# Blades in the Shadows



## Deus Mortis (Jun 20, 2009)

_Chaplin Ares walked the lonely catacombs of 'The Raven's Talon'. It was 3am. An hour before the morning prayer, and when every battle brother would arise from their allotted time of slumber. Ares' cold metal heels clicked against the hull of the ship as he walked to the Reclusiam. He was meeting Lorenzo in the chamber in the back. They had to make final arrangements for the assault to come. Ares pulled out the data sheet and looked at the display of the planet at last count:

*Population:* 16.8 billion. 
*Tithe grade: *80%. 
*Classification: *Forge World. 
*Nature of threat:* Two months ago Belliam VII sent an astropathic distress call to any Imperial offices able to assist. Several "Rokz"* had landed in the renewed attack from the Ork forces surrounding the galactic south. Initially, the problem was contained by the Adeptus Mechanicum forces and PDF troopers. As always the Orks had proven difficult to displace due to their unique reproduction system. But there was at least one prometheum based weapon for every squad to destroy spores, and so the Orks were gradually pushed back. However, after two weeks of fighting several Astropaths started wailing about a huge wave in the warp, one bigger than other ones left by the previous "Rokz"*. A few days later the Space Hulk "Silent Abyss" was vomited out of the warp, housing thousands of new greenskins to add to the fight. This vessel was shred into four pieces by the Mechanicum defense lasers. Regretably, the explosion of these pieces from one another set one on a course for on of the main forge hives, which also housed several Battle Titans of the Legio Crucius. Despite the best attempts, the shard collided with the planet, and the explosion killed an estimated 75% of the garrison stationed there. However, the orks survived and over ran the remaining troops. Filled with fresh and greater technology, the greenskins attack was boosted and due to the loss of one of the key manufacturing facilities, the defense was over run. At time of intercepting this message, the Orks controlled 60% of the planet and counting.*
*"Rokz" are the native name for the Space Hulks the Orks use as transportation.
*Voice message attached: This is Lord Commander Yosat Green. We have lost the main manufacturia and are falling back to the Arch-Magi's palace. We can hold them off but not for much longer. Their number grows as ours shrinks. Calling all Imperial forces we need assistance. We need deliverance. May the God-Emperor save us. *End transmition*
*Threat level:*Moderate/High
*Priority:*High

Ares finished reading the data slate he had read a thousand times before. He knew what foe they were up against, and Captain Shrike had entrusted him and Lorenzo with the security of this planet. It was a vital piece in the defense of the galactic south, without Bellium's supplies, many other planets would fall to the greenskins. *Xeno's freaks* Ares thought to himself as he strode into the Reclusiam once again. *How dare they try to take a planet from the Imperium. How could they not know that they fought against manifest destiny? We will show them the error's of their ways!* Ares thought as his black soles pounded on the floor of this Battle Barge's Chapel. Ares would deliver the address to their troops at 400 hours this morning, as was his proviso as joint leader and company Chaplin. But first the meeting with Lorenzo and a select few others. Ares pushed open the double doors into the Reclusiam's inner chamber were there were Librarian Lorenzo, Fleet master Alkrin, Veteran Sergeant Aniktios and the Head-Astropath Demitri. All of them powerful individuals, and all of them ready to make war on the xenos scum trying to take the planet..._

Alright then ladies and gents. Welcome to The Raven's Talon, one of the few assigned battle barges to the strike force sent to liberate Bellium VII from it's greenskin attackers. As battle barges can carry 3 companies worth of men, there may well be marines from other companies, and even other chapters, but they are being sent to other surrounding planets which require aid, only the Third Company will be liberating Bellium VII. As is stated in my post, it is 3am, the last of the four hours which Space marines are allotted to sleep in. 

This is a very general update to start. At 4am there is morning prayer, which you must all attend. However, until then, the time it yours. Are you enjoying one of the few hours you are given to rest, and will only wake up in time to make it to the Reclusiam for morning prayer? If so don't make it easy by saying "I got up and went to morning prayer". Tell us about your dreams. Did you dream of future glories, or of past glories, or of past regrets? 
Or have you risen early to get some target practice in? 
Are you down in the battle cages sparing with another marine? This can be someone of your own squad, but PM them first, to make sure they are ok with it.
Perhaps you have gone to the Reclusiam early to reflect upon your duty to the Emperor and pray for guidance in the coming battle, or absolution from a previous battle?

Any of these options is good, and feel free to make up your own. However, do not post something like "I was training when I heard alarm bell ringing, and vox messages warning that the ship had been breached...etc". However, other than that and what you do is your choice.


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## Lord Ramo (Apr 12, 2009)

Orate Pericles smashed one of the combat servitors to one side as he sparred with several servitors. Truth was this was one of the few times he could rest, but he knew that his body and mind could handle all the situations that would be pressed upon him. Truth be told while they waited on the ship in the warp he had rested enough, and now he was fed up of it. He hungered for battle, the feel of ork skin tearing underneath his power sword. For now he practised at these mindless servitors, any mere man would have found this to be a death trap.

He however did not, for an Astartes this was practice. He would succeed like he had done countless times. He was up against three opponents, each set to the highest training setting, that of death. He was armed with his combat blade, lightning dancing from its power source. He danced to the left as a servitor leapt at him from the side, swinging his combat knife to deflect his blade before backhanding it with his free hand. He struck with such force that its face snapped back under the pressure of it, breaking its neck. Orate slashed down with his blade slicing its throat before turning to the other two, They both lunged at him in unison aiming for his heart. He stepped back allowing them to fell short before lunging forward himself. He slammed into one forcing it to the ground. Its blade nicked at his arm before his knife slammed through its face.

He quickly rolled to his feet as the other one attacked, parrying every blow it sent his way. Orate saw the few brothers that were in the training cage start to leave, and he knew he would to. He lowered his arms and said *"Command function Alpha 9 Foxtrot, stand down."* He watched as the servitor stopped in its attack, and he exited the cage. He wrapped his sweat covered body in a simple robe, ignoring the scratch on his arm. It would soon be fine, his enhanced body dealing with the blood flow. Orate had worse wounds anyway, this was a scratch due to his laziness. He would have to correct that.

He entered the Reclusiam and moved over to an adjacent area. It appeared that he had made it in time, and he moved to the front where the older marines were. He recognised some of his brothers and gave them a nod before taking his place.


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## xianren (Dec 15, 2009)

Samiel's eyes opened to the familiar sight of his sparse chamber. The only furnishings in his room other than the cot was a simple chair and table that held the weapons he had been tinkering with the previous evening. Some called him obsessed, but he loved taking apart his bolter and cleaning every inch of it. He knew his life depended on the weapon, and wanted it to function perfectly. Plus he secretly enjoyed the rivalry. He wanted his gun to out perform the others by just a hair... He chuckled to himself before climbing off the cot and pulling his robe and sandals on.

He always had a difficult time sleeping on a ship, whenever he closed his eyes he felt like he was falling. It was ludicrous, of course, the ships inertial dampeners were working perfectly. There was no way he was actually feeling the ship fall through the warp. It was only his imagination, but still, he awoke several times over the past 4 hours.

He was itching for planetfall. Getting off this Emperor cursed ship and into a fight with greenskins. It was enough to put a spring in his step. How he loved killing aliens. They where a blight on the universe and to allow them to survive would be morally wrong. This was the kind of work the Emperor had made him for. This was the kind of mission he truly loved!

"Emperor protect me." he mumbled, hoping somewhere out there in the vast sea of the universe the Emperor of Mankind heard him and was watching out for him. He knew he was doing the Emperors will, he just hoped he could do it well enough to please Him.

He glanced at the time piece sitting on the table next to the bolter. It was soon time for morning prayer to begin. He went to the Reclusium a few minutes early and bowed his head in prayer.


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## FORTHELION (Nov 21, 2009)

It was in the early hours of the morning before morning prayers and Garran Socoles was busying himself with stretches and old ancient terran martial arts movements. He was fed up drilling with servitors and much preferred the solitude of this sort of training at times. He felt that it attuned his mind ready for a combat drop. 

He finished up his routine and went to the end of his bed and meticulously fitted on his armour piece by piece, blessing each one in turn and asking for its protection in the comming battle with the greenskin. Finally he reached into his drawer and pulled out an ancient medal of the Emperor he had taken from his homeworld that his mother had given him as a child. He kissed it and hung it around his neck. He had carried it with him ever since and all through his initiation and scout days. It was a source of comfort for him. Chaplain Ares was the only one who knew he still had it. It was not appreciated by most of the hierarchy in the Raven Guard for astartes to carry keepsakes but Ares had told him that it would do no harm, but not to flaunt it in front of others.

With his armour fully on with the exception of his helmet which was clipped to his side he strode purposefully from his chamber and headed for the Reclusiam. Upon entering he spotted brother Samiel and gave him a nod before seating himself up near the front. It was nearly time for prayers to begin when brother sgnt pericles entered just about on time as usual. *"Nice of you to finally join us brother sgnt, i trust you slept well?["/I]*_ he said with a broad smile on his face._


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## unxpekted22 (Apr 7, 2009)

Sven had sat in his undergarments on his cot, longsword in his hands from 2400 to 0330. His massive chest would rise and fall with the rhythm of an ocean. At times his face was stern, lips sealed and eyes narrowed to the floor. At other times his wide grin gleamed with desire to enact cruel justice. He slid his finger across one of the sword's sharp edges, a stilled feather that ripped his skin.

He shifted his large shoulders before standing up, shaking the blood off of his finger. He donned his black robe, decorated only with the white symbol of the Raven Guard. His mind continued to race with the mission data. Just Kill, and so many to kill. The thought of the Orks annoyed him to the core. He had no patience for an enemy that would simply re-sprout later on, causing his chapter and others to return again and again to the same systems. He enjoyed killing in the Emperor's name, and of course in his own, but he wanted the xenos he had slain to stay dead. He knew each new generation of Orks were not the same identities from the last, but it was all the same to Sven.

Thanks be to the Emperor that the astropaths were able to navigate the warp as he had barely enough patience to make it through such a trip. He could never stand for traveling in real time to such a mission.

He made his way through the eloquent hallways of the barge with his sword at his waist beneath his robes. Already he could hear others were awake as well. He turned into one of the several entrances into one of his company’s training rooms. He found several of his brothers there, including his own sergeant who currently battled servitors.

Sven watched his sergeant with a scowl. It was simply what he felt like doing as he watched. To his surprise and frustration, Brother Orate commanded the last standing servitor to stop, as it was 0400 and time for the Morning Prayer session. Sven had just a few moments to spare.

Hardly waiting for the rest to leave the room, Sven stepped into the ring that smelled of cold salty sweat that clung to mat and metal. He leaned down to the mindless servitor as it stayed in place, unmoving. With a cruel tone he spoke out, “You didn’t get your target in time. You would have died wouldn’t you? Why don’t you just die now then, Hm? No sense in waiting ‘till later.” His hearts pumped hard, for he needed to be planet side, a deep incessant need.

He brought up his double-edged sword, and put the point of the sword to the servitor’s head, digging a dent into the gray flesh. He let out an exhale of hot breath as the sword slid carefully and slowly into the puncture with a slime and blood gushing ease until finally the cables through the back of the skull were torn apart. 

He snorted as the slave-tool slumped to the floor with the other servitors his sergeant had struck down. He grabbed a cleaning cloth as he stepped out of the cage walking toward the exit nearest the direction of the Reclusiam. He threw the cloth into the air off to his left somewhere, replacing the blade to his side beneath his robes. 

He entered the dim Reclusiam where his company gathered. He took a deep inhale through his nose and exhaled with his lips slightly apart and teeth still locked together. It smelled of the emperor to him, and the black robed figures before him registered one word upon immediate sight, “Comrades.” He knew if he let one of them fall before his eyes he would hate himself even more for it. They were all he cared about. The only things in this realm he cared about. The Emperor being the only entity in any other realm he even bothered to concern himself with. He did not care for himself much. He gave himself credit for nothing other than his kill count. He did not consider being chosen for the initiation process a victory, nor the successful training a victory, nor the successful organ transplants a victory. His first victory was his first kill as one of the Raven Guard.

The care for his comrades remained in his gut. To Sven this was a feeling not discussed, it was something to be known from brother to brother, simply known that the duty and companionship was there. The orange light reflected slightly from his pale skinned face as it did many of his brothers’ pale faces, creating a faint glow around their heads. He acknowledged no one before kneeling into place. He cared not how he treated his brothers or how they treated him so long as they worked together on the battlefield, and he had no patience for small talk. Though he cared for them, he did not care about showing it. Like a pack of wolves, the trust simply had to _be there_.

He bowed his head and recited his prayers; finally an image of clarity filled his mind like a pure white mist. The lust for battle, the loathing of life, simmered away. He almost felt that now perhaps he could get his scheduled sleep, but it was too late for that and he knew he did not need it.


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## Silbern (Dec 30, 2010)

Brother Knarick swung his legs to drape over his bunk as the massive man stretched his muscles. He used his arms to push his bulk up onto his feet so he could gather his robe that was left hung up beside his bolter that still had the smell of grease from the cleaning the night before. His face hung on a frown as he left his sleeping quarters and made his way towards the shower room although he knew that it was unnecasary to wash up but he considered it a ritual before commiting rightous genocide to the xeno filth. The cold water rain down on his massive bulk as he scrubbed his body with disinfectant. Memories of previous ork encounters filled his mind as the green tide decanded onto his fellow Ravens. Every thrust of his bolter with the bayonet attached brought a smile to his face as he could still hear his bolter rain death down onto his enemy.

_It was a cloudy day when his previous squad crested a hill and could see the bulk of the greenskins have marched directly head on against the Raven Guard's spearhead. That was fine by Knarick as he pulled back his bolter cocking handle to see a fresh bolt loaded and ready. The shell casings built up as the stalwart Marine fired down the hill to see the bolts splatter blood and bone chips onto other orks. It was a glorious day for both the Emperor and the Raven guard as Knarick elbowed the closest Marine and gave him a chuckle pointing towards one ork who was trying to crawl away. A heavy boot pressed down on one of the greenskin's leg before a bayonet thrusted deep into the torso which made the ork yelp in surprise and pain. Knarick wasn't done with him yet though. He pushed down on his bolter so his bayonet continued it's course down the body. _

He walked toawrds his sleeping quarters to don his armour quickly before his much needed morning prayers. He needed the Emperor's words. It was fuel to kill everything that threatened man and then purge the worlds that they left tainted and impure. He would not rest until every last Xeno and Heretic scum would be lying dying on the floor. The last thing that they would see? A space marine of no matter what chapter. They would all be standing above them with the heavy boot on their chest and a hot muzzle against the face.

Gabriel soon found himself in the Reclusiam after his vision cleared. He moved near one of his squadmates, Brother Samiel, and lowered his head in prayer. As he quietly mumbled his words of prayer as his vision's of killing the enemy of man filled his head.

"Emperor, guide my bolter as it fills your divine will of mankind"


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

Sale Krine lived life to the letter. Between 12 and 3:45 he was supposed to sleep, so he slept, with an easy conscience and an untroubled mind he drifted the realms of fantasy, walked the lines of oblivion. It bothered him. So disordered dreams, they could be anything from the mundane to the surreal to the terrifying. Yet he was meant to sleep and so he slept, his body tired by the training, there proximity to deliverance leading to a spike of intensity in his preperations.

The world lingered just out of reach, close below, the object of his ire, the world overrun by foul xenos, under threat from the brutality of alien intelligance. Soon to be liberated by the lethal brutality of the ravens talon.

The clock in his head his 3:45 and he sat up, rigid, pivoting upon the force of his abdominals. Routine set in, his feet taking him into the shower, his hands following familiar movements as he washed and dried, placed his armour around himself, encasing himself slowly, robotically within the ceramit.e

3:53 he left the room, watching the door slide shot upon the vacant cell. Empty devoid of treasures, the warmth of the bedsheets the only sign someone had once lived within its confines.

His footsteps wrang as he pushed through the confines towards the reclusiasm, others passing him in different directions, or pushing past him to reach the same destination. None disturbed him, nods and smiles, comments that did not expect a reaction. They knew, expected his silence, understood the minute inclines of his head.

He was a man of few words.. few thoughts too some said. Those men were usually dead soon after, Sale wasn't.

It spoke for itself.

3:59...56, 57, 58
The door slid open under his touch revealing him to the other.

4:00
Figures sat within the reclusiam, he saw the brothers under his command Narrick Samiel and Sorocles. A twitch of his mouth. Good, they were present and correct. He sat down alone and bowed his head, hands moving slowly from the aquilla on his breast to the weapons at his hip.

May they be blessed for they may see battle today.


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## xianren (Dec 15, 2009)

Samiel knelt in the chapel, head bowed in prayer. "Emperor, guide my actions in the coming battle. Let your hand guide mine so that I may slay your foes. And let your divine light illuminate my mind so that I may see clearly the path you have placed before me."

When he finished his personal prayer he sat back waiting for the others to arrive. He noticed his squad mate, Brother Knarick, knelt beside him. Samiel remained silent, letting his brother pray.

Then, right at 400 hours Sergeant Krine arrived. "400. Spot on." Samiel whispered to Knarick. "I can never tell how he does that."


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## Silbern (Dec 30, 2010)

"...And let the Emperor show mercy for the green-skin fools, for my divine action will grant none"

"Emperor Protects"

He finished with great satisfaction towards the upcoming battles now that he had the Emperor's will flowing in his very veins. With that divine will he will slay so many green-skins that they would have to haul the carcasses away as to not completely pollute the planet with their foul Xeno blood. It was rare to smile when in not battle but Gabe allowed a small one to sneak through to his lips.

Thats when Brother Samiel whispered to him as they both peeked over to Brother-Sargeant Krine. It was odd to see him to do that though. He huffed out a breath which represented his version of a chuckle as he turned back to his lowered head. A vision of a bayonet piercing through some dumb ork's head enlightened his soul as he was filling himself with more and more vigour. Sometimes he really did miss the Assualt squads...

"The Emperor blessed our Brother with Allegrophobia"


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## The Thunder of KayVaan (Jun 19, 2009)

A black mist surrounded Grash, encircling him, ensnaring him. He had plain clothes on, and no weapon. Tall trees with no leaves towered into the black sky. A howl of a pack of wolves could be heard. The mist continued to build up around him. Grash Tried to run but as soon as he took one step, his body became immobilised and fell to the floor, his vision dazed and blurred. The mist then concentrated in front of Grash, to form a black hole the size of a man. It took the shape of a man with each passing second, black mist still swirling around him. Grash tried to get up but it felt like his arms work chained to the ground, a heavy weight across his back. The mist had finally finished transforming the man, leaving his pitch black clothing with a dark purple cape. A dark grey jagged dagger was in his left hand and he walked to Grash. He knelt down, and Grash could see his face. _No… no… please no…_ Was the only thoughts Grash was thinking. “Yes, it is me brother” Was the voice of the man. He moved the dagger to Grash’s windpipe. The last words before the man slit Grash’s throat was “It’s me, Kane.” 

Grash Jolted upright and scanned the room quickly, but Kane was nowhere to be in sight and the dull lighting of the room slightly illuminated his surroundings. Grash wiped off the cold sweat from his brow and sat on his bed. His armour was upon its stand, Ready to be donned. Grash let loose a heavy sigh and got up. He put on his armour and attached the canister to his belt. He looked at the time. _0300 hours? That’ll leave me time to wander I suppose…_Thought Grash. He walked out of his room, leaving the dull lighting of his room on, knowing that he would return soon. Grash walked towards the mess hall, Feeling the need for sustenance and a little relaxation. He looked across the vast hall, it mainly vacated due to the early hours, and sat at an empty table, far away from the other marines. He ordered his usual breakfast and sat back with his eyes closed. His nightmare still remembered, the feeling of anger and hatred towards his blood brother. In an undertone, Grash said “I. Hate. You.” Grash did not expect a reply to what he said.

“Who me?” came a voice. Grash’s eyes instantly opened to see a marine sitting next to him. The symbol on his shoulder pads indicated that he was from the White Consuls Chapter, 4th company. “No no no no, Not you. I was thinking of something.” Quickly replied Grash. The marine was sat next to him, Short blonde hair showing. “Well, I don’t want to know what you were thinking of then, as it sure as hell sounds like you want to kill it!” Said the Marine, in a friendly manner. Grash smiled and his order came. “Well, it’ll be fine, as it is already dead” Replied Grash with the after thought_ I hope_. “May I ask for your name brother?” he ask the marine. “My name is Zaelstrom Oskars, Devastator of the fourth company. I wield the Missile launcher of the group. You?” Zaelstrom asked. Grash’s face had a smile on it but in his mind he was completely unprepared for the marine to be so friendly. As there was nothing much to do, Grash decided that he might as well tell Zaelstrom. “My name is Grash Victor, Assault marine of the third company.” Replied Grash, his tone more calm. Zaelstrom had a raised eyebrow at that and Grash began to eat. “So you serve under Shadow Captain Shrike then?” Inquired Zaelstrom. Grash nodded and finished off his breakfast, then looked at the time. 

_0340… I’ve got to leave_. Grash quickly drank the rest of his drink and a serf came and cleared the table. “Yes, and I wish we had met with more time, but I’ve got to leave now.” Grash spoke. He stood up and before he walked off, he said “May your aim be true Zaelstrom!” Grash walked back to his room and put his bolt pistol in its holster. He lifted his Chainsword from its stand, the metal teeth shone brightly against the dull light. _It always reminds me of sharks in the ocean back at home_ thought Grash, a faint smile on his lips. He attached the chainsword to his belt and walked to the Reclusiam for the morning prayer. Good, I’ve arrived a good ten minutes before hand. _Leaves me plenty of time to give my prayers._

Grash knelt down upon his right knee and clasped his hands together, one hand holding the other. “May the emperor guide thy’s blade’s teeth into thy’s enemies, so that thy’s enemies feel thou’s wrath and thou can punish those that have fallen from thou’s light and thou’s judgement.” Grash continued onwards with his prayers. He glanced over to his right to see his Sergeant enter the Reclusiam. He gave a sharp nod to him and Continued with his Prayers. “And if thou Granteth thy a death, may it be in a glorious death and take down as many of thou’s enemies as possible.” Grash often prayer for a good death than to live to see more battles. He would prefer to live a short but bright light than one that lasted centuries or even millenniums with a dull glow. “And finally, Can thou granteth protection against thou’s enemies’ foul taint, and make sure that thou’s enemies fall to thy’s and thy’s… brother’s wrath.”


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## Deus Mortis (Jun 20, 2009)

_“Gentlemen” Ares said as a cursory greeting. “Chaplin” Everyone but Lorenzo replied with a bow. Lorenzo remained silent until Ares inclined his head to his friends direction. “Lorenzo” Ares nodded at his friend, who again reserved to remain silent. As the joint officer of this strike force, he was the only one with the authority to refuse to acknowledge him verbally. “Thank you for meeting with me this early, and so I shall be brief. At current estimations, over 75% of the planet is ork held and more then half of human population has either been killed or is holding out in isolated pockets around the globe. The main population is falling back to the arch-magi's palace in Tumadru. The first priority is to evacuate them. Alkrin tensed at this order. “Sir, I must advise against this action” 
“On what grounds?”
“On the grounds that it makes no sense!”
“Oh really?”
“Sir, if we evacuate these...civilians, then we waste time in the battle against the orks. They will only grow stronger, and we will waste time.” By now Alkrin was on his feet. Ares watched the man with intent. “So what would you propose?”
“We strike them with everything we have. Preliminary bombardment, and then an direct strike from Thunderhawk gunships.”
“And where would you strike them?” Ares asked, and let the man believe he was serious.
“At their strength of power, their head-quarters, sir.” Ares let this settle for a bit. Many of the eyes darted between the two people, and Ares waited until an expectant hush came over the small room. “You called them civillians”
“What?”
“You called these people, citizens of the Imperium, civilians.”
“What of it sir.”
“Let me tell you something, Alkrin. These are not civilians. They are citizens of the Imperium, the Imperium we serve, many of them soldiers. And you propose that this same Imperium do nothing to help them?”
“Sir I did not mean to...”
“And further more, you suggest a strike which would only pro-long the conflict. The orks control the majority of the planet, and the majority of it's production facilities. Even if a direct strike were to work, we would only kill the warboss. Another, equally as strong ork would rise up and we would have another Armageddon on our hands. Do you have the resources for that, Commander?”
“Well no sir...”
“Then, how do plan to prosecute this brilliant plan of yours that would leave millions of innocent men and women dead?!” Alkrin had no answer to him, and so he bowed his head in defeat, and resumed his seat. “I and Lorenzo will lead a small strike force to several key areas to weaken the orks hold on the planet. Several other small units will be deployed, but the majority of our strength will be placed under Aniktios' command and you WILL...” Ares stressed the will and glared at Alkrin “...evacuate the citizens. When that is done, we will have weakened the orks hold, and then, and only then will we strike at the main ork settlement. Only once we have eliminated their main strength assets, and possible successors to the warboss, then we will free the planet. Lorenzo will finish up the final battle plans. I must be excused. I have to lead our brothers in prayer.” And with that Ares turned and left the other chief officers to plan the final operations. Truth is they needed to plan the evacuation, Ares and Lorenzo already had plans of what they would do and where they would strike, and who they would take.

Ares stood up onto the pulpit, and looked out over the battle brothers of the Raven Guard. “My brothers, we stand on the edge of war. We are going to reclaim this world for the Emperor, and for the Imperium!” The Astartes gathered let out a roar of acceptance, and Ares grinned. “My brothers, let us offer our prayers for the coming battles, and let us prepare ourselves for the coming fires!” After the prayers they offered, Ares lifted up his voice once more “My brothers, be strong and fight hard. You are dismissed. All except Squad Krine and Squad Pericles. You will report to me and Lorenzo. Lorenzo by this point had finished and joined Ares. Every Astartes filed out of the hall, whilst the marines of Squad Krine and Squad Pericles came forward. “Men, the rest of the Astartes will be evacuating the populace from the planet. We have a more important role. Will be doing a series of guerilla strikes behind enemy lines. We will be taking out key points and weakening the orks hold on the planet. Squad Pericles, you will be with me, and squad Krine you will be with Lorenzo. We have heard great things about you, now lets see what you can do.” As they walked to the battle training halls, Ares spoke to Pericles “Your combat prowess has reached my ears Pericles. I'm impressed, but am eager to see for myself. You will spar against me” Ares walked into the training cages, took off his armour and chose a blunt axe and spoke to Pericles “Chose your weapon, sergeant, and show me what you have. First blood wins” Ares grinned, and waited for the coming fight. It would be interesting...

Alright guys. Unfortunately, heartslayer's computer has backed up, and isn't letting him access Heresy. Terribly useful I know! Until he can post, I respond for him._

Pericles: Obviously I'm sparing with you. I will leave the exact details up to you. As a sergeant of an assault squad, you will be very proficient in close combat. However, with two hundred experience more, and being a Chaplin, I will beat you. However, it will be a close fight, and I will narrowly beat you. If you have read the 'Furious Abyss' there is a close fight between two marines in that. That's what I'm going for. But the exact details, I leave up to you.

Victor and Roderick: Yours is more general. As assault marines, you will be most likely facing combat servitors, etc. However you may well wish to do a bit of target practice with pistols also. If you do, you will be with the majority of the tactical squad, and may interact with them. Alternativly, you could fight each other. It's up to you.

Krine: You will be leading your squad in target practice primarily, dispensing punishments and rewards as you see fit (if at all) for bad/good performances. You will also have Lorenzo looking over your shoulder. If you feel the need, you may interact with him, but bear in mind that he is a solemn individual, and not much of a talker.

Socoles, Absalom and Knarick: As the tactical squad, you will be doing primarily target practice. You will not be shot perfect, you aren't that good. But you are Astartes, and so will be very good shots. Your sergeant is watching you, and so you will obviously be motivated to not show yourself up. You may do a little combat practice, but you will be practising shooting primarily, as proficiency.


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## FORTHELION (Nov 21, 2009)

*Hmmmm we got Lorenzo, A barrell of laughs hes gonna be* Socoles said to the rest of the squad as they headed for the traing halls.

Socoles decided to start off with his bolt pistol for a bit of target practice. He started off quite well hitting bulls eye after bulls eye untill his mind began to wander slightly. He was thinking to himself whats the point in this. You cant miss those giant green slobs they are that big. Sure enough he started to miss the bulls eye, not by alot, they were still all kill shots but slightly off center.

When finished he decided to atone for his mistakes and headed for the practice cages for a bit of close combat to try and re focus his mind. It just goes to show he thought to himself that the mind is just as powerful as the bullet. Without the mind focused the bolt pistol was useless.


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## Lord Ramo (Apr 12, 2009)

Sergeant Pericles bowed his head in greeting to several marines, both from under his command and that of one of his brothers Sergeant Krine, a marine who was precise in timings and seemed to Pericles to be too straight backed, better suited to be an ultramarine he had heard a few jokes from members of the third. The chaplain entered, probably fresh from his briefings, there was a lot riding on for both Chaplain Ares and Librarian Lorenzo, the commanders of the task force.

_ “My brothers, we stand on the edge of war. We are going to reclaim this world for the Emperor, and for the Imperium!”_ The Astartes gathered let out a roar of acceptance, and Ares grinned, his smile infectious for Pericles._ “My brothers, let us offer our prayers for the coming battles, and let us prepare ourselves for the coming fires!”_ He then led the assembled Astartes in prayer, each one preparing for what they would face in the coming battle. 

Finally after the last one had been said Ares spoke once more,_"My brothers, be strong and fight hard. You are dismissed. All except Squad Krine and Squad Pericles. You will report to me and Lorenzo_"

Pericles felt a flicker of confusion pass through his face at this before moving forward, hinting to the rest of the squad as the other astartes left to move on up as well._ “Men, the rest of the Astartes will be evacuating the populace from the planet. We have a more important role. Will be doing a series of guerilla strikes behind enemy lines. We will be taking out key points and weakening the orks hold on the planet. Squad Pericles, you will be with me, and squad Krine you will be with Lorenzo. We have heard great things about you, now lets see what you can do.”_ Pericles saluted, making the sign of the Aquilla before starting to move towards the training cages, he knew his men should be inspired by the fact that the Chaplain would be training with them as well as fighting. Ares spoke to Pericles as they walked, his squad lagging behind a few steps, _“Your combat prowess has reached my ears Pericles. I'm impressed, but am eager to see for myself. You will spar against me”_ Ares walked into the training cages, took off his armour and chose a blunt axe and_“Chose your weapon, sergeant, and show me what you have. First blood wins”_ Ares grinned, and Pericles felt his own excitement building.
*
"My Lord, it would be an honour to spar against you."* Replied Pericles as he moved over to the racks where the training weapons were kept choosing his weapon quickly. He went for the more conventional long sword. As he entered the combat cage he was sure that the Chaplain would defeat him, but he would make it as close as possible.

The sergeant was used to fighting in close combat, he was an assault marine and a sergeant at that. He had defeated countless enemies of the chapter and Imperium over his century serving, never once giving up. He would not do that now. Pericles leapt forward, barely a sound escaping his lips as he and the chaplain strove to find a weakness in the others defence. Pericles darted around quickly, feinting and lunging to draw the chaplain axe away for long enough for him to draw blood. He brought a vicious downwards blow which was deflected by the hilt of Ares axe before Ares quickly counter attacked swinging the base of the axe's hilt into Pericles stomach, before quickly bringing the axe across, attempting to draw blood from the torso. 

Pericles was able to recover quick enough to block this attack, hammering the blow away with his sword. Sparks flew as the weapons grinded up and down and Pericles launched another series of flurries and feints as he tried to draw Ares out. Credit to the chaplain though as he wasn't baited by Pericles attempt, and as Pericles lunged forward before reversing the direction and slashing leftwards the chaplain leapt back out of the way. Pericles grinned as the two Astartes stood for a moment, the lull in the fighting. *"Brother Chaplain, I have never been bested in battle, or sparring. It would be an honour to lose to a skilful opponent like you. However it's only just begun."*

Ares nodded and leapt back into the combat, swinging his axe two handed in a uppercut. Pericles though he blocked it, only slowed its momentum and he was forced to leap to the side to stop himself getting cut in twain. It would have been impossible for a normal human to have survived against either Astartes. Pericles recovered his stance and leapt forwards again, swinging his sword one handed as he slashed at the Chaplain's chest. The Chaplain blocked which Pericles had hoped for and he lashed out with his hand. This smacked into the chaplains face Pericles scoring the first hit on the body, though it didn't draw blood. Pericles took this as a sign and strove forward, lunging underneath the Chaplains defence. However the Chaplain had waited for this, smashing his axe down on the sword, shattering the sword with his powerful blow. Pericles ducked underneath a swing for his head and rolled back and away.

He looked down at the remains of the training weapon, barely a jagged stump was left. He knew that he was beat, the chaplain had let him score that hit destroying his weapon in the process. Pericles laughed as he dove in for his final attack, hoping that his ferocious attack would win the day. However everywhere his blade danced the Chaplain blocked. An age passed, and Pericles was covered in sweat as the Chaplain beat down his attack once more. The chaplains face was concentrated, Pericles face showed his frustration but he kept pressing. That was until the Chaplain launched a two handed strike downwards, knocking the weapon from Pericles aching limbs. He then delivered a cut across Pericles torso signalling the end of the fight.

Pericles grunted as he picked up the shattered weapon, hurling it to the side of the cage before bowing to the Chaplain. *"My Lord, you have outshone my abilities this day, it would be honoured if we could duel once again, after this campaign is won."*


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## unxpekted22 (Apr 7, 2009)

Sven growled quietly while he watched brother Alkrin embarrassed even though his strategy was better than the Chaplain's. Sven preferred it, at least, but he did not feel like voicing his own opinion because he knew it would get him nowhere. The citizens of this world meant nothing to him, and he was skeptical of his duty to save them. It did not settle within his stomach, this conflict of interest or duty. Was his primary reason for existing to save these people or merely to kill the enemies of the Emperor? Being so focused on war and his ability to fight he could not push back the notion that straight to throat was the better plan. He respected Ares for his fighting skill and hatred of the xenos, but he was also too good at finding what he disliked about his superiors.

His sergeant was no exception. 

He stood up with the rest of the strike force as they went their separate ways. He smiled wide at the notion of accompanying the chaplain personally and having been granted the important part of the mission. He could put himself in danger, stand between a bullet and his brothers, and he could slaughter his enemies without punishment. Thank the Emperor he wouldn't have to wait to kill the green skin filth like the rest. He felt he likely would have ended up killing the _citizens_ out of spite.

"_Whatever,_" he decided, "Even if the Astartes primary mission is to evacuate those in need of help before swinging our blades and pulling the triggers of our guns, I don't have to be the one to do it. Leave it up those Astartes who wish to help in such a _civilian_ manner."

But he watched his sergeant spar Ares. In reality it was a good fight, and the chaplain was expected to win, of course. But would the sergeant give up on that fact alone, would he not go all out because of a subconscious telling him not to strike his superior? Sven was well aware himself being a marine almost as long as Pericles, that they were not to hold back against their superiors when sparring in such circumstances. However, he only knew for sure that he did no such thing, he could not be so sure about any of his brothers. When the match was over Sven stood at the catch peering through the holes, and thought to himself that it was good his Sergent wasn't to be one that helped evacuate the citizens of the planet, for he needed the fighting practice. 

He pushed off the cage lightly with his fingers, turning to find his squad mate Victor Grash. Sven locked onto his grey eyes, and traced a trio of scars with his gaze before speaking to him, "_It looks like you've been letting your memories beat you up again, brother. Would you like me to beat you up instead??_" he gestured his hand to an open cage.


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## Silbern (Dec 30, 2010)

Brother Knarick nodded slightly towards his brother-Chaplin before placing his helm back on and making his way to the shooting range only making a quick stop to his quarters to trade in his pistol for his fully customized Bolter. Unknown to his brothers that passed him in the corridor to the target range, he held a familiar grin on his face. It felt like ages since he last felt the bolter kick slightly in his iron like grip. The very sharp yet durable bayonet let a small shine grab his attention as new light touched it's deadly surface.

A small yellow light turned to green and multiple targets popped up in quick succesion then went back down upon each "kill" shot. To any normal person it would be just loud noises echoing through out the long room but to the Marine it was a orchestra. Bolt catridges rolled along the floor as he continued until his magazine was empty. 

Technacially he held a "Perfect" score.

He did hit every target but a few did not count as "kill" shots. He scoulded himself knowing all too well that Brother-Sargeant Krine. Knarick prayed to the Emperor for forgiveness as he loaded another magazine and nodded towards the servitor who was running the firing range. The targets poped up again and his ears listened to the sweet relief. Now only if it ringed with a certain dying scream of the filth green-skins...


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

Squad Pericles, you will be with me, and squad Krine you will be with Lorenzo. We have heard great things about you, now lets see what you can do.” 

Honour of honours, pride blinded him for a moment as his back straightened and effervescent joy bubbled through his soul, luminous delight pouring from his dour gaze. Recognition, of talent and loyalty, to accompany a librarian, to fight upon the front line of battle.

An honour to him and his squad, such honour. His lips twitched yet he controlled the facial spasm as he turned to face the man he would accompany, the full wait of his duties hitting him as he stared into those deep dark portals of knowledge.

Librarian.

Gnawing unease seeped through his body as those aged eyes fixed upon him. He was not comfortable around those touched by the darkness of the warp. The pour to control, to tear thoughts from his mind and bend his very will sent fear spiralling through his soul, lurching through his gut.

An honour indeed, but a tainted one.

He allowed his mind to loose itself within the humdrum explosion of round after round capped off in churlish frustration, Sococles starting well and loosing interest midway through, his blade glittering in the light as he moved towards the combat servitors. A litany of focus would be needed to settle his agitated mind. No blame, Krine too felt the edge, the rushing pump of adrenaline, anticipation rippling into his consciousness.


Knarick was more stoic, his first century fast approaching he bore his tribulations well shots slapping into the targets, kill interspersed with flesh wound. Nothing to say, naught to criticise, the litany of focus would do them all well, they were weapons, deadly even with minds a wondering, focused they were a sharpened blade, a weapon with a power beyond human conception.

They were not human, they were astartes.

What could stand against astartes?

His eyes fell upon the librarian and he swallowed. 

Better with them than against them.


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## The Thunder of KayVaan (Jun 19, 2009)

Grash had finished saying his battle prayers when Chaplin Ares Stood upon the pulpit._ “My brothers, we stand on the edge of war. We are going to reclaim this world for the Emperor, and for the Imperium!”_ The Astartes gathered let out a roar of acceptance, and Ares grinned. _“My brothers, let us offer our prayers for the coming battles, and let us prepare ourselves for the coming fires!”_ After the prayers they offered, Ares lifted up his voice once more _“My brothers, be strong and fight hard. You are dismissed. All except Squad Krine and Squad Pericles. You will report to me and Lorenzo” _Grash Frowned, Curious why his squad was called forwards. He moved up with the rest of his squad to hear what the Chaplin had to say. _“Men, the rest of the Astartes will be evacuating the populace from the planet. We have a more important role. Will be doing a series of guerilla strikes behind enemy lines. We will be taking out key points and weakening the orks hold on the planet. Squad Pericles, you will be with me, and squad Krine you will be with Lorenzo. We have heard great things about you, now lets see what you can do.”_

_Rather Strange that we are called forwards, maybe they think we are the best?_ Grash Privately thought to himself. He didn’t enjoy being the centre of attention but he wouldn’t step down from his duties. They all began to walk down the hallway to the Training halls when Ares said to Sergeant Pericles _“Your combat prowess has reached my ears Pericles. I'm impressed, but am eager to see for myself. You will spar against me”_ Ares walked into the training cages, took off his armour and chose a blunt axe and spoke to Pericles_ “Chose your weapon, sergeant, and show me what you have. First blood wins” _

Grash looked at the fight between the Chaplin and the Sergeant, noting style and positions of both fighters. Grash had faith that the Sergeant could win but he had never seen the Chaplin fight before, so Grash Simply watched them fight. In truth, Memories from when He and his brother had a few sparing session before being deployed were sprung into Grash’s mind. Grash had a slight frown on his face, and his eye’s unfocused, simply gazing into his memories and remembering mistakes. 

Grash’s Trail of thought was broken when he noticed another on of his squad members next to him. Grash identified him as Sven Roderick, Not a brother Grash was particularly fond of, due to Sven’s desire to kill but knew of his close combat skills. Grash could hardly ever get through his guard but he kept trying anyway. _"It looks like you've been letting your memories beat you up again, brother. Would you like me to beat you up instead?"_ Sven Said while gestured his hand to an open cage.

“Your punches may be hard and brutal Sven, But these memories… these _Nightmares_… Are much more painful to me. Still I suppose if you want to have a go at beating me into a pulp, I’m sure I have the time.” Grash Responded before entering the Cage.


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## unxpekted22 (Apr 7, 2009)

Sven's large form stood with arms still crossed. The buzzed black hair atop his pale grim face sloped downwards with his brow as he stared at his brother Grash, carefully watching each foot step that took his comrade into the sparring cage.

"_With that attitude, you'll receive plenty enough beatings from the Orks. I'm eager to sacrifice myself for my brothers, but try not to make it so useless for me Grash."_

With this Sven turned and walked away, black robe trailing slightly behind his ankles. 
He passed by the firing range where he caught the sergeant of the tactical squad assigned to the Librarian, staring at Lorenzo, with some kind of disbelief. Sergeant Krine, he recalled. From what Sven had heard, a respectable astartes, possibly one as professional in the art of battle as himself, but in a contrasting manner for sure.

Sven kept a trace on the invisible line of sight Krine made with the Librarian. For once Sven kept his mouth shut form some reason he wasn't sure, and instead waited for Krine to see him, and gave a curt nod to the sergeant before moving on once again.


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## Deus Mortis (Jun 20, 2009)

If there had been any doubt in the rumours of Pericles combat abilities in Ares' mind, there were none now. Ares had fought warlord of the orks with less skill than this one marine, and had seen commissars with less perseverance. Honestly, Ares was impressed. But his admiration of the sergeant didn't inhibit his combat ability. Pericles lost, but he did so well. _"My Lord, you have outshone my abilities this day, it would be an honour if we could duel once again, after this campaign is won."_ the sergeant said, exasperated. Ares smiled, his chest rising and falling in controlled, but accelerated movements. "Brother-Sergeant, the honour would be mine." Ares returned. He liked this sergeant. However, Ares had other duties to attend to, and thus left Pericles to look after his squad-mates. Lorenzo brooded over the tactical squad with intrigue, and Ares briefly stood beside his friend, dabbing himself down with a towel. "Impressed with your squad Lorenzo?" he asked in a hushed tone. "Indeed. The sergeant seems troubled by me though." was the short response. The comment about the sergeant wasn't so much a concern, but a simple fact. "Many people are. You forget, not everyone it accustomed as I am to your gifts, my friend." Lorenzo let a slight huff of agreement. "I will try to settle his doubts, and then will see how much longer we will be aboard this ship" Ares walked up behind Sergeant Krine, and stood their for a while. He watched the squad practice, and Krine watch them, picking up faults and strengths. Eventually, the marine noticed him. Before he could speak Ares did "Don't worry about Lorenzo, he's no more harm to you than I am. I've known him longer than most, and I'd trust him with my life" Krine nodded in acceptance, but not necessarily agreement. Still, Ares walked away, and left the din of battle in the practice cages. 

Next Ares walked into the Reclusiam. Now, almost no one was there, save for a few constant servitors and chapter serfs. Ares walked boldly into the back room which a few short hours ago had been a battle chamber. Now it was silent, and Ares was alone. In the corner, strapped into to wall was Ares' suit of Chaplin armour. He ran his fingers over it. There was still a noticeable mark from millennia past, in the days of the Horus Heresy, when one of the first owners of this suit of armour had been shot by a traitor. The shoulder pad still had a barely noticeable dent in it from years ago when the previous owner had met a Carnifex when it smashed into his blind-side. Hundreds of marine like Ares had worn this suit of armour before him, and no doubt hundreds would after he was gone. When it wasn't being maintained by the Chapter's artificers, it had a permanent residence here. Ares felt a warm thrill pass over him as he suited up, the be standing in the same armour as some of the greatest heros of the chapter. After slotting his grinning skull helmet last of all, he walked onto the iron prow of this battle barge. "How long until we breach the warp Alkrin?" 
"Ah Ares, I was just about to contact you. We should be at Belliam's orbit in less than two hour."
"Thank you fleet master" Ares said, turning again and walking toward the hangar. He opened a vox channel to Lorenzo "Get the squads ready. We should break warp in less than an hour, and shortly after that, we will be dropping." No response, no surprise. Ares walked into the hanger where servitors scuttled like mechanical spiders. Tech-marine Ezekiel was presiding like the arachnid overlord when Ares said "I need a Thunderhawk and a drop pod ready for a drop in two hours time."
"It can be done sir!" Ezekiel responded before turning his attentions beck to his beloved machines. Ares watched the marine work with a sense of knowing that their duty was the same, the health of those under their gaze, only the objects were different...

Alright, update time.
Pericles: Obviously, you were annoyed about Ares ruining your perfect streak. Do you punish yourself by more training? Do you watch your squad and in you angered state over-critique them? Or do you become solemn and resolved, refusing to let one defeat affect you, and remain focused on your duties? Of course, those are some possibilities, but feel free to make up your own one. Also, remember that you can reprimand and praise your squad for bad/good performances respectively.
Victor and Roderick: You guys need to finish your training exercises. Combat servitors, a bit of firing practice, fighting one another, or maintaining your own weapons and armour. Those are the choices still available to you.

Krine: How does Ares comment make you feel towards Lorenzo? Does it set you mind vaguely at ease, or does it have no real effect, and you are still apprehensive about serving with a psyker? Also, remember that you can reprimand and praise your squad for bad/good performances respectively.
Socoles, Absalom and Knarick: Again, you guys are still finishing up combat training. Obviously, your choices are sightly more limited, between firing practice and maintaining your weapons and armour. A bit of combat practice is ok, but it is not supposed to be your primary focus.

All: At the end of your posts, Lorenzo will announce that you will be dropping within the next two hours, and that you should make yourselves ready. Suit up for the drop, and what are your feelings towards it; giddy anticipation? Solemn determination? Silent dread?


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## Silbern (Dec 30, 2010)

Brother Knarick ran the cleaner through his bolter for the final time as he blew into the the bolter from the ejection port. Tactics and past battles stream lined through his head like a fast paced action movie. His bolter, now cleaned and lubricated, was held firmly in his grasp with his helmet strapped to his side gingerly. Unlike some others in his squad who seem to dislike a certain addition to the team he never really did mind. Lorenzo didn't seem like a danger to the squad but Knarick wasn't thick headed either. Libraians did dabble with the warp and that alone was a danger to the squad but aslong as he didn't steal Knarick's kills then everything was peaches.

The armoured gauntlant shook the sharp and dangerous bayonet to make sure of a strong fit before gazing down the scope which he recailibrated at the range. He then ran his hand over ammo pouches, that were full, and combat knife that was strapped around his upper thigh. Everything was ready to go except for one very important matter.

"Emperor guide my bolter and bayonet as they strike down the foes of man. Through each kill I know I am saving countless innocents through your name and wisdom."

He finished his prayer then placed the helmet onto his head making sure it was an airtight seal. When dealing with drop pods, nothing is worse then faulty war gear. His foot steps made their way to the drop bay where he could see the libraian waiting like a statue.

Besides a nod, Knarick mostly ignored him before bowing before the drop pod.

"Machine Spirit, may my faith in you guide us like a mighty steel fist. Eager to strike at the heart of our foes." 

He finished yet another prayer to the machine spirit before strapping his weapons in.


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

He knew, the chaplain approached him with words meant to sooth a troubled mind yet merely blew more cold wind into the icy furnace of unease that was his heart.

The psyker knew, had read his emotions despite his constant effort to hold his face impassive. He had to be straight, be honest. That was him. Straight backed and proud, never bending, stoic and reliable, he met the challenge and bested it.

That was what scared him, a psyker was a power he could not compete with, could not best. He had seen... horror of horrors, he had seen...

"Squad, finish combat training and clean your weaponry. Be ready"

He swallowed and approached the librarian, bowing his head he dropped his eyes

"Honoured Librarian. For the chaplain to have approached you must know my unease. I do not question your loyalty, for to do so would to be question one that had served faithfully for so long would not merely be heretical but stupid. Yet when you have seen..." his voice broke, a memory of such anguish burning within him, his stomach burning with a sudden flush of acid.

He spoke feversihly eyes fixed upon events he couldnt see

"My first action as a sergeant. We ran through the corridors, a pair of scouts ahead of us we met them and they joined us as we pushed to our objective. 8 minutes and 56 seconds til we had to take the generatorium. Cultists had barred our path and been swept aside. Minor wounds, easily swept. A single traitor marine barred our path, a staff swept in his left, flames reached from an outstretched hand and seered at our flesh, my mind ruptured splintered and reformed under buckling impacts and i felt my legs give though i ordered them to stand. Numbness, heaviness, hatred and i wanted to lash out raise my bolter and fire at the bastard that was killing me, no not me. Then it was gone, flames seared round me, the heating systems blared, power armour protected me... but the scouts."

"Emperor protect me, they smouldered and burned, the flesh seared from their bones, they writhed and screamed. The wretch was gone. Powerless... powerless. It unnerves me... we are astartes, gods amongst men, yet against those that peddle the warp, we are like children and that is something that unnerves me more than the foulest xenos scum."


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## Lord Ramo (Apr 12, 2009)

Pericles had never had been beaten before, never in decades had he been bested in combat by anyone or anything. Ares however bested him, though Pericles like to think that it was close fight between the two marines._ "Brother-Sergeant, the honour would be mine."_ Ares returned. Pericles nodded, relishing the thought of fighting the Chaplain again. He would win. The chaplain took his leave after this as he headed over to the Chaplain overseeing the tactical squad. This allowed him to watch over his men train and fight hard. 

Pericles felt annoyance at the defeat but he moved on, training harder than before he entered the cage against another four servitors. He used only his combat blade and smashed them all down in anger. He would not be placated by any and smashed his fist through the chest of one open ripping wires and stuff away. After the last one was dismembered he moved over to his squad where he watched them in silence. Victor and Roderick were working hard, but not quite to Pericles standards. *"Brothers tighten it up, when we drop in no heroics, stay close to each other and me and the chaplain. No excuses or you will be reprimanded when we return. Am I understood?"* He got their affirmative s and left. If he heard one of them say anything he would loose it so he went straight back to his armour, which he donned quickly. He heard that Lorenzo said that they were going to drop soon and as such made his way to the hanger. He was determined that he would not be shown up by anyone. His advice to his men didn't apply to him.


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## unxpekted22 (Apr 7, 2009)

Sven now wore his full battlegear, as re-emerged back into the shadowy training room. He had taken up his bolt pistol to the targets. The drop was announced, and he had time enough to get in a few rounds of shooting before the departure. He greatly enjoyed his suit of power armor, it had a good legacy with it, and it made him look even larger than normal.

*"Brothers tighten it up, when we drop in no heroics, stay close to each other and me and the chaplain. No excuses or you will be reprimanded when we return. Am I understood?"*

A sharp shiver fell down the top of Sven's spine. He almost hacked on his own saliva. With his short obsidian hair beginning to bristle on his creased head, he gave an affirmation to Pericles, the sergeant not waiting around to hear opinions. It was moments like these Sven was reminded how different things were here, than they likely would be on one of the Ultramarines' ships. The Raven Guard were a weakened somewhat loose chapter, but streamlined to a mathematical precision in their own art of warfare. 

One could hardly see the movement of his black eyes when they turned back to the firing targets. He put an entire clip through a full scale Ork replica _mouth chest collar head chest shoulder_.... would have been better if he had tried.

The sheathing of a clip into a gun was much different than that of his sword, much deeper, much harsher, not eloquent. Not in the same way at least. He activated the mag lock at his hip and attached his bolt pistol to it. He cupped his right hand under his black helmet with the symbol of the raven guard over the eyes and forehead facing forwards. He placed his left hand over the hilt of his prized combat sword and made ready to depart. With strides only slightly filled with true purpose, he could already feel his armor dumping adrenaline and other boosting chemicals into his bloodstream as it sensed the slightest changes in his body that indicated battle was coming.


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## Deus Mortis (Jun 20, 2009)

Ares stood in the maw of a Thunderhawk waiting. Once they had broken from the warp the hangar had erupted into a cacophony of noise and motion. Servitors hurried to and fro, and chapter serfs and techmarines prepared the vehicles and landing craft for the reclaiming of the Hive city. 
"Ares" came a voice no louder than a whisper, but still cut through the noise like a blade. Lorenzo walked up and stood waiting with his friend. 
"They will be here soon" Lorenzo said distantly. He had always been so, it's what made him a good leader. 
"Good, we don't have moments to lose. When the rest of the force strikes for the Hive, the greenskins will go running for the fight. We need to be in place by then." Ares said, briefly skimming over the duo's arranged battle plan. Just then, the two squads appeared under the archway of the hangar's entrance. 
"Time to go to work" the ghost voice of Lorenzo spoke again. Ares nodded, already feeling the cool mask he had become so used to starting to slip as his true face of undiluted and unobstructed rage came to the fore. The two squads arranged themselves in front of the duo. Lorenzo nodded at Ares, he being more accustomed to speaking that Lorenzo. Stepping forward, Ares began 
"My Brothers! We stand on the cusp of war. The xeno's scum believe the planet below to be theirs. They believe the Imperium has forgotten about it's own. They believe" he paused "we would not come to take it back. Well, they are sorely mistaken! Here, today, at this hour, each of you will show what it means to be an Astartes. To fight with strength unmatched, and fury unbound. The Emperor himself has set this task before us, and we will not fail him. Our Shadow Captain has taught us what needs to be done, and what the vile alien freaks deserve. We will show them, there is no mercy!"
"No mercy!" Was the response
"There is no reprieve!"
"No reprieve"
"There is no respite!"
"No respite!"
"Only judgement and the coming fire! We are Astertes, Angels of Death, the Emperor's holy instrument. Glory to the Emperor, glory to the Imperium, glory to the Raven Guard! Victorus aut Mortis!"
"Victorus aut Mortis!" came the roaring reply to his call to arms, not just from the two squads before him, but other Astartes, scouts and serfs gathered in the hangar echoed Ares' battle cry.
"We move now. Squad Krine, you will be dropping in via drop pod incursion. You will be dropping approximately 5km north of an Administratum building. It has since been over run with Orks. You will take it back, one way of another. Go!" The squad and Lorenzo made their way over too the drop pod, and started to be bolted in, ready for launch. "Squad Pericles, you and I will be dropping into an orbital defence battery grid. It needs to be taken down quickly, as our brothers will not appreciate being harassed by targeting systems far superior to that of the usual ork standard." There was a quiet snigger at this from someone. The orks were not well known for their accuracy. "We move now." And with that Ares walked into the belly of the steel bird, and waited for it to take off. As they were flying out of the hangar and into open space, a dull thud could be heard against the hull of the Thunderhawk. "Sir, it appears that an Ork battle barge has engaged our own. It is far smaller than _'The Raven's Talon'_, but has still engaged it." The pilot reported to Ares. *Damn orks, always trying to pick a fight*. Moments later, he received a hail from Lorenzo. "Ares...we've...off target...proceeding...primary objective..."
"Lorenzo, Lorenzo do you copy?" Just static. Ares growled. Probably atmospheric disturbance, but Ares could guess what had happened. The drop pod must have fired as the battle barge was hit, throwing it off target. Still, Lorenzo was resourceful, and would complete his task regardless. "ETA five minutes Chaplain" the pilot said, oblivious to calamity that befallen his friend. *Good* Ares thought *We'll make those greenskins pay. Every one of them.* In five minutes, they were about to fly over the defence grid. "Sergeant, will you lead to the jump?" Ares gestured toward the open door of the Thunderhawk. Pericles nodded and leapt out of the door. Victor and Roderick followed, and Ares was last out. The staggered line of jump pack marines dived into an ork hoard below. The only sign of their decent was the roar of their thrusters. A few orks turned to look upward, but by then it was too late. Each marine crashed into a sea of green, that was rapidly turning red. Ares battered two greenskins down before they even realised. they were strong, but the xeno's were brutes, with minds to match. Still, they would need to finish them quickly, and move on. they could not win a pro-longed conflict, but with the element of surprise they would overcome this pack quickly. Ares battered another one with his Crozius. If felt good to watch the scum bleed...

Alright, as promised, here's another update.
Pericles: You are first to jump. What are your feelings? Does your blood run hot with anticipation of smiting the foes below, or are you calm and controlled, knowing that is what is required?
Victor and Roderick: You jump after your sergeant, and before Ares. As the ground rushed up to greet you, do you scream battle cries, or are you silent as death himself? 
All: There are probably about 15-20 greenskins below. They are just regular 'boyz' and so will not be a great strain to kill, especially as we have caught them totally off guard. As me and Pericles have power weapons, we will probably take down 4-5 orks. I'm imagining that Victor and Roderick, you guys will kill about 2-3. How many and how you kill them is up to you.

Squad Krine:
As the battle barge fired the drop pod, it was struck by a round from a smaller, but still powerful, ork cruiser. This has resulted in your pod being fired off target, into the middle of a small ork patrol station. The majority of orks are searching the area for survivors to kill, but some remain, and are alarmed when you pod hammers through one of their buildings. There is a lot of dust and broken metal and wood. about nine orks come into investigate. Upon seeing you, they fire instantly, and Samiel Absalom is cut down through weight of fire. You all take cover. Lorenzo speaks over the vox "We need to kill these xeno's fast. Once we have, we sneak out the side, and take the rest by surprise. For the Raven Guard."
Krine: Your squad is taking cover. Lorenzo eyes you occasionally, looking expectant. Does he blame you for a death in your squad? How do you feel that you have barely been in battle five minutes and one of your marines is dead? Return fire at the orks, and give any additional orders you wish. (A note: deathbringer appears to be away for the moment, so if he is unable to post, the other members of the squad should assume he has no further orders to give, and post as you would normally)
Knarick: You hear Lorenzo's orders, and respond accordingly. How do you feel that Absalom is dead? Did you know him? Did you like him? Do you even care or are you to pre-occupied on the task at hand to think about remorse?
Socoles: You have a choice, as you have the melta-gun. Will you use it to vaporise one or two orks for sure, or do you think you should target one or two of the remaining support beams? Ork structures are not known for their stability, and removing some of the support might bring the roof crashing onto the Orks heads. Also how do you feel that Absalom is dead? Did you know him? Did you like him? Do you even care or are you to pre-occupied on the task at hand to think about remorse?


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## Lord Ramo (Apr 12, 2009)

He had just donned his armour when the call for war reached him. Throughout the bowells of the ship marines moved to the embarkation deck, where they stood in their squads in neat rows. Pericles stalked in, his armour as dull as midnight and took position in front of his squad, power sword at the waist and combat shield on his left arm. He would not use his bolt pistol as usual but always carried it in case something went wrong. His squad stood behind him, he knew that even though he had felt anger before they would not let him down. He turned to the, *"Once more we plunge into death's grip brothers. It has been an honour to serve with you both. If I fall this day then Sven will take charge for the campaign."*

This was not a slight to his other brother, as Pericles would alternate who would be his successor at each campaign. He looked forward again as the Chaplain began informing them all of their missions, and awaiting their loud and warlike responses. Soon the Librarian and the Chaplain parted heading to each of their combat vehicles. Pericles and his squad shadowed the Chaplain before boarding the Thunderhawk. During their descent Pericles and his squad stayed quiet. They would use astartes battle code and limited vox use. They had all been drilled that and would follow to the letter Pericles hoped.

"Sergeant, will you lead to the jump?" Ares asked him as they reached their destination with a gesture towards the open door. Pericles nodded before leaping out of the thunderhawk, his men just behind him. They all activated there thrusters before plummeting into the thick horde of greenskins below that held the planetary defences. The second he landed he powered his sword, feeling lightning dance off it. The orks were surprised by this bold move, but that would only last so long. Pericles motioned for his brothers to protect his and the chaplains flanks as they charged into combat, Pericles swinging low with his powersword chopping a ork in two below the waist. He blocked a downward swing from an orks choppa with his combat shield before stabbing his own weapon into its chest. It grunted but pulled free of the sword and punch at Pericles, knocking him back a step. With a snarl on his lips he smashed the pommel of his sword on the orks wound before taking its head. 

Pericles felt something grab him from behind, trying to get him into a headlock. Obviously the greenskin was trying to choke the life out of him, a foolish thing to do to an Astartes. With but a thought Pericles activated his jetpack catapulting him and the ork forward a little way beyond the others, the orks legs melting under the insane heat from the jetpack. It hit the floor hard and Pericles used his momentum to skewer the ork with his sword. His tally was now three, keeping on par with the Chaplains. Pericles leapt back to the fight, intent on killing more of the greenskins. He landed by a fairly large ork, attempting to shoot at his squad brothers. Pericles almost laughed at how easy this kill was, knocking the ork to its knee's he crushed its head under his armoured boot. It may have a thick skull but Pericles had battle armour and a jetpack to weigh him down. Pericles saw that his brothers and the Chaplain had almost defeated the rest of the mob in his short absence and he rushed back into the fight. One ork turned in time to block a blow from his powersword, firing at him with its slugga. Pericles deftly pushed his combat shield in front of his helmeted face, blocking the few bullets that were actually on target. He advanced under this hail of fire, leaping at the last second before bringing his sword down and cutting the ork in two with it.


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