Post by thatguyjames on Dec 10, 2007 10:53:33 GMT -5
Chapter 1
Sitting on a bench, soaked in sweat, Daniel hung his head low, trying his very best to breathe.
His arms sitting limply upon his knees, Daniel looked down at the slab of metal he had been wielding for the past hour. It was a simple rectangle, just under 3 feet long, with a basket hilt and a single handed grip. On the flat side was the inscription "Imperial Broad Sword: Mark VII Class D Powered Weapon".
Daniel laughed at the description. He had held a broadsword before and knew it wasn't nearly as heavy as the monstrous contraption that sat before him. This thing had to weigh almost fifteen pounds, yet in the combat simulator he had to swing it as though it weighed a more appropriate 2 to 3. His arms were on fire.
Though only nineteen, Daniel had grown quickly since his days with Michael and the revolution that had happened that dark and cold night. His once lanky frame was now beginning to closer resemble that of his predecessor. Standing at six foot five, with two hundred fifty pounds of muscle and bone, Daniel was a fearsome opponent.
And he still hadn't been able to progress past the first level of the combat simulator.
The machine in question sat peacefully in the middle of the training chamber. For it's age, it was a remarkably elegant device. A wireless suit that fit over the body and head, immersing the user in the middle of a chaotic battlefield.
The Manual Mechanicus had stated there to be over 100 levels of increasing intensity. The first level was supposed to be of introductory difficulty. Apparently, going man to man against a chaos space marine was the easiest thing a Templar was expected to do.
The walls of the chamber were adorned with crests and prayer papers, the Templar cross everywhere. A large golden eagle sat above the doorway leading to the main chamber of the armory. Daniel looked at the eagle, hand crafted and installed.
"Michael, how many decades did you hide here?"
As if to answer somehow, the door slid open silently as a figure approached. Daniel sat up slowly, dragging his training sword up with him. It was only fifteen pounds, but after the last hour it felt like hundreds. Daniel handed the sword to the servitor that awaited his command.
"Return and cleanse."
Wordlessly, the humanoid robot bowed and exited the room. Daniel watched him leave, seeing others like him in the armory. There were more than enough servitors left over from the past crusade to tend to the old relics. This left Daniel free to concentrate on his development as a warrior.
He walked down the rows of armor, standing in silent vigilance. they had been stripped of their past achievements, as had the warriors who had previously worn them. Fully restored and ready, they stood row upon row of purest black, waiting patiently for their new masters. Daniel looked into the dark recesses of the helmet lenses, as if waiting for the suits to speak to him.
Five years.
For five years Daniel had labored alone in the basement of the cabin. There was so much to learn, so many pages in the book bound in steel. That he had made any progress at all seemed a miracle to the boy who walked the halls of armor.
Evenings were spent giving advise and council to those who sought it. Even after five years, the majority of the population still looked at Daniel as special, somehow capable of solving their problems. Daniel received all manner of men and women, all with different struggles. He gave them the best advice he could, but he often felt as though he was wasting their time.
After a shower and a change of clothes, Daniel climbed the stairs back up to the main cabin. Even an act as simple as stairs made his legs burn, a painful reminder of the punishing workout he had endured during that day.
Though he was used to the sensation of physical fatigue, it was the constant failure against the chaos marine that clouded his mind with anger and frustration. How many times had they dueled now? It had to be thousands.
Entering the cabin, Daniel nodded to a man and a woman who sat awaiting his presence. Next to the door on permanent watch stood a gun servitor. Too many overly curious guests had forced Daniel to place the armed guard at the only entrance to the armory. The presence of the massive heavy bolter was more than enough to deter even the most inquisitive individual.
Daniel thought to himself "What am I doing here? This is no place for the Black Templars to reside. The only thing between these people and me is a robot with a gun." Sitting down in Michael's old chair, Daniel still felt too small to call it his own.
"Well, what can I do for you?"
It turned out the man and the woman were farmers living on the outskirts of the new Imperial capitol. They were having trouble raising crops that year and were in desperate need of help.
Daniel listened patiently. He had no idea what to do for the farmers. He told them he would pray for their success and advised them to do the same. Though the woman seemed happy enough with the response, the man stood and began to yell at Daniel.
"Pray? That's all we do is pray! We need real help here!"
Daniel stood immediately, towering over the farmer.
"You want real help? Go home and work your fields. The Emperor rewards those who work for his glory. Next time you need help, don't waste six days journey to come see me about your problems."
The man was red with anger, but Daniel was twice his size. He grabbed his wife by the hand, dragging her out of the cabin. Though Daniel felt better now that he had blown off some steam, he was struck by the look in the woman's eyes. She looked hurt, betrayed. Just before they left, she managed to choke out: "I saved for three years to make the journey to see you."
Daniel stood, dumbstruck.
The door slammed shut, and again he was alone.
Sitting down in his chair, Daniel held his head in his hands. Pulling his fingers back over his shaved scalp, he shook his head slowly.
"I can't keep doing this."
The cabin was quiet, the fireplace now just a deep red glow. The wind howled outside, a constant reminder to Daniel of the couple he had just let down. He felt confused, angry, and above all tired. For five years he had been attempting to start a military organization from scratch and for five years he had failed.
Sitting on a bench, soaked in sweat, Daniel hung his head low, trying his very best to breathe.
His arms sitting limply upon his knees, Daniel looked down at the slab of metal he had been wielding for the past hour. It was a simple rectangle, just under 3 feet long, with a basket hilt and a single handed grip. On the flat side was the inscription "Imperial Broad Sword: Mark VII Class D Powered Weapon".
Daniel laughed at the description. He had held a broadsword before and knew it wasn't nearly as heavy as the monstrous contraption that sat before him. This thing had to weigh almost fifteen pounds, yet in the combat simulator he had to swing it as though it weighed a more appropriate 2 to 3. His arms were on fire.
Though only nineteen, Daniel had grown quickly since his days with Michael and the revolution that had happened that dark and cold night. His once lanky frame was now beginning to closer resemble that of his predecessor. Standing at six foot five, with two hundred fifty pounds of muscle and bone, Daniel was a fearsome opponent.
And he still hadn't been able to progress past the first level of the combat simulator.
The machine in question sat peacefully in the middle of the training chamber. For it's age, it was a remarkably elegant device. A wireless suit that fit over the body and head, immersing the user in the middle of a chaotic battlefield.
The Manual Mechanicus had stated there to be over 100 levels of increasing intensity. The first level was supposed to be of introductory difficulty. Apparently, going man to man against a chaos space marine was the easiest thing a Templar was expected to do.
The walls of the chamber were adorned with crests and prayer papers, the Templar cross everywhere. A large golden eagle sat above the doorway leading to the main chamber of the armory. Daniel looked at the eagle, hand crafted and installed.
"Michael, how many decades did you hide here?"
As if to answer somehow, the door slid open silently as a figure approached. Daniel sat up slowly, dragging his training sword up with him. It was only fifteen pounds, but after the last hour it felt like hundreds. Daniel handed the sword to the servitor that awaited his command.
"Return and cleanse."
Wordlessly, the humanoid robot bowed and exited the room. Daniel watched him leave, seeing others like him in the armory. There were more than enough servitors left over from the past crusade to tend to the old relics. This left Daniel free to concentrate on his development as a warrior.
He walked down the rows of armor, standing in silent vigilance. they had been stripped of their past achievements, as had the warriors who had previously worn them. Fully restored and ready, they stood row upon row of purest black, waiting patiently for their new masters. Daniel looked into the dark recesses of the helmet lenses, as if waiting for the suits to speak to him.
Five years.
For five years Daniel had labored alone in the basement of the cabin. There was so much to learn, so many pages in the book bound in steel. That he had made any progress at all seemed a miracle to the boy who walked the halls of armor.
Evenings were spent giving advise and council to those who sought it. Even after five years, the majority of the population still looked at Daniel as special, somehow capable of solving their problems. Daniel received all manner of men and women, all with different struggles. He gave them the best advice he could, but he often felt as though he was wasting their time.
After a shower and a change of clothes, Daniel climbed the stairs back up to the main cabin. Even an act as simple as stairs made his legs burn, a painful reminder of the punishing workout he had endured during that day.
Though he was used to the sensation of physical fatigue, it was the constant failure against the chaos marine that clouded his mind with anger and frustration. How many times had they dueled now? It had to be thousands.
Entering the cabin, Daniel nodded to a man and a woman who sat awaiting his presence. Next to the door on permanent watch stood a gun servitor. Too many overly curious guests had forced Daniel to place the armed guard at the only entrance to the armory. The presence of the massive heavy bolter was more than enough to deter even the most inquisitive individual.
Daniel thought to himself "What am I doing here? This is no place for the Black Templars to reside. The only thing between these people and me is a robot with a gun." Sitting down in Michael's old chair, Daniel still felt too small to call it his own.
"Well, what can I do for you?"
It turned out the man and the woman were farmers living on the outskirts of the new Imperial capitol. They were having trouble raising crops that year and were in desperate need of help.
Daniel listened patiently. He had no idea what to do for the farmers. He told them he would pray for their success and advised them to do the same. Though the woman seemed happy enough with the response, the man stood and began to yell at Daniel.
"Pray? That's all we do is pray! We need real help here!"
Daniel stood immediately, towering over the farmer.
"You want real help? Go home and work your fields. The Emperor rewards those who work for his glory. Next time you need help, don't waste six days journey to come see me about your problems."
The man was red with anger, but Daniel was twice his size. He grabbed his wife by the hand, dragging her out of the cabin. Though Daniel felt better now that he had blown off some steam, he was struck by the look in the woman's eyes. She looked hurt, betrayed. Just before they left, she managed to choke out: "I saved for three years to make the journey to see you."
Daniel stood, dumbstruck.
The door slammed shut, and again he was alone.
Sitting down in his chair, Daniel held his head in his hands. Pulling his fingers back over his shaved scalp, he shook his head slowly.
"I can't keep doing this."
The cabin was quiet, the fireplace now just a deep red glow. The wind howled outside, a constant reminder to Daniel of the couple he had just let down. He felt confused, angry, and above all tired. For five years he had been attempting to start a military organization from scratch and for five years he had failed.
