Among them was a man humming quietly to himself a strange tune. He seemed calm and deep in thought and by the clothing he was wearing and the simple weapon it was obvious he was no standard soldier or fighter. He was clean of the typical grime and filth that stuck to the common guardsmen. In truth he looked like he should have been a scholar, but as many men find themselves in the service of the Emperor so did he. His commander and oldest friend stood in the back and he knew why. He had been there for the recovery he saw the barbarism that had befallen those that came before and he was fascinated by it. It was morbid, but when there was so few left of your regiment you had to endure to find something of meaning in the horror. For him it was fascination and contemplation on the nature of why and who "To defeat them we must understand them." he would say much to the chagrin of others.
As the others began to speak he smiled and ceased his humming he seemed to enjoy the banter, but he never made even a hint of speaking. Instead he waited in anticipation his eyes drifting back to his friend and fellow Hollow Martyr. As he was doing so a strange compulsive mannerism could be noticed by those who were observant. He traced the insignia on his cloak counter clockwise three times before tapping his chest twice. For what purpose or reason it was certainly unknown to any, but him. Upon its completion and no word from his mentor he cleared his throat and spoke.
"Epicurus is my name. It's to good to meet you. Emperor smile on you all in battle." Upon the end of his words he returned to his humming. There was a loud exclamation from his friend that halted his humming instantly and made him fall into silence waiting as he focused his eyes on the Commisar.
He stood in the corner window back facing the others and head hung low his eyes fighting back flashes that came of what had happened only days prior. This ship was the tomb of the last squad to almost every last one of them... Briefly had he gotten know them during the flight and truly knew them in full during the massacre that came after. He knew two well thought no hoped they may make it out alive with him, but of course they didn't none ever did. Sixty years of this in the name of what he no longer knew, but he trudged fighting on. He knew once he turned once they saw his cloak his face..his sword these men too would recognize him think that they were saved because of it.
Sergeant Johns and Kranis a gunner thought it eyes awe struck admiration replacing nervous fear when they first confirmed it. They followed him like lost dogs out of that ship and through the bowels of this hellish hive world loyal and courageous till their bitter end. They were good men and he considered them among the best he had served with in many long tireless years. There was the breath and hope of youth in their eyes and steps. The thoughts of something beyond this miserable set of endless wars. They made it off the ship with him and that was when he knew they would remain and live with him till his end. For now though he looked down at the landscape below a fallen world that too closely resembled what his birthplace was on the precipice of becoming every moment. The sea of filth and twisted labyrinth of grim fates he knew all the stories of the people who lived in them he was one of them in his misled youth. Those memories though he thought would have helped, but this world was vastly different it was a fell corrupted den worthy of scorching and its citizens perhaps in his mind beyond redemption or saving. He was to follow orders though it was his duty and what did he have left, but duty and honor. After touching down seeing just brief glimpses of this world he believed the rumors that something lurked below that some abomination that long slumbered has awoken out of purgatory. Now its ceaseless corruption its vile nature spreads uncontrollably and the guard is the last chance for this world.
As they drew closer to objective Hermes his thoughts drifted back to Sergeant Johns and Kranis to their faces, their voices, and the bond of war brothers forged in fire and blood. They had earned something rarely felt by him respect. A place of personal remembrance within the heart of a cold man. It did little, but keep faded embers of their life or who they were alive though it was more than many nameless souls who formed the tide of soon to be dead soldiers rushing to be culled in the name of the emperor.
"Enough of that." He exclaimed before before slamming his hand violently against the window. As he realized what he had done he took a deep breath and began to turn to the rest aboard this vessel.
As he stepped forward and came into view it would not have been the first time any of these men had seen his face nor his distinct coat. He was known by many as the Black Saint and his full name was Viber Vendarium Titallus. He was a hero and a living legend of Ysuran Crusade. A ten year galactic conflict against vile green skin hordes. He served in combat for the entirety of the war till its last days. What started as a small engagement by the end of that decade had grown into a war that called for the Legio Titanica and several chapters of the space marines. Endless conflict raged over the civilized imperial worlds and shrine worlds of that system and Ysura was at the center. He was younger then when he served on those front lines starved for glory and blood and he found more than a kings share.
It was in those last days that he cemented his place as a propaganda piece of the Imperial Guard. The Last March on Ysura it is known by now and it was the last march of countless poor souls. It was a tidal wave of bodies and weapons the entire emperors might thrust upon that world many rumored the world would crack and break apart from the weight of the bodies and barrages. Only one goal mattered to slay the war boss to end the breeding of these wretched beast. Viber and many guards served on that day under the same banner and on the same line with the Space Marines the emperors finest soldiers. There was unity in those moments among them all. He remembered the chapter master and that chapter well brave and honorable willing to fight for and with the common man. Zhekha Andrikus of Iron and his personal retinue of guards as well as some men under Vibers command made a desperate charge on the final day. The war boss was in sight all they had to due was cut a way in clear a path and so they crashed against the wall of green skins. They broke upon them at first, but Zhekha and his men made it through and began to cut away hundreds of them. By some luck or the Emperor at work Viber moved in and out of swings forward in a mad sprint toward the war boss.
As he closed in he said a final prayer prepared to die and swung his power sword with vicious howl and he heard the sweet rush of blood felt it warms embrace showering him. As the haze cleared his eyes saw the headless body of Warboss Brodrug Domekrushah da Arch-Lord of da Killbashaz. What comes after to his immeasurable pain and then sudden nothingness. It was that way for what felt like eternity till he woke up months later in an infirmary. His body was broken and his mind wasn't much better, but he was alive. Only because of the might of Zhekha and the Space Marines had he been saved or by the Emperor. For his service and his actions in that conflict he became well known ad was promoted to Lord Commisar. Many though know that in years to follow his unstable nature and what some would call suicidal wish to fight had kept him from every truly utilizing the position. He still chose to fight on the front lines again and again by compulsion to find the fight that would end him or bring him peace so he could sleep again.
The stories made him seem much more than he appeared to be now. He was simply a thin man with a harsh face and gray hair weathered by war and hardship. His eyes were surrounded by deep dark circles from the lack of sleep and his stance showed clearly what wounds he sustained had never truly healed. His cloak was once the color of obsidian, but had long since faded in color. It was tattered and had many scars much like the man who wore it.
"I know all of you on paper and I will know you fully in battle. Your whole service records and many others were looked at. I requested each of you because the last group failed because we cannot afford to fail twice. I will not lie to you like those who gave you the orders to board this ship. Those men except two did not die valiantly they did not die heroes. You see the ship you see the blood smell powder you know many of them died right where you sit. All of you know your jobs and if you do not Winstanely will be acting Sergeant." Vibers voice was deep and cold. There was a roughness that made every word sound like a struggle.
Viber took a deep breath and said with a sense of finality "May the emperor have mercy on you all because I will not"
Nearest to the bay door sat a man in utter silence cleaning and checking his weapons ignoring all around. Nothing showed not even a bit of flesh. His face covered by a vox and his eyes by goggles all else was covered by clothing and armor. All he wore or carried was a dark grey seemingly catered for an urban environment. He was in short making final preparations planning where he would post himself to give cover so everyone could exit the Valkyrie without being ripped to shreds or littered with slugs. He had ridden in a ship like this a few times now the noise was something he liked there was a pattern to it a calming regularity to the way machines worked at least most the time.
"Canis Molussus. That's my name. Heads down and eyes forward move fast on your exit." He spoke quickly and his voice was heavily distorted by the Vox.
He was short and matter of fact he didn't really care for distraction or chatting not before a mission especially a landing like this. This was an unconventional place for an unconventional fight adaptation quick thinking were all going to be needed to survive and after all he wanted to survive. It was of some relief that a medic was with them in that regard. The others were interesting to him unlike anyone in his own regiment and in fact his only experience had been serving with his own. It was a anxiety inducing sensation new people with different training, worlds, and cultures it was another thing he had to adapt to so that he could survive.
