Post by Phagetthree on Feb 10, 2010 0:35:14 GMT 8
Kane slept. He had not slept in over a week, but that did not bother him. Marines hardly ever needed to sleep.
But this was a deep, fitful sleep, away from the dreamless sleep of the utterly fatigued.
A huge, heavily armored, red Space Marine stood before him, as young Kane shriveled in comparison. Held in the giant's hand was a letter with the personal seal of the Emperor on it, and Kane shook in anticipation as he received it, hands trembling.
Kane Bjornne,
by the Special Decree 417 of the Imperium of Man, you are hereby to be indoctrinated into the Adeptes Astartus of Fortress World Hyailmdar. By the seventh hour of the next day, you are to say your final goodbyes and proceed to the Marines Monastery unaccompanied. Bring only the barest of possessions, and ...
Young Kane stood at the base of the mountain, a large, wide stairway led straight up, thousands of metres, to the entrance of the Monastery. Each step was not made for ordinary humans, but rather for superhumans, each step was at least seventy centimetres in height, resulting in a long, grueling climb for Kane up, and up, and up.
With each excruciating step, the sounds emanating from the Monastery grew clearer, as the clamor of the ordinary below him diminished. Clangs of metal, proudly bellowed warcries, precisely performed drills, and the firing of automatic weapons. This was what every red-blooded male aspired for, to catch the eye of secret observers stationed allover the cities, and hence be deemed worthy to be indoctrinated.
... and every single one of you belong not only to me, not only to each other, but to the Imperium and the Emperor himself! Never forget, that all our lives, everything we have, is owed to the mighty Emperor. Not everyone will survive Marine training, conditions will be harsh, I will be unmerciful, no quarter will be spared. And so I shall ask now, and now only, who wants to back out?
Young Kane contemplated the fate of the unworthy, brought back to their crying families, broken bodies bearing the mark of untold hardship, but yet told all the same. Fathers barely holding stoic faces, mothers shrieking in raw, uncontrollable grief. Or worse, those who were washed out but yet did not die, most remaining paraplegic for the rest of their lives, or horribly deformed, whether by a tragic mishap or simply inhuman training regimes. Those whose bodies were largely unscarred suffered mentally instead, with stuttering speech and broken thoughts. Such consequences were unbearable, and Kane watched as several Marines gathered up those who had decided to leave.
Once they were gone...
It is brave of you to decide to stay. To become a Space Marine is the most demanding experience to ever befall a person, but you have my word, I will do my utmost to ensure that all of you will one day become Adeptus Astartes. My brothers in battle.
It was Master Sergeant Greg Ghiller, one of the best Marines on the planet, and Kane's platoon trainer... KIA at the Battle for Hyailmdar, killing a Skarrge general and his elite guard solo, before being utterly overwhelmed by yet more combatants.
The train's wheels screeched, as Kane's slumbering mind leapt to relive another period in time.
Fight on, Brothers! We need to buy the rest of the armada time to arrive! Hold fast, let none survive!
The Horde of Skarrge was overwhelming. Stretching into infinity in every direction, their endless bellowing and numbers had stretched every defender to his thinnest. Bodies piled high, most of them Skarrge, but one could catch the occasional glint of power armor buried amongst the glistening green flesh. and every Marine lost was a Marine not killing Skarrge.
In his peripheral vision, Kane could just make out his comrade, Minos, being brought down by a sudden swarm of bodies. Another warrior was brought down yelling his last cry, and disappeared beneath the tide of enemies. The line was faltering, and Kane, squad leader, was feeling the pressure build ever higher.
What if everyone was wrong...? What if the Emperor isn't all that is claimed of him...? What if -
A flash of light pierced his eyes, and as the suits polarizers reduced it, Kane sat up and opened blinked once in his armor, the cargo train doors were open. His chainsword lay beside him, and he picked it up, putting it on the back of his armor as the magnetic holders there kicked in to secure the valuable weapon.
A signboard read - NEW TECHNIA CARGO DEPOT | UNLOADING.
I have arrived.
A flurry of machines worked to free the carriages of their various burdens, and personnel were seemingly unperturbed by the behemoth who had just stepped off the train.
Perhaps they are already familiar with unusual happenings, given the warlike and supernatural nature of this world.
Using the large and wide cargo doors to his advantage, Kane stepped out of the building without destroying anything, standing outside and surveying his immediate surroundings.
Now, how will I find this group of people of whom I should join?
But this was a deep, fitful sleep, away from the dreamless sleep of the utterly fatigued.
A huge, heavily armored, red Space Marine stood before him, as young Kane shriveled in comparison. Held in the giant's hand was a letter with the personal seal of the Emperor on it, and Kane shook in anticipation as he received it, hands trembling.
Kane Bjornne,
by the Special Decree 417 of the Imperium of Man, you are hereby to be indoctrinated into the Adeptes Astartus of Fortress World Hyailmdar. By the seventh hour of the next day, you are to say your final goodbyes and proceed to the Marines Monastery unaccompanied. Bring only the barest of possessions, and ...
Young Kane stood at the base of the mountain, a large, wide stairway led straight up, thousands of metres, to the entrance of the Monastery. Each step was not made for ordinary humans, but rather for superhumans, each step was at least seventy centimetres in height, resulting in a long, grueling climb for Kane up, and up, and up.
With each excruciating step, the sounds emanating from the Monastery grew clearer, as the clamor of the ordinary below him diminished. Clangs of metal, proudly bellowed warcries, precisely performed drills, and the firing of automatic weapons. This was what every red-blooded male aspired for, to catch the eye of secret observers stationed allover the cities, and hence be deemed worthy to be indoctrinated.
... and every single one of you belong not only to me, not only to each other, but to the Imperium and the Emperor himself! Never forget, that all our lives, everything we have, is owed to the mighty Emperor. Not everyone will survive Marine training, conditions will be harsh, I will be unmerciful, no quarter will be spared. And so I shall ask now, and now only, who wants to back out?
Young Kane contemplated the fate of the unworthy, brought back to their crying families, broken bodies bearing the mark of untold hardship, but yet told all the same. Fathers barely holding stoic faces, mothers shrieking in raw, uncontrollable grief. Or worse, those who were washed out but yet did not die, most remaining paraplegic for the rest of their lives, or horribly deformed, whether by a tragic mishap or simply inhuman training regimes. Those whose bodies were largely unscarred suffered mentally instead, with stuttering speech and broken thoughts. Such consequences were unbearable, and Kane watched as several Marines gathered up those who had decided to leave.
Once they were gone...
It is brave of you to decide to stay. To become a Space Marine is the most demanding experience to ever befall a person, but you have my word, I will do my utmost to ensure that all of you will one day become Adeptus Astartes. My brothers in battle.
It was Master Sergeant Greg Ghiller, one of the best Marines on the planet, and Kane's platoon trainer... KIA at the Battle for Hyailmdar, killing a Skarrge general and his elite guard solo, before being utterly overwhelmed by yet more combatants.
The train's wheels screeched, as Kane's slumbering mind leapt to relive another period in time.
Fight on, Brothers! We need to buy the rest of the armada time to arrive! Hold fast, let none survive!
The Horde of Skarrge was overwhelming. Stretching into infinity in every direction, their endless bellowing and numbers had stretched every defender to his thinnest. Bodies piled high, most of them Skarrge, but one could catch the occasional glint of power armor buried amongst the glistening green flesh. and every Marine lost was a Marine not killing Skarrge.
In his peripheral vision, Kane could just make out his comrade, Minos, being brought down by a sudden swarm of bodies. Another warrior was brought down yelling his last cry, and disappeared beneath the tide of enemies. The line was faltering, and Kane, squad leader, was feeling the pressure build ever higher.
What if everyone was wrong...? What if the Emperor isn't all that is claimed of him...? What if -
A flash of light pierced his eyes, and as the suits polarizers reduced it, Kane sat up and opened blinked once in his armor, the cargo train doors were open. His chainsword lay beside him, and he picked it up, putting it on the back of his armor as the magnetic holders there kicked in to secure the valuable weapon.
A signboard read - NEW TECHNIA CARGO DEPOT | UNLOADING.
I have arrived.
A flurry of machines worked to free the carriages of their various burdens, and personnel were seemingly unperturbed by the behemoth who had just stepped off the train.
Perhaps they are already familiar with unusual happenings, given the warlike and supernatural nature of this world.
Using the large and wide cargo doors to his advantage, Kane stepped out of the building without destroying anything, standing outside and surveying his immediate surroundings.
Now, how will I find this group of people of whom I should join?