As told by War Beast Handler Theron during evening meal, while carving ritual marks into a wolf bone:
"Pass the wine, brothers, and I'll tell you how I met Shadow. You've all seen him hunt - Emperor knows he's put down enough cultists to fill a hive level - but his early days? chuckles darkly There's a reason they called him the Handler's Bane."
Takes a drink before continuing.
"Three of our finest had tried to bond with him. Brother Markus - you remember him before he took that heretic's plasma blast - still had the scars across his face. Even Brother-Sergeant Titus, who'd trained fifteen beasts before, came out looking like he'd wrestled a Khornate Berserker. The Beast Master was considering putting the beast down - too aggressive, they said. Too wild."
Holds up the bone he's carving, studying the pattern.
"But I saw something in those eyes. Not defiance, not madness. Waiting. Like he was testing us, judging if we were worthy. So I did something that had half the Chaplains reaching for their bolt pistols - went in without armor. No weapons. Just me and a ritual bowl of my own blood."
Several younger marines lean forward, drawn into the tale.
"The beast approached exactly as you'd expect - hackles raised, muscles coiled to strike. But then... then he caught the scent of my blood. And brothers, I swear by the Emperor's throne, in that moment everything changed. Our minds touched, and..."
Pauses, running a finger along his ritual scars.
"Ever merged consciousnesses with an apex predator, brothers? It's like finding a piece of your soul you never knew was missing. All that fury, that hunting instinct, perfectly aligned with human intellect. I felt his mind, he felt mine, and we both knew this was right. The Beast Master said he'd never seen a bond form so fast."
Grins as Shadow, lying near the table, raises his head at the memory.
"These days? Well, you've seen us work. No heretic escapes, no traitor can hide. Shadow doesn't just track them - he predicts them. Sometimes I think he knows they're going to turn before they do. That's why we always lead the hunts in the lower hive levels."
Holds up his wine cup.
"To the bond, brothers. May your own be as true. And Markus, if you're wondering - yes, he still remembers throwing you into that maintenance shaft. I'm pretty sure he's proud of it."
Recorded by Beast Master Voss during blood-ritual preparation:
Adjusts incense burner while Grimfang lounges nearby, massive head resting on ancient paws.
"You think you know pride, brothers? Let me tell you about Brother Aurelius - now there's a tale of pride's price. Top of his class in every trial, master of every combat form. The Chaplains themselves marked him for handler training. Even though I thought he'd be perfect."
Grimfang's ears perk up at the memory, a low rumble of amusement in his throat.
"Strutted into the training cages like he already owned them. You should have seen him - dataslate full of theoretical handling techniques, talking about 'optimized training protocols' and 'behavioral conditioning.' Even had his own modified control runes designed. The other handlers were taking bets on how long he'd last."
Pauses to check the ritual blades' sharpness.
"Grimfang here - Emperor bless his cruel sense of humor - just watched him. You know that look the old beast gets, the one that makes even veteran battle-brothers check their armor seals? Just tracked him with those augmented eyes while Aurelius lectured us about proper beast positioning."
Several veterans chuckle, knowing what's coming.
"Then came the practical demonstration. Aurelius steps into the training cage, dataslate in hand, ready to show us how it's done. That's when Grimfang decided to teach the real lesson. Never seen a war beast move so fast. One moment he's lounging, the next..."
Mimes looking up.
"Took us three hours to get Aurelius down from the rafters. His perfect theoretical knowledge didn't account for an ancient war beast's ability to predict exactly where you'll dodge. Or how to use momentum to send a fully armored Space Marine pinwheeling through the air. The dataslate? laughs We found pieces of it three chambers over."
Grimfang rises and pads over, massive head level with the seated marines.
"But here's the thing, brothers - Aurelius learned. Once we got him down, once his pride was properly shattered, he started over. Spent three weeks just sitting in the beast chambers, learning their sounds, their moods. No dataslates, no protocols. Just watching and learning."
Scratches behind Grimfang's ears, earning a pleased growl
"He's one of our finest handlers now. Still has that Mechanicus-precise mind, but tempered with respect. And Grimfang? Still gives him that look during training sessions. Just to keep him humble, I think."
Raises his ritual chalice.
"To pride's fall and wisdom's rise, brothers. And to our war beasts, who never fail to teach us what we need to learn, whether we want to learn it or not."
Marcus sits in the beast chamber's observation post, surrounded by monitoring equipment, his war beast Nova curled at his feet.
"Brothers, you've all heard the protocols about pup training. The schedules, the routines, the proper methods for introducing them to void warfare. But let me tell you about Nova here, and the lesson that rewrote half our training doctrine."
Adjusts a purity seal on his armor while checking the auspex readings.
"This was back when I was a fresh handler, full of certainty about proper sleep cycles and activity patterns. Had a new pup - this one right here - who wouldn't rest. Three straight nights of constant pacing. Not just restless movement, but deliberate patterns. Back and forth, always checking the same vectors, growing more agitated by the hour."
Nova lifts her head, cyber-enhanced eyes gleaming in the dim light.
"The other handlers had suggestions, of course. Brother Taurus recommended sedation protocols. Brother Vex was convinced it was a flaw in the genetic modifications. Even the Beast Master was concerned. But something felt wrong about drugging her. Call it handler's intuition, or maybe just stubborn pride."
Taps a readout on the monitoring station.
"Fourth night, I was sitting right here, watching her pace, when the Gellar field monitoring system caught my eye. The readings were perfect - exactly baseline. Too perfect, you might say. That's when it hit me. Nova wasn't being restless - she was responding to something our instruments couldn't detect."
Several battle-brothers lean forward, recognizing the implications.
"I called in one of our Smiths - Brother Arvus, Emperor light his soul - and had him do a deep scan of the Gellar field. Found a micro-fluctuation that even our most sensitive instruments barely registered. The kind of thing that usually precedes a major field failure. Nova had been sensing it for days."
Reaches down to run an armored hand along Nova's flank.
"We adjusted the field generators immediately, probably saved the ship from a major warp incursion. After that? chuckles Well, let's just say our pup training protocols got a significant revision. Now we use their night behavior as an early warning system. Half the war beasts in the fleet are on rotating night watches."
Nova stands and stretches, moving to check the chamber's perimeter.
"The Mechanicus representatives weren't too pleased about having to adjust their precious instruments based on beast behavior. But you can't argue with the results. We haven't had a single unexpected Gellar field failure on any ship with war beast pups in training."
Checks his chronometer.
"Speaking of which... Nova's starting her patrol pattern again. Brother Tevus, would you mind checking the field readings in sector seven? Just to be sure."
Chaplain Darius performs maintenance on his Crozius while his war beast maintains watch. The distinctive scars of Dark Eldar weapons mark his armor.
"You complain about Fenris's battle-howls, brothers? Let me tell you about the opposite concern. This was back when Brother Cassius was still earning his handler's markings. They assigned him a peculiar beast - one the Biologis had nearly marked for rejection."
Several handlers lean forward, recognizing a teaching tale.
"The beast - Specter, we called him - had all the physical markers we look for. Perfect genetic profile, superior cognitive patterns, excellent response to the modifications. But he made no sound. No growls, no hunting calls, not even a whimper. Complete vocal silence. The Biologis claimed it was a flaw in the gene-crafting. Even some of our senior handlers thought he was defective."
Pauses to accept a ritual chalice from a younger brother.
"But Cassius... chuckles Well, you know how stubborn he can be. Spent three months working with the beast. Modified the entire training protocol. Instead of using vocal commands and responses, he developed an entire system of subtle gestures and mental impulses. The Chaplaincy nearly had him up for review - thought he was dabbling in forbidden techniques."
His own war beast growls in remembrance.
"Then came the Dark Eldar raid. You remember it, Brother Corvus - that boarding action on the 'Emperor's Wisdom.' Their shadow-field technology was making a mockery of our standard detection methods. Even the auspex arrays were worse than useless."
Traces a fresh scar on his armor.
"That's when we discovered why Specter was silent. The beast hadn't lost his voice - he'd developed something better. Some kind of psychic hunting sense that required absolute vocal control. Could track those xenos witches right through their shadow fields, without making a sound that could give away his position."
Several battle-brothers nod in grim appreciation.
"You should have seen it. Specter leading a pack of handlers through the ship's corridors, taking down Dark Eldar left and right. They never knew what hit them. No sound, no warning - just death from the shadows. Even their witch-sensors couldn't detect him coming."
Raises his chalice.
"Now Specter trains other beasts in his hunting method. We've got an entire pack of silent hunters. Still unnerves the newer battle-brothers - Emperor knows it took me months to get used to a war beast appearing next to me without a sound. But against certain enemies? That silence is worth more than all the battle-howls in the Chapter."
Drains his chalice.
"Remember that, brothers - sometimes what we perceive as a flaw is actually an advantage we don't yet understand. The Emperor's gifts come in many forms."
Ancient Kalistair's massive form dominates the training chamber, his war-scarred chassis casting long shadows in the incense-heavy air.
"Even now, brothers, even through these augmetic sensors and layers of adamantium, I remember the day Alpha chose his successor. The Beast Master had lined up twelve candidates - veterans all, proven in a hundred fights. Everything was prepared according to protocol, every ritual observed."
His servo-motors whir as he shifts position, the sound mixing with the soft padding of war beast paws in the chamber.
"I was there in my flesh then, overseeing as First Captain. Alpha was my war beast before... brief burst of static before the Ork Warboss's Mega-Kannon necessitated my current form. Fifteen years together, hunting heretics and xenos across a hundred worlds. He'd sired a strong lineage of war beasts, and this was to be his last litter before retirement."
Several of the gathered handlers bow their heads in respect at the mention of the legendary beast.
"The Beast Master had it all arranged. Combat trials, psychic resonance tests, detailed bloodline assessments. Then Alpha... mechanical chuckle Alpha decided to rewrite the program. Ignored every candidate, walked straight through the training cages like they didn't exist."
The war beasts in the chamber grow still, as if listening.
"He headed straight for the observation gallery, where the initiates and younger handlers watched. Straight to a boy who'd barely earned his first service studs. Marcus Valerius. Hadn't even completed basic handler training. The Beast Master moved to intervene - this was completely against protocol, completely unprecedented."
His massive weapon arms shift in what might be amusement.
"But I saw what Alpha saw. That look in the boy's eyes. Not ambition, not pride, not even awe. Just... recognition. Understanding. That perfect balance of humility and determination that marks our finest handlers. Alpha sat down in front of him, laid his head on the boy's knee, and that was that. No ceremony needed."
Ancient cooling systems cycle heavily.
"The Beast Master was furious, of course. Started quoting protocols and procedures. That's when Alpha's eldest pup - the one we'd designated as prime successor - broke formation and joined his sire. Then another. And another. By the day's end, half the litter had chosen handlers from the initiates, protocol be damned."
Turns his massive head to observe the current handlers and their beasts.
"Marcus went on to become one of our finest Beast Masters, and his techniques - developed with Alpha's lineage - form the core of our current training doctrine. The beasts knew better than we did. They always do."
"Remember that, young ones. We can breed them, train them, enhance them with all the technology at our command. But in the end, it's their choice as much as ours. The bond works both ways, as it should."
His weapons power down in a gesture of conclusion.
"Now, I believe some of you have beasts waiting to choose their handlers. Shall we see what wisdom they show today?"
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