Warhammer: Start with a dog

When a certain "Sleeping Beauty", knowingly or unknowingly, quietly stirred up an uproar on the side of the Desert Ark that would cause headaches to the two "Primarchs" of the Iron Warriors in the not-too-distant future, this Queen of Glory The situation on the other side of the ship is...much more harmonious?

Sol Tarvits led the way, solemnly walking down the ramp of the transport plane with the graceful steps unique to the Emperor's Children thousands of years ago.

Behind him, a group of gleaming (?) warriors filed out, beautiful, majestic, and majestic.

Even Iron Heart's Seventh Company Commander Balor and Ninth Company Commander Oliposius, who were ordered to wait and greet this special team here, had to admit that these ancient warriors had a different temperament from many contemporary heroes.

Everyone has a unique and legendary look.

legend.

indomitable.

Full of hope.

They still have absolute confidence in the future, believing that the Milky Way will become a better world in their hands, leaving it to future humans.

It is such an invisible but real temperament that makes this ordinary hangar suddenly look radiant and bright.

The characteristics of each of them were so distinct that Balor and Olimposius could immediately identify each of them without checking the list.

Sol Tarvitz, the swordsman's silver hair was neatly combed into a shawl, and he wore silver armor with patterns carved by himself. He hung a re-improved power saber from a thousand-year-old style on his belt. on, and proudly still decorated the right side of his new shoulder armor with the golden wings and motto of the Third Legion;

Gavier Loken, under his short flaxen blond hair is a pair of beautiful gray eyes that are slightly worried. His black shoulder silver armor is low-key surrounded by a sea pine green gold embroidered cloak, an ancient title that has disappeared in the long river of history. The Moonwolf emblem shimmered on the buckle of his cloak;

Tarik Torgadun, this is a warrior with broad shoulders but a slender figure. The same black shoulder silver armor has a unique chic and relaxed temperament when he wears it, making people feel that he is like a wolf. In addition to feeling, it also gives people a strange sense of closeness;

Caleb Moro, wearing a silver skull-painted Mark 12, without any extra decoration, his stoic and calm expression and his still gray complexion are the only clues to the source of his gene seed;

Korag, the "Miracle Singer", the proud son brought back from death by Angron Petra himself, the former centurion of the World Eaters legion created by Angron Talk, brought him to The chain saw ax is slung on his back, and his wrists have the same iron chains binding weapons as the Iron Hearts.

The last veteran, with his face full of battle honor scars, nodded as kindly as he could to the two company commanders who came to greet him - after all, they were all sons of the Twelfth Legion. Here, Angron Pei Terra was their glorious Primarch.

"Hello, little Naklo, and little Ollie!" The old centurion's voice rumbled like thunder in the summer sky, "It's been a long time since we old bones came to review your gladiatorial game. Is the pit suitable for bleeding?”

"It's an honor, Miracle Singer." The call of the same blood surged through their bodies. Korag had already made a famous name in the gladiatorial pit of the Desert Ark, and so did the others in this team. A respected fighter on the red sand.

As the top group of warriors among mankind, the understanding they have gained from each other through blades, sweat, and gladiatorial combat is worth a thousand words. They have already used their strength and actions to gain the recognition of others in their hearts.

"But this time, after all, Tavitz is the captain," the centurion smiled at them. A scar at the corner of his eye made him look like he was smiling with kindness mixed with indelible ferocity, "So I will be different first. You talk more."

"Thank you, Korragg," the Emperor's Son said sincerely, and then stepped forward to talk to the two Ironheart captains.

"How is the situation now?"

"Actually, the Black Templars - oh, they are the largest sub-group formed by the Imperial Fists during the second founding of the army. They are currently in a good mood. Lord Angron said, 'Fortunately, they at least still support the state religion. set'."

Sol Tarvitz frowned. "You mean they...?"

Captain Balor nodded, "Yes, as you think, anything is possible in ten thousand years. These descendants of Dorne are staunch religious believers. Very steadfast, unlike most Space Marines. Instead, they directly embraced the Ecclesiarchy and began their eternal crusade across the galaxy in the name of the Emperor, the God."

"What! A bunch of Imperial Fists who are fanatical about their belief in gods! This is the funniest joke I've heard since I've been here! I mean, it's second only to seeing His Highness Perturabo turn into two parts. And the plush one among them can actually wag its tail..." Togaton's excited comment was immediately suppressed by Loken beside him.

"Shut up, Tariq, that's why you always sit in the alternate position of the Honor Guard. His Highness Perturabo doesn't like you always staring at his ears and tail." Then Gavir's warning became stronger, "Besides, what happened to us cannot all be explained by the truth of the empire. You'd better be careful in your words and deeds."

"Well, you're right, Gavir."

As they continued toward the bridge where the High Tyrant of Nuceria resided, Sol Tarvitz had obtained from Balor much of the information they needed for their journey.

And now the question is, what do the princes need them to do? Lead this fanatical expeditionary force? But they already have their own leading officers and priests, and the current environment does not require a small team like them to come and command them... There is no need to fight like this, and the Black Templars cannot be subdued by pure force.

This question was not until they met with the 12th Primarch who looked a little tired for some reason on the bridge and got some guidance.

"Oh, you are finally here," His Highness Angron smiled and welcomed them on the throne of the bridge, "It seems that our business war operation here can finally be launched. I am almost annoyed by Malcador."

"I'm sorry-? Your Highness-?"

"Ah, obviously, our former Imperial Regent does not want to let go of some people who are destined to be useful."

Angron's golden eyes swept across each of their faces, "I am a little tired recently, so before you leave from here to my brothers, I can give you a hint that although you are born warriors, We were fighting on the front battlefield, but now our situation is not as easy as it seems. In fact, to be precise, once we leave the protection of the Iron Blood and its owner, most of us are like a lone boat on the Soul Storm Ocean. "

"The vast majority of people in the Empire we once protected still have terrible ignorance of you and me, and the Unborn and the Masters of Chaos will never give up capturing us as tempting prey."

"Remember, Saul Tarvitz," a few words gently spit out from his teeth, "leave the protection, we will be enemies of the world."