Viewing Single Post From: A Shroud of Emerald (Outdated)

Viewing Single Post From: A Shroud of Emerald (Outdated)
~Fatalis Maximus~	May 3 2008, 02:50 PM
Beware the Berserkergang... Posts: 1,371 Group: Roleplayer Member #24 Joined: Jan 9, 2008	In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Commander Brucius Lancaster blinked as he stared out into space from the observation deck of his vessel. The Worldbreaker had been skirting the edges of the Emperor's (beloved by all) domain for weeks now, and he awas growing ever more impatient, bored, and dissatisfied. After all, the Astartes Space Marines were warriors. When would the real journey begin? Brucius, dressed in crimson robes bearing the symbol of the Blood Ravens, began to pace the elongated room, still glacing through the transparent energy fields separating him from the cold darkness of space. The many stars shone back at him, basking him and the room in a dim, fiery glow. After a moment, he gave in to it and smiled. Warrior or not, it was a beautiful sight, especially with the thought of his brothers taking other worlds that he may have been staring at. A panting man bursting into the room broke the serenity of the moment, the man falling on his face as he pushed open the heavy metal door of the chamber. Brucius' hand sung down to his powersword, but his grip on it relaxed when he saw it was naught but Bregan, his equerry: a simple human that did the tasks an Astartes would find miniscule. "Sir!!" Bregan blurted though wheezing breaths, managing an exhaused salute to his commander. "The astropaths detected a distress signal a moment ago. They're still refining it, but they said you should come listen to it, sir." "Very well, Bregan," Brucius said, half-chuckling at his equerry's nervousness. "Inform the communications deck I will join them shortly." Bregan offered another hasty salute and hustled out of the room as Brucius turned back to the energy fields. The stars shone at him still, the light seeming to take on a more graceful tone the longer he basked in it. "I will be back, my friends," he said to the stars ad he turned and left the room. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Across that region of space was a sleeker, more elegant ship, containing a similarly elegant individual on a similarly elegant observation deck. The very same stars illuminated their deck as well. Farseer Alan'ai of the Craftworld Ulthwé smiled openly out the deck of her own vessel at the view in front of her. The universe was largely a beautiful thing, but beauty always had... imperfections. One of these said imperfections were those wretched Astartes Marines. In their human barbaric crusades they had defiled countless worlds of their own, the eldar's, and other races, simply because they were... 'aliens.' They had even destroyed their own genetic relatives because they simply associated with these aliens. It was all merely barbarianism contained in the actions of this young race. Alan'ai shook her head at the thought of such foolishness. "What is the situation now?" The Farseer psychically communicated to her communications deck personell. "The humans are moving, Farseer, in the direction you predicted they would." "Then nothing has changed. Stay the course, good subjects, and we will determine the end of this prophecy," the Farseer responded. The prophecy she had spoken of had come to her a few nights ago in a dream. Alan'ai had visions of a great world, shrouded in a blaze of emerald, and she had an aching feeling she knew what this meant, but it eluded her still. She paced the room, still mulling the thoughts around in her ancient mind. The Prophecy she predicted was closing in, and what was she to do for now but follow it? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Replay it again," Brucius commanded. "Try to eliminate any interference." The comm deck officer nodded and began typing rapidly on the keypad in front of her. The video's view became less cloudy and ever so slightly shifted to a sharper tone. The picture was that of an imperial soldier with a troubled visage about him. His words were frantic, and could barely be heard over the sounds of war. "This is Lieutenant Morriston of the 23rd Imperial Squadron! We request aid from any Imperial or Space Marine forces that get this message! We are being overrun on the planet we were sent to scout out and colonize, it was completely swarmed with orks and they're... they're tearing us apart!" The soldier turned away from the camera and picked up his rifle again, firing several volleys into the distance. After a minute or two, he turned back and said "I don't know how much more the men can take! I repeat, we are being overrun on planet--" The soldier's words were cut off by an orkish axe cleaving through his skull. "HAH! Lil' humies," it spat, "yous isn't nothin' agains' the might of our WAAAAAAAAAAGH! We'll kill all o' ya!" The ork, now more recognisable as an orkish Warchief, slammed his bloody axe down on the camera, causing the view to fade into static. There was a silence in the room as all stared at the video with contempt. "Blasted Orks!" Commander Brucius finally blurted. "I'll have their Warchief's head on a pike!" "What shall we do, sir?" one of the comm officers said quietly. "Track the coordinates of that message," Brucius ordered. "When you obtain the coordinates, inform me immediately by Vox." The officer saluted briskly and returned to his post, immediately typing on his console to scry the data he needed from the transmission. Brucius left the room abruptly, Bregan following suit. He followed his commander for a moment or two then, having built up enough courage to confront the towering Astartes, said, "And I, sir? What shall I do?" Brucius stopped and stroked his chin with his massive hand, groaning. "You will prepare my equipment for the rigors of war. Have the armour polished to a crimson shine, the gun cleaned and polished as well, and my powersword," he said, unstrapping the weapon in its sheathe from his side and putting it into his equerry's smaller hands, "have it blessed by the Mechanicum Adepts. Notify me as soon as the preparations have been made." Bregan stared at the sword in his hands. It was by no means small for a human such as he, easily requiring two hands to even swing. Of course, this was nothing in the hands of a Space Marine. The curves and edges of the silver blade gleamed in the light of the Worldbreaker's rooms, and it took several seconds for Bregan to snap out of the trance and stutter out, "O-of course, my lord. It shall be done." He nodded and, clutching the sacred blade to his chest, dashed down the hallway to begin preparations. The Vox-Bead in Brucius's collar began buzzing not too much longer after. "Sir, we've locked on to the signal's origin. It's not overly far away, a couple week's worth of Warp Travel at most. The planet has been dubbed Planet 23-01, as this is one of the first worlds they were sent to as a singular force. It's such a large planet though, I'm not sure why they went alone." Brucius smiled. The times he had been craving were coming ever nearer as he waited. "Very well then. Set a course for 23-01. We've no time to lose." The Vox-Bead clicked off, and Brucius's grin grew wider. Maybe he would see action yet. ((OOC: Those of you involved, it would do well for you to make your way to 23-01, as this is the focal point of the story. Oh, and sorry about the wait.))
	"Hmph. I don't even need this rusty sword to kill you." - GSD

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