Revilers Fanfic

[Garneus Vandar]

We Have Purpose

The inside of the pod was cramped and dark. Four massive figures sat in the blackness, clad in the dark gray armor of their chapter, each performing a unique ritual of preparation for the battle to come, the carnage waiting below. One figure of the four stood apart, alone in the uncovering of his head, silently adjusting the visual controls of his helmet. He knew that this was unnecessary due to it being directly linked into his being via his Black Carapace implant, but the thought of having tactile control gave him some comfort. Throughout his preparations a chant he had learned ran through his head bit by bit:

Without the Dark, there can be no Light,

We have purpose

This thought, this ideal, had been drilled into his head since Sgt. Carnex had discovered him standing above two corpses on the forgeworld of Tyrannis all those decades ago. Since the day he arrived at the fortress-monastery, he had been told that he had a higher calling than the other subjects of the Imperium. He had left behind his previous existence as a petty thief and gangster, and been transformed by the might of the Immortal God-Emperor’s genetic discoveries into that which he now was: an Angel of Death, a member of the Adeptus Astartes, a Space Marine.

Without the War, there can be no Victory,

We have purpose

He pondered over this line. He was a man literally forged for war, the product of a combination of genetic modification, implants, physical conditioning and intense indoctrination. His every waking moment for the past fifty years had been dedicated to serving the Emperor and humanity on the battlefield. He had heard there was some debate among the scholars of Terra now as to whether he and his brother marines could even be classified as full Homo Sapiens anymore. He could see their point. He had seen his battle brothers chew through solid steel, go for weeks without sleep, breathe poison, and receive direct shots to the head and walk away unharmed. Such inhuman feats surely put fear into the hearts of both the enemies of the Imperium as well as its loyal subjects.

Without the Lie, there can be no Truth,

We have purpose

He smiled at the irony of this line in the context of his musings on his own humanity. He was unable to find truth even in something as simplistic as this, yet he claimed to fight for truth and justice in the name of the Emperor. All the more ironic he thought, that if he were to reveal such doubts, he would be instantly branded as one straying from the loving arms of the Emperor into the ever hungry jaws of Chaos.

Without the Death, there can be no sacrifice,

We have purpose

This particular passage pushed aside his previous meanderings into philosophy and reminded him of the very real danger that awaited him below. He had heard rumors of an Ork WAAAGH! under Warboss Skullthraka ‘Umie Crusha coming near his homeworld of Tyrannis some months ago, but he had paid it no heed. He was a friend of Malachi Baryon one the regimental commanders of the Imperial Guard stationed on the planet, and he had great respect for the man. He had always held those warriors of man who fought without any advantages of power armor or genetic modification in high esteem, sometimes higher than he did his fellow marines. They had no advantages of their own, yet they fought off xenos and heretics often just as well as their Adeptus Astartes counterparts. But esteem does not win battles, nor does raw fanaticism, and the garrison at Tyrannis was soon overrun by millions of screaming Orks under the banner of a broken human skull, and now he and his brothers were being sent to liberate the planet.

Without Hope, there can be no Future,

We have purpose

This particular line struck a worried chord in the marine’s heart. Tyrannis was the main recruiting world for the Revilers, his chapter. If the invasion were not staved off, the chapter would be left barren, with no hope of future recruits. The chapter would slowly wither and die, left as nothing but a series of empty sets of armor, a dreadnought or two, and some records in the office of the Estate Imperium.

Without Loyalty, there can be no one chapter,

We have purpose

The thoughts of the destruction of his chapter renewed in him a sense of pride in it. The marine sitting across from was his squad’s sergeant, and a privilege of that rank is the right to wear the chapter banner. The marine looked proudly upon the many achievements his battle-brothers before him had done. From the Thirteenth Black Crusade of that traitor Abbadon to the famous drop pod insertion on the Plains of Azoth, they had fought bravely over the past ten thousand years. It would be difficult to fight in such a manner as to be worthy of calling himself their peer, but he would try all the same. It was his duty to himself, to the chapter and to the Emperor.

Without the Emperor, there is nothing…

And we would have no purpose

This last line was the line he remembered the most clearly. This line completed the chant, brought it to full circle. The reason why it stuck so resoundingly was simple- it was true. He was purposeless without the Emperor and the Imperium. For without them he has no chapter, and with no chapter, he has no being. He needed the Imperium just as much as it needed him.

-WARNING- LANDING IN SIXTY SECONDS-

The sudden warning gave the marine a start. He finished the adjustments on his helmet and put it on. The time for philosophical musings was past; the time for battle had come. He grabbed his bolter from its place beneath his seat and began his final inspections before the madness began.

-LANDING IN THIRTY SECONDS-

The marine began his chant once again, this time aloud. His brothers responded to each line with a resounding WE HAVE PURPOSE.

-TEN SECONDS-

Sgt. Martellus shouted, “Brothers, prepare yourselves! Glory awaits those who remain faithful to the Emperor and fight on, neither asking for no quarter nor giving any. We have no need to fear. WE ARE FEAR INCARNATE!”

-LANDING. MAY THE EMPEROR GUIDE YOU-

The thud of impact always unsettled the marine, even after decades of practice and experience. He was standing by this point, so he got the full sensory overload of the setting Tyrannite sun. This made no impact on his warrior instinct, though. He merely ran out of the pod, with a mighty scream of “FOR THE EMPEROR!” targeting and eliminating some of the Orks nearby who had been unlucky enough to survive the impact of the drop pod. He did this all without thinking, all with built in reflex. He did this despite the decapitation of his brother beside him by the axe of an Ork Nob, a brother he had know since his days in the Chapters Scout company. None of this fazed him or even slowed him down. For he was Garneus Vandar. He was an Angel of Death, an Adept Astartes, a Space Marine.

 

And he had purpose.

 

NOTE TO EDITOR: BOLD POETRY LOOKIN THINGS ARE FROM BOOK OF THE ASTRONOMICON, GAMES WORKSHOP PUBLISHING, 1988

 

ANOTHER NOTE: PUT THE POETRY THINGS IN BOLD WITH THE RESPONSE IN ITALICS

[Solid Zaku]

It was a nice starter for a story, up until the last paragraph. Quite a few missing commas and dashes kept the flow of the story moving...wonkily if I could create a word.

 

Not bad though.