"Brothers, let me tell you of my time in the Watch Fortress Erioch. My kill-team... ah, what a beginning that was. Brother Vulkan of the Salamanders would check his flamer's spirit three times whenever I passed. Brother Dorn of the Imperial Fists kept his bolter aimed at my position for the first week of patrol. And Brother Maximus, that stern Ultramarine - he quoted sixteen different Codex provisions about psychic containment protocols within our first hour together."
Takes a drink from his chalice, a touch of grim humor in his voice.
"Shadow's presence only heightened their discomfort. A war beast in the cramped corridors of a Watch Fortress? The Watch Captain himself questioned the wisdom. They assigned us the most distant quarters, surrounded by null-field generators. Every psychic scan had to be logged, verified, and approved in triplicate."
Traces ritual scars thoughtfully.
"Then came the Tyranid migration. New adaptation in their vanguard organisms - some bio-modification that made them invisible to every augur array in the fortress. Three patrols went missing before they detected the breach. The Watch Captain was preparing orbital bombardment protocols - better to destroy the whole sector than let the infestation spread."
Leans forward.
"I stayed silent during the planning sessions. Waited. Watched. Let them exhaust every traditional option. Only when the Ultramarine had finished his seventeenth contingency plan did I speak. 'Permission to demonstrate an alternative, Watch Captain?' The null fields came down under the eyes of two Librarians and a Sister of Silence."
Gestures to Shadow, resting nearby.
"Shadow picked up the trace instantly - that unique blend of psychic resonance and biological instinct that marks Tyranid adaptation. But I didn't push. Let the beast demonstrate its worth. First nest - eliminated. Second - purged. By the third, Brother Vulkan was asking Shadow to take point. By the fourth, Brother Dorn had stopped checking his bolter's targeting spirit quite so obviously."
Holds up a bone-carved pendant.
"The true change came in the main nest. Shadow detected the counter-ambush seconds before it triggered. My psychic warning gave the team just enough time to brace. Brother Maximus found himself back-to-back with me, my psychic shield the only thing between him and a Lictor's talons. After that... well, he only quoted the Codex at me during official briefings."
Smiles grimly.
"When the operation ended, they each gave me a token - fragments of their own chapter artifacts to carve. The Imperial Fist said, 'Your methods are strange, brother, but so is the galaxy we hunt in.' Those tokens guard my quarters still. Reminders that trust is earned in blood and proven in battle, no matter how different our ways."
"The Watch Fortress taught me humility, brothers. And not gently." sharpens blade with practiced precision "I arrived proud, certain our methods were superior. After all, what other chapter truly understood how to blend psychic might with hunter's instinct? The Watch Captain's assignment felt like an insult - partnered with a White Scars veteran who made the sign of warding every time I reached for my powers."
Tests blade's edge with a thumb.
"Brother Khan'Gar. Emperor's teeth, but he was fast. Two months hunting Dark Eldar raiders in the void between stars, and he kept his distance like I carried the plague. Wouldn't let me within ten meters of his prized bike. Called it 'protecting the machine spirit from warp taint.' Every briefing, he'd argue against my suggestions. 'Speed is purity, stealth is doubt,' he'd say. I countered that shadows hide the hunter's approach. We nearly came to blows in the practice cages."
Sets first blade aside, begins work on second.
"Then our ship's Gellar Field failed mid-warp transit. Not a flicker - a complete collapse. The tech priests said the Dark Eldar had planted some kind of resonance device during their last raid. The daemons came, as they always do. I began preparing the blood rites for defense, and Khan'Gar... he actually drew his bolt pistol. 'No witchery,' he spat. 'Not while I draw breath.'"
Pauses, lost in memory.
"The ship's corridors were already twisting, reality bleeding into the warp. A Bloodletter materialized between us. In that moment, survival mattered more than chapter prejudices. I threw up a psychic barrier just as Khan'Gar's blade took the daemon's head. The look we shared... understanding, finally."
Resumes sharpening.
"What followed... the White Scars speak of the 'wind of the plains.' I learned what they meant. Khan'Gar would ride through my psychically stabilized corridors, his bike roaring through daemon-infested spaces faster than they could manifest. I'd hold reality stable in his wake, creating paths of sanity through madness. By the time emergency protocols restored the Gellar Field, we'd purged three decks."
Examines second blade's edge.
"He came to me afterward, in the ship's sanctuary. I expected more accusations of witchery. Instead, he unwrapped a leather bundle - sacred oils from the plains of Chogoris. 'For your blades, brother,' he said. 'The fast blade and the hidden blade can strike as one.' We spent the rest of our vigil developing those techniques. Speed and stealth, psychic might and pure skill."
Sheaths both blades.
"The Watch Captain later asked how we'd managed it. Khan'Gar answered before I could. 'The Emperor's gifts come in many forms,' he said. 'Even those we first mistake for curses.' He still makes the sign of warding when we meet... but now it's followed by a warrior's grip and a hunter's smile."
"In the Deathwatch, brothers, even the hunt for prey can teach harsh lessons about prejudice." arranges ritual blades with precise movements "My kill-team assignment read like some Watch Captain's dark jest - a Raven Guard who refused to speak to 'warp-touched' brothers, and a Space Wolf who'd rather eat his own bolt pistol than work with a 'witch.'"
His war beast Fenris growls softly at the memory.
"Our mission: eliminate a Genestealer Patriarch hiding in a void station's population. Brother Corvus of the Raven Guard would turn his back whenever I entered the briefing chamber. Brother Grimolf of the Space Wolves made it clear that his frost blade would find my heart at the first sign of 'sorcerous taint.' The Watch Captain merely said, 'Overcome your differences, or the mission fails.'"
Begins laying out the ritual implements.
"First week, they wouldn't even acknowledge my tactical suggestions. Corvus wanted pure stealth - infiltrate, assassinate, exfiltrate. Grimolf favored the direct approach - charge in with chainswords roaring, force the patriarch to face us directly. Neither would admit that both approaches would fail against an enemy that could sense their thoughts."
Fenris pads over, settling by his side.
"The turning point came when a genestealer ambush caught Grimolf's squad. Standard vox channels were corrupted, auspex readings scrambled. They would have died there, torn apart in the darkness. Instead, Fenris sensed their danger. I reached out psychically, found Corvus's mind in the shadows. The Raven Guard's initial resistance was... intense. But survival outweighed prejudice."
Methodically checks each ritual blade.
"Using my powers, we coordinated a three-pronged response. Corvus struck from above, silent as death. Grimolf's squad provided the anvil, and my beast led us through maintenance shafts to cut off their retreat. When it was done, we had eighteen dead genestealers and something far more valuable - respect."
Touches ritual scars thoughtfully.
"After that, we developed what Grimolf grudgingly called 'acceptable tactical protocols.' My beast would track the patriarch's psychic spoor - 'just animal instinct,' Corvus would insist, not wanting to acknowledge the psychic element. We'd use Grimolf's aggression to draw out cultist groups, then strike them from multiple angles. The Space Wolf learned that sometimes the patient hunter strikes truest. The Raven Guard admitted that some powers could serve the Emperor's will."
Prepares chalice for ritual.
"When we finally cornered the patriarch, three weeks later, we moved as one pack. Corvus flowing through shadows I'd prepared, Grimolf charging in at the perfect moment, my powers and Fenris's senses ensuring no escape routes. The patriarch died wondering how its perfect infiltration had failed."
Raises chalice.
"At the mission's end, Grimolf offered me a tooth from his wolf charm - 'For your beast's collar, witch. He's earned it.' Corvus merely nodded, but from a Raven Guard, that's practically an embrace. They still avoid psykers... but they make an exception for 'that Blood Wolf who knows how to hunt.'"
"War beasts aren't common in the Watch Fortress, brothers." strokes Fengar's scarred flank "Even less welcome are their handlers, especially those with the 'witch-taint.' My kill-team made that abundantly clear - particularly Brother Ferrum of the Iron Hands. His augmetics would whir in agitation whenever Fengar and I entered their tactical space."
Scratches behind his beast's ears as the creature watches the gathered marines.
"'Unreliable biological components combined with warp sensitivity,' he'd say, as if I weren't present. 'A statistical hazard.' The Black Templars brother, Marcus, was even more direct - kept his sacred oils and purity seals close whenever we shared a transport. The Celestial Lions veteran would only communicate through the Watch Sergeant."
Fengar growls softly at the memory.
"Then came the Yu'vath artifacts investigation. Ancient xenos relics that corrupted through mere proximity. Three kill-teams lost before ours was activated. Ferrum's augmetics were supposed to be our primary detection system - top-line Mechanicus equipment with every blessing and ward they could craft."
Lets out a grim chuckle.
"First sweep of the target zone, his systems detected nothing. Clean readings across every spectrum. He was reciting probability calculations to prove the intel must be wrong when Fengar started snarling. Not his usual threat-warning - something deeper, more primal. The beast was physically backing away from what looked like a bare rockcrete wall."
Leans forward, voice dropping.
"Ferrum scoffed, right until his most sophisticated augmetic implant began to corrode. The Yu'vath taint was already seeping through his blessed machinery. But Fengar... the beast could smell the corruption without being touched by it. Something about their enhanced senses and psychic attunement working together."
The beast shifts position, alert to its handler's telling.
"After that, protocol changed. The Watch Sergeant ordered Ferrum to incorporate Fengar's reactions into his probability matrices. 'Emperor-blessed beast instincts,' the Black Templar would mutter, still unwilling to acknowledge the psychic element. But he stopped clutching his purity seals quite so tightly."
Draws a small augmetic component from his belt pouch.
"By the mission's end, we'd developed an effective pattern. Fengar would sweep ahead, I'd use my abilities to precisely interpret his warnings, and Ferrum would apply his enhanced senses to analyze what we found. The Iron Hand even fabricated this - a small augmetic enhancement for Fengar's collar. 'To improve biological efficiency,' he claimed. But I noticed the carefully inscribed wards included symbols for 'trusted ally' in Martian cant."
Returns component to pouch.
"The Mechanicus representatives were livid, of course. Enhancing a 'mere beast' with sacred technology? But Ferrum's report was pure Iron Hands logic: 'The machine spirit and the enhanced animal proved synergistic in operation. The Emperor's gifts manifest in diverse forms. Logic dictates continued cooperation.'"
The Blood's Truth
"The most valuable lesson I learned in the Watch Fortress came at a heavy price, brothers." holds up a half-carved daemon bone "Our kill-team was a testament to suspicion - a Dark Angels veteran who'd sooner execute me than share a transport, a Black Templar who recited prayers of warding continuously in my presence, and an Imperial Fist whose perfect discipline couldn't quite hide his revulsion at our chapter's 'ritualistic deviancy.'"
Examines bone's surface before continuing to carve.
"Even the Grey Knight assigned to our team... well, their chapter knows the true measure of psychic power, but that only made him more dangerous. Every ritual, every prayer, every psychic scan was scrutinized for the slightest hint of corruption. I spent more time proving my purity than fighting our actual enemies."
Pauses, running fingers over ritual scars.
"Then we faced it - a daemon of Tzeentch that could possess anyone it had marked. And in our first encounter, it marked us all. The creature's laugh still haunts me. 'All your suspicions, all your fears about each other... I'll prove them true,' it promised. The Black Templar immediately demanded my execution - 'The witch will be the first to fall.'"
Sets tools down, expression grim.
"The Watch Fortress Librarians argued containment protocols for hours. The Grey Knight was preparing the rites of banishment, but the daemon's marks meant it could possess any of us before the ritual completed. That's when I suggested something that nearly got me shot - a modified version of our blood bond ritual."
Picks up tools again, movements precise.
"The Black Templar actually drew his blade. The Dark Angel shifted to a firing position. But the Grey Knight... he raised his hand. 'Explain,' he commanded. So I did. Laid out the ritual's structure, its foundations in Imperial doctrine, how it could create a network of shared strength that would resist daemonic influence. His psychic scrutiny during that explanation felt like being carved open."
Continues intricate carving work.
"Six hours of examination followed. The Grey Knight dissected every element of the ritual. Three Librarians analyzed every possible outcome. The Black Templar never stopped praying. Finally, the Grey Knight spoke: 'The ritual is pure. The theory is sound. The risk is necessary.'"
Holds bone up to examine progress.
"We performed it in their Librarium, under more wards than I've ever seen. The Dark Angel's resistance was palpable - sharing blood with a suspected witch? The Imperial Fist's face was a mask of cold disapproval. The Black Templar had to be ordered to participate. But when the ritual completed... the strength of it surprised even me."
Allows a small smile.
"The daemon attacked that night. Tried to possess our Imperial Fist brother first - probably thought his discipline would make him the perfect host. Instead, the blood bond flared. Our shared strength rejected it instantly. The creature's rage... I've never heard anything like it. The Grey Knight's banishment ritual worked perfectly on its weakened form."
Sets completed bone carving in place.
"Afterward, things changed. Oh, they still didn't trust me - not completely. But the Black Templar stopped his constant prayers. The Dark Angel would actually face me during briefings. The Imperial Fist even asked questions about our chapter's other rituals - purely for tactical assessment, he claimed."
Touches the bone carving thoughtfully.
"The Grey Knight's parting words stuck with me: 'Your chapter walks a narrow path between power and corruption. But today you proved it's a true path in the Emperor's service.' He requested full documentation of our ritual practices - properly sanctioned and approved, of course. The bone I'm carving? It's from that daemon's physical form. A reminder that trust, like any worthy victory, must be earned in blood and battle."
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