SECOND OATHS #2
After your experiences in the combat pens, several cycles pass. The time is spent isolated in your cells; resting, regenerating, reflecting. The monotony of your time spent alone is disrupted only once, when you are visited by an ominous figure, Chaplain of the Watch, Archomedes of the Silver Skulls. He wears the familiar colors of the Watch, save for his leering skull-helm, which has be painted and polished silver. Several satchels bursting with scrolls, books, and other various parchments dangle at his waist. Two servo-skulls trail behind him, floating just above his shoulders. In his power armor he towers over you.
As he leans in to speak, you catch a glimpse of your reflection on his helm…
“You have been tested, brother. The Apothecary made sure your body was pure. The Watch Captains confirmed your spirit. I am here to weigh your very soul.” His voice is light with a gentle cadence to his inflection. ((#1))
You speak for many hours, perhaps even cycles. Finally, the questions stop, he reaches into one of his satchels and hands you a black hooded robe. “It is almost time, brother. Don the black and meditate on our words. You will be summoned.”
Finally, it is time. A silent blank-faced servitor leads you to a grand hall, one that you had never seen before. It is large and bare, carved out of the rock-face itself. At its center; 66 Adeptus Astartes stood stationary, all clad in the black robes, hoods drawn back. They stood in six rows of ten, except for the first row, which holds yourself and 6 others. All stand as motionless as death and silent as the grave. The room is dimly light with candles and small torches. It is heavy with smell of strong incense.
Standing before the assembly, equally statuesque, was the familiar armored forms of Watch Captains Kyro and McGarrack, Apothecary Haeron and Chaplain Archomedes. They had all donned their wargear, both in celebration of the day and to lend it undeniable gravity.
It appeared as though the officers were standing in with bowed headed reverence in front of a large statue. But as the last of your brothers falls-in, the statue slowly begins to rotate towards you, the dull grind of heavy ceramite on stone.
A deep, throaty growl, softly begins to speak…
“One unbreakable shield against the darkness. One last blade forged in the defiance of fate…the All-Father spoke these words during the creation of the his legions. Heh, how have things changed. That whores-son Horus saw to that.” He said with a dark chuckle.
Heavy, resonating steps that send reverberations through the ground steps possibly the largest Space Marine you have ever seen. Even without his ancient Terminator armor he would have easily stood several heads above the tallest of the Astartes gathered. His head is shaved, save for a warriors-stripe of hair, grown long and braided back, left to dangle behind his shoulders. Faded runic tattoos pepper both sides of his head. A long white beard reaches down to his chestplate, framing a mouth featuring canines so large it never fully closes. In his gauntleted hands he casually holds a massive double-bladed Frost Axe. As he speaks his fingers gently move across the rune work engraved on its haft.
“The Second Oath, brothers, is more significant than you can yet comprehend. Your individual trials have been intense – a time of testing mind, body and spirit. Our doctrines are a hard thing to learn, old grudges not easily forgotten.
But it is today that you are truly Deathwatch! Take pride in what you are: first amongst equals! You were Space Marines, Angels of Death, but now we surpass even that. Think on how few, even among the greatest ever known, get to bear this honor.
All-Father willing, we will all return to the Chapters we hail from; ready to strengthen our brothers from what we have learned, more adaptable to their needs, all because we were Deathwatch!
You will have stood as a bulkward against the never ending dark. It is in our strength that mankind finds it salvation. They will never know, there will be no thanks. We have stood the Watch for over ten thousand years, and if the Throne needs, ten thousand more. Accolades should matter little to us, for we fight in the shadows and so in the shadows we must remain.”
“Once you pass through these doors,” - gesturing to a set of massive doors behind him-“there is no going back. You will be bolted into power armor. You left shoulder will bear the icon of our holy order. The right will remain the icon of your Chapter. Your service honors both and betrayal is a betrayal to both. The rest of your armor is black, expect for left arm, made silver. You don the black to cloak yourself in darkness, for the shadows are your ally. Think on that a moment.”
Two servitors shamble in from the shadows. One is carrying a tripod stand of black iron, the other a dish filled with red-hot coals. They placed these things nearest Chaplain Archomedes before disappearing back into the dark. From his belt, Chaplain Archomedes pulls out a steel rod with the skull-and-bones icon of the watch and rests the tip in the fire.
The Watch Commander continues to speak, his golden eyes locking with yours…
“Do you swear your loyal service to the Deathwatch for so long as it is needed?
Do you swear to stand tall beside your fellow Space Marines, no matter their Chapter, no matter the scars of the past, to fight against the xenos threat side-by-side at the cost of your life?
Do you swear to pledge your soul to the holding of this order’s doctrines, laws and secrets?
Swear now and hold these above all else, or lose all memory of your time here and returned to your Chapter a disgrace…” ((#2))
The Watch Commander turned his eyes to Chaplain Archomedes and nods. Archomedes moves to pull the now white-hot brand from the coals and approaches.
“Ready yourself to accept the mark of your covenant Duty and honor are never to be forgotten.” ((#3))
((#4)) ((#5))