OOC: This is a Roleplaying thread I will be starting, as of right now it stands open to any to pickup and join the story. I was there on Mackan Prime, during The Age of Redemption. It was in the Year of Our Lord 811M37 over 6,000 years after the fall of our heavenly Father Sanguinius when I first drew a blade against the enemies of the Imperium. The slaughter of that day burns like liquid fire through my veins as I watched in helpless horror as many a good Brother met his fate that day. I recall the day was darkly overcast, and many an ill omen was witnessed during mission preparations by Brother Reclusiarch Thalastian Jorus who was preparing his Death Company for ops. "They call it a Black Crusade, the 7th I believe. However I would not concern you with such things Brother Lestaro, for the Grand Angel watches vigilantly over us all. The Black Legion has become predictable, and their trickery and fiendish nature cannot best Astartes steel and will” rumbled Chaplain Jorus. Now as then I was anxious to prove those words true, and during the battle I would find the chill in my bones wreathed in wrathful flame. Until then I stood Infused with incinerating desire to lay judgment upon foes of lethal quality and equal measure for a brief moment, then departed for the assembly area as I had been ordered. I strode forth unto the black twisted iron gates entwined with rose blooms the color of blood, and was greeted by famed Brother Caligula, a true Cruor Angelus of the Old Ways. He was a tall, handsome Brother of antiquated ways. His styling baroque and very much anachronistic, he wore Mk IV Imperial Maximus and wielded “Excrucius” a golden skull winged chain axe said to cause gaping painful wounds. I approached the legendary throw back, and as was customary among his kind he saluted me before I could act. The show of respect to one such as me, untested as I was at the time, was every bit as Knightly as I had ever witnessed. “How fare thee Adherent? I understand you to be anxious for the battle to come.” I was but I would not let it show, not that day to be sure, 273 years have passed since that day. I now take the lessons of that day and apply them to the current mission. A mission no less dangerous than that ill fated day on which my whole squad perished aside from me. These fleeting moments I relive every time I don my armor, and fire my sacred Bolter.