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"Some do follow their father’s footsteps down to the T. But there are countless others who prefer to make their own way forward. Their own mistakes. Otherwise we get stuck in a never-ending loop we can’t get out of."
Hal, Commander of Esteldin
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A primal rage swivels up her spine
In your arms, her clawed hands intertwine
The drum beats, the heartache of bloodied cries
The soft build of salty tears in her eyes
Tears not of pain or happiness or love
But tears to honor the guide and lessons above
A tear for all who love and fall
A tear for all who follow the call
Kie’fons Theme
Tyler: getting a brain scan today lads
Victor: to check if you have one?
Tyler: thank you so much for your concern and support
Into the breach once more, Shield Brothers! Hear every beat of their hearts! Hear the terror that we invoke upon them! Let your spears sing hateful defiance! Let your blades taste heretical blood! For the Emperor! For Mankind! Break them, Custodians! Break them all!
Karna Aleksandros, Shield-Captain of the Iron Hawks Shield-Host during the Siege of Terra.
I remember Ferrus. I remember Medusa. I remember Iron. I remember Istvaan. I remember Loss. I remember Rage. I remember Brotherhood. I remember Hopelessness. I remember Failure. I remember Victory. The Heresy affected us all differently and it is still felt despite being so distant a time. The echoes which were left in the galaxy still shimmer across the galaxy like a disturbed pond. Yet for all that I remember, I cannot recall the days of when I had once been human. What it had meant to be as such and what I had sacrificed to become what I am today. Thus, we ask the question of what it is that I have become. Am I a tool for the Imperium or have I become something else. Such is a thought that has painted the echoes of my aging mind for centuries. Even in the face of the constant darkness that threatens to consume us all, it still brushes against the shores of my consciousness. These memories of mine, what do their echoes make of me? Am I worthy to be called Astartes because I survived the endless battles that have thrust me into mortal danger time and time again? I cannot give you that answer, as much as I should wish to. I loathe this existence that has been given to me and despite the act of rejecting death I wonder if I truly do not feel fear. Maybe, I am afraid, for it is always fear that has been a driving factor of our kind. To survive. To adapt. Ever afraid of an end unworthy of ourselves and always feeling as though there is more to be done. So, what is it that I am to do? Am I to stride into battle time and time again as the Mechanicus and their God-Machines do? Am I to stride beside Mortal Man and Transhuman alike to submerge my hands in a war that never truly ended? These are answers that I cannot give to you, should you seek them. I cannot answer this question that plagues my mind endlessly, yet it does not drive me to insanity. Through this mere question alone, I have affirmed that I have indeed lost purpose as an Astartes. To be as I am, to live as I have lived. Is that to be Astartes? No. It is not. Ours is to fight and die rather than grow old and see an Empire we once knew slip from our grasp and plummet into disunity. We who have survived from the time of Heresy, are failures of this task. Our lives were not given but rather preserved and through our survival, we see the truth of our bleak nature. Perhaps this is the gift that the Emperor wished to bestow upon us as he continues to play at God. We remnants know a truth that none of us can speak. We echoes of the Heresy know of a truth that we dare not wish to utter. Do not seek to preach unto me your words of wisdom nor your ideals to which you seek to perpetuate. There is no point in attempting to sway my mind to yours as it has already been made ten thousand years ago. I have failed and yet I continue to change, where the Imperium found Faith, so did I. Yet it was not in some distant god amid an uncaring galaxy. Rather, it is in the iron hands that I have made for myself and to that, I am thankful. With hammer and nail, I will seek to rebuild what is lost. So to speak unto you of my purpose, it took me ten thousand years to realize mine. Do you believe you shall see the same fate? Look not into what you might have done but rather what you can do, Mortal. I am no demi god nor saving angel. I was once a man, just as you are now. Instead, look to how you can save what you have come to love. Be as Iron and become the Iron wall that surrounds it. Become the bastion of faith and fire should you need to. We are each capable of being as Iron is, weathering through the horrible storms of our lives. So, should I outlive you, know that your echoes will resonate with mine and it is with your legacy in mind that I will continue onward. Endlessly. For it is blood, sweat, strength and perseverance that shapes Iron. We are each Iron and we each have our purpose to commit to. Take strength from that and you will do what must be done, whether terrible or not. Whether small or immense. We each must adhere to the purpose we decide and through that dedication, we become Iron. The flesh is weak, so we must make it strong.
Tyr Kvanus, 999.M41
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It matters not how far you seek to run. The weight of your transgressions will ultimately weigh down upon you. Call upon your Immortal God-Emperor, he will not answer you or perhaps you serve masters that glower in the dark. What dark prayers have you said amid the darkness, Fleshborn? What foul and corrupted promises and pacts have you made? Twice you have evaded my sight and twice you have escaped capture, no more. I will not suffer your existence any longer than I must but know this Fleshborn, it is not the edge of my blade that will destroy you. It will be my hands grinding your bones and organs to dust.
Yozthokh the Watcher, Praetorian to the Triarch and Keeper of the Unforgotten Law
Sacrificial Oath
I remember my failings in my service to both Chapter and Imperium well. They scar my tortured and aged spirit in manners that cannot be undone, to that I owe thanks only to myself. Once, we were strong and that was during an age that pitiful few care to remember now. It was an age where legions, not chapters, stretched across the vastness of this cruel and hopeless galaxy. Those were days that even I have only read of and long to see such magnificence. It grieves me to know these things and through my service to the Chapter I have learned many secrets and among those terrible secrets is the birth of this chapter.
My failings are uncounted, of that I am almost too sure and it is here that I confess them to the Master of Sanctity, my keeper and watcher. To the woeful hymns that echo through the great chapel hall that touches my soul, to speak these words are too painful to acknowledge. Yet acknowledge them I shall and through that, I will cast aside all that I am. Though, such beckons the question, my Lord.
What are we if not the Second Legion? What are we if not the legacy in which the Imperium had so fervently sought to hide? Is our chapter built upon lies that grew over an expanse of ten thousand years? What was our role in the Heresy as I have come to know that no side was truly innocent. As the Inquisitors have often said to me, there is no such thing as Innocence in this place, only varying degrees of guilt. Yet is that not the creed of our own order within the Chapter? Are we not here to speak terrible things and ensure that the men we watch are ultimately broken so that our existence can come to fruition?
These are questions that have raked my mind in the unsettling nights that I have come to know, as you so warned me. Thus now I have come to you to absolve my guilt and to lay my failings bare before that which is greater than I. The Imperium must survive and we are the tool for its survival, we hold the key that could be turned in order to give our chapter and Legion life anew... yet we do not. We have squandered our gifts that we hide from all others within the depths of this false mountain. The secrets are ours to have and beyond that, I have learned of our history.
I have seen why hatred of Terra is so written in our doctrine. I see now the truth of why so many within the Revenant hold nothing but inscrutable hate towards the Adeptus Custodes, the Lords of Terra and even Russ's Wolves. Yet, I had asked myself is it our place to hate them in the stead of our fallen brothers? Of the legacy that we are to clutch in the waning hours of the night? We sit at the edge of an evolution that our Chapter must undertake and through that we will become whole once more. Our hatred of them is one born of genetic lineage much like the ire that tyrants would hold for those who speak against them.
I do not think us to be Tyrants, Lord, rather I see ourselves as the few who could seek to change so much and yet the reality of our station has become all too clear. Our hands are tied though not by the Inquisition nor is it by the Lord-Primarch. It is us and the fear that we have for ourselves to dare not repeat a legacy that has been all but forgotten by the greater Imperium. I do not fear the enemy, but the terror in my heart that has always been there, it is for us.
Is it not the same for you?
They do not know, Lord. They think that their crimes have gone into the night unremembered and yet when I sleep I dream of their assault. I feel the dead brush against my mind as if their voices cry out in pain. Such has led me here, to my death. To the failings that I now call to question. I know now that I am unfit to be Chaplain to these Astartes who have braved so much and witnessed such terror. I am unfit to speak to them of spirit, duty and hope. My ambitions have been destroyed when I watched that world die and when we left behind so many to die.
If I remember correctly, we tread a difficult path ahead and I know that I have served the Chapter well in place for the voice that speaks to others. However, as our oath says. Angels we are not. So dawns the truth of our Chapter and of our Legion. We are not avenging angels nor are we Angels of death but rather Daemons that lurk and wait in the darkness. We inspire dread, terror and sow death wherever we go. I have come to know so much and it is all terrible so I plead my guilt for the death of three worlds.
I failed you, my Lord. I failed the chapter when we sought to aid the Custodes and lost fifteen brothers to the task. I sacrificed so many for those who had wronged us so grievously and yet I had hoped that Alren, Pallaeus and Invicarus would have seen light once more easily. Yet these names I speak breathe no longer and in the calculus of battle, in the orders we have given, these names mean nothing to others. Yet I cannot deny the loss in my still beating hearts as rage dwells deep within my soul. I wish for revenge against the Emperor's Golden Legion and so I can no longer walk as a Spiritual guide.
I cast my name aside and I offer my title in sacrifice to all that I am. What I once was, I can be no longer and I understand the gravity of my words. I know too much and so the choices you will give me are only two in number. So I take death of another kind and dedicate all that I am to the Chapter beyond that which I have given already. Let me descend into the depths of the Monastery and kneel before the Revenant Lord, the one who speaks to us in our sleep.
I sacrifice everything so that I too might become a Revenant.
Derek: Ten years ago today, I married my best friend.
Derek: My wife’s still really angry about it but me and Tyler were drunk and thought it was funny.
