[h3]The XVIIth Legion
Alercona Bluffs, Delos Hive Outerlimits - Praxia[/h3][hr]
Though tradition called for the ascension of Neophytes to take place on the highest point available, Nelchitl had taken her own personal liberties this time around. She relinquished that perhaps her sisters’ flair for the dramatic had swayed her decision as she took in the vista before her from the altar at which she stood. 

Directly in front of the altar stood two hundred and thirty-seven Neophytes, replacements all of them, were arranged in the form of one of the great Serpents of Ixhun, jaw agape as if to strike. They were clad in the armor of fully-fledged Astartes, though they wore no helmets and possessed no markings to denote company or position. She gazed upon them each in turn as she stood at the raised dais and watched as pride and admiration swelled in their faces at the personal recognition from their Scion. Directly to her right, arranged in neat formation sat an identical number of Astartes helmets. The helmets themselves were separated by color, with cyan the standard color of all the rank-and-file within the Serpents making up the majority of those helmets arranged before her. As she moved her eyes over the helmets she frowned as she picked out a group of some twenty white helmets marked by the office of the Apothecarium. As she moved to the final helmets in the formation she stopped on the two that stood separate to their peers, a pair of completely white helmets, the sign of a Serpent veteran standing silent command over the rest of the helmets arranged behind them. 

She smiled as she recalled the intense argument that had taken place between her Company Commanders over which of the Neophytes had truly earned such an honor on Praxia as to be inducted into the First Company at their ascension ceremony. Though she had always planned to differ to the judgment of her First and Second Captains, Nelchitl had gained a good amount of enjoyment from her commanders' exasperation at their Scions seeming inability to decide on the most deserving Neophytes.

The wind shifted atop the Alercona Bluffs, a cold wind pushing in from the East prompted the Primarchs gaze to shift to the view behind her. Delos Hive lay in the distance, vast swathes of the urban sprawl lay in ruin, pillars of smoke still streaming high into the atmosphere, and uncontrolled fires consuming entire districts even as the war came to its close. That this, the cost of their rebellion, was the last thing that these traitors would see before they gave themselves to the Emperor in repentance was something of poetry in motion. Nelchitl wondered if she should have invited her sisters if only so they could witness the theatrics she had managed here. 

Turning to face the line of traitors before the altar Nelchitl moved quietly to its stone edifice, running her fingers along its rough-hewn surface at a deliberate pace. Her fingers brushed over the ritual blade that had been laid out at the center of the altar and curled around it. Raising it toward the city she began a slow chant of devotion to the sun, a simple prayer of her homeworld, meant to signal the rising of the light and the outset of a new day. As she spoke in hushed tones, rays of light began to spring forth from beyond its skyline. With the final words of the prayer, the Praxian sun crested the city's outline, casting it in long shadows where the light met the mile-high pillars of smoke and washing large portions of the rest of the city in the warm glow of sunlight.

She turned to the first traitor in line, the man's face racked with terror as he stared upon Nelchitl. “Come.” she spoke softly, barely audible to those around her and yet the man stepped forward, the Primarchs words an irresistible command to the mere mortal.

With a single hand, she grabbed the man by his neck lifting the traitor from his feet, his eyes wandered past Nelchitl’s form as she raised him up no doubt to take in the view of Delos Hive bathed in the light of the very being he had betrayed.

With a slow reverence, the Emerald Priestess brought the ritual dagger up, silently slipping it under the man's ribs with little more than a surprised gasp as reaction. Warmblood ran down the blade and onto Nelchitl’s arm, quickly turning her bare chest and the only item of clothing she wore, a traditional off-white cueitl of Ixhun’s Priesthood of the Sun, a deep red.

With a twist of the blade, the Emerald Priestess opened the traitor's chest wide before dropping him onto the altar. Leaving the blade lodged in the man she reached both hands into the pooling blood within him. She looked upon her daughters as her hands remained immersed in the fading life of the man before her and locked eyes with the first Neophyte among their ranks. With little more than a nod, the Neophyte stepped confidently to the altar, dropping to a knee before her Primarch. The Neophyte raised her eyes to look directly into her Scion’s, and with calm piety, she spoke.

“Let the Sun rise upon this day my Lord.”

“He smiles upon it.” the Emerald Priestess responded as she gazed lovingly across her assembled daughters, each of their faces bathed in the warmth of the sun from behind her shoulder.

“By your command, I stand your servant.” the Neophyte continued with a hint of apprehension in her words. The Emerald Priestess felt affection rise in her chest as she looked upon the Neophyte in understanding her anxiety at being first among her peers.

The Emerald Priestess nodded and the Neophyte rose slowly to her full height.

“By my command, you rise [i]His[/i] servant.” the Emerald Priestess paused as she took the heart of the traitor from within him and held it out for the Neophyte before her, “You rise [i]Astartes[/i].” she intoned privately, only loud enough for the daughter before her.

Without hesitation Sister Yaretzi took the heart from the Emerald Priestess and began to devour it. At the same time, Nelchitl stepped slowly around her daughter, her hands dripping in gore as she painted the company numbers and position markings on Yaretzi’s armor as her daughter ate. Giving the markings a once over and satisfied with the job, Nelchitl stepped back to her original position and gave a nod to her daughter. 

The Serpent stepped away and toward the formation of helmets stopping at the head of the formation. Nelchitl watched with a smile as her daughter knelt down and picked up a white helmet and sealed it to her armor, taking the place of the helmet in at the head of the arranged formation.

She turned once more to the Neophytes and the line of traitors before her, “Come.” she repeated.