# Saints of Hinariath



## Myen'Tal (Sep 4, 2009)

Seems like this is under way, feel free to post up some C&C guys:grin:.


Saints of Hinariath​
Prologue: Bells of Saints

_Conorag- Year of Peace
????_

_“First Platoon, attention!” _

The unified burst of disciplined drum rolls continued well into the ceremony, the only noise to break the atmosphere of reverent silence that had befallen the Cliffside. 

All the accumulated malice and fury from three years of war finally began to bleed away from those emerald eyes. They seemed to be at peace actually, when peering into the crimson sunset slowly falling beneath the horizon. They mirrored the vast, placid oceans stretching beyond the sight of mortal men to touch the golden sun itself. 

Atop the towering plateau, a chilling gust of wind swept through the fields of honored dead. Mile upon mile of rolling hills and shallow mounds. All adorned with a massive, elaborate cross of solid gold, the looming wings of the Imperial Aquilla spreading its proud wings around everyone of them like a silent guardian. 

In a labyrinth of thousands, the five open graves towards the very edge of the cliff were merely a drop in the pond. 

It was often a soldier’s dream to enter the Keep of Angels in death, cemetery of Conorag’s finest fallen. While hundreds are added to its ranks annually, thousands more are often sent to the crematory’s in the Hive cities’ lowest levels. Not a fate too many are fond of. Yet those who make it not only honor themselves, but their comrades and their regiments. So it was only natural to see the up-most pride shining through the solemn expressions of all attending the traditional burial. 

First and second platoon of fourth company formed separate single file lines across either side of the narrow aisle leading toward the empty graves. Heralding the arrival of the caskets were the line of billowing banners erected by each participating squad, many of them simply an altered version of their nation‘s flag. At the very fore of their lines, before the open wounds carved into the earth’s soil, the leading officers of either group oversaw it all. Including herself. 

Another drum roll brought her back to a grim reality, forcing her to pry a thoughtful gaze from the skies to stare down the line of assembled guardsmen. The caskets themselves were fit for noblemen, crafted from finely polished white marble and adorned with authentic gold trimmings. Each weighed enough that twelve were assigned to one alone. 

With a steady pace, they pressed onward, ignoring all the silent stares fixed upon them. A few minutes had passed when the first of five arrived at the burial site, reaching the farthest of the craters before waiting. One by one, each was filed into place and when all was set. One of the officers nodded wordlessly to grant clearance. 

Gently, patiently, and with well timed precision, the luxurious coffins were lowered in perfect sync into their final resting place. She read the names belonging to the graves to herself, reflecting upon the flood of memories that came rushing back to her.

_Sergeant Noland Dawm

Corporal Nathan Mckell

Private First Class Tanon Harcon

Private Wayland Meykey

Private Ithan Leyod​_
They were the last of their number to be laid to rest within the Keep, but she was glad none the less to see them off here, where they deserved to be. 

A gorgeous woman stood at attention before her troops. Flowing raven black hair fell down her neck and against her shoulders, most of the bangs poking out of the green beret she wore. Those glittering emerald eyes didn’t seem hostile anymore, glimmering from a pale, youthful face. The military fatigues of her regiment, the Fifth Conorag Blood Hounds were effectively concealed beneath a matt black great coat usually quite common in the winter months. The only thing that appeared strange where either of her hands, which were both heavily bandaged and a bit bloody. 

Lieutenant Helena felt the ensuing gust whip across her face, remaining stationary as she observed her former comrades descending into the bliss of death. It was her first time stepping foot in the hallow grounds of such a place. 

It was no easy feeling. The Lieutenant looked to be on the verge of tears in fact, but she did not weep, instead forcing a two finger salute when the coffins were set in place, and began the process of actually burying them began. The Commander parallel to her reflected the movement, quickly followed by every participating officer in the cemetery. 

“Rifles! At the ready!” Helena barked at the top of her lungs, spinning on her heel to face the line of guardsmen before her. 

The Officers maintained their salute, only the basic troopers lifting the las-guns off their chests and shifting into firing positions, muzzle barrels aimed toward the sky. 

“Full-Auto!” A couple dozen clicks echoed out. 

“Fire!” It was not a simple volley of single shots, nor a small burst, but an unrelenting barrage of gunfire when every available soldier squeezed their triggers as one. An azure aura instantly materialized overhead from the hundreds of las-bolts shot simultaneously into the evening sky. High ranking guardsmen retracted their salute before pulling bolt pistols free and joining in. It lasted for some while, every trooper slightly bucking under the strain of each shot, still firing until one by one, the power cells eventually clicked dry. 

Helena waited till total silence descended upon the funeral once more, even the drums had finally halted for the end of ceremony. 

“… Bloodhounds for life!” 

The Lieutenant’s words vanished in the wake a few hundred battle cries. The infamous Conorag war howl: a cross between a bellowed shout and well… a howl. 

Signaling the end of the funeral, orders were quickly passed down for dismissal. It wasn’t long till the mass of soldiers began marching through the golden gates in an orderly fashion. 

Save Helena, who reverted back to the sunset beginning to dip below the horizon. Soon the racket generated by the passing army died away, once more leaving only the wind to whisper to her.

It was nice to be home.
-----------------------------


Chapter One: Enter the Fifth

_One year later_

_“Eh! First Squad, first platoon, fourth company? Anyone?”_ He strolled through the base with an aura of purpose and determination, forcing his own path through the throngs of human traffic congesting the main halls.

The rushing streams of fatigues and muscle flowing through either side were far too dense to allow comfortable maneuverability and the guardsman was merely swept along helplessly in the tide. 

The uniform he wore was no different than the hundreds of replicas appearing in and out of view. Baggy snow white and midnight black camouflaged pattern pants with a pale grey undershirt and armor plating. Despite being a sole drop in the churning river of troopers, an irregular height by Conorag standards sent the soldier towering a full two heads beyond the swirling masses. Mounting irritation was beginning to swell within those emerald eyes Conoragians were known for, the light frown on his lips tightening with every passing moment.

Ryan O’Kyrvan sighed his frustration, sweeping a hand through the rugged bowl of unkempt, jet black hair cropped upon his head. Flinging his arms up in defeat and miraculously not slapping anyone in the process, the Bloodhound shouted out to no one in particular. “Now I know someone in here knows where I can find fourth company!” 

“Hey frakk off, pal.” Someone across the hall hissed and Ryan immediately craned his head at the response, scanning the passing crowds with a slack-jawed look of disbelief. That innocent expression quickly vanished beneath the hostile snarl he unconsciously bore at the remark, flashing unnaturally long canines at the passing masses surrounding him. 

Though the trooper barely opened his mouth to utter a retort when a sudden force began tugging at his shoulder. Taken back by the abrupt interruption, the private suddenly found himself pulled free from the crowds and into an empty corridor branching off to somewhere apparently unimportant.

_“I’ll take ya’, follow me.”_

Ryan lowered his gaze upon the stranger he was now walking beside. The guardsman only came up to his shoulders, dressed in the baggy fatigues of the Fifth, only the short smokey brown hair setting him apart from the majority. As if sensing the inquisitive stare bearing down on him, the nameless soldier lifted his head to lock eyes with the figure looming overhead, revealing a face hardened and criss-crossed with a varying range of scars. “You know the maps are posted up outside so these kind of things don’t happen.” A sly grin betrayed the blank façade he tried to keep up, extending a hand of welcoming. “Corporal Jaers Mails, first squad, first platoon, fourth company.”

“Ah.” Any hostility left in Ryan’s expression simply vanished in a warming smile, taking the offered hand for a brief shake. “Private Ryan O’Kyrvan man, though my friends call me Rok for short. Straight out of basic.”

“Hell, you and ninety percent of everyone else in here.” Mails shrugged. “All the regiments are recruiting like crazy to get back up to full strength and then some. Conorag’s got some respite, but her war ain’t over yet. I‘m surprised they didn‘t have to start a conscription.” 

“When the Emperor calls, death befalls… the heretic?” Ryan allowed his sentence to simply trail off in the wake of Mails’ burst of boastful laughter. 

The Corporal chuckled loudly for a while longer before slapping Rok hard across the back. “You’re alright, Kyrvan, you’re alright!” 

Mails suddenly pulled up short, taking notice of the metal door the two nearly walked into. “One sec…” The veteran leaned in close to the security pad bolted beside the sealed entrance, typing in a rapid sequence of buttons in for clearance. 

The quiet whine of invisible servos echoed out in peaceful silence, mobilizing the thick sheet of metal plating into a retracting slide to allow its guest entrance. 

Mails gestured Kyrvan through the door and he obliged.

The resounding thud of his boots were instantly lost in a hundred others, the silence washing away in the barrage of conversations and noises that came with an entire platoon at total ease.

Despite the broadness of the chamber, the array of tightly spaced, Spartan bunk beds lining either side of the corridor gave it a feeling of claustrophobia. Not including the herd of guardsmen milling aimlessly about the place. 

One hundred men and women had effectively dispersed around the place to claim what territory they could in this urban realm. Everyone was occupied doing something: foraging through their bags and equipment, assembling weaponry, or forming in small groups for a light conversation and a game of cards. 

At the very center of it all was a small desk with a random assort of papers scattered all over it. Helena leaned back into the messaging embrace of her leather chair, propping her legs up against the piece of furniture in the middle of the room. The officer had shed the great coat, revealing the loose t-shirt hidden behind the clipboard clutched within the palm of her bandaged hands. 

The Lieutenant sighed quietly to herself, shadily casting an inspective eye across first platoon’s barracks. She couldn’t spot even several familiar faces within her squads anymore, all of them had passed earlier in the war or had gotten transferred into the basic training programs: lucky bastards.

_“Lieutenant! New guy here!”_

Helena didn’t deign raising her eyes off the attendance lists, instead focusing her attention on finding the sole box that had yet to be checked.

“You here me, ma’am?” The eclipse Mails’ shadow cast over her makeshift office finally provoked a response. 

Helena shot the Corporal a wordless scowl and the guardsman threw his hands up with that submissive grin. Keeping the glower up a moment longer, she stole an indirect glance at the towering man beside him. 

The Lieutenant reverted her attention back to the paper. “… Uhh… let’s see, Private Ryan O’Kyrvan is it?”

Ryan contemplated the idea of standing at attention, but observed the rest of the room and decided against it. “Aye, ma’am, that’d be me.”

“You know you’re damned late, Private? Five hours?”

A sharp whistle slipped Mails’ lips. “The hell ma-”

“Mails!” Helena chastised coolly, glaring at him with an “are you serious” kind of look.

“Apologies, Lieutenant. I’m off to my bunk.” The Guardsman gave off a half-assed salute before turning on his heel to leave.

She waited another moment before resuming her interrogation. “Well, Kyrvan, I’m not going to ask for an excuse, but if a similar incident arises in another assembly, I’ll give your name to the commissar and be done with it. I’ll refrain from doing so now because you’re in my command squad, being a member of that means you’re one of the best fourth company has to offer… I handpicked everyone in it myself. Don’t show me that I’ve made an error in judgment.”

“Now, the bunks are assigned by squad. Yours is beneath Mails, last one at the end of the room to your right, unpack your stuff.”

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Scene to be continued...


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