Warhammer: Start with a dog

"No--!!!!"

Homeworld is burning.

The clear water of Hera Falls is now covered in blood and pieces of flesh.

The dark green fir groves fell with flames and smoke, hiding the ruins of the Primarch's temple.

"I'm very sorry……"

Macragge gradually became smaller, farther away, blurred in the spacecraft's window, and disappeared into the dark and boundless universe.

The golden door opened, and pink and purple clouds drifted across the sky dyed red by the sunset.

The crackle of torches on the high walls of Hera's fortress provided a footnote to the song of the nightingale.

"Those dark reflections of our glory, find them and destroy them."

"The Emperor is with you, die a beautiful death. Uriel, Pasanius."

——

"Huh...haaah...!!"

Uriel Ventress awakens from a suffocating nightmare of memory.

The Ultramarine's eyes were filled with stars, and he was panting heavily. The metallic taste of his own blood was still lingering on the bottom of his tongue. The heart and lungs of the former fourth company commander were working hard, but this did not alleviate the abnormal dizziness much.

The aftertaste of the disgusting pulling sensation from the bottom of his stomach to his lower abdomen made him want to arch his body and vomit.

The range of movement of Ventris's body was blocked by something. He couldn't move - he was tightly restrained.

After realizing this, despite being in extremely poor condition, the fighting instinct accumulated over the past two hundred years immediately took over some of his muscles. He tried to move and found that he was tied very professionally, which was obviously a method for Space Marines. method.

Ventress blinked hard so that he could have a rough idea of ​​his situation.

He was lying in a featureless room. The lighting on the ceiling was cold white light. The walls and floor were made of unpainted steel. In the center of the room were two iron beds without any extraneous items - or more. To describe it appropriately, he was lying on one of the iron operating tables, covered in scars and shackles.

Due to the continuous dizziness, his vision was not clear. The smell of fresh wound medicine and disinfectant penetrated his nasal cavity. Ventris identified several medicines commonly used by Astartes pharmacists, which diluted some of them. There was a disgusting aftertaste of corpse odor and a sense of doubt, but on the other hand, he felt that he smelled a vague and disturbing smell of incense. His memory and olfactory nerve still remembered that this was the Tzeentch sect that he had annihilated. What cultists love to use - it seems to be a little different.

The terrible cold experience of being exposed to the circulating air all over his body also told him that his power armor had also been stripped off.

Ventris turned his head on the iron operating table and looked into the eyes of Pasanius, who was very pale.

"...How do you feel? My friend."

The blond and haggard former sergeant seemed to have just woken up. He turned his eyes in a daze to the direction where his company commander was speaking.

His lips moved, and his voice was weak, sounding like he was about to spit out, "It's not good, Uriel, it's not good. Where are we?"

Ventris shook his head, "I don't know. Although this doesn't look like a ship belonging to the empire's enemies, I wouldn't think of these shackles as a way of hospitality."

Pausanius muttered, "I thought we were going to get hung up there by that demon until we turned into some roasted meat. My head is still spinning to this day. This doesn't feel right."

"Me too. Relax, my brother. Someone should be here to check on us soon. Maybe we can clear up some misunderstandings by then."

Uriel tried his best to comfort Pasanius, while inevitably focusing on the new wounds on his body and the silver arm.

His loyal battle brother shook his head and tried to move his joints at the same time. "I hope so. They tied them really well. No one even treated me like this in Macragge's cell."

There was sudden movement at the door of this iron room with no decoration.

The first four captains of the Ultramarines chapter saw the former four-time champion inadvertently raise his head from his haggard and useless struggle.

Pasanius's breathing became heavy, and then suddenly condensed. The sergeant's eyes were suddenly fixed in the direction of the door - then he let out a wailing cry - or something like that - and then he hit his forehead hard with all his strength. Bow down on the bed.

"Please forgive me……"

Ventris shuddered at the strangeness of Pasanius' soul that now occupied him in his body like a collapsed mountain.

what is that? What's there? What it is? What kind of power instantly destroyed the desperate soul of his soldier who was in pain and longing for comfort?

He slowly turned his head.

Uriel Ventris's gray pupils were dilated with extreme shock and an ecstasy that had never been so intense in his life.

Then he let out a cry of joy from deep in his chest, and his tears fell uncontrollably from the corners of his eyes.

"Your Majesty the Emperor..."

——

Destiny Steel

temporary detention room

Julius and Parogov stood at the door of the prison cell, with four brothers guarding behind them.

Before they came in, the think tank apprentices carefully released a little psychic power to wrap themselves and Parogov. A shallow light appeared on the surface of their power armor from time to time. As a precautionary measure, the lake-blue electric crown of thorns surrounded them again. on his forehead.

The newcomers carefully looked at the two "Ultramarines" whose appearance suddenly became abnormal--until there was no more suitable name, they decided to call each other this way.

The two suspected traitorous Astartes brought by the demon engine now turned their heads in the direction of the visitor, facing the door, sobbing with tears in their eyes.

Julius, who became the center of attention, stopped, considered for a moment, and took another step forward.

The big Astartes, who had suspicious silver arms and a body covered with scars and cuts, began to mutter a prayer to Julius, who was glowing all over. They all heard him confessing that he had had of all the tiniest crimes.

While the other one looked perhaps a little calmer, Julius turned his gaze to the dark-haired Space Marine.

Oh, well, he was wrong, this one probably just delayed the outburst for a while, and he didn't look very cool either.

Julius swore that he had never seen an Astartes who had undergone nineteen surgeries express such full and full emotions - yes, this senior cousin cried so much in front of these young boys. There was a roar.

Throne, this look of crying so hard that even the eyelashes are stained with tears is really too much for a veteran with two gold nails on his forehead and scars from glorious battles all over his body...

Should he leave quietly at this moment, leaving them with some last bit of dignity?

Julius was very nervous. Julius dug his toes into the ground and Julius did not dare to speak.

OK.

See you tomorrow!

(I definitely didn’t write the title because I couldn’t think of anything to write)

Also, tomorrow is Honso’s round (no?)