Truths

[Balthamal]

The knight knelt before the massive wooden doors and went through his meditations. He often came here instead of his private chambers. There was permanence about the rock. The very age that almost seeped out of the stones themselves, all carved to resemble vaults and buttresses of the ancient fortresses of the old Order. It was also eerily silent. With only tallow candles mounted on the walls there were leaping shadows all throughout the chamber, more than enough to swallow sound.

 

Or anything else. Some stories could not be dismissed as rumour. Even amid a brotherhood so skilled at weaving the truth throughout a thousand falsehoods.

 

It was also silent due to the absence of his massive war plate. Power armour was not a silent beast even when idling, the teeth aching vibrations given off would have dust shaking free from the ceiling above. Terminator plate was something else entirely. The footfalls alone would give away his presence long before the shadows surrendered him into view.

 

No he left the trappings of his rank and station in his quarters, and came before the doors merely as brother, a son of the first of legion. Most of his brethren would recognize him of course. One does not serve among the finest warriors in the Imperium and not identify the first captain on sight. They might see who he is but they would not see the truth of him.

 

To the brothers of the battle companies he would be the finest warrior of his company, indeed of every company to be descended from the Winged Blade. To the more symbolically inclined, he would be The Knight of Ashes, honoured by the epithet for one of the finest triumphs inscribed in the long annuls of the Honoured. But that would be half a truth. The truth of the uninitiated.

 

In truth there are only 3 individuals in the cold, dark galaxy who know all there is to know of him. Secrets laid bare, his entire sense of self unmasked at every turn as he has risen through his service.

 

The first would never speak of these things for He is beholden to no-one. It is in His service that the warrior has devoted his life and his soul.

 

The second is a dour bastard, not given to uttering so much as a word without purpose and the deeds of a warrior speak for themselves. No secrets are safe from the grand master of the librarius. If the time comes he will be required to submit to his telepathic scouring one last time.

 

The last is the warrior who knows him best for one cannot be heir to the Lion Helm without baring ones soul to the master you would replace. He is charismatic, unlike any who have come before, it inspires brotherhood the likes of which he thought he had left behind for ever. Some secrets are too dark to be shared with even the closest kin.

 

But these three are exceptional for their rarity. They possess the full truth. Then come those who are in the middle of this divide. Some are more blessed than others in that they still have some ignorance about them. The shameful truth not revealed in its entirety. To these he is the Paladin of the Shadows, the champion charged with the Sacred Hunt. It is under his direction that the quest for redemption proceeds.

 

Those thought frequently cross his mind as he sits and focuses himself before the great doors. The truth, wrapped in shadows, for as the Primarch taught, shadows can be dangerous. They can also offer safety, if you accept the darkness into yourself. Even the great doors before which he kneels are another half-truth. They are merely symbolic. The true portal beyond them is forged of adamantium over 4 meters thick, protected by energy fields strong enough to resist the annihilation of a planet. That potency had already been tested.

 

It is at this point melancholy slowly descends on the knight, so dutiful in his meditations. He yearns to step through that portal, to walk the ancient halls of the first great fortress raised by the ancestors of the first legion. He knows, deep down, that he is unlikely to ever get the chance, but he believes with every fibre of his being that the occasion will come eventually.

 

That he, or whichever grand master of the Deathwing who ascends in his stead will be granted a position in the honour guard, along with the other grand masters, who will submit themselves to gene sampling, disengage the stasis seals and march behind the Lion back into the Tower of Angels, old Aldurukh, the Rock of Ages or Eternity, depending on which ancient Calabanite dialect one believed.

 

Putting such pathetic selfish notions aside, the knight rose and gently brushed his fingers against the wood of the door. He felt a small smile tug at his lips, as it always did when he thought of yet further deceit in plain sight. Even the wooden door was solid metal, its appearance carefully prepared to hide its true purpose.

 

Just like his brotherhood, and the order itself to one degree or another.

 

Energized by his reflections, Razilon Belial, Knight of Ashes, Grand Master of the Deathwing of all the First Legion chapters, turned and stepped into the shadows.

[Grotsmasha]

Nice one, really good read.

 

Cheers,

Jono

[Dorns Padawan]

I like you story & they way you have written it. It needs work doing to it & a rewrite or two but certainly it has potential. I am too tired to properly critique it now but will come back to it later if you like? Do you have any more or is this it?

[Balthamal]

Thanks for the feedback, some proper C&C will be gratefully accepted.

 

Haven't got anything more as yet. Starting a campaign with my gaming group soon and decided to write some short background for each of the warlords involved to add some flavour to proceedings.

[WatchCaptainAzrael]

Is Razilon Belial -that- Belial we all know and love (for his ability to bring termies as troops mostly)? Did you come up with his first name, or is there a dusty old tome somewhere naming him so?

[Balthamal]

I came up with it, I trawled through pretty much every source I could get my grubby hands on but nowhere could I find either a first name, or concrete evidence that Dark Angels only have one given name