Moros moved forward following his brothers the uncharacteristically calm Fellwalker simply trudging on behind the sullen and emotionally defeated Librarian. As the keep came into view over the ridge and Artenius mentioned the commotion Moros could only think of what he saw scouting it was not Xenos it was simply the overwhelming hordes of Chaos flooding in wreaking horror upon this world preparing to decimate all life. He felt a foreboding sense of doom await them and the overwhelming silence made him unspeakably uncomfortable and unsure of what await them ahead. Only the distant hums of ships and firing of weapons with shrieks of the dying broke the sense that they were utterly alone.
There it stood at the precipice a fortress unattended yet it was not broken nor assailed by a legion of horrors no it was left an unsettling monument of emptiness like that of the void. As Moros moved forward he brushed passed the others a flood of emotion came to his face and before long he had sprinted to the gates and with a panicked look he turned to the others. He looked as if he wished to scream something anything, but words would not come. It was a wretched brutish memory clutching to him for all these years it clawed its way to the surface now with flashes of blood and the screams of the closest friends he ever knew their dying breaths haunted him.
He could feel the familiar knots and twist in his stomach the aching of the hairs standing at attention on your neck the taint of the warp was in fact near. It was the armor though that was what had sent him into this spiral so deep into the recesses of himself in those dark corners he wished never to visit. It felt like a madness encroached each time he brushed up against that part of himself one that wished to consume and devour all he fought to preserve. His honor, his valor, his loyalty it was a twisted and deluded mimicry of it that tried to justify against all these things his survival over those who fell.
Moros regained some semblance of composure after agonizing, mumbling, and scratching at his face. Slowly with heavy heavy sullen steps he approached the neat and untouched suit of armor and all the pristine items about it. He looked at them and turned to the Dark Angel and looked at him intently almost peering into him. He had been acutely aware that Dominous was not pleased and may not even like him though he suspected it was much of the rivalry all their kind had, but in fact Moros often made missteps and offended those around him if they were not cut from the cloth of the wolf.
It was then he finally spoke.
"Cargrim Karrane...you know that name don't you Dark Angel?" Moros spoke with hatred in his voice and struggled to keep from screaming the words.
He inhaled deeply and continued. "Madness took hold and an aberration in the shell of what use to be a man polished and cleaned armor endlessly for maddening hours. No sleep no food just the same task endless till perfection. That was what they discovered before they were slaughtered. My brothers ten of them torn to shreds by a single beast on a world far from home without any light. Oh the creature died, but I remember that day still." Moros then looked back at the armor and if one believes the Astartes can cry they may just believe a tear fell from his face.
There it stood at the precipice a fortress unattended yet it was not broken nor assailed by a legion of horrors no it was left an unsettling monument of emptiness like that of the void. As Moros moved forward he brushed passed the others a flood of emotion came to his face and before long he had sprinted to the gates and with a panicked look he turned to the others. He looked as if he wished to scream something anything, but words would not come. It was a wretched brutish memory clutching to him for all these years it clawed its way to the surface now with flashes of blood and the screams of the closest friends he ever knew their dying breaths haunted him.
He could feel the familiar knots and twist in his stomach the aching of the hairs standing at attention on your neck the taint of the warp was in fact near. It was the armor though that was what had sent him into this spiral so deep into the recesses of himself in those dark corners he wished never to visit. It felt like a madness encroached each time he brushed up against that part of himself one that wished to consume and devour all he fought to preserve. His honor, his valor, his loyalty it was a twisted and deluded mimicry of it that tried to justify against all these things his survival over those who fell.
Moros regained some semblance of composure after agonizing, mumbling, and scratching at his face. Slowly with heavy heavy sullen steps he approached the neat and untouched suit of armor and all the pristine items about it. He looked at them and turned to the Dark Angel and looked at him intently almost peering into him. He had been acutely aware that Dominous was not pleased and may not even like him though he suspected it was much of the rivalry all their kind had, but in fact Moros often made missteps and offended those around him if they were not cut from the cloth of the wolf.
It was then he finally spoke.
"Cargrim Karrane...you know that name don't you Dark Angel?" Moros spoke with hatred in his voice and struggled to keep from screaming the words.
He inhaled deeply and continued. "Madness took hold and an aberration in the shell of what use to be a man polished and cleaned armor endlessly for maddening hours. No sleep no food just the same task endless till perfection. That was what they discovered before they were slaughtered. My brothers ten of them torn to shreds by a single beast on a world far from home without any light. Oh the creature died, but I remember that day still." Moros then looked back at the armor and if one believes the Astartes can cry they may just believe a tear fell from his face.
