As the watch captain approached, a respectful silence fell on the assembled astartes as they greeted him. This was what they had all been sent here for, their first mission was about to begin, and it was time to prepare. Aldaric looked over his soon-to-be squad mates, the estranged Sorrow, Zaphiel the chaplain, Sirren the Apothecary, Victar who had also been a captain, the blonde scout in carapace armor, the cyborg Son of Medusa. As a former leader, he subconsciously evaluated them all in what they might bring to the team on a case by case basis. Their veteran mentors would also be present in this one, so it was a sizable force together. By the time Aldaric had finished his initial assessment, Captain Roa had managed not to be incinerated by the security system and the Deathwatch armory was opening. 

The armory was impressive to say the least, with a variety Aldaric had never seen. Many of the stranger items Aldaric wasn't even sure he could use. He suddenly stopped and clenched his jaw in anger at the sight of Tyranid scythe bones. How he hated them most of all. The Tyranid survivability, and adaptability, made them far more infuriating enemies than any other, as if their particularly staunch refusal to die was a prominent obscenity itself. How he dreampt of seeing the exterminatus of their very last world. 

“Please treat this sacred space with the reverence it is due...”

The soft, yet undeniably commanding voice brought the "cousin" of the Dark Angels back to the present, where he learned he and his brothers would be facing the Kroot, and that he had ten minutes to loadout. 

His focus sharpening, Aldaric recalled what he knew of Kroot. He had never fought them, but he had been briefed on all the Imperium's enemies prior to departure. They were a primitive species, tall, yet allied with the Tau and often armed with Tau technology. They often employed hit-and-run tactics, using their environment, usually jungle, for cover as they wittled down an opposing army. Like many other races, their warriors would engage in close combat as well, and they had been known to drive giant carnivorous battle beasts to directly assault their enemies. 

Aldaric marched over to "standard issue" and took up a powersword, fastening it to his armor. No matter what primary weapon he chose, he'd have to have a melee backup, and the powersword was an easy choice since he, with his knightly origins, preferred it. He scanned around the shelves intently searching as he considered what he saw. The Kroot would certainly have a ranged force, with their leaders and handlers back from the risks of the front line. Aldaric knew right away that his Stalker rifle would be perfect for picking off key targets out of distance from his brothers, but his weapon was back at his room, out of ... distance. Of course, there were also the giant Kroot beasts to consider, which might require something like a rocket launcher, and there was the likelihood of the Kroot making a melee forward rush with their warriors. With the enemy's lack of armor, melta weapons, and the hellfire he would have preferred against Tyranid, wouldn't be necessary, but a heavy flamer would be very effective against such a rush. 

Five minutes to go. Aldaric stopped a servo-skull and asked it to find and bring him a ranged weapon of high acurracy while he mentally debated. 

A combination heavy bolter/flamer, the Infernus, caught his eye. It was a spectacular arsenel in and of itself, versatile for the unexpected situation to come, and lightened to boot. Aldaric threw the strap over his shoulder and stocked a number of frag grenades. This would have to be it, he thought, remembering what Rathanael had said about using his anger. The Infernus would certainly deliver in that respect, yet he knew this method of fighting would deprive him of his usual awareness and of his unique skill in high profile enemy takedowns. Did any of his squadmates have the kind of practice he did? Aldaric doubted it. Honor was not to be found, or at least not typically recognized, back from the front line and the splatter of xeno blood. The vast majority of space marines were far more personal in combat, yet a critical kill could shift the tides of a battle. 

The ex-captain turned to go when he suddenly nearly ran into a servo-skull lowering a long-barreled bolter in his path. It was a standard Godwyn Mark Vb pattern, modified with an M40 Targeter System that Aldaric knew could be synced to his ocular implant. It was fine enough for firing at nearby targets with decent rate, but its real power was in its scope. Pride be damned. Only Aldaric Felbane could chanel as much hate through this fine piece of mechanicus work. The skull's delivery was a sign, and the switch was made. "Blessed be the name..." Quickly, he checked the weapon over. 

"Do we have an auspex?" Aldaric wanted to make sure thre Kroot could be seen among any potential trees, but he didn't have time to look for a scanner. 

Finally armed, he went where he was next directed.