The Deathwatch

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Inquisitor's Vox-Log

Today my new Deathwatch Kill-Team arrives. Brother-Captain Strall assures me that they will last longer than the previous Kill-Team, though, having witnessed some of the horrors of this part of the galaxy first hand, I am not so easily convinced. According to the files Strall gave me upon his return, we have three recruits from among the chapters participating in the Achilus Crusade, and a fourth member recommended by a fellow Inquisitor on Mars. [A soft beep is heard] Ah, their dossiers have arrived. Let me see what I have to work with. Hmm...First among the 'locals' is a Blood Angel Marine named Seraphim...Hmm, strange. He's a Tactical Marine. It is usually Assault Marines that come from the Blood Angel's Chapter. This one must be particularly impressive. Ah, indeed he is. Seems he was on Macragge during the First Tyrannic War, and is the sole survivor of a Mawloc attack. However, the horrors of this galaxy can break even the stoutest warrior of the God-Emperor, and it is known that Blood Angels don't take much to break, thanks to that thirst of theirs. However, according to Strall's notes, exposure to these horrors has only strengthened his resolve to cleanse the Emperor's domain of all who walk in darkness. Still, as a Son of Sanguinius, I will have to keep a close eye on him. Now, who have we next. A Rune Priest? [Short pause] Ah, one of the Space Wolves' Librarians. Baldur Thunderaxe...Strall says he won a battle with a Thousand Sons sorcerer. [Another pause] I don't question Strall's judgement, but how trustworthy are these psykers, really? And to admit one whose mind was so close to the Warp? [Inquisitor sighs] I shall just have to put my faith in the Emperor, as always. At least this one is quiet, which, however odd it may be, will be a welcome change from your normal Space Wolf. Two more to go. Next we have a Black Templar named Konrad Alyxander. Another Tactical Marine it seems. Finally, a marine from a chapter that puts the death of our enemies before personal glory. [A pause while Inquisitor reads the file] He took down a Tyranid Prime?! Outstanding. Clearly the Emperor is with this one. Maybe my team isn't doomed to damnation. Odd, though, that he'd place so high in the Feast of Blades without being an Assault Specialist. Still, he is a welcomed addition. Even more so, since he's already acclimated to a life aboard a vessel ...However...these correspondences will need to cease. And I'll need another Inquisitor search out this Crimson Fist Sergeant and have him silenced. I'll send a communique to Erioch later. Now, who is this fourth man? [A brief pause] Tacitus Aegidius...Ah good, a Techmarine. Those are always helpful, at least, so long as they don't forget who they serve. And he's from the Iron Hands chapter, good good. I can be sure he knows what he's doing then. Seems he's had a bit of experience as a tank commander as well. He will be sad to learn, then, that we won't be deploying any tanks. The Promise of Redemption's own...nuances, however, should be enough to keep him happy. Seems a bit reckless for the Deathwatch, though hopefully the rest will be able to keep him in check. Well, that's all of[beep]...What?! A Dominion has been assigned to me? But why? Ergh, this will require some investigation...RAAGH! [Loud slam] I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS FOOLISHNESS! Don't they realize I have a Crusade to carry out!? [A pause] Of course they do. But who ordered this? ...Someone I know...Probably someone I mentored...This style of investigation is too similar to be just another Inquisitor...But later, later. [A door slides open and footsteps are heard. Voice ID confirmed. PFC Vladimir speaks] Sir, the Marines have just arrived. [Inquisitor responds] Good, they're on time. Have Dmitri escort them to the bridge for introductions and their first assignment. [Vladimir again] Right away, your lordship. [Footsteps are heard, followed by a closing door. Inquisitor speaks] Well, seems it is time to get back to work. Lord Inquisitor Mikhail Alexandrovich of the Ordo Xenos, out. [Log Ends]

Four Space Marines step out of an obsidian Thunderhawk with the left wing left an unpainted silver, their own armor painted to match, save for their right shoulder pads, which retain the colors of their chapter. As they disembark from the shuttlecraft, they take in the spacious cargo bay, their first glimpse of their newest, and possibly last, home. Before long, they are met by a Commisar dressed as one of the Vostroyan Firstborn. "Greetings, sirs," the man says with a generic Imperial Guard salute. "I am Commissar Dmitri Kyrinov. I am here to welcome you onboard the Oberon Class battleship Promise of Redemption, and to escort you to the bridge, where the Lord Inquisitor is awaiting you. Now, if you'll just follow me..." Wasting no time, Dmitri turns on his heels and begins leading you through the maze of corridors and halls of the Promise of Redemption.

((Alright, go ahead and post starting with taking your first steps off the Thunderhawk, and then we'll go from there))​
As the ramp dropped with a sharp pneumatic hiss the rush of recyclable air washed over the marines, only moderately fresher than what was inside the thunderhawk. Finally free to move Seraphim stepped forwards his helmet in his hands as he looked around the bay and finally at the Vostroyan there to greet them. He knew little of the marines beside him but trusted the trials they faces to be chosen for the honor of serving in the deathwatch had been equal or more grueling than his own. He greeted the Commissar with a nod between fellow servants of the emperor.

He turned back looking past his fellow marines to the sarcophagus secured in the thunderhawk's hold, the most precious artifact to had brought with him, more venerated among his chapter than the armor they wore of the bolters they carried, he'd have liked to oversee its installation into his quarters but orders to meet the inquisitor took precedence. Perhaps he'd ask Tacitus to look at it's installation once their meeting with Mikhail was over, for now there was nothing to do except follow the Commissar.
Walking down the ramp Tacitus rolled his shoulders while bending his neck to the left and right. His mechanical arm flexed outwards briefly before resting behind his back. The tactical display within his helmet allowed him to zoom in on the details of the craftsmanship that was the Promise of Redemption. Cold steel laid together perfectly to build a testament to the Emperor's might and the magnificent of the Omnissiah both. He let himself analyze the different nuts and bolts of the hangar and the rest of the ship as they moved through it.

He was anxious to get debriefed by the Inquisitor. He wanted to know what enemies would soon be tasting the justice of the Emperor. Also he was planning on getting permission to access the machine spirit of the Promise of Redemption through is mind impulse unit. If it came to a vessel to vessel conflict part of his responsibilities would be to assist the tech priests in keeping her at optimal performance until the team was deployed else where. Hopeful it wouldn't come to that. Tacitus preferred to have more control of his fate when it came to fighting the enemies of the imperium.
"Be at ease brothers," instinct taught him to detect the smallest changes in the attitude of those around him. "The Emperor will see to it that we are slaughtering xenos soon enough." To say he diddn't trust this Inquisition would be an understatement. Though he did have to admit they did allow him to strike at the enemy on his terms, rather than deal with fighting a defensive war. He kept an eye on the Space Wolf behind him, there was no ill will between their chapters, and on more than one occasion the Space Wolves had stood beside the Black Templates in battle. This Marine however was a psyker, and no Black Templates in his right mind trusted a psyker.

Techmarine, Psyker, and another infantryman like myself. Konrad began to weigh his new squad's strengths. Among our chapters, hand to hand combat is a given. Physical condition would be an issue on the ground though, with a lack of a dedicated apothecary. Bionics and wargear would be kept immaculate. Though he did not trust the psyker standing behind him, The Emperor in his infinite wisdom saw to it that he should do battle beside one, and to his wisdom Konrad differed. If the psyker had any abilities to aid them in combat or out of it, he would be sure to defer to his unique skills only as necessary.

As they made their way to the Inquisitor's chambers Konrad opted to break the silence.
"It seems in The Emperor's grace we were granted this opportunity to serve together in his name, I have heard much of your chapter's glories as I am sure you know of mine. My name is Konrad Alyxander, of the Black Templates, and it is my honor to fight beside you in the coming battles."
"While I will not refuse the opportunity to serve, I have to wonder what the nature of this mission is." Saraphim mused the boots of his power armour pounding on the metal decking of the Redemption "I just hope we will not be cast needlessly into the jaws of the enemy." there was something bothering him about this mission and without an apothecary to safeguard the squad's geneseed the risk to all their chapters was great. Out of habit he looked down at the phobos bolter he carried, the two clips resting side by side, ever since the first tyranid war he had never gone without at least some vengence rounds the experience having caught him that you could kill any lesser foe with a bolter, but it never hurt to be prepared against an armoured enemy. "I would at least like to know which of the emperor's enemies we will strike against."
"Indeed, our lack of an apothecary forces us to alter our strategy, lest our chapters gene seed be lost. It would seem we can no longer be the sword wielded openly, but the dagger sunk into the enemies back." He paused, hearing only the clank of ceramic boots on the plasteel deckplating as the four space marines walked. He noted the psyker was unusually quiet, different from the other space wolves he'd met at the watch station. "My personal expertise is in close combat. And against the Tyrranid threat. Weigh that with your own abilities and we might divine our purpose here."
As they moved through the Redemption he continued his analysis of the vessel. The different engravings and embellishments allowed by the Imperial Navy. Iron Hand vessels were built for war without the art work that could be found amongst Imperial Navy vessels. Though it was clear that the engravings and symbols where in praise of the Emperor some of it just seemed unnecessary. War ships were supposed to be built with only one purpose in mind, war. His bolter had been hanging loosely at his right side but his mechanical arm slipped down holding it in place, "No matter where we fight in the name of the Emperor we will not be needlessly thrust in the jaws of any enemy, Brother."

He believed in the phrase of victory at any cost but on any previous deployment there were always an apothecary available to harvest the geneseed, "It is regrettable that an apothecary is not amongst us. We will have to be as you say. My name is Tacitus Aegidius of the Iron Hands. As with you Brother Konrad I excel in closed combat. My physical strength and servo-arm give me an edge there. My combat experiences have been against the heretics, traitors and daemons of the warp." He paused for a moment recalling some of the previous battles in his mind, "I also am skilled in the usage of the Imperiums armored vehicles." And turning them into bombs with wheels on a few occasions. Once again though - Victory at any cost.
The Thunderhawk set down on the docking-bay deck of the Oberon-class Battleship with a slight jolt. The rear loading ramp was already being lowered as the shuttle craft maneuvered to set down, and only scant seconds after the hydraulics of the landing gears began to hiss was the hydraulics of the loading ramp hissing as it finally settled down. It was a clever and impressive display of pinpoint accuracy and precision and timing.

Four Space Marines stepped out, their armour decorated similarly but still bearing the accoutrement of their home Chapters. A Blood Angel, an Iron Fist, a Black Templar, and a Space Wolf. A newly-designed Kill-Team of the Inquistion's most destructive and capable men.

The Space Wolf's armour was more primitive looking than the other's, a massive pelt hanging off the back and shoulders of the armour, partially covering the power-and-equipment back on his back. The head and upper-jaw was worn over the Space Marine's head, like a hood. The helmet was clipped at his hip, just behind his bolt gun. At his left hip dangled a simple axe, decorated with numerous runes.

"Baldur Thunderaxe is my name,"
came the very low, rumbling bassy voice of the incredibly tall and imposing Space Wolf Space Marine. He had long blond locks that were pulled back in a series of dirty, greasy braids that were beaded at the end. The hair was tightly braided at his scalp around and above his ears, sure to keep it from whipping past his eyes. His beard was full, but surprisingly maintained. It was parted at his chin in two separate braids, with more of the beads dangling. At close inspection, one would be able to make out the impossibly intricate shapes of the Fenrisian wolf head skulls.

"I am honoured to be in the company of what is no doubt fine warriors of the Emperor," he continued in that rumbling voice of his. It seemed to come from deep within, and sounded entirely of rocks grating upon more rocks on a bed of razors. His words were simply spoken, lacking the immaculate-sounding accent and vernacular of the men around him. Baldur did not mind the difference.

"I would not worry about a lack of an apothecary," he mused after a moment, following the exchange that was already being shared between them all. "I have a feeling that--if it be the will of the Emperor--that if one of us die, we will all probably die. An apothecary among us would be a waste of a most cherished and respected talent." He nodded at his words, trusting in the wisdom of them.
Dmitri lead the four marines down numerous and varied halls, each adorned with names of the lost, and remembrances of victories past. The closer to the bridge they came, the older and more ancient the events became. Though the commissar remained quiet the entire time, other than to remind the marines to keep up once or twice, it was clear to the marines that the ship was ancient. Even before they reached the doors of the bridge, they had passed several engravings of events that transpired during the Horus Heresy, including one depicting the defense of Holy Terra. As they came to the bridge, they found the doors open. Upon entering, Dmitri snapped to attention. "Lord Aleksandrovich, I have brought the new recruits as you requested." To the marine's surprise, it wasn't one of the decorated military officers that responded, but rather a humbly dressed man of average stature. "Very well, Dmitri. You may return to your post." Dmitri gives a quick salute before turning and heading back out of the bridge. The Inquisitor then picks up his staff of office and turns to face his marines. For one so high ranked, he seems impossibly young. His skin is smooth and toned, free of scars and blemishes, with a musculature to match. He looks them over quickly, the unblinking gaze of his cybernetic eye strangely warmer and friendlier than that of his remaining organic eye. When he speaks, it is a subtly sinister sound that escapes his lips, a faint mask of cordiality the only thing keeping his breath from turning to ice. "Welcome aboard my ship, the Promise of Redemption. This will be your home from now until the day the Emperor asks for your life, or your chapter's due is deemed paid in full." He pauses momentarily, letting his words find root in the minds of the space marines. "From this day forward, you are no longer members of the Adeptus Astartes, you are members of the Chamber Militant of the Ordo Xenos. You are no longer servants and vassals of your Chapters. You are now mine, and mind alone, save for the Immortal Emperor, who would watch over us. I say 'would' because in this forsaken sector of His domain, we are removed from His guiding light. There is no salvation in death here, only eternal suffering in the chaos of the Warp. Now, introduce yourselves to me, after which you may each as one question about myself, this ship, or it's crew. Any deviation from this will result in execution."
Seraphim knelt before the symbol of the emperor's inquisition whom he has sworn to serve when he left his home chapter his helmet under one arm while the other was held over his chest. "Seraphim Magnalius. Son of Sanguinius..." he introduced himself knowing full well the inquisitor had undoubtedly been briefed on every member of the kill team in full. "Tactical marine formally of the 2nd Company."

He though on the question he was permitted to ask, there were many, the young inquisitor, the ancient vessel... "Lord Aleksandrovich, what brings you to Jeroco reach?"
As Seraphim knelt to show his devotion Tacitus removed his helmet when he addressed the inquisitor. He held it firmly to his side, "Tacitus Aegidius, Tech Marine of the Iron Hands. Formerly of an armor division, guiding one of the Emperors Land Raiders against the enemies of man." He thought about his one question. He had several that he wanted to ask about the ship. From it's first battle, the armaments it had at its exposal and what kind of weapons were available for the space marines in its armories, "This ship is ancient. Is it equipped with a teleportation device or will we be striking planetside via drop pod?"
Konrad did not kneel as he stepped forward, but give the salute of one servant of the emperor after he had removed his helmet. "My name is Konrad Alyxander, Son of Rogal Dorn." Unlike his brothers who pondered their questions he had only one, for the Inquisitor. "When do we begin?"
Baldur let out a guttural sound as he knelt his head forward deeply, going so far as to hunch his shoulders to deepen his bow. The grunt he made was one of greeting, a sound one warrior would make another. It was in no way meant as disrespect.

He straightened himself out and puffed his chest out, draping one arm over the head of his Power Axe. "I am Baldur Thunderaxe, Rune Priest of the 5th Company," he announced in a powerful voice. There was no pride in his tone, however; his clear baritone was simply stating aloud his name and station.

"As members of the Ordo Xenos, do we carry rank among the men? Shall we order them, and utilize them freely as we would those under our command on the battlefield?"
Misha surveyed his kill-team as they introduced themselves and asked their questions. Turning to Seraphim, he replied, "Well, to answer your questions in order, I was assigned to this post in the Jericho Reach shortly after my appointment to the status of Inquisitor Lord. I was part of the original crusade fleet and one of the Inquisitors who set up Watch Station Erioch. Now, Tacitus, as to your question, the exact specifications of this vessel are to remain unknown to those such as yourselves, though I will say that your manner of deployment will depend on the mission at hand. If you'll wait a moment, now, Konrad, I will return to your question in a moment. Baldur, your question is a good one, considering you shall be living here amongst these other servants of the Imperium. However, no, you do not carry any rank among the men. Officially, you do not even exist. This means that you may not simply order my men around as you please. Nor may they order you. Upon this ship, only I have authority over you, whilst the men have their own command structure, with myself at the top. Now, to answer your question, Konrad, you shall be deploying within the hour." Misha now reaches within his robes and pulls forth a rolled up piece of parchment and hands it to Baldur. "Since you'll be living here, you'll need to familiarize yourself with the ship. All the areas to which you are granted clearance are marked on that map. Now, head to the armoury. There, my most senior techpriest shall distribute your alloted ammunition, as well as assist you in choosing what will become your own relic. While they will never have the power of relics, in time their machine spirit will bond with your soul and become mighty weapons. That is of course, assuming you survive that long. Now, be on your way." With that, Misha dismissed the marines with a wave of his hand and turned back to the bridge, the functions of which clearly required his full attention at this juncture.

((If you have a question about a particular area of the ship that you would like to know about, ask me in a PM or in the OOC. Of course, you don't have time to explore before your departure...)
Rising to his full height the Blood Angel hitched his helmet to his armor where it hung leaving his hands free as he turned away from the inquisitor and faced his fellows. "It seems the armory is our next destination." it was mainly to Baldur that he spoke implying that he should lead the way as they proceeded from Misha's presence. One thing stuck about the impression Misha had left on him, but he didn't give it voice, he was here to perform a duty. "I am curious as to these 'relics' we are to be offered." he mused out loud even as he decided on a melee weapon. His experiences against the great devourer and the hoards of aliens it commanded had left him feeling naked with anything less than a chainsword. He turned his head to speak to the techmarine. "Can machine spirits truly bond with a living soul?" he considered a member of the iron hands would have insight few others outside the adeptus mechanicus would.
"A relic," Baldur mused, speaking softly and under his breath at the mere mention of them by the Inquisitor Lord. He was not interrupting, simply astounded that an item of such magnitude was to be issued to all of them. His surprise expressed itself verbally.

He took the rolled parchment and opened it as he was explained that it was a map. Crude, he couldn't help but think. But then again, maps like these were used on a daily basis on his home world of Fenris. Memories that were thought to have been burned from him flooded into the forefront of his mind: standing on the foremast of a ship, harpooning a massive tentacled beast that threatened to overturn their boat; relishing in the riches and the lamentations bestowed upon him by his tribe for a victory following a battle; using one of the maps as he helped his father lead his clan to safer, richer lands. That, however, is a life time ago.

"Now, be on your way."

Baldur nodded his affirmation, understanding their mission as best as he could. They were to be deployed soon, within the hour even! Soon, they would be tested and proven before the glory of the Emperor. With His blessing, they would fall... or Rise Above, and only by His grace would that happen.

But-- the Emperor did help those who helped themselves... His grace wasn't given to those who were unworthy.

Studying the map briefly, his mind given perfect eidetic memory like most other marines, he marked the place where the armoury would be and had already dedicated the route to his mind. He rolled the parchment up and tucked it gently into the fur-lined leather satchel he wore over his armour. Inside were various fetishes and tokens that were hallmark of his status as Rune Priest.

"Follow me,"
he told his new comrades. His tone held a grim resolve, knowing that combat would be seen by the end of the day, but there was a strange sort of jovial familiarity to his facial expression. Something of a hidden grin sparked underneath his beard, and sparkled in his icy eyes.

"I am curious as to these 'relics' as well. If we are to have our choice among a horde of mechanical treasures, I would hope for something that would amplify my... energies."
He chose the word carefully, himself not even comfortable with the word 'psyker' and any other word associated with it. His gift was bestowed upon him by that which Fenris was crafted, and by the Emperor himself, but...
As they left the inquisitor and headed towards the armory Tacitus put his helmet back on. He wasn't satisfied with the answer provided to his question. It would've been good to know if the ship was equipped with a teleportation device so that he could attend to its machine spirit with the other tech priests regularly even if it wasn't to be used for their deployment. The teleporters employed currently by the Imperium of Man were not as safe as the ones from the golden age of technology. There machine spirits were, testy, to say in a way.

He thought about Seraphims question for a moment before responding, "That is a difficult question to answer directly, brother. There has been recorded several times in my chapters history of a weapons machine spirit proving to be stronger than an identical weapon, built in the same fashion and blessed by tech priests in the same exact way. The reason why certain machine spirits awaken this way is unknown. Perhaps it is the machine spirit binding with the soul of the one who wields it or perhaps it is the machine spirit excepting its wielder and wishing to bestow as much death on his enemies as possible. The truest example of a soul being able to meld with a machine spirit is our Emperor when he touched upon mars for the first time. He was greeted by the Knights of Taranis, a group of Paladin class mars Knights. They are similar to the dreadnoughts that we as space marines deploy. One of them had been damaged in battles long ago and was unable to be prepared by the tech priests. Therefore it walked with a limp motion only able to move at eighty percent of its capacity. When the Emperor touched the injured leg of the Knight the machine and its spirit were repaired completely."

Tacitus stopped to let them reflect for a moment on the tale of the Emperors visit to Mars. It was a story he had heard his first year upon Mars and eventually was even shown the Knight that received the blessing of the Emperor, "Given our divine Emperor was able to mend so easily with machine spirits than it is possible that us, as his children, would have the same gift to an extent. However relics bonding in such a way are rare. Given the deathwatch employs space marines from every chapter until there service period ends or they die in battle it would make sense that the deathwatch would find several of these weapons over time."

As they reached the armory Tacitus moved around reviewing the many weapons inside. He took five additional clips for his bolter and three clips for his bolt pistol. He also moved around to the close combat weapons and selected a chain sword which he hung at his hip. After this he moved to the senior tech priest, "I can not accept one of these relics the inquisitor would like us to take. If I attempt to bond with one of these relics machine spirit it will likely disrupt the bond I have already begun with my servo arm."
You follow the map through twisting and turning corridors, up and down lifts, finally arriving before a tall set of doors, similar to the ones outsides the bridge. The doors open at your approach, a techpriest walks out to greet you. His arms have all been replaced my servo arms, and several more protrude from his back, all with various attachments designed to aid in the maintenance of weaponry of all sorts. "Greetings, members of Lord Misha's Kill-Team. I have been instructed to let you stock up on ammunition and to choose a weapon each from our more basic weapons. I have been told to instruct you that these shall be your relics and will accompany you during your time in the Deathwatch. Now, I shall unlock the caskets from which you may choose your relic." The techpriest hurries back inside the colossal armoury. As you follow, you notice that the room is covered in panels, each adorned with script detailing the weapons contained inside. The techpriest finishes opening the final casket and bows, returning to him regular duties.

[[Ok, here are your choices for your relic. Keep in mind that they have no special abilities or anything yet. They are simply standard gear.
Close Combat Weapons: All Traditional, chainsword/axe, Servo-Arm (TechMarine only)
Ranged: Infernus Pistol, Hand Flamer, Autopistol, Astartes Shotgun

These weapons will, over time, evolve into more powerful weapons. Keep this in mind when you choose.]]
Saraphim greeted the techmarine with a smile and followed him to the deepest recesses of the armory aboard Redemption. Past rows of lasrifles, autoguns, bolters and armor made for the inquisitor and his warriors. Upon arriving at the casket containing the relics he stepped forward to gaze inside. At first the appeared to be naught but regular weapons built for the adeptus astartes but picking up a chainsword and inspecting it closely revealed a felling eminating from the weapon. the promise of great deeds done in service to the emperor. Replacing the chainsword in it's place he looked to the other weapons the soft clink as his glove toutched each one before one weapon in particular felt stronger, more in tune than the others. It was a natural reaction rather than a planed action that Seraphim took hold of and lifted the shotgun from it's resting place and placed the weapon flat against his other hand putting his eye close to the stock and looked along the gun.

It was by itself unremarkable. The standard pattern for an astartes shotgun, and as soon as it has in his hand the feeling that had made him pick it up disappeared leaving only the sense that it felt natural in his hand. "Caliburn" he said quietly, naming the blade before stowing it on the side of the backpack that contained his suit's powerplant and auxiliary systems bore turning to the regular weapons and choosing a ceremonial sword as an alternative to his combat knife.
Konrad strode out of the briefing room after Baldur, and followed his fellow marines to the Armory. He quickly found a set of combat webbing and strapped it on beneath his tabard, he made sure to gather additional belt pouches to hold the extra magazines. He took a Standard combat load, ten magazines of standard bolt rounds, plus two addition magazines of Kraken round plus a few grenades just in case.

What Konrad took great care in however, was the selection of his Blade. Swordsmanship was a sacred art to a Black Templar, it practice was to show faith to The Emperor. Each blade was equally a weapon as it was an instrument of faith, and great care must be taken it's selection. He looked through each sword presented, a myriad of different styles some plain and some bordering on the garish. He tested some, feeling their weight and balance in his hand. measuring both their swiftness and cutting power in turn. Finally he settled on a sword, it was a longer blade, but could still be easily wielded in one hand, at least by a space marine, with a plain cross-guard and a slight flair where the base of the blade met the hilt, the blade was as black as the armor he wore and bore the inscription in High Gothic "Imperator Rex."