Skalpynock Posted December 12, 2016 Share Posted December 12, 2016 (edited) «Alright, your time has come. Your training is over, and it’s time for you to join the Great Crusade. Mili Ayelat, born of Sarhund, are now a full legionary of the Void Eagles. » The instructor was speaking in a unfamiliar tone. Attempting to be solemn, yet clearly uneasy, even after decades of repeating the same tradition. « From your exercise records, behavioral profiles, and in accordance to your requests, you have been assigned to squad Kylanob, 731st despoiler. The armorium will have some gifts ready for you. Now spread the light, brother. » The new legionary saluted back to his officer. « To the furthest confines of the galaxy. » The sentence was an idiosyncrasy of the 7th fleet, which had been founded rather late, only twenty years before Ayelat was indoctrinated into the legion. It still bore the green of the First Fleet from which it had broken off. So I’m one of Kylanob now, he mused while walking through the cruiser towards the armoury. The squad had quite a reputation in the flotilla, in no small part due to its first sergeant’s name turning out to be an Orkish insult. Further amusing was the fact that he had died in a plasma overheat leading to the death of an Ork Nob, fulfilling the prophecy held within his name. He was not the only recruit to be promoted today. One hundred new legionnaires were walking to the armoury to get the gear suited to their new affectations. Sons of Sarhund, of Offman, of Episko, voidborns. All were Eagles now, bound to no land or nation. As soon as he entered the great hall, servitors and tech-adepts swarmed around him, guiding him to a gearing station. There he was stripped and fitted with power armour. But the plates brought to him were not his usual suit. They were bulkier, heavier. Mark III. A great gift indeed. Even with the automated servo-compensators, the armour would take some time to adapt. It was much heavier at the front, and his first steps felt like falling forward. Next he was handed the weapons that would follow him until his demise. A bolt-pistol, cased in green, bearing no mark but the arrowed circle of Phobos. A combat knife, sheathed in leather. And the main tool of his trade, a chainsword. Terran pattern, shorter than the more recent models, but with the advantage of being bladed at the back, rather than the cleaver-like innovations. He kept it a while in his hand, feeling the weight of his responsibilities in the sword. Around him, some were given shields, others flamers. He knew these duties were not his calling. Although the legion was famed for both its breaching actions and scorched earth operations, he knew he was to bring ruin to the enemy’s face. Edited December 1, 2017 by Lord Thørn Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
bluntblade Posted December 12, 2016 Share Posted December 12, 2016 Good to see you again, Skal. And I really like this Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Skalpynock Posted December 12, 2016 Author Share Posted December 12, 2016 Good to see you again, Skal. And I really like this Thanks, with ongoing exams, incoming holidays, the second exam session in early January, and my home web router no longer working, I'm having a hard time contributing to the project for the time being. Thank the Motive Force for free college wi-fi. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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