Warhammer: Start with a dog

The Destiny Steel, which is happy and delicious (?) here, is about to launch a vigorous preparations (?) campaign.

Let’s take a look at the other side of the infinite void.

Before truly penetrating deep into the heart of the Calixis Sector, the Sons of Dorn fleet anchored on an Imperial fortress world and replenished their expeditionary force with a final reserve of psykers—primarily astropaths. .

Although the chief navigator they brought from Terra, Lord Karova, and the chief of the astral choir, Lord Kelshasi, were not satisfied with the quality of manpower they could replenish here.

Since the Astropathic Choir's personnel losses exceeded 90% compared to the day of departure due to the recent bad subspace storm and shock wave environment, it has sometimes become normal and sometimes muttered some prophecies that no one can understand. Kael Sasi, who had been awake for many days, even expressed his dissatisfaction to his new team, the first company commander and others during his waking moments, "These astropaths with low power and rough technology! Are they legally registered?! How could you allow such a thing to be sent aboard the noble Sons of Dorne to serve as bearers of the divine word?"

This forced Carlois to send two additional armed servants to guard the door and pipelines of Kelsasi's private cabin, lest he wake up one day and find that the choirmaster had turned into a cold corpse.

Of course, the working environment is better than that of astropaths who often have to immerse themselves in completely unfamiliar subspaces, so Carlova, who can barely stay awake, will not directly say this to the new manpower, but privately, he He also expressed his dissatisfaction euphemistically.

Danat Lysander could only express his helplessness in the plight of Master Astropath and Master Navigator.

In contrast to some of his less fortunate battle-brothers, the First Captain, a man who had served as a symbol of the wonders of the Ecclesiarchy, and a legendary hero who had always been considered within the Chapter as proof of the favor of the Emperor and Primarch, was in There is indeed much more confidence to fight against certain imperial institutions and personnel in a religious and mystical sense.

Even so, he now had to lead his brothers in long and fervent prayers in the ship's sacred chapel: the recent paradoxical atmosphere of the ship and the entire fleet had reached a tight limit that could not be ignored.

The Gothic spire of the chapel towers high on the top of the Wrathful Storm's hull. Inside is a tall and empty dome with exquisite, slender and transparent windows on the sides - don't ask why there is such a thing on the top of a combat ship that has gone through many battles. This is an unreasonable and fragile ritual design. In short, it is standard configuration on the ships of the Imperial Fist. If it is the Black Temple, the size and magnificence of the chapel can be doubled - the light of distant stars overlooks everything from here. People, cold and scrutinizing, are waiting for an opportunity to take away some lucky or unfortunate sacrifice among them forever.

"My brothers! Sons of Dorne!" Brother Priest shouted in a voice dry from shouting war cries and chanting prayers for a long time. "We are on an expedition! The expedition will never end! We will use physical pain to With proof of exhaustion - brandish our weapons forever against all aliens, heretics and traitors! We will praise the Emperor in never-ending battle!"

"Praise to the Emperor! Praise to the Emperor! Praise to the Emperor!" His battle brothers rapped their weapons in response to his words, and responded in a high-pitched voice from their hoarse throats. All this happened on the first day they saw it. It reached an even more feverish climax when the first company commander stepped forward.

"My brothers! My brothers who are bound to me by noble Dornish blood! And all the others!"

The voice of the First Company Commander is still loud and powerful after centuries of service and a thousand-year journey through subspace. He took another step forward, exposing his entire face to the starlight and the candlelight of the chapel: Danat Lysander wears the iconic yellow Terminator armor of the Imperial Fist. Behind his head is an iron halo shaped like a skull and a laurel wreath. The inscription on it reads "AND THEY SHALL KNOW NO FEAR." When fearless)", a short strip of gray-white hair extended along the top of his head to the back of his head. The rest of his hair was shaved to reveal his scalp, and neural cables and biological relay interfaces were plugged in.

The look on his face was firm and had a pure sense of honor, and the service nails gleaming on his forehead, telling his history of loyal service to the Emperor, which made what he said next even more inspiring. The role of the human heart.

"Everyone! We have made the last full supply in this fortress world. I also know that there are some unnecessary rumors here recently that are quietly damaging our honor." His voice was low, but then raised again, attracting everyone's attention. force.

"But what I want to say is that your firm belief should not be shaken by any rumors, just because the sacred mission entrusted to us from the beginning has not yet been completed. Until then, everything is an obstacle that hinders us from completing the mission. When you heart When you are worried, you might as well think about the goal of our trip that I mentioned at this moment. It has been thousands of years! Sons of Dorne! For the first time in thousands of years, we have so clearly learned about the remains of our holy fathers. News! This is such a sacred task that requires us to stay united. We must clench our fists as much as possible before striking! Accumulate your confusion, anger and strength! Pour them all on our great enemy. On the heads of the Iron Warriors! Keep your faith! I know this is a noble request, but this is what I am asking of you right now! Glory to the Emperor and Dorne! Repent! Pray! For the Saint on the Throne With Dorn!”

"Praise the Emperor! Praise Dorne!" The crowd chanted in unison again. The ceremonial curtains and honor banners in the chapel were fluttered slightly by various disturbing air currents, and the servo skull flew overhead with the lit sacred candle on top. Flying away, the Chapter servants emerged from the shadows holding incense burners, spreading the smoke of incense onto each Astartes monk who knelt down to pray devoutly, purifying their bodies and minds, and giving them blessings.

Lysander himself was also praying to obtain spiritual purification and strength from the Emperor and Rogal Dorn. Thirteen hundred years had passed since these prayers first flowed from the tip of his tongue. Like eating and drinking water - no, he can even integrate them into his every breath as naturally as using his own weapons.

He had a hunch that maybe this time he would usher in a highlight moment of his legendary service career - or it would be an end. Will the legend end? He did not know, but he was certain that every Son of Dorne would fight to the end.

Lysander's prayer ended, and he stood, turned, and raised his signature weapon, the Fist of Dorne, high toward his warriors.

"Hold your weapon! Prepare to fight!"

In response, the warriors raised their chainswords at him. The new First Company Imperial Fists clanged their fists against their breastplates in salute to their ancient Captain.

The Wrathstorm's weapon arrays, shield generators, engine rooms, and ion reactors were all inspected again. The mechanical priests murmured binary prayers and anointed every gear and piston with holy oil. Officers on the bridge and other The locals yelled or issued orders, and the Chapter servants ran back and forth, everyone praying and grabbing whatever work they could get their hands on for the battle to come.

Gua.

An ordinary (?) transitional chapter, mainly to highlight the completely different atmosphere and style of the two sides (turn a glance)

Chapter 2 is available, currently being coded