@Casavay @Jammysod @TuskatheDaemonKilla @Taec @High_Adept_Zeth @BlackNecron @Vulpas @bossaroo They shall be my Finest Warriors The many weeks of searching had finally come to an end, many children and young volunteers having been gathered. The Adeptus Astartes had taken those deemed compatible, many worlds having heartfelt goodbyes with families as the Knights of the Stars took young men from the wilds, as mighty Space Marines were given their tithe amongst the Nobility of Civilised worlds, as they searched through Hive Worlds for those hardened and worthy of the mantle. Those weeks were isolated and unnerving, the neophytes that were taken all waiting quietly upon the mighty Gothic ships in the Stars. Many in fact, not knowing at all that they were not the only one until the beginning days of their Initiation; much hypno-therapy and indoctrination sealing these boys' loyalty as they were transformed not into Men, but into Astartes. These Men who have given of themselves unto me The surgeries taken upon them were long and difficult processes, with not a drop of anesthetics to dull the agony that was placed upon them. Organs slowly planted one by one, attached through synthetic tissue and given chemical treatments. The screams of echoed through the rooms every phase, the weak young men being carried to their bland, identical and empty rooms each time. A quick wipe and wash of the tools and surgical table, before the next one was brought in. In Great Armour, I shall clad them Through the years, they were taught of the equipment that they shall learn to use, and how to maintain. Of course, such things were kept minimal as the Neophytes learned on how the Power Armour was maintained; while not something they shall wear, they were to still be taught of its functions. Many then went on to learn of the Holy Armour that they may on day learn to pilot, ranging from the driving of a simple Rhino, up to the insides of a beloved Land Raider or the ancient Thunderhawk, down again to the fast Land Speeders and bikes. All the while, since the beginning of such initiations and surgeries, the Neophytes gained large feasts - all with growth hormones within to help turn them to more than what any mortal could see as possible. and with Mighty Weapons they shall be armed Next came the topic of weapons - as the surgeries continued, more of their Gene-seed being implanted into the young men, they were taught of the Holy weapons that they were to use to destroy the enemy - ranging from the Chainsword and how to maintain it, to the shotguns that they may choose from at the beginning of their career, to the Holy Boltgun and the litanies required through its maintenance. Many other weapons were spoken of as well, such as the righteous Flamer or the howling Meltagun - though the more temperamental of weapons such as the ancient and rarely understood Plasma, were left untouched - many learning quickly that it was a weapon that only the experienced and brave, shall use. They shall have such tactics, strategies, and machines that no foe can best them in battle The Neophytes were then soon taught combat styles, whether working as pairs in a firefight or the close combat necessities that shall haunt them should they be caught unawares by a foul Greenskin, the young Astartes were once more brought closer to the guardians of the Imperium that they are destined to be. Many learning of the Xenos that shall haunt them ranging from the Orks - and the warnings of never underestimating such brutes - to the Eldar and their traitorous scheming ways, to the Tyranids and the risks of fighting such gargantuan hordes without proper planning. They are my Bulwark against Terror The powers of Chaos were also taught to them; and while not in detail, these neophytes were taught of the Traitors, and told to remember their equipment by heart; for they know now that it was not only their equipment, but that of the Traitor Marines. While the subjects of the Dark Gods themselves - and the mutated daemonspawn that they create, and anything more detailed - was not taught, the men knew that there was such things that they must learn by themselves, through the thick of battle. Or things that should never be known. They are the Defenders of Humanity Many times the neophytes were brought out within their Carapace armour and brought upon patrols within the cities they are to protect; the Fortress-Monastery that they reside within a part of a gargantuan mountain. Its holy statues that held its ancestors, the Dark Angels, in gleaming heroic poses with their blades in hand, standing guard as the true Space Marines did at their feet. They were taught of the Imperium as a whole and its occupants. The Astra Militarum, the Imperial Navy; these were the things one should know, for the recruits would perhaps, realistically, only one in a hundred be worthy and claim any position of power within the Chapter, but they should know these things for the sake of knowing their burden. These young men were chosen to protect the Imperium, and many would die doing so; as was their duty. They are to safeguard its citizens, fight alongside its Guardsmen, and battle within its Navy. Their walks through the city streets had taught them much without saying anything; merely the stares of the men and women was enough to show how alienated they were, how in awe the average citizen is; such large, heroic men that set their life on the line on a daily basis for them. To see how children looked to them as heroes, how some men feared them for their scale, how some women were shocked to see how 'human' they were - to see the PDF's faces shining a bit brighter knowing they were not alone in the planet's defense. These are my Space Marines The final surgery to place the Black Carapace was upon them now at the end of their training as neophytes. As the black, plastic-like gene-seed was placed under their skin and its purpose was taught - to truly bind them into being one with their holy Powered Armour, once they earned it - the agony coursing through their nerves, the men were chosen into squads. Of the four hundred and sixty three that had been chosen, just under half had survived and proven their worth. The likes of Barnabus, Caelius, Andariel, Garius, Mithras, Sammuel Kyrris and Harris would perhaps never be seen by the galaxy; and it was their chance now to prove whether that is for the better, or the worse. And They Shall Know No Fear The following day after the surgeries, the eight neophytes were given a shared room. It wasn't much - ten beds, each with their own small desk and empty chest at the foot of the beds. Many could generally presume that it was now early morning as it always was; and even if they did not wish it, despite the pains of the surgery, they would have to get up soon enough and come to another meeting or training exercise. BANG, BANG BANG BANG A heavy knock at the thick door was heard, and in came one of the Astartes; judging from his flowing beige robes, the gleaming power sword maglocked to his belt and the combi-weapon behind his back, it was safe to presume that this was the 'Sergeant' they were ordered to wait for. Sergeant Adrian His face looked quite unique, if anything, compared to most other Astartes - a lighter skin than most with a heavy amount of burns over the left side of his jawline and a mangled scar that came across his forehead and the bridge of his nose. His straight, coal-black hair ran down to his shoulders. The left pauldron was far more stylized, having instead of the 'Heralds of Perdition' insignia of a flaming glass with blades sticking through it, having the head of an eagle masterfully crafted into it. In his hand he held his helmet that looked surprisingly akin to that of the relic MK III 'Iron' Armour. "Greetings Third Squad, I am your sergeant. Sergeant Adrian Victus. How's your shooting arms? Because you're already going to go on a mission, 'n you were chosen to be on the third wave. If there's any questions from you children, now's the time."