“Gather, young Space Wolves,” spoke the wise and experienced voice of the Rune Priest Baldur Thunderfang, “for I have a tale to be told this night.” The venerated Space Wolf spoke to the Sky Claws under his direct command. This may be the last night of their lives for tomorrow, they enter battle against one of the many enemies of the Allfather. Thunderfang is eldest member of their Great Company and has advised three Wolf Lords before his current master, though it is not his age that has him as the mentor to the Company's troublemakers.

Thunderfang was an unusual old wolf. Most Space Wolves believe that using a Jump Pack is a superfluous means of fighting. Afterall, if the Allfather wanted them to fly, he would have given them wings. However, Thunderfang believed that there are potential heroes among the Blood Claws that all others have forsaken. 

He didn't always believe in even the most foolish of Blood Claws. He was once like most of his brothers, believing Skyclaws to be worth litle more than to rush into combat and die while dealing as much damage to their enemy as possible. The tale he was about to tell is the same tale he tells before every battle. Some of the young Wolves under his command have heard the tale a dozen times, but they listen intently as if it was the first time the story was ever told. Even these impatient, blood thirsty warriors understood that the tale of Greybeard is a story as inspiring as that of The Young King himself.

When the Skyclaws heard Thunderfang's voice, they knew to listen. They knew that this tale was only for their ears and once they have proven theselves to be worthy of a true place in the chapter, they would never hear it again.

Thunderfang spoke:

There is one Wolf in our Great Company that has seen it all. He has fought all of the Allfather's many enemies. He was present for the destruction of a Necron Tomb World. He personally slew more Tyranid monstrosities than can be counted. He braved the firepower of the heretical Tau. He faced the horrors of the Warp and won. This Wolf has the greatest saga of any in our Great Company. This is the Saga of the Black Wolf.

Sven Greybeard hails from a tribe in the north. He was a great warrior, but was abandoned by his blood family. Some of his tribe were superstitious about Greybeard's frost white hair. However, the tribe's chieftain knew better. He saw the boy's unusual hair color as a sign from the spirits that he had the gift of the bear. He was destined to become the greatest warrior his tribe had ever seen.

When Young Greybeard came of age under the chief's guidance, he was given the name Greybeard and chosen as the chief's successor. This did not please Skaasgald Erikson, Greybeard's rival for the next chief and the one who was agreed to be the greatest warrior in the tribe. Erikson and those loyal to him believed that Greybeard was too violent in his ambitions and would only lead the tribe to unnecessary war.

On the eve of his chief's death, Erikson and his followers left the tribe and declared war on Greybeard. While the details of this war are a tale for another day and one that I cannot do justice, the wounds attained by Greybeard in this war would precede his being chosen to join us Sky Warriors.

Greybeard was to become one of us. He was large man before his ascension, a solid wall of muscle. After his ascension, he was even greater in size. He stood a head taller than most of the other Blood Claws in his pack. 

After his initiation, Greybeard was surprised to be assigned to the same pack as the very rival who nearly killed him, Skaasgald Erikson. Their rivalry was immediately rekindled. I've been witness honor duels with the Dark Angels with less passion than the sparring matches between these two Blood Claws. Their collective will to outdo their rival is unparalleled among the entirety of the Sky Warriors, let alone the Space Wolves alone. 

Both showed potential as their rivalry lead them to push themselves to prove their worth to the elders of the Great Company. These efforts did not go unnoticed. The pair were assigned to a unit of Swiftclaw bikers, where they played a key roll in several battles against the Tau. One particular battle had Greybeard and Erikson separated from the rest of their pack and forced to fight alone against the Tau allies known as Vespid. Vespid weapons are something to beware, young brothers, as they will make easy work of your armor. The two Wolves proved themselves that day and were soon named Grey Hunters. 

Though they would never admit it, Greybeard and Erikson were the closest of friends. They both sought the path of the Wolf Scout. Their pack was given a mission to find and sabotage Ork encampments during a campaign that took our Company to the Jericho Reach.

The pack's efforts were critical to clearing the Orks off of several worlds. Erikson came up with a plan that would confuse the Orks and leave any schemes their Nobs and Warboss had in shambles. Greybeard would take up a position near the Ork camp with half of their pack, while Erikson would take higher ground with the other half with sniper rifles. This plan was very successful. It failed only once, but this failure would change Greybeard's fate completely.

Before the mission began, Skaasgald came to Greybeard an offered the wolf pelt he had taken as a prize from a mammoth Thunderwolf he hunted on Fenris.

“We have word that this is the Warboss's camp, brother.” Erikson's explanation was more to give his reasoning than to give him the mission. Greybeard ran his hand through his thick hair and stroked his mighty beard in thought, a habit he held from before his ascension, despite the many years since. 

“I know you have your superstitions Skaasgald,” Greybeard felt uneasy about taking the trophy as he always felt envious of Erikson's skills as a hunter, “but this is your prize. It is not my place to take it.”

“I fully expect it back, Sven.” Erikson refused to take it back, turning to prepare for their mission. He expected Greybeard to return the pelt, but not until they had slain the Ork Warboss they hunted. Despite his reservations, Greybeard wore the pelt on his shoulder with pride.

Greybeard crept through the woods with his brothers, approaching the Ork encampment. He silently asked the Allfather for protection this night. He motioned for his brothers to advance. There was something off about the forest they stalked through. Though the Orks in the distance could be heard making their pre-battle celebrations, which, as nothing Orks did excluded it, involved fighting to the death, there seemed to be fewer of them than what would be expected of the Warboss. 

The five Wolves came to the camp, a ramshackle mess of metal barricades with only a few shelters that looked to be ready to collapse at a moments notice. Straight ahead, there was a circle of Orks cheering and laughing as they watched two other Orks fight. Their cheers were almost deafening when one Ork crushed the other's skull wth his power klaw and roared a challenge to the next comer. 

“What drives them to fight like this?” One scout asked Greybeard, who shot him a glance to silence him. One wrong move and the entire operation would be a failure. If one stray Grot heard that question, it was over. The plan was that Greybeard's team would find the Ork Warboss, then signal Erikson's team, who would snipe the Warboss, signalling Greybeard's team to attack and wipe out the remaining Orks. There were so many Ork encampments that this wouldn't prevent a battle the next day, but it would easily turn that battle in the Space Wolves' favor.

Everything was going as planned, Greybeard identified key targets. He knew it was a good idea to sabotage the Ork warbikes on the far end of the camp. To his right, he saw what the Orks used as medical supplies. Past the Orks' fighting circle, he identified an Ork that was a few times larger than the others. He presumed that this was the Warboss and pinged the vox channel to Erikson twice, the signal to move in. Within moments, the Warboss's head exploded into a shower of red. Some of the Orks found this hilarious, the others immediately turned to run toward the direction the snipers were firing from. This is when Greybeard's team moved in.

With a gutteral roar, the five Space Wolves charged into the camp, one taking Greybeard's signal to destroy the Ork supplies, another made a break to destroy the Ork warbikes, but was tragically slain as he dropped a melta bomb at the bikes. From the distance, Erikson's team picked off Ork after Ork, while Greybeard expended several magazines worth of bolter rounds into a Nob charging for him. 

When the Nob failed to go down from the Bolt Pistol, Greybeard braced himself and jammed his combat knife into the Nob's heart, which slowed him down enough to be executed by one last well placed bolt between his eyes.

Suddenly, Erikson's voice rose over the vox, “Where did those come from? Damn! We're being overrun!”

Greybeard felt the need to rush to his brother's aid. He barked orders to rush towards the snipers. They went as fast as they could, though the Orks were not going to let them go without a fight. Brother Svaneson fell during their rush to save Erikson's team.

When the remaining four Wolves arrived, they found Erikson alone, armed with only a Bolt Pistol fighting off far more Orks than were in the camp. He was injured and barely fighting off their attacks. It was then that Greybeard saw the biggest Ork he had ever seen. They had been tricked.

The Warboss laughed as he watched his Boyz rush at Erikson, who soon ran out of ammunition for his pistol. Greybeard's team rushed into the mob, cutting and shooting their way to their brother. Brothers Ivaldson and Furyfist were lost in this rush.

Greybeard took Furyfist's combat knife and tossed it to Erikson. The brothers stood back to back, slaying Ork after Ork after Ork. The green tide seemed endless until the Warboss stepped in. 

“The name's 'Ardfist, 'umies,” the Warboss laughed. In a twisted way, the Warboss was having the time of his life fighting the two Wolf Scouts. It had been a rare day when humans entertained him this much. “WAAAAGH!!!!”

At the war cry, 'Ardfist ran straight toward the Wolves. Greybeard opened fire with his bolt pistol, while Erikson took a quick shot with his sniper rifle. The collossal Ork shurgged off every shot. They braced themselves, but were knocked back by 'Ardfist swinging his mighty choppa. Erikson was the first back to his feet and he noticed the Warboss aiming his shoota at Greybeard. As Greybeard rose, 'Ardfist opened fire. 

Greybeard's Saga was destined to end this night, but fate had taken a different path. The Ork laughed maniacally as his weapon screamed in agony. Greybeard braced for the inevitable, bracing his armor against the Ork's shooting. But his end was not to be. Skaasgald Erikson decided that Sven Greybeard was the only to survive this night. He threw himself into the line of fire and, while his armor took the brunt of most of the fire, he charged at 'Ardfist, but quickly succumbed to his injuries, leaving his combat knife in the Ork's chest. 

Enraged, Greybeard resolved himself and marched at 'Ardfist. He cut and shot down any Orks that got in his way. He likely killed over two hundred Orks that night. All that stood between him and revenge for his brother was Warboss 'Ardfist. He charged at the Warboss.

'Ardfist countered by opening fire with his shoota, but Greybeard was able to avoid every shot. When he got to the Ork, he stabbed his knife into the Ork's arm, making him drop his gun. He took a blow from the choppa, but brushed it off as he pulled Erikson's knife from the Warboss's chest and nearly cut the Ork's arm clean off at the elbow. 'Ardfist reeled back in pain, but this did not stop him for long. 

He knocked Greybeard back with one more swing from his choppa. As he lay on the ground, Greybeard struggled to stay conscious. He rose a shaking bolt pistol and fired one last shot straight into the massive Ork's eye, just as he lost consciousness.

When Greybeard came to, he heard the voices of several other Marines.

“He is stable, Watch Captain” spoke a black clad apothecary. 

“Good to hear, Brother Lucas,” laughed a seemingly jovial Marine who carried a very large blade. Greybeard recognized the blade as a Sacris Claymore, the signature weapon of the Storm Wardens. It was strange, however, last he worked with the Storm Wardens, they wore blue armor, not black. “Still, what is the damage?”

“Of course,” the first marine said. “His primary heart is damaged, but not beyond repair and he will need a replacement lung, but otherwise he is surprisingly intact.”

“Damned Wolves always get themselves into trouble like this.” Greybeard got a vague glimpse of the third Marine's right shoulder, which appeared to hold the iconography of the Dark Angels. He understood that these Marines were with the Deathwatch. He had heard whispers of their operations in the Jericho Reach, but did not expect to encounter them, let alone end up being treated by one of their apothecaries.

“Where are the Orks?” Greybeard spoke solemnly from clenched teeth. His pack was slain. No one needed to tell him that. All he wanted now was to hunt down the Greenskins' Warboss and end him. He tried to sit up, but had surprising difficulty with it.

“Easy, Space Marine.” The Storm Warden eased Greybeard into a sitting position, partly holding him down to keep him from trying to get off the Thunderhawk to foolishly try to track down the Warboss. “We took care of the remains of that encampment. Your unit did quite the number on them before we arrived. They did the Emperor proud. Do you know where you are?”

Greybeard found it difficult to calm himself. He should have died with his pack. That he did not was a great dishonor. 

“Answer me, Marine,” The Storm Warden demanded.

“You are with the Deathwatch?” Greybeard responded meekly. He had always hoped for a chance to join the Deathwatch. He had heard the sagas of many of the Space Wolves greatest heroes who had served with these Xenos hunters. The challenges and enemies they face regularly are greater than those that even the most experienced Wolves would rarely face. However, he did not expect this to be how he met them.

“Well, we know his eyes function,” smirked the apothecary, who's shoulder revealed him to be a Blood Angel. There was one more Marine, an Ultramarine, who stayed quiet, though it was quite obvious that he was upset with the Wolf. Perhaps it was our disregard for his precious Codex Astartes?

“Well, you appear to be able to comprehend what's going on,” the Storm Warden mused. “And since I've served with enough Wolves to know what you're thinking, allow me. I am Watch Captain Tavis, welcome to the Deathwatch.” It was then that Greybeard knew that this was the only way to redeem himself after failing his pack.