Warhammer: Start with a dog

Sun Star Territory

Sacred Terra Synchronous Orbit.

Phalanx

The distant sunlight passed over the ancient planet, gradually illuminating the window lattice and many tall pillars in the towering halls of the Phalanx's magnificent high-rise corridor, and cast its shadow on the hall floor with many honorary and heraldic patterns. Long and narrow shadows.

This miraculous flying fortress is really too big. With the current manpower of the Imperial Fist, it is essentially impossible to completely cover every area. Empty is the most common adjective for most unsealed areas.

The sound of the metal soles of the power armor stepping on the ancient marble floor sounded from far to near, causing low ripples in the hall.

"A hasty action based on just a few words would not be a wise choice for the Sons of Dorn." Thor Garadon said to the warriors who were walking beside him.

Two Space Marines were walking and talking in the hall. One had short white hair, and the other had his short hair shaved down to a strip in the middle of his head.

They are all tall, muscular warriors who possess the beauty of exquisite genetic creations and an astonishing and unique momentum.

Both were wearing bright yellow power armor, the service spikes on their foreheads shining in the reflected sunlight, and the clenched black fist marks and numerous medals of honor were displayed on their armors.

"Perhaps, but the fragments or pieces of omens that all the seers, Librarians, and Astropaths on Terra and other Imperial realms have seen recently regarding the possible return of our Great and Honored Father are too much. Obvious and too numerous to suppress or ignore, you can't deny it, Garadon."

"I have also received many reports from different channels. This is indeed a fact that cannot be denied, Brother Lysander." Galaton is not a stubborn person. It can even be said that Galaton, who has served as Lysander's deputy for a long time, I know the other person's personality and style very well, and therefore I am even more worried about what will happen next.

"But there's a very clear omen," Garratton said. They walked out of the hall and walked together along the several kilometers long corridor of honor.

This extremely wide and towering corridor is lined with honors, commemorations of battles, drawings, trophies and statues of great heroes that the Adeptus Astartes of the Imperial Fist Order have received over thousands or even ten thousand years. This glorious historical monument is now equally deserted, with only the occasional cleaning servitor passing by according to a set program or the servo skulls and brass cherubim hurrying on their way.

"Gray steel." Lysander's voice held a calm fanatical hatred that contained enough energy to burn planets to ashes. "It appears in most of the omens, the golden eagle lying in the steel cell (ROOM) or the fist. There is no doubt that you and I know what this combination represents."

"Blasphemer! The existence of filth!" He spat out a few words from his mouth in a way that he chewed the words with his teeth, "Iron Warrior!"

"Yes." The helmets of the two company commanders were hung on the magnetic locks on their waists, so Galaton could see without surprise and worry what flashed across the faces of his comrades and filled Lysander: Too strong memories, hatred and anger. "No matter what the final outcome of this matter is, it is obviously inseparable from those criminal traitors."

He put his hand on Lysander's shoulder armor to make some kind of comforting movement, "Brother Lysander, if you insist on leading the brother monks in the direction pointed out by the omen, then let the Emperor and Dou I beg you, please don’t let your anger and hatred towards the enemy cloud your vision and affect your judgment as a commander.”

"That's natural, Garadon." The first company commander seemed to have regained his composure, "I will not give them another chance. All they can have is destruction and death."

——

On the other side of the Milky Way, in the Far East.

The waterfall originates from the snow-capped mountains of Hera's Crown in the distance, and flows down from the ridge. The mist stirred up blends with the rising clouds in the mountain forest, and a beautiful rainbow emerges from the pale clouds. emerge.

The dense alpine fir forest near the Hera Fortress is covered with a layer of golden moss green by the color of the morning sun. White marble, gilded, silver steel beam structures and crystal glass together form a large number of towers and corridors. , pointed-ribbed domes and flying buttresses, surrounding this fortress monastery of the Ultramarines, towering above the majestic mountains, overlooking the dozens of kilometers of squares, cities and security facilities below, and further away, in Lakem Bay. The blue sea surface sparkles in the sun with white waves.

It is not the time for pilgrimage yet, so there are not many pedestrians on the road up the mountain. The winding black winding mountain road disappears and disappears among the tall cedar trees.

Since it was designed and built under the supervision of the Primarch Robert Guilliman himself ten thousand years ago, this beautiful and magnificent fortress of wonders has been the place where every generation of Ultramarines has been recruited, trained, lived and set out.

The chief think tank of the Ultramarines, Varro Tigris, held his staff and walked along the stone ground that had been stepped very smooth by countless predecessors to the palace of the chapter leader. Honor guards wearing eagle helmets paid tribute to him in turn. The chief think tank master also responded with appropriate greetings.

The gilded bronze door of the Chapter Master's room opened, and Tigris walked in. Manius Augustus Calgar was sitting on the throne in the center. Macragge's current master, the Chapter Master of the Ultramarines, was sitting there. He stared at the person who walked in with his still intact human eye.

"Tigris," the chapter leader's voice was consistent with his person, firm and powerful, but without any sense of delay, "you are here to report the latest progress."

"Exactly, my lord." The chief think tank director walked up to the throne and saluted Calgar. "The predictions given to me by the Emperor's Tarot and other runes have become increasingly clear."

"This is indeed good news, Varro." His chapter leader came down from the throne and motioned for the chief think tank to follow him.

They passed through the gilded bronze glass doors of the Chapter Master's sanctuary and walked along the outdoor balcony corridor to the observation deck at the end of the building.

"I must say, I expected to report this to you in a more formal place, my lord."

Calga stared at the blue waves in the bay, "It's good here, so as not to leak the news and let others see my gaffe." Then he turned around, "My heart has been beating since this morning. Beating, Varro, tell me your prophecy exactly."

The chief think tank bowed almost gracefully.

"In a land of the living and betrayal, the bond of brotherhood will once again be the choice for a golden laurel."

The Lord of Macragge frowned tightly, "What does this mean? Varro? Can you interpret it more clearly for me?"

"There is another picture that appears together with this prophecy, my lord," the chief think tank said in a very soft tone, as if he was narrating a dream of colorful bubbles that may burst at any time in a trance, "There is a picture with the face of the father of our genes. Men - when the end comes - will come to fight with us."

Gua…

I'd like to apologize to the Imperial Fists here because I'm really not that familiar with the internal details of the Imperial Fists' Phalanx (after all, I only have 1 brain and 24 hours, so you can't expect me to know everything about every race. Right (old face)), to be honest, some very specific information is surprisingly hard to find, because I always took it for granted that Imperial Fists was a group with quite mainstream information, until I found out that there was a group called Black Orcs (crossed out) Black Templar...well...

I can only say that the descriptions of some places are written directly according to my intuition. New readers, please don’t take it too seriously. If it can arouse your interest and read some original materials, that would be great (you)

Then he collapsed with a sore jaw. All you see are the soliloquies sent by the meditator.

See you after six o'clock!