Kain bit back, barely controlled anger like a clap of thunder beneath the sermon of false words and poorly ascertained assumptions. Ignorant, he thought Izrael sought glory upon the husk below them.
How wrong he was, how little he knew, he longed for atonement, for completion, to remove the weight of failure from his shoulders allowing him to stand straight head held high, the honors he had earned no longer tainted by that original failure.
It was haunting, the ghost of a long dead veteran, of an oath that dwelt in the darkest depths his nightmares, consumed his emotions and left him shivering and empty amongst bitterness and hate. Kain moved closer, spite resounding in his words, an attempt to conquer his own failures by snapping at Izrael's
"If one of them had lived and we did not have need for more marines do you truly think you would have been raised?"
Izrael was laughing, the slightest chuckle oozing quietly from his helmets vox speakers, cast upon the wind for Kain's ears only. The chaplains had not been able to keep him in line because his will had been stronger, his purpose, a consuming need to find an honourable death, to end the misery of his shameful existence.
Words trickled from his lips unbidden a low his, drowned by the roar of the thunderhawks engines, a lilting quip sliding from his tongue even as the sergeant moved away
"Oh brother sergeant, you cannot hate me more than I hate myself, just as I can't doubt you more than you doubt yourself."
He spoke of the need for a chaplain in these troubled times, yet even as he spoke of fealty to their lord, he cast doubt upon him and Izrael gave a chuckle again, his words a low hiss once again for Kain's ears only
"So you do not believe lord sotha can impose discipline upon 3 pups. Interesting."
The matter was closed yet he baited Izrael with a talk of a spar with the poodle. All things considered he agreed with the sergeant, he would probably loose. He lost over 3 centuries on the elder. He studied the elders physique, his posture, searching for weakness in his stocky frame, no doubt his wounds had healed, though who knew what rust crept upon the hard bars of his muscle since his injury, who knew what was possible in these troubled times.
Either way he would rattle the cage of his psychi, do his best to stretch the elder's limits, it would be good to see what he could do against a veteran. His eyes bored into Raxan's yet the elder's thoughts seemed troubled by other matters, dismissive of his biting words, calm and unfettered, the product of centuries.
So long he had been chastised for his wildness, to see the flames of his rage against the cold steel of discipline would be a damning indictment to his skill, perhaps a lesson in discipline the chaplains had never taught.
"If he would fight me, I will step into the cage with your poodle yet to go into battle expecting defeat is to surrender not fight."
They stood upon a husk, an empty shell of a world, scattered fragments of their homeworld lay around him, the pilferings of rogues and scoundrels. Hatred bit deep , anger rising from him fanning the flames of his loathing, he was incandescent, his body unable to move, stalled by purest rage as he looked out over the grave yard of his chapter, scattered remains of smaller figures floated before them even as he stepped off the ramp.
He felt his foot touch Sotha's soil, and he gasped as a feeling, foreign, frightening, a sudden sensation of tranquility, of peace, of being at one with the ground that he trod upon even as his eyes baulked in revulsion.
Prayers slid from his lips, his helms voxed switched to mute with a flick of his eye, encase in silence his mind invoxed by the words he hissed to the world, battle litanies invocations of the god emperor filling him with righteous fury, stirring him and he moved forwards amongst the others instilled with the emperor's noble wrath.
He watched but did not hear even as Brother Vermaas tore the head from a pirate to reveal the cobalt blue skin of an Xenos and Izrael felt nauseous sickened by the sight, humans, their souls cast in darkness consorting with the alien to pillage the wreckage of their world.
A blast flashed over head, the acrid taste of the air told him that it was too much for the dreadnaught, the righteous rage of Brother Solaki splitting a bunch of the traitors, blood spatters suddenly suspended in the air as their bodies were vapourised by the fierce blast.
It was the trigger the release of all their emotions, each brother wading forth into those whose presence defiled the grave of their brothers, of their home, of their honor.
His bolt pistol was in his hand, chainsword sliding into his right even as the mass of grave robbers turned to meet them, several sliding into cover with graceful bounds and unnatural twists. Once was a fraction too late and Izrael placed a bolt round through his throat, the impact triggering sending the body pinwheeling leaving a crystalline spray of viscaera hanging menacingly in mid air.
He was moving forward even as a scatter of small arms fire flashed around them, lasguns and various other energy weapons, slicing through the air, leaving shimmering ozone around him, sending a celestial glimmer across his cratered shoulder guard. A tall wiry figure slipped from cover before him, seeming to freeze as he saw the towering behemoth pushing towards him, the hesitation allowing Izrael to put a second round into his chest. He pushed on through the droplets of crimson ichor, leaving smeared blood across the aquilla on his chest even as a smaller figure broke from cover before him leaping high drifting up, the bolt round, sailing under the graceful arc of his body.
A deft twist and his second round passed between arm and shoulder even as a strange carbine swinging round to come to bear upon him. He was sprinting now, great long strides, a blast of energy caught him in the chest yet he was still moving a thumb, thudding on the activation rune sending the wirring blade into life as he removed the floating figures head with a sweep of the blade, a second figure broke from cover, rushing towards him gun held high in blind panic. The blade sung again the spatter of blood a relief to the pent up energy.
Release of emotions, the bliss of blind rage fading away to leave the great shape of the fortress monestry before him. Within its hallowed depths lay the last chance at redemption or condemnation that his failure would be with him forever.
He paused, the weight of his decision brought to sudden head, the reason he had come here and the sheer mass of possibilites it brought. Total failure or the first step on the road to redemption stood upon what he found within those crumbling walls.
"Brothers our objective is brother Cleomenes. Do not stray too far ahead!"
Even as he began to stride towards the fortress monestry he paused, yet another reason for the veterans to think him little more than an impetuous fool.
Fuck it, he found the sheet of paper still pinned to his shoulder guard and ran his fingers over the surface before striding onwards, he had his orders.
kudos to lillian thorne for the awesome sig
Last edited by deathbringer; 06-01-12 at 08:21 PM.