[color=6ecff6][h2][center][b]Victar Ironmarch[/b][/center][/h2][/color]


[b][i]Before departing Arlockus[/i][/b]


Victar sat alone at the rendezvous point on his homeworld. The Harbingers homeworld. It was here, on the windswept stone and steel that an Ork horde had shattered at their hands. It was on this holy place that Victar had become a monster in his own right. From this back water planet had sprung a beast obsessed with eradicating the green skinned menace with a passion that often bordered on madness. Even now, on the upswing from that fateful time lost to the history books, Victars hand still trembled in rage as he watched his brothers in arms die. 
The rock he had been idly holding crumbled under the crushing force of his clenched fingers. 

The black ship would be here soon to take him for the last Chapter he would ever know. The Chaplain had personally told him of what awaited his future and it had brought a measure of fervor back to his soul. Their numbers decimated, the Harbingers had been more cautious in their wars over the years. Aiding the larger Chapters rather than leading the charge. It had dampened his spirits, if he was perfectly honest.

Resting at his feet was the Storm Shield he had carried into battle a hundred times. It was a totem of his strength and determination to fight and die with absolute honor. A new addition had been added now, as he waited. A power sword Victar had since started referring to as his Chapter. To him, even if he joined the Death Watch, the sword would always be the Harbinger. It would always lead the way, to announce the enemies fate in the form of its wielder. 

Victar gripped the hilt of his blade and waited as patiently as he could. 

[i][b]Fort Acestes[/b][/i]

Stripped of his weapons and most of his armor, Victar had willingly gone into stasis with the others, and allowed the momentary 'sleep' to claim him. Though unaware of the passage of time it was still reasonable to say that claiming each member here in the gathering had not been a fast accomplishment. Time was not important anyways and thus the subject of 'when' was replaced by 'where'. 
Even that really had no meaning to him though. The realization that time had passed had the eager Space Marine itching for a fight and his sword. Thankfully it was another such Marine that spoke the same thought aloud first. Might as well be heard.

[color=6ecff6]"Victar Ironmarch, of the Harbingers. Sir!"[/color] Saluting as he spoke. [color=6ecff6]"I don't mean disrespect, but I too wish to retrieve my gear for inspection. There is an item among my belongings of utmost importance."[/color] 

At the here and now it was the only thought occupying his mind. Without sword or shield, without the will of his brothers in hand, Victar was hesitant to admit he felt more naked without it than he did stripped of his armor.