Event Name: Honor the Lost
Location: Orrian's Fury, flagship of the the Great Chief, traveling through the Warp
Date: 991.M30
Parties Involved: The Ancient: Josef Hinde, Dreadnaught of the Wild Blades. Flora Harper, Remembrancer. Sildur Farram, Thane of the 7th Company. Kallen Gorn, Seer of the Wild Blades.
Within one of the great libraries of the Gloriana class Battleship, Orrian’s Fury, Flora Harper sat with her legs crossed at the knee upon a wooden stool. The massive vaulted shelves were filled with all manner of texts from across the Imperium. In her short time with the Legion, Flora had heard nothing but stories of the barbaric savagery of the legendary Astartes warriors. She had never yet seen the likes of the Wild Blades in combat, no Remembrancer had. But the soldiers of the Justicarian Guard had told plenty of tales around mugs of beer to the huddled groups of Remembrancer’s who sat with rapt attention. Given the stories, she had expected to find trophy rooms filled with the heads of xenos, rooms with racks of terrifying weapons, and the sounds of constant combat as the Wild Blades trained endlessly for war. She was shocked when she was finally given pass to board the flagship of the Primarch to find such a large portion of the ship devoted to the preservation of knowledge and literature.
Iterators, Remembrancers, and Imperial scholars of various callings sat in silence or talked in hushed tones around stacks of books. Some were bent over their notes, scribbling away on parchment as they conducted their research or wrote their own. She wasn’t interested in any of them in the slightest. She pushed a lock of golden hair behind her ear as it fell out of place, dangling in front of her eyes and tickling the tip of her nose. She had her sketch pad resting against her knees, humming softly as she drew the tip of her black charcoal pencil along its surface with practiced skill. Ever so often her blue eyes would flicker up to examine the product of her interest, before busily returning to add more detail.
Dominating an entire section of the library stood a figure in which the rest of the occupants gave a wide berth. Only Flora had dared to sit this close. Immense, dauntless, the adamantium armor a sage green of vibrant forests, traced with golden details and tribal patterns. Engraved upon nearly every inch of the titanic form were pictures of men and monsters. Some were of war, others of peace, but each one told a story unique to the Wild Blades and their past. Her azure gaze roamed over the surface, taking in every small detail, wanting to capture the moment of the impassive serenity that surrounded the unmoving giant.
The Ancient, oldest and most venerated of all the Legions Dreadnaughts, stood silently in the vaulted halls of the library. Cables snaked their way from a machine dwarfed by his size to a small gap in the armored sarcophagus, linking his mind to the memory stores as he downloaded his thoughts and musings. He had noticed the girl a long time ago, but was deep within his own mind as he retold the stories lodged in his memory and complied them into the data stores of the library. Today was a day for reflection, and Josef Hinde was deep within the thoughts of the past as he remembered the first days of the Legion. He had been one of the very first recruits, taken from his family at a young age and into the arms of the Emperor and his scientists. Josef remembered the agony following the surgeries, the power he began to feel as his body healed and hardened. He became a demi-god among men, the first of many to follow that would bear the name of the Xth Legion and carry the title of Huntsmen. They had sailed out with the claim of the Emperor that they were bringing light to the lost worlds of man. Even then, Josef had known that he and his new brothers were bred for one purpose. War. They had been baptized quickly in the fires of combat, proving themselves a greater foe than any xenos had ever encountered. Their path was brutal and bloody, felling worlds like grain before the scythe. They only had one purpose: to crush the enemies of man and bring back the scattered race.
It had not been until the discovery of their gene-father that Josef had known something other than battle. The reunion of the Great Chief and his Legion brought forward a new age for the Huntsmen, re-clad in the image of their Primarch and given a new name. Erron Khaal brought with him all the glories and hardships of Varnis, bestowing his children with the task of living up to the legends of his home. When he had fallen, his body interned within this tomb of metal, Josef took it upon himself to ensure that the past of his Legion would be forever remembered, so that none would ever lose their way among the darkness that forever hovered at the edges of the void.
Pulling himself out of his memories, Josef disengaged the cables with a sharp *snick*, his body creaking and groaning as he turned the massive Dreadnaught body to regard the small girl sitting near him. Flora squeaked and dropped her pencil in surprise, her eyes wide as the sudden movement startled her out of her trance.
+Do not be afraid child+ Josef said, his voice a deep bass rumble that echoed from within the body of his body. “I…I wasn’t afraid,” Flora said, regaining her composure and picking up the fallen pencil and sliding it behind her ear, “I just..wasn’t expecting you to move I guess.”
A steady rumble ran through the shelves of books, making the bones inside of Floras chest vibrate with its resonance. She realized after a moment that the Dreadnaught was laughing. +Then forgive me, it is not often that one not of my kind come and visit. May I see your work?+
Flora suddenly felt very nervous. She had not asked the massive beings permission before she began sketching him. Self-conscious, with her face flushing a bit she turned the book in her lap and held it so the Dreadnaught could see. Several moments went by in silence, each second seeming longer as Flora waited for his response.
+That is very impressive Miss Harper, I am honored to have received such attention. In truth I have not gazed upon my own likeness in several hundred years. It is a sobering thing to be reminded that I am still a being of this world.+
Flora blew out a sigh of relief, feeling pride. “Thank you my lord, I…wait how do you know my name?”
+There is little that goes on within the Legion that escapes my knowledge Miss Harper. And you may call me Josef, I dislike the nobility so commonly given to my kind.+
“Very well my…Josef, then would you please simply call me Flora? I did not escape the confines of my father’s estates to continue being referred to as Miss every time someone speaks to me.” The Ancient leaned forward a bit, then straightening. +As you wish Flora. Tell me, what do you think of this Crusade so far?+ Flora chewed the inside of her cheek a bit, thinking. She knew the obvious answer of course, in that the Crusade was a wondrous undertaking for the betterment of all mankind. Yet she felt that this Dreadnaught did not want to textbook answer. He was genuinely interested in her thoughts.
”Honestly I don’t know. I haven’t been allowed to see much outside of the ships and the aftermath of planets brought into compliance. Everything I see and hear is from the mouths of Iterators and seems so carefully scripted. I just don’t know if what I am seeing is actually the truth. I wanted to become a Remembrancer and use my art to show the people of Terra what this Crusade actually is. Whether that is good or bad it doesn’t matter. I just want the truth.”
Josef was silent for a moment as he processed her words. +I appreciate your honesty. Seeking the truth is a honorable quest, but it is dangerous. Do you truly believe that Terra wants to know the truth? You said you have seen the aftermath, yet I know that no Remembrancers have yet witnessed the carnage that proceeds or the cleanup involved. You receive a sanitized view of our work because to witness the truth may leave a stain upon the final product.+
“Is that why you sit in here, recording the history? So you can polish it and make your Legion appear as noble and heroic as you want?” Flora snapped, suddenly indigent even before the colossal form of the Dreadnaught. As she finished her outburst she felt ashamed, and looked down at the floor, worried she had offended him.
+I record everything for the sake of my Legion. They have all shared in the struggles, and it is important for the new members of the Wild Blades to be able to look back on our history. You do not know of our culture, but the traditions of our past are of the utmost importance to us. The stories of the old days and the spirits of our ancestors guide our actions.+
Flora sat silently, accepting his words. She did not agree. It was not for the Astartes that this Crusade was waged. It was for Terra. And Terra deserved to know everything. She knew she would not sway the indomitable will of the Dreadnaught with her rantings. However, something he had said rankled in her mind.
“Spirits? Then it’s true that the old ways of Varnis are not lost on the Wild Blades? Does your Legion still practice the religion I’ve read about?”
The Ancient rose to his full height. +Forgive me, I spoke out of turn. No, we do not revere the Spirits as Varnis once did. The Imperial Truth has shown us the light. We simply seek to honor the memories of those who came before.+ Turning again, his Dreadnaught body creaked as he began moving toward the massive archway out of the library, his steps shuddering the ground. +Until next time Miss Harper.+
“I thought you weren’t going to make it.”
Kallen Gorn leaned against a tree, dressed in loose trousers and a leather vest. A broad leather belt around his waist held a knife sheathed across his left hip, and his boots crunched against the grass beneath his feet. His gray hair was tied back in a ponytail, the tattoos along his arms making the skin look nearly black in comparison to the rest of his bronze tone. His brown eyes looked toward the other approaching.
Similarly dressed, though his own vest draped in a fur pelt, Sildur Farram walked up and waved off the remark with his hand. His dreadlocks bounced against his face as he made his way through the green field to the tree the old Seer was occupying. “Forgive me, duties of a Thane kept me longer than I wished.”
The pair stood in the most unique chamber of the entire fleet. Known as The Grove, the massive chamber had been specially requested by the Primarch himself. The vaulted walls were wreathed in vines and moss, the ground covered in the fertile soil of Varnis and sowed with grasses of their home. Great trees dominated, their branches reaching nearly the top of the vaulted ceiling that fed the vegetation with artificial sunlight. Gorn tilted his head to stare up at that ceiling now, amazed at the work the Mechaninum had done. Built with holographic panels, the ceiling reflected an exact copy of the Varnisian sky. The chamber was built with a timer in sync with their capital, so that they sun rose and set at the same rate. It must be night now, as The Grove was bathed in moonlight, and Gorn could see the constellations and twin moons of their world. He took a moment to bask in the soft illumination, closing his eyes and savoring the tranquility. There was even a calm breeze, the leaves of the trees shifting and tugging at his hair as it washed across his face.
He then returned his gaze back to the Thane, and pushed off against the tree. Both Astartes fell in stride, walking a well familiar path to the both of them. Despite the lack of a chill Sildur shivered. “Nervous again Sildur?’ Kallen asked, disregarding the mans rank in this most private of places.
“You know that I dislike doing these things in public. What if the Great Chief decided to come for a stroll? He would not take this lightly.” Sildur muttered, whispering despite the fact that the two warriors were alone.
“Relax Sildur, no one will come. This is the only place that is truly worthy in the entire fleet. Do you really think the Primarch built this magnificent representation of Varnis simply for vanity?”
Sildur muttered something under his breath, but the Seer was right. They had come here dozens of times, and Sildur had his own suspicions of their leader despite what he saw. The two continued walking in silence, letting the noise of the forest fill the gap in conversation until they came to a clearing in the trees. Before them in an circle were ten beautifully carved wooded figures. Each of them was the same height as the Astartes, and each represented one of the totems of the Great Beasts. All ten were represented in carefully detailed sculpture, and the two Astartes made their way into the center of the circle and knelt down in the grass as if it were a well-rehearsed play.
They tilted their heads back, looking up at the night sky. Both raised their arms out wide, as if embracing the stars. Sildur closed his eyes, a small smile spreading on his face as he relaxed. He felt the wind, the grass against his knees, the gentle sag in the earth as it accepted his weight. Here, in the midst of the void, he could still feel the Spirits of Varnis.
“Great Beasts, hear us now,” Kallen spoke, his voice soft and reverent. “We come to you, looking for your guidance. Let your power flow over us and fill our hearts with the righteous path.” Sildur mouthed the same words, feeling the pulse of his homeworld in his chest.
“We are your champions, your sword in the dark. Sharpen us. Let our ancestors come and show us how to honor their memory. We give you our blood,” at this both men drew the knives from their belts, never opening their eyes as they cut a small gash in their palms, and smeared the crimson stain upon the grass before them. “And we give you our hearts. Speak to us now.”
The knelt in silence then, their blades forgotten on the ground, a small trickle of blood dripping from one palm. Nothing moved save the wind through the trees.
Kallen then sighed, a small satisfied noise.
“Do you hear the whispers Sildur?”
Deep in the corners of his mind, he heard them. Softly, so quiet he could not make out the words. Like a gentle tendril tickling the edge of his consciousness he felt the presence of something greater.
Yes...he could hear the whispers too.
Location: Orrian's Fury, flagship of the the Great Chief, traveling through the Warp
Date: 991.M30
Parties Involved: The Ancient: Josef Hinde, Dreadnaught of the Wild Blades. Flora Harper, Remembrancer. Sildur Farram, Thane of the 7th Company. Kallen Gorn, Seer of the Wild Blades.
Within one of the great libraries of the Gloriana class Battleship, Orrian’s Fury, Flora Harper sat with her legs crossed at the knee upon a wooden stool. The massive vaulted shelves were filled with all manner of texts from across the Imperium. In her short time with the Legion, Flora had heard nothing but stories of the barbaric savagery of the legendary Astartes warriors. She had never yet seen the likes of the Wild Blades in combat, no Remembrancer had. But the soldiers of the Justicarian Guard had told plenty of tales around mugs of beer to the huddled groups of Remembrancer’s who sat with rapt attention. Given the stories, she had expected to find trophy rooms filled with the heads of xenos, rooms with racks of terrifying weapons, and the sounds of constant combat as the Wild Blades trained endlessly for war. She was shocked when she was finally given pass to board the flagship of the Primarch to find such a large portion of the ship devoted to the preservation of knowledge and literature.
Iterators, Remembrancers, and Imperial scholars of various callings sat in silence or talked in hushed tones around stacks of books. Some were bent over their notes, scribbling away on parchment as they conducted their research or wrote their own. She wasn’t interested in any of them in the slightest. She pushed a lock of golden hair behind her ear as it fell out of place, dangling in front of her eyes and tickling the tip of her nose. She had her sketch pad resting against her knees, humming softly as she drew the tip of her black charcoal pencil along its surface with practiced skill. Ever so often her blue eyes would flicker up to examine the product of her interest, before busily returning to add more detail.
Dominating an entire section of the library stood a figure in which the rest of the occupants gave a wide berth. Only Flora had dared to sit this close. Immense, dauntless, the adamantium armor a sage green of vibrant forests, traced with golden details and tribal patterns. Engraved upon nearly every inch of the titanic form were pictures of men and monsters. Some were of war, others of peace, but each one told a story unique to the Wild Blades and their past. Her azure gaze roamed over the surface, taking in every small detail, wanting to capture the moment of the impassive serenity that surrounded the unmoving giant.
The Ancient, oldest and most venerated of all the Legions Dreadnaughts, stood silently in the vaulted halls of the library. Cables snaked their way from a machine dwarfed by his size to a small gap in the armored sarcophagus, linking his mind to the memory stores as he downloaded his thoughts and musings. He had noticed the girl a long time ago, but was deep within his own mind as he retold the stories lodged in his memory and complied them into the data stores of the library. Today was a day for reflection, and Josef Hinde was deep within the thoughts of the past as he remembered the first days of the Legion. He had been one of the very first recruits, taken from his family at a young age and into the arms of the Emperor and his scientists. Josef remembered the agony following the surgeries, the power he began to feel as his body healed and hardened. He became a demi-god among men, the first of many to follow that would bear the name of the Xth Legion and carry the title of Huntsmen. They had sailed out with the claim of the Emperor that they were bringing light to the lost worlds of man. Even then, Josef had known that he and his new brothers were bred for one purpose. War. They had been baptized quickly in the fires of combat, proving themselves a greater foe than any xenos had ever encountered. Their path was brutal and bloody, felling worlds like grain before the scythe. They only had one purpose: to crush the enemies of man and bring back the scattered race.
It had not been until the discovery of their gene-father that Josef had known something other than battle. The reunion of the Great Chief and his Legion brought forward a new age for the Huntsmen, re-clad in the image of their Primarch and given a new name. Erron Khaal brought with him all the glories and hardships of Varnis, bestowing his children with the task of living up to the legends of his home. When he had fallen, his body interned within this tomb of metal, Josef took it upon himself to ensure that the past of his Legion would be forever remembered, so that none would ever lose their way among the darkness that forever hovered at the edges of the void.
Pulling himself out of his memories, Josef disengaged the cables with a sharp *snick*, his body creaking and groaning as he turned the massive Dreadnaught body to regard the small girl sitting near him. Flora squeaked and dropped her pencil in surprise, her eyes wide as the sudden movement startled her out of her trance.
+Do not be afraid child+ Josef said, his voice a deep bass rumble that echoed from within the body of his body. “I…I wasn’t afraid,” Flora said, regaining her composure and picking up the fallen pencil and sliding it behind her ear, “I just..wasn’t expecting you to move I guess.”
A steady rumble ran through the shelves of books, making the bones inside of Floras chest vibrate with its resonance. She realized after a moment that the Dreadnaught was laughing. +Then forgive me, it is not often that one not of my kind come and visit. May I see your work?+
Flora suddenly felt very nervous. She had not asked the massive beings permission before she began sketching him. Self-conscious, with her face flushing a bit she turned the book in her lap and held it so the Dreadnaught could see. Several moments went by in silence, each second seeming longer as Flora waited for his response.
+That is very impressive Miss Harper, I am honored to have received such attention. In truth I have not gazed upon my own likeness in several hundred years. It is a sobering thing to be reminded that I am still a being of this world.+
Flora blew out a sigh of relief, feeling pride. “Thank you my lord, I…wait how do you know my name?”
+There is little that goes on within the Legion that escapes my knowledge Miss Harper. And you may call me Josef, I dislike the nobility so commonly given to my kind.+
“Very well my…Josef, then would you please simply call me Flora? I did not escape the confines of my father’s estates to continue being referred to as Miss every time someone speaks to me.” The Ancient leaned forward a bit, then straightening. +As you wish Flora. Tell me, what do you think of this Crusade so far?+ Flora chewed the inside of her cheek a bit, thinking. She knew the obvious answer of course, in that the Crusade was a wondrous undertaking for the betterment of all mankind. Yet she felt that this Dreadnaught did not want to textbook answer. He was genuinely interested in her thoughts.
”Honestly I don’t know. I haven’t been allowed to see much outside of the ships and the aftermath of planets brought into compliance. Everything I see and hear is from the mouths of Iterators and seems so carefully scripted. I just don’t know if what I am seeing is actually the truth. I wanted to become a Remembrancer and use my art to show the people of Terra what this Crusade actually is. Whether that is good or bad it doesn’t matter. I just want the truth.”
Josef was silent for a moment as he processed her words. +I appreciate your honesty. Seeking the truth is a honorable quest, but it is dangerous. Do you truly believe that Terra wants to know the truth? You said you have seen the aftermath, yet I know that no Remembrancers have yet witnessed the carnage that proceeds or the cleanup involved. You receive a sanitized view of our work because to witness the truth may leave a stain upon the final product.+
“Is that why you sit in here, recording the history? So you can polish it and make your Legion appear as noble and heroic as you want?” Flora snapped, suddenly indigent even before the colossal form of the Dreadnaught. As she finished her outburst she felt ashamed, and looked down at the floor, worried she had offended him.
+I record everything for the sake of my Legion. They have all shared in the struggles, and it is important for the new members of the Wild Blades to be able to look back on our history. You do not know of our culture, but the traditions of our past are of the utmost importance to us. The stories of the old days and the spirits of our ancestors guide our actions.+
Flora sat silently, accepting his words. She did not agree. It was not for the Astartes that this Crusade was waged. It was for Terra. And Terra deserved to know everything. She knew she would not sway the indomitable will of the Dreadnaught with her rantings. However, something he had said rankled in her mind.
“Spirits? Then it’s true that the old ways of Varnis are not lost on the Wild Blades? Does your Legion still practice the religion I’ve read about?”
The Ancient rose to his full height. +Forgive me, I spoke out of turn. No, we do not revere the Spirits as Varnis once did. The Imperial Truth has shown us the light. We simply seek to honor the memories of those who came before.+ Turning again, his Dreadnaught body creaked as he began moving toward the massive archway out of the library, his steps shuddering the ground. +Until next time Miss Harper.+
“I thought you weren’t going to make it.”
Kallen Gorn leaned against a tree, dressed in loose trousers and a leather vest. A broad leather belt around his waist held a knife sheathed across his left hip, and his boots crunched against the grass beneath his feet. His gray hair was tied back in a ponytail, the tattoos along his arms making the skin look nearly black in comparison to the rest of his bronze tone. His brown eyes looked toward the other approaching.
Similarly dressed, though his own vest draped in a fur pelt, Sildur Farram walked up and waved off the remark with his hand. His dreadlocks bounced against his face as he made his way through the green field to the tree the old Seer was occupying. “Forgive me, duties of a Thane kept me longer than I wished.”
The pair stood in the most unique chamber of the entire fleet. Known as The Grove, the massive chamber had been specially requested by the Primarch himself. The vaulted walls were wreathed in vines and moss, the ground covered in the fertile soil of Varnis and sowed with grasses of their home. Great trees dominated, their branches reaching nearly the top of the vaulted ceiling that fed the vegetation with artificial sunlight. Gorn tilted his head to stare up at that ceiling now, amazed at the work the Mechaninum had done. Built with holographic panels, the ceiling reflected an exact copy of the Varnisian sky. The chamber was built with a timer in sync with their capital, so that they sun rose and set at the same rate. It must be night now, as The Grove was bathed in moonlight, and Gorn could see the constellations and twin moons of their world. He took a moment to bask in the soft illumination, closing his eyes and savoring the tranquility. There was even a calm breeze, the leaves of the trees shifting and tugging at his hair as it washed across his face.
He then returned his gaze back to the Thane, and pushed off against the tree. Both Astartes fell in stride, walking a well familiar path to the both of them. Despite the lack of a chill Sildur shivered. “Nervous again Sildur?’ Kallen asked, disregarding the mans rank in this most private of places.
“You know that I dislike doing these things in public. What if the Great Chief decided to come for a stroll? He would not take this lightly.” Sildur muttered, whispering despite the fact that the two warriors were alone.
“Relax Sildur, no one will come. This is the only place that is truly worthy in the entire fleet. Do you really think the Primarch built this magnificent representation of Varnis simply for vanity?”
Sildur muttered something under his breath, but the Seer was right. They had come here dozens of times, and Sildur had his own suspicions of their leader despite what he saw. The two continued walking in silence, letting the noise of the forest fill the gap in conversation until they came to a clearing in the trees. Before them in an circle were ten beautifully carved wooded figures. Each of them was the same height as the Astartes, and each represented one of the totems of the Great Beasts. All ten were represented in carefully detailed sculpture, and the two Astartes made their way into the center of the circle and knelt down in the grass as if it were a well-rehearsed play.
They tilted their heads back, looking up at the night sky. Both raised their arms out wide, as if embracing the stars. Sildur closed his eyes, a small smile spreading on his face as he relaxed. He felt the wind, the grass against his knees, the gentle sag in the earth as it accepted his weight. Here, in the midst of the void, he could still feel the Spirits of Varnis.
“Great Beasts, hear us now,” Kallen spoke, his voice soft and reverent. “We come to you, looking for your guidance. Let your power flow over us and fill our hearts with the righteous path.” Sildur mouthed the same words, feeling the pulse of his homeworld in his chest.
“We are your champions, your sword in the dark. Sharpen us. Let our ancestors come and show us how to honor their memory. We give you our blood,” at this both men drew the knives from their belts, never opening their eyes as they cut a small gash in their palms, and smeared the crimson stain upon the grass before them. “And we give you our hearts. Speak to us now.”
The knelt in silence then, their blades forgotten on the ground, a small trickle of blood dripping from one palm. Nothing moved save the wind through the trees.
Kallen then sighed, a small satisfied noise.
“Do you hear the whispers Sildur?”
Deep in the corners of his mind, he heard them. Softly, so quiet he could not make out the words. Like a gentle tendril tickling the edge of his consciousness he felt the presence of something greater.
Yes...he could hear the whispers too.
