On Wings of Fire

[Dominicus]

Lest we forget, brothers, who we are, and what we've lost, we will be eternally damned

-Death Angels Chapter Master Balsimir

 

On Wings of Fire

 

The hall was dark, and anyone less augmented than a member of the Adeptus Astartes would have difficulty seeing unaided. But he had no fear, no doubts.

For he was a Death Angel, and he will know no fear

 

He turned right, and paused before the massive presence of the entrance doors to the Vault of Ritual. He took a deep breath, and pushed the doors open wide enough for his power armor and bulky jump pack to pass through. He neared the steps leading towards the altar, and he genuflected towards the statue of the Emperor that stood on the first step.

I am His sword, I am His shield, I am the bolt He fires from His gun

 

He walked up the steps reverently, before stopping behind the large frame of the Dreadnought that stood silently before the altar, flipping the pages with a tiny motion of his power fist. He waited patiently for the Dreadnought to recognize his presence, and proceed with the pre-battle rites of purification and duty.

For my purity is His purity, my hate is His hate, and only in death will my duty be complete

 

The revered Dreadnought turned around to face the Death Angel that stood before him.

"Brother-Captain Dreymus," the Dreadnought mused, "I assume you have come for the rites?" Dreymus nodded, not wanting to break his concentration on his prayers.

And lest we forget our fallen, we will fall as well.

 

The Dreadnought placed his massive power fist on Dreymus' head, and began to intone the Litanies of Duty in a toneless, augmetic voice that echoed around the vault. Dreymus closed his eyes, his mind only focussed on the coming fight.

We are His Angels of Death, and we will slay His foes.

 

The Dreadnought stopped speaking and removed his power fist. Dreymus stood up, and nodded toward the Dreadnought.

"My thanks, Ancient," the Death Angel said reverently, before slowly leaving the chamber. The Dreadnought waited for a moment, as in though in thought, before calling after him.

"Captain, bring justice to the foes, on wings of fire!" the Dreadnought roared, a mettalic tinge in the wounded veteran's voice. Dreymus turned and punched a fist into the air.

"For we are Death Angels, and we shall know no fear!"

[Dominicus]

Will we fall, brothers? No, for we are His Angels, and fear will not know our names

-High Reclusiarch Sermisar

 

Life of an Ancient

 

 

The massive Dreadnought stomped along the frozen snow, whirling winds blowing around it large metal torso, but the veteran bound within it's core felt none of this. His mind, trapped within a cadaverous body inside the Dreadnought, was focussed solely on his task.

 

The orks before him fired their bolts pistols at random, the shells bouncing harmlessly off his adamantium body. He leveled his assault cannon at the orks, and within seconds the green monsters became puffs of red mists hanging in the air, and the Dreadnought moved on, looking for more to kill.

 

It did not take him long. As he rounded the corner, his ocular visors mounted on his hull registered the sight before him, of one of his power armored brethren pinned by an ork Warboss. The Dreadnought watched in horror as the Warboss drove his power claw into the Marine's face, and roared savagely with bestial fury.

 

The Dreadnought moved forwards to challenge the Warboss, flexing his power fist and spooling fresh ammunition into his assault cannon. The Warboss charged the Dreadnought, and at the moment of impact, the Dreadnought side-stepped the Warboss' charge with a speed that belied it's size. He grabbed the Warboss by the back off it's neck and lifted it high into the air, before snapping the Warboss' neck with a savage twist of his claw.

 

He let the Warboss' limp body drop from his power fist, and slowly walked over to where the Marine Kay on the ground. To the Dreadnought's surprise, the Marine was still breathing; the claw had not reached the Marine's brain, and he was very much mutilated, but alive.

 

The Dreadnought stooped and picked up the Marine. The Marine turned his head towards the Dreadnought, and though he could not see his saviour, he knew who it was, and so he asked a question that the Dreadnought found hard to answer.

"What is going to happen to me, Ancient?" asked the Marine. "Can I be saved?"

 

The Dreadnought examined his brother's wounds briefly, before replying in a toneless, mechanical voice.

"Not as a battle-brother," the Dreadnought said. "To be saved, you must become something more. You must become an Ancient."

[Dominicus]

Will we fall, brothers? No, for we are His Angels, and fear will not know our names

-High Reclusiarch Sermisar

 

Life of an Ancient

 

 

The massive Dreadnought stomped along the frozen snow, whirling winds blowing around it large metal torso, but the veteran bound within it's core felt none of this. His mind, trapped within a cadaverous body inside the Dreadnought, was focussed solely on his task.

 

The orks before him fired their bolts pistols at random, the shells bouncing harmlessly off his adamantium body. He leveled his assault cannon at the orks, and within seconds the green monsters became puffs of red mists hanging in the air, and the Dreadnought moved on, looking for more to kill.

 

It did not take him long. As he rounded the corner, his ocular visors mounted on his hull registered the sight before him, of one of his power armored brethren pinned by an ork Warboss. The Dreadnought watched in horror as the Warboss drove his power claw into the Marine's face, and roared savagely with bestial fury.

 

The Dreadnought moved forwards to challenge the Warboss, flexing his power fist and spooling fresh ammunition into his assault cannon. The Warboss charged the Dreadnought, and at the moment of impact, the Dreadnought side-stepped the Warboss' charge with a speed that belied it's size. He grabbed the Warboss by the back off it's neck and lifted it high into the air, before snapping the Warboss' neck with a savage twist of his claw.

 

He let the Warboss' limp body drop from his power fist, and slowly walked over to where the Marine lay on the ground. To the Dreadnought's surprise, the Marine was still breathing; the claw had not reached the Marine's brain, and he was very much mutilated, but alive.

 

The Dreadnought stooped and picked up the Marine. The Marine turned his head towards the Dreadnought, and though he could not see his saviour, he knew who it was, and so he asked a question that the Dreadnought found hard to answer.

"What is going to happen to me, Ancient?" asked the Marine. "Can I be saved?"

 

The Dreadnought examined his brother's wounds briefly, before replying in a toneless, mechanical voice.

"Not as a battle-brother," the Dreadnought said. "To be saved, you must become something more. You must become an Ancient."