The air in the 3rd Company’s fortress complex was heavy with anticipation as the summons echoed through its halls. Daedren was in the forge, fine-tuning one of his squad’s chainswords, when the announcement came, reverberating through the vox-net.
“3rd Company, prepare for immediate deployment. A mission briefing will commence in one hour.”
Daedren set down the blade he was working on, wiping his hands on the thick cloth at his side. His heart quickened, not out of fear but from the realization that this could be his chance. He had spent months training, proving himself in the forges, and honing his skills under the watchful eyes of his brothers and instructors. Now, it seemed, he would finally step into the crucible of battle.
As he entered the arming chamber alongside his squad, he found the others already gathered. The atmosphere buzzed with a mix of curiosity and readiness. Caldon, leaning casually against the wall, glanced at Daedren with a knowing smirk. “Looks like our new brother is about to see what the Pyroclasts are all about.”
Lieutenant Thran strode into the room, his presence commanding immediate attention. His dark, weathered face carried a serious expression, though his tone was steady and calm.
“Brothers, we’ve received a distress call from an imperial outpost on one of Nocturne’s neighboring system. The details are sparse. The message indicated that a small contingent of Chaos cultists has infiltrated the area. Their numbers and intent are unknown. This mission has been assigned to us, and it will be an opportunity to both purge heresy and temper our newest brother.”
Thran’s gaze settled briefly on Daedren before continuing. “Make no mistake: while the threat may not appear great, Chaos is insidious. Even the smallest taint can fester into something much worse. We will strike swiftly and decisively. The outpost must be cleansed, and its people spared from corruption.”
The words hung in the air for a moment before Thran continued. “We leave within the hour. Prepare your gear and ready your minds.”
The squad moved with practiced efficiency, each brother heading to their designated stations to don their armor and weapons. Daedren followed suit, his movements purposeful as he approached the arming racks. This would be the first time his armor and weapons would be tested in true combat. The thought both excited and sobered him.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
As he donned his black-and-green plate, he felt the familiar weight settle over his shoulders. Every piece of armor he secured reminded him of the countless hours he had spent forging, shaping, and perfecting it. The symbol of his father’s forge on his pauldron seemed to glow faintly in the dim light of the chamber, a silent testament to the legacy he carried.
His shields, resting on the wall nearby, caught the attention of his brothers as he strapped them into place.
“You really plan on taking both of those?” Caldon asked, nodding toward the massive twin shields now slung across Daedren’s back.
“They were forged to be used,” Daedren replied simply, his tone resolute. “They’re as much a part of me as the rest of my armor.”
Caldon chuckled, a glint of respect in his eyes. “Fair enough. Just don’t let us catch you hiding behind them the whole time.”
The remark drew a few laughs from the squad, but the mood quickly shifted back to seriousness as they finished their preparations.
Thran returned, now fully clad in his own armor. His power sword gleamed faintly at his side, and his bolt pistol rested on his hip. “Gather, brothers. The details of the mission are as follows.”
The squad formed a tight circle around the lieutenant as he activated the holo-projector in the center of the chamber. A shimmering image of the outpost appeared, displaying its layout and surrounding terrain. The area was sparse, with the outpost itself consisting of a handful of fortified structures and a landing pad. Beyond the perimeter, rocky outcroppings and jagged cliffs provided natural cover for potential attackers.
“Our mission is straightforward,” Thran began, pointing to the outpost. “The distress call gave limited information. It stated that Chaos cultists have infiltrated the outer perimeter and possibly compromised key areas. We do not know their numbers, their leader, or their intent. This lack of information makes speed and precision critical.”
Thran’s gaze shifted to Daedren. “You will be part of Squad B. Your shields and close-quarters capabilities will be critical for breaching. Stay close to Caldon and take his lead. This is your chance to prove yourself.”
Daedren nodded, his jaw set. “Understood, sir.”
“Good,” Thran replied. “Time is short. Ensure your weapons are ready and your minds are clear. Chaos preys on doubt and fear. There is no place for either among Vulkan’s sons.”
The lieutenant’s words resonated deeply with Daedren. He had spent so much time preparing for this moment, forging his weapons and armor, honing his skills, and learning the ways of the Salamanders. Now, he would finally put it all to the test.
As the briefing concluded, the squad moved toward the hangar where their drop ship awaited. The cavernous space echoed with the sounds of engines warming up and the clatter of armored boots on metal grates. Daedren’s heart pounded in his chest as he approached the ship, its massive form illuminated by the dim light of the hangar. This was it, his first step into the fires of battle.
Before boarding, Daedren took a moment to look around, taking in the sights and sounds of the hangar. He thought of the forge where he had spent so many hours, the instructors who had guided him, and the brothers who had become his family. As he stepped onto the drop ship, he felt a sense of purpose settle over him.
Which Path?