts of any man that looked her way. To the Astartes, she was only a pilot, a soldier just like the rest. She motioned for Ghati to wait where he was, stating someone would be along shortly to collect him, then disappeared amongst the hustle of the hanger serfs and pilots.

Ghati stood in his Scars robes, his armor among the crates that were taken by the servitors earlier. His bulk made him stand out from the ordinary humans that were giving him a wide girth, as if he were some form of oddball or leper. Despite the din of the hanger, Ghati heard heavy footfalls of ceramite to his left, the long strides, the telltale signs of an Astartes warrior. He turned and his gaze was locked upon a copper face that almost mirrored his. The stranger had a single topknot on his otherwise bald head and a long black mustache. Even without seeing the red scar on the right shoulder pad, Ghati knew this Marine was a brother from the same Primarch as he. They looked each other up and down, each one sizing up the other. After a moment of silence, Ghati and the stranger both nodded to each other, and stepped closer.

"Well met Brother. Welcome to the Watch, I am Watch-Sergeant Artimus." Artimus extended his hand towards Ghati, who mimicked the gesture. They clasped each others forearms and came in for a warriors embrace.

“I am Brother Ghati of the illustrious 2nd Company. Well met Sergeant Artimus.” The warriors released from the hold and began the long walk down a corridor.

"It is good to see a fellow Son of the Steppe here, you will bring much glory to our chapter. I understand you will have many questions and I shall answer those that I can though remember that the very nature of the Death-Watch is one of secrecy and you will find that until you take your Second-Oath many doors will be closed to you, for now. Tell me how fares our chapter?"

“No news of The Great Khan, as has been the norm for a millenia. The search still continues, however, every Eldar we capture and interrogate will not spill the secrets of their accursed Webway. Perhaps you received words here of the raid on an Eldar outpost by the border of Segmentum Tempus planet of Kine by the 9th Company?”
05-31-15 07:10 PM
revan4559 Nicodeme (Darkreaver): The smile of the Watch-Sergeant that has been present since meeting you, obviously for meeting a fellow Son of Guilliman disappears from his face and from there ensues a deafening silence that is only made worse by the hum of the elevator. Brother-Sergeant Amadias closes his eyes for but a split second and in that time you hear the slightest whisper of breath from between his lips in an exhale as the Sergeant's eidetic memory takes him back. "Yes brother, I was there. I served under Chaplain Cassius for before coming to the Watch I was an Assault-Sergeant of the Third. You have read the records of the battle for my chapters homeworld I assume? And you have read the records of what the Third found at the Polar Fortress's? That is all I will say on the matter, and if you have not read the reports then you will be able to access them in the Watches Librarium Archive. Those were dark and terrible days for the Ultramarines Chapter and we thank to the Primarch that the Chapter recovered quickly."

Once again Watch-Sergeant Amadias falls silent on your journey down the elevator however after almost three minutes of silence he once again speaks up. "You will find that you will be fighting along side battle-brothers of many other chapters Brother-Nicodeme along with the Ultramarines Successors: The Sons of Sanguinius and their Kin, The Wolves have a presence here aswell though you are far more likely to hear them before you see them." Amadias chuckles at that. "The Dark Angels, their Brothers, The Raven Guard and theirs are here also. Every major chapter has sent marines to fight within the Watch and while there is some bad-blood between chapters In-Fighting will not be tolerated is that understood?" Brother-Sergeant Amadias then presses the button to open the elevator door when you hear and feel it come to s smooth halt and steps out into yet another seemingly identical corridor with the only indication of where you are being an Mechanicus numerical stamp above each door as the Sergeant begins to lead you to your room.

Nathanael (Nol): You are interrupted in your prays and reading of the data-slate, to your recollection, some four hours later by Chaplain Sicarius knocking at your door, who then bids you follow him as he tells you to leave behind your equipment as no Battle-Brother within the Watch is permitted to enter another's room without permission. The successor chaplain leads you through a series of darkened hallways towards an elevator that when it stops you find has led to the Watch-Fortress's reclusiam where about you see other Chaplains move about their duty ensuring the blessing of relics of the Watch including what appear to be several Dreadnought Sarcophagi who no doubt hold great heroes within awaiting the orders to be taken to the Forges and then housed within their indomitable war-forms. Sicarius leads you throughout the reclusiam to another part of it where he motions for you to enter alone.

Upon entering the next room you stand amongst five other Brother-Chaplains all dressed in their own robes bearing their Rosarius's about their necks and that their chapter symbol is upon their chests much like the symbol of the Dark Angels chapter is upon yours. You like them instantly know that these are your fellow inductee's into the Watch's Chaplain Brotherhood and that your induction would all be handled together. Upon looking at your five fellow battle brothers you see that they belong to: The Silver Skulls, The Angels Vermillion, The Minotaurs chapter. The remaining two of the five however are not of successor chapter gene-stock as you see upon their chests the insignia of the Raven Guard and the Imperial fists who like your own chapter directly trace their history to the original Legions. For now the six of you are left along to speak amongst yourselves if you so wish as you await upon who ever it is that will handle your induction.

Serafeim (Boxagonapus): Brother-Sergeant Ornar paused at that as you strode towards the elevator door, but only for a moment before continuing on with you. As he pressed the button to call for the elevator he turned to look at you with a slight smile. "I have been in service for the Watch for the better part of a of almost two centuries Brother Serafeim. I am as it is known here, on permanent Secondment to the Watch and it is very likely that I will not be returning to Nocturne until the fire within my hearts is finally extinguished. Even then there are those who even though they die, still serve the Emperor and their Primarch's in the form of out Dreadnought brethren who never return to their home worlds or chapters. And are instead awoken in times of need for the Watch when purges require their assistance. I came here in my 70th year as a member of Second Company. It has been a long time since I last looked upon Nocturne but under my watch many a Son of Vulkan has returned to our chapter alive and for that I am grateful."

Sergeant Ornar explains to you that your armour has been taken to be modified with all of the enhancements that you yourself will be coming to use when you fulfil the first part of your training and take the Second Oath and until then you will be training in fatigues, learning how to fight and execute members of Xenos races without the power and protection of your power armour and getting used to newer and more exotic variants of weapons that find use in the Watch such as the Stalker-Pattern bolter that finds more use here though you will be training with your own weapons aswell which will be waiting for you within your cell when you reach it which takes another hour of travelling through the Watch Fortress before you arrive in a hallway of similar cell doors which also have battle-brothers from other chapters being shown into.

Veyros (Krymson86): The Raven Guard member of the Death Watch leads you without any words to the elevator and then presses one of the buttons on the side to send it down towards the level upon which you will be staying when not in training, researching in the Librarium Archives about the Death Watches history of engagements, or within the mess hall eating with your fellow battle brothers of the watch. Throughout all of the trip in the elevator the Raven Guard marine remains utterly silent simply staring ahead and listening to anything you say without reply. When the elevator stops he motions for you to exit before following you out and then moving past you to lead you through another set of bulkhead doors to a long corridor filled with doors on the left and right sides where you can see other trainee's of the Death Watch entering and exiting before he motions for you to enter the third room on the left where you see your weapons but not your armour. (Kyrmson, ill edit in more information for you when you update more into your post as I really didnt have much to go on for you mate.)

Daxos (Kaiden): Brother-Sergeant Amadias listens intently as you retell the tales of the latest battles and campaigns of the Ultramarines Chapter asking questions primarily about those that have been thought against Xenos Races which you assume will be because he is gauging how much you know on efficiently dispatching the Alien foes of the Imperium and testing your knowledge to get a good idea of where you would stand within a Squad in the Death-Watch and like any good Ultramarine sergeant he seems to be sizing you up for advancement as if he had known you throughout your entire life in service to the chapter. Should you ask him about his past when he was an Ultramarine he tells you that he used to belong to Third Company and that he served the chapter under Chaplain Classius during the purges of the Polar Fortress's though he does not go into detail about that and you know that those dark days caused great sorrow in the Chapter at the loss of so many members of the First Company who you eventually replaced.

As you two continue to talk Brother-Sergeant Amadias leads you to one of many identical looking doors in one of the hallways which you see other Astartes being led to by other members of the Death-Watch and that like you they are all in training fatigues meaning that it is entirely possible you will be training with these battle brothers and maybe even serving alongside them. From the chapter symbols on their fatigues you see members of successor chapters of the Blood Angels such as the Flesh Tearers and Angels Encarmine, Raven Guard and their brothers such as The Raptors and Hawk Lords, Even several successors as the Marines Errant, White Consul's and Genesis Chapter. Brother-Sergeant Amadias then leads you into the cell which is to be your room and like all Astartes cells it is spartan in its decoration with a simple metal cot on which to sleep, a weapons wrack where you see your weapons have been stored though your armour is not here among your other belongings.

Ghati (BulletToDieFor): Standing on the embarkation deck awaiting which ever member it is of the Death Watch that is going to come to collect you, you notice that the serfs and servitors have collected your belongings and taken them to your cell where ever it is in the Watch Fortress that it may be, which you will likely find out in a few hours. For a few minutes you are left along with your thoughts until a fully armoured Astartes in the colours of the Death-Watch. His armoured painted entirely black save for his left arm and shoulder which are painted silver with the I and skull symbol of the Watch upon his left shoulder, a place in which the chapter symbol should be which is located upon his right. Upon his right shoulder this Astartes bears the symbol of the White Scars chapter your own chapter, you are able to see his face as his MK 'VI' helmet is locked at his waist. Like his facial features are sharp and pointed like that of a bird of prey and like yourself he has a well maintained top-knot with the rest of his head shaved bare.

Stopping several feet from you the White Scar before you stands and looks you up and down with an approving if somewhat stern gaze before giving you an inclination of his head. "Well met Brother. Welcome to the Watch, I am Watch-Sergeant Artimus." Artimus extends his hand towards you in greeting and should you take it he grips your arm/hand firmly to test your grip before motioning for you to follow. "It is good to see a fellow Son of the Steppe here, you will bring much glory to our chapter. I understand you will have many questions and I shall answer those that I can though remember that the very nature of the Death-Watch is one of secrecy and you will find that until you take your Second-Oath many doors will be closed to you, for now. Tell me how fares our chapter?"


The following three: See previous update.

Herraud (Dark Angel):

Helios (Angel of Blood):

Jae (Nacho Libre):
05-31-15 02:51 AM
Krymson86 "Brother Veyros I presume. Two weeks of idleness has not suited you well, it did not suit me well either when I first arrived at the watch. Worry not your training will begin fully next cycle so for now if you have any questions then ask, but you will find you will learn more by watching and listening." The unnamed member of the Death Watch, seconded form the Raven Guard spoke to Veyros.

The Astartes' black and silver armor was adorned with markings denoting him as a Champion, of a company, or a chapter was unknown. Veyros though did not avert his own gaze, equally confident, perhaps a little arrogant. He sized up the Raven Guard, noting his movements, guessing which hand he might be more proficient with a weapon in close combat. For a warrior who held themselves of such esteem as a Champion, everyone was measured, it was as automatic as breathing. Veyros was gripped by that competitive nature, he needed to be the best, and when he wasn't he would dedicate countless hours, days, months, years, decades if need be to master whatever it was that he was not already a master of.

As the Raven Guard signaled for him to follow he did. Hoping to begin his training in earnest, and to learn from one who was of his own Chapter's alleged lineage would be a rather interesting twist to the arrangement. Veyros followed the Raven Guard Champion until they reached what would become his quarters. The familiar sight of his Eviscerator was welcome, his armor however was still with the artificers of the Death Watch, being repainted and affixed with the necessary wargear to be operational for a member of the Watch.

He stepped into the room, tossing his tunic aside, leaving him wearing only a simple skirt made of heavy cloth. His arms, chest and back were marked with totemistic symbols, tattoos that denoted his 'journey' to become an Astartes, that spoke of the glories he had achieved in his service. The markings primarily took the primitive looking form of black ink, each one carefully etched into the skin with a blade by hand. The Raven Guard likely looked at him with a certain sense of distaste, if the Carcharadons were indeed a descendant of the Raven Guard, their were few similarities between the refined children of Corax and the primitive noble savages of the fleet based Carcharadons.

"Before you leave Champion, I wish to have your name," Veyros spoke with a certain amount of authority, as if they were on equal standing and should be acquainted with one another. The Carcharadon did not mean to be presumptuous, but that was simply the way of it, he counted himself as a Champion within his own chapter, he would not be beholden to the tactics of 'earning the right to know your superiors' that took place within the ranks of neophytes.
05-20-15 05:47 PM
Boxagonapus Two long weeks marked one of the more distasteful stays aboard a cruiser that the son of Vulcan had endured. The Inquisitorial crew proving to be little more than empty shells fulfilling their ordained task in a robotic fashion. The Captain, a Marius Gar carried the ship with an efficiency that Serafeim admired. He had spoken to the man only a handful of times and enough to make the Captain subtly threaten him as to the pitfalls of asking too many questions to representatives of the inquisition. The remainder of the journey was spent in meditation and in work aboard the ship.

It was a very sober departure from Nocturne and from the folds of the 3rd Company. Captain Agatone himself was present along with Chaplain Elysius; normally this might not have been so but given the delicate nature of Serafeim's seconding to the Death Watch it seemed proper. Few words were spoken and even the otherwise outgoing Elysius maintained his Astartes reserve leaving only the turbines thrumming in the background to break the silence.

"Honor us. Honor the Progenitor. Let the fire of battle steel you, brother."

The Captain spoke first actually catching the Devastator off guard he had been anticipating some rebuke from the Chaplain for not taking the choosing to walk the burning deserts of Nocturne but apparently there had been some discussion prior to this final meeting as the skull helmed Astarte remained stoic during this. Captain Agatone placed a hand up on the left shoulder of Serafeim and he did the same looking over the stern glowing eyes of his brother in a final customary greeting and farewell before boarding the small craft and setting into orbit.

It was an alien feeling question for an Astarte to feel self-doubt. To feel the fire within the furnace of your own breast choke for air but this was a test for him as it was for his brothers and his gene-father before and so the Salamander sealed himself away for the duration of the trip determined to be as well prepared as was possible in the confines of an Inquisitorial cruiser.

The descent to the planet was a rocky one and the cramped Lighter was not something that the Salamander enjoyed having grown accustomed to the mighty Thunderhawks that delivered the salvation to the children of the Empire and the bane of its foes. The small vessel that felt more like a large missile with a small hold tumbled through the atmosphere and felt as though the machine spirit would rattle apart yet it didn't and soon a grand fortress came into view one the likes Serafeim had never seen before. It stank of Xenos design but it seemed to bother no one so he was content enough to endure this.

"Blast. . . That's a watch fortress? Where in the Emperor's light are we?"


The marine questioned aloud not really expecting an answer. The pilot didn't respond but somehow Serafeim felt as though the individual's face was smirking at the astonishment of an Astartes. The Lighter tore through a meticulously cut out hole in the fortress covered in the thin membrane of a shield generator and like that the small Cargo ship came to an abrupt halt and sat down, the small skis buckling under the weight as the shocks compressed.

Serafeim thanked the Emperor and the pilot for the safe journey in that order and with an approving pat on the ship's hull thanked the machine spirit for delivering him despite its rather worn down nature. The bay doors dropped down to the Lighter and Serafeim himself grabbed one of the larger cargo containers and brought it out without a great deal of strain. It was his gear and he didn't want to be waited on. He was standing beside it as a couple servitors stared blankly at him attempting to fulfill their assignments when a bellowing filled the hall.

"A fellow son of Nocturne!" He turned to face the black titan before him glistening in pristine armor with an equally glimmering silver arm. The marine's black face was a dead giveaway to his origin and the scars and signs of wear from countless battles were painted on the Veteran's face. They embraced in the same greeting he'd departed Nocturne with as the veteran clasped Serafeim's shoulder and he returned the gesture. The squeeze would have broken human bones with ease but Serafeim merely fought back the wince with a grin. "Let them take it! Trust me I did the same when I first arrived and the Servitors know far better than you where they're going." He let out a laugh as the devastator reluctantly surrendered the crate he'd taken to the mindless cyborgs that skittered off into the fortress with it.

"It is good to see that the chapter continually produces battle-brothers to the standard of joining the Watch. I am Brother-Sergeant Ornar, follow me brother and we shall get you settled in and on your way to your first training session. I shall answer what questions I am permitted to but with patience all you wish to know shall become clear."

Serafeim smiled and followed in tow in relative silence.

"Have you your tongue, brother? I'm not used to such silence from one of my own."

The devastator could only shrug, "I've learned quickly that agents of the Inquisition don't particularly enjoy conversation as those on Nocturne."
"Ah yes this is true. You'll soon learn the proper ways, how fairs our home, brother?"
"Blazing with heat and yielding the finest products as any good furnace should! It. . . Feels cold here in comparison." The sergeant seemed to slow down for a moment seemingly reminiscing about the home so far away. "Yes. . . Yes the warmth of the flame is something we don't get here. We simply carry it within us, brother."

"And how long have you been here, brother Ornar?"
05-19-15 01:38 PM
Nol A fleck of red flew into Nathanael’s eye as he drew his arm back, causing him to squint as he brought the whip down on his shoulders. The ropes, already damp and heavy with sweat and blood, came down with significant force, the crack of leather and its slap against his skin breaking the silence of the otherwise empty Chapel. Nathanael’s bare body was a blur of motion, his moisture-soaked hair flying about his head in tandem with the tails of the whip, the stench of body odour mixed with the warm undertone of incense tainting his nostrils with each laboured breath.

Standing before the altar, the Chaplain kept his eyes fixed upon the icon of The Lion embossed in the wall plating, dim lighting and smoke casting the brass and gold in shadow. The pain that he felt was a parallel to the bite of Luther’s blade, the blood on the floor a mirror to his father’s own, and the sense of hope that it brought Nathanael’s very own. Seated deep within his flesh, rooted within yet somehow beyond it, where neither whip, blade nor fire could touch, was the sure knowledge that one day He would be returned to them, that once the last of His errant sons was absolved of his sins the roar of The Lion would once again reverberate throughout the stars He had once conquered.

Nathanael felt little, however, as the leather came down again and again, causing the skin and muscle beneath to ripple with each impact, already nearly numb to its admonishments. A neural whip would be the next step, its bite something the Chaplain craved at his basest level, but knew that he was not strong enough to survive that which it would bequeath unto him with any regularity. The surety vanished, as insubstantial and unpredictable as the thin wisps of smoke that permeated the air. Tears streamed down his face as the weight of keening loss, of failure, of inadequacy, of every expectation that he had not met threatened to crush Nathanael. Why did He not show himself? Was it not enough that Nathanael had given every iota of his soul and flesh in His name, had done that which had forfeited the humanity in whose name the Ist legion had been forged, had hurled countless souls from the mortal coil and into the waiting arms of whichever maker had seen fit to create them? Were it him and him alone, he might understand, but Nathanael was but the last in a long and honourable line of the Inner Circle’s finest to dedicate himself in such a way. Their names, courting and intertwining with those of the Fallen made to repent, locked together in death and remembrance as they had been in life, each both inimical and vital to the existence of the other. The Chaplain neither sobbed nor gave voice to his angst, but its lachrymal expression, raw emotion as excreted by the flesh itself, ran down his cheeks. It reached his neck and chest, and mixed with the blood there, cutting irregular meanders through it almost as if in imitation of the scars that covered his skin.

Watch Station Icarus will be within shuttle distance in approximately thirty minutes” came a voice over the Chapel’s tannoy, its serene tone offset by the volume at which it was blasting into Nathanael’s ears, smashing him out of his reverie.

The marine stopped his whipping, standing stock-still in the sweat-laden air, mentally readying himself – on the physical level, Nathanael was prepared, having already compiled what information he could of those chapters alongside whose members he would be serving. On that front, the combined fonts of knowledge of The Rock’s Librarius and Reclusiam had been nourishing indeed. But to be as sincere to marines who knew nothing of what he did, whose gene-seed came from lesser primarchs and did not carry the weight and authority of the Ist Legion, of The Unforgiven and their Order and Inner Circle…that would be trying indeed, and Nathanael could draw on little but his own experience and resolve.

Stepping up to the altar, Nathanael held out his rosarius and took between forefinger and thumb the lone black pearl affixed to its underside, and with little effort plucked it free from its housing. Bowing his head, he placed it on the altar and stood there a moment, unsure whether he would emerge from this still deserving the prestige it afforded him. With a final, shuddering breath he looked again at the portrait of the Lion cast in brass and gold, the gaze at once both wise and unseeing meeting his own, and resolved once more that he would return, earning his father’s life and love.

“My life for you” the Interrogator-Chaplain whispered, pulling up his robes to cover his body, where the second skin of blood had become a scabbed memory, and left.


-----


“Ware the Wolves”

The Chaplain followed his successor counterpart, deep in thought. That he would be burdened with a Fenrisian had been pre-empted, but it still perturbed the marine. None of them would or could know of his origins or set of skills…yet they would be expected to duel. Nathanael knew then and there that he could not afford to engage a Wolf in a duel while aboard the Watch Fortress, for the Chaplain’s training, designed to bring down astartes over any other foe, combined with his history of engagement with traitor marines and his intimacy with the physiology of his kind, would leave the outcome of such an altercation beyond doubt. He could not defeat a Wolf without revealing something of his nature, yet neither could he allow himself to be defeated. To concede to a whelp of Russ’ sire would be unforgivable – Nathanael could but hope that through his wits and by avoiding contact with them as much as possible he could evade that hurdle.

Once in his quarters, Nathanael inclined his head, indicating to Sicarius that he was no longer needed. The Watch-Chaplain nodded back, reaching into his robes and producing a data-slate, which the taller marine accepted, before entering the small room that would serve as his home, closing and locking the door behind him. Glancing at the data-slate, Nathanael saw that there was a scrap of paper tucked between the hard metal back and his thumb – how Sicarus had got it there Nathanael could guess, but his respect for the senior Chaplain increased as much as it made him aware of his need for constant vigilance. The paper was inscribed with Calibanese runes in a neat, unpretentious script.

The room is secure, and has been fitted with a screamer linked to your armour. Should anyone without our authorisation enter the room it will be cleansed. S.

Nathanael crushed and ingested the paper, swallowing the pellet without difficulty. On the bed were his weapons, first and foremost among them Naful Malakh. Picking it up, the marine drew it form his scabbard, feeling and allowing himself to briefly enjoy its familiar weight and balance. He looked down between his bare feet, and saw the familiar notch in the floor. Sicarius was outdoing himself, it seemed.

Nathanael placed the tip of the blade in the notch, where it slid down exactly ten centimetres before coming to rest, its great long length standing to attention. The Dark Angel lowered himself to his knees before the weapon, and half in prayer, half in concentration, rested the data-slate against it as he read the details of his upcoming trials and objectives.
05-12-15 08:07 PM
darkreever "Arise brother Rien, stand tall and proud in the knowledge that though you leave the service of your chapter, you do so because your experiences and skills have caught the eye of another of the Emperor's tools." Captain Galus voice filled the space of the hangar. His was one of thirteen figures present to see Rien off; the others that of chaplain Diux, epistolary Milus, the nine members of veteran squad Corlien, and a nondescript woman with a marking of the inquisition emblazoned on the chest of her flight suit.

Standing to his full height, Nicodeme Rien stood slightly shorter than his brothers in a white and blue vest and shorts of coarse wool, and heavy black boots while they were each fully clad in power armour. "My lord-captain, I take with me this honour and the chance to serve the Emperor on the path He has laid out before me. Service, duty, His will above all." Rien answered, his brothers of squad Corlien repeating the cry of the chapter in his wake.

"Then you are released from your bonds of service to the chapter until such time as your return, either in life and again at our side, or in death at the Emperor's." Librarian Milus intoned while chaplain Diux placed a gauntleted hand on Rien's bare shoulder and recited a quick prayer.


That had been ten days ago. From the hangar of the strike cruiser Vilamus's Blade, Rien and the operative had boarded a small craft, a quick cutter that had docked with a modified frigate of the inquisition. It was a dark vessel, from the void black armoured hull to the sparseley lit interior devoid of the ornamentation that would be present on other craft. The crew was largely servitor based, the majority of the human crew found on the bridge. The captain of the vessel, an olive skinned man with a large scar that had taken his right eye, had introduced himself as Fontaine DeVois but offered little more than that and to request Rien keep himself to the bridge, his quarters, or the vessels unused auxiliary hangar should he wish to perform combat manouvres during transit.

The days following departure had been long but quiet, with Rien either meditating in his quarters or training in the space allotted to him. On the night cycle of the tenth day Rien was contacted by DeVois, requesting the marine to the bridge as the frigate made approach to their final destination.

DeVois called it a watch fortress, and alluded to it being one of several of its kind spread throughout the Imperium. But the thing they approached looked like nothing Rien had ever seen before, it certainly was not made by the hands of man. Bile rose up in his throat at the thought of stepping foot in a xenos made construct and not eradicating its creators or destroying the location itself, but the deathwatch was a body that fought against the alien and one of the best, if more distasteful, ways to fight them was to know about them.

Making his leave of DeVois, Rien exited the bridge and made for the hangar. His equipment had been stored since his leaving, so he had nothing to retrieve that was not already on his person. Returning to the vessel that had embarked him on the frigate, Rien was treated to a sight of the fortress, and he could see that it truly was deserving of the name. Gun and torpedo ports dotted its outer structure, though the veteran had no doubt that there were many more he did not see. The cutter quickly docked in a hangar easily capable of holding a battle-cruiser, and in the distance there were a trio of frigates or destroyer class vessels.


Stepping down from the cutters ramp, Rien looked out over the expansive dock, taking note of the chill in the recycled air that filled the chamber and the kilometers long energy barrier the cutter had come through. Large enough for a cruiser to come through, Rien could not hold back his marvel at whatever technology created the barrier, such a thing would surely be coveted by the Adeptus Mechanicus.

Across from his docking port, set in a stone wall, a blast door opened to reveal an elevator. From the elevator came an armoured figure, his black power armour easily marking him as a member of the deathwatch. His right shoulder, however, was a bright cobalt blue depicted the inverted omega that he knew well; the symbol of the Ultramarines, primogenitor of his own and bearers of the right to call themselves the first sons of Guilliman.

A well rounded jaw, deep blue eyes and close cropped blonde hair framed the light skinned warrior standing before him. Those eyes study Rien closely, and he inclines his head slightly before speaking. "Well met Brother. Welcome to the Watch, I am Watch-Sergeant Amadias." Amadias extends his hand towards you in greeting, one in which Rien takes without hesitation. Taking hold of the sergeants forearm in the grip of a warrior, the Marine Errant felt the armoured grip tighten about his own arm, clearly a test. "Thank you watch-sergeant, I am Nicodeme Rien of the Marines Errant."

"It is good to see a fellow Son of Guilliman here, you will bring much glory to your chapter. I understand you will have many questions and I shall answer those that I can though remember that the very nature of the Death-Watch is one of secrecy and you will find that until you take your Second-Oath many doors will be closed to you." He replied, motioning for both warriors to enter the elevator. And it was true, Rien did have questions, but it was likely that many would be answered in time.

"Until my oath is taken, the only question I have is for you directly watch-sergeant. Did you fight alongside your brothers in 746?" Rien asked as the doors closed behind them.
05-10-15 09:50 PM
Kaiden Daxos lurched forward in his chair as the ship translated back into real space, his vision blurred momentarily as purple-white light danced across the chambers many surfaces and the the dull thunk of the gellar field deactivating sounded throughout the vessel. For the briefest of moments the Ultramarine could have sworn he heard the desperate screams of the Empyrean’s countless denizens; it was a familiar sensation to the veteran astartes but always an unwelcome one.

The journey from Macragge had been a swift one indeed, though in truth the solidarity had made it feel longer. The Justice of Terra was a relatively unassuming vessel, at least compared the much fabled black ships of the Inquisition, only slightly larger in size than the strike cruisers of Ultramar’s own fleet. However what it lacked in size it more than compensated for with speed, as one of the Inquisitions own transports, the Justice was fitted with some of the rarest and most advanced archeotech in the Imperium, the better to deliver these shadowy agents of the Imperium to their destinations.

Daxos had only briefly met the ship’s captain when he came aboard the vessel. A short man by human standards, slightly portly and thinning of hair; Daxos would have put his age in the early 130s, though with the resources and rejuvenation treatments available to the inquisition's agents it was difficult to tell. The man was polite enough, introducing himself as Shipmaster De Varco the third, he had been quick to show Daxos to his chambers and quicker still to iterate the extent of the information he would divulge. Under more standard circumstances even a ship’s captain would have been expected to pay more respect to one of the Emperor’s own, but these circumstances were far from standard.

Daxos had spent the remainder of the eight day journey fasting, meditating and studying the few tomes he had been permitted to bring, he ached for some physical exercise but the facilities aboard the Justice were simply not built with an astartes in mind. Often he had replayed in his mind his conversations with Captain Agemann and Chaplain Cassius regarding his new secondment. He had been selected for this honour for his skills and knowledge both he had been told. It was that knowledge, Cassius had continued, that he was loathe to loose but the Ultramarines had sworn to provide the watch with their best to combat the threat without.

A sharp knock on the heavy metal door of his chamber shook Daxos from his thoughts, he closed the book he had been reading and stood.

“Enter.”

A single robed figure entered the chamber, bowing low as they approached, Daxos sharply honed mind subconsciously analysed the new arrival. Female, early 20s, low heat signatures, good posture, trace scents of oil and incense, likely cybernetic enhancements, threat minimal.

My lord Argentus, Shipmaster De Varco has requested your presence in the main hanger, we will be docking within the hour.” Her message delivered the young woman hastily bowed and left the chamber.

————————————————————————————————————————————

The main hanger of the Justice was far larger than Daxos had expected, set deep into the bow of the vessel, all manner of surface craft and short range fighters were docked here, secured for interplanetary travel. However one vessel immediately caught his attention, one of very familiar design, a Thunderhawk. The mere sight of the mighty craft was enough to stir fond memories, the gunships of his chapter had often been both his steed, delivering his squad into the heart of a warzone, and also his salvation when the enemy threatened to overwhelm their position. Daxos had even learned to fly the mighty craft with what his brother tech marines dubbed “acceptable proficiency” during his time with the seventh company.

One thing was immediately clear about this craft, it was not of the Ultramarines nor any other chapter. The deep azure he knew so well was replaced with a gunmetal black, only one motif marked the ship at all, the same that had been present on the documents of his secondment. A single letter in high gothic overlayed with a human skull, the symbol of the Ordo Xenos Inquisition and now his new home, the Deathwatch.

———————————————————————————————————————————

After a short flight and a not so short speech on the topic of secrecy and the ever-present threat of knowledge in the wrong hands, the crafts ramp lowered and De Varco and his entourage were led away by a group of servitors, Daxos took a moment to collect himself before following down the ramp.

If the launch hanger of the Justice had been vast, the space the Ultramarine now stood in could only be described as cavernous. By Daxos estimate there was room enough for a full company assembly, transports and attending staff included. In reality however only one other astartes was present, walking at a brisk pace towards the craft surrounded by various serfs and servitors. His Armour was the same matt black as the gunship save for his left arm, the shoulder pad and vambrace had been completely replaced with ornate and intricately inscribed silver battle plate. The only other identifying mark was his opposite shoulder guard, which as he came to a stop in front of the Thunderhawk warmed Daxos’ heart, his insignia was the very symbol of courage and honour, a fellow ultramarine.

Well met Brother. Welcome to the Watch, I am Watch-Sergeant Amadias.” As he spoke the Sergeant extended his hand in the customary military greeting of Ultramar. Daxos smiled and returned the greeting. As two Ultramarines clasped each others forearms, he noticed the ornate vambrace in greater detail now, the litanies and oaths inscribed upon it, the half moon shaped elbow guard.

“Well met indeed, I am Daxos Argentus of the first.”

Amadias nodded curtly as the two astartes released the warrior’s embrace and he began walking back toward the hanger exit. Daxos spared the servitors a brief glance as they began to unload his belongings before falling in line with the sergeant.

“It is good to see a fellow Ultramarine here brother Daxos, you will bring much glory to our chapter.” As the two astartes exited the hanger Daxos was amazed by the sheer size and scope of his surroundings, unlike most Imperial facilities the corridors were spacious and well lit and instead of the dark arches and grated flooring he had come to expect, the walls and floor were seamlessly smooth with more traditional imperial technology appearing to have been added after its construction.

“Where exactly is here Watch Sergeant?” Amadias stopped and turned to face his new charge, his lip turned up at the corners in a knowing half smile.

I understand you will have many questions, I will answer those I can in due course, though be aware the very nature of the inquisition is that of secrecy, even amongst the brothers of the Deathwatch.” As he spoke, the smile dropped and his face took on the more stern qualities of an officer speaking to his troops. “You will find that many doors will be closed to you until you take your oath and some even then.” Amadias placed a hand on Daxos’ shoulder guard. “But there will be time enough for that later, for now tell me how fares our beloved chapter?”

As the two warriors walked the halls of the Watch Fortress, Daxos took great pleasure in retelling the stories of the Ultramarines’ many recent victories and bloody battles.
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