Reflections

This is a quick filler post for that inter Christmas\new year period, where mostly of us just want to relax and enjoy. I wrote this a while back and it doesn't really have an aim of objective, other than to give a very rough overview of the Eagle Knights and there mindset. Hope you enjoy.

He stood on the ridge line, looking down over the fires below and the figures hunched around them. They were slowly growing in number as they woke from there slumber, though there was little noise. As he stood on the ridge looking down he could see without issue, but he knew that he would still be invisible to the invisible to those below. That would change soon, as he could see the first signs of dawn, the sky behind him was starting to lighten and soon the light would frame him, showing him to the soldiers below and once this happened, he knew that the actions of the men would change. Any talk would stop, all actions would cease and they would stand and stare at the warrior on the ridgeline.

They were fools the lot of them, dead men walking. He would stand and watch as they would make their signs and kneel in prayer or some kind of respect, as if he needed their respect. He could feel the anger rising in him, he could feel his fists tightening, could feel the rage building in his hearts.

"Your shaking, maybe that pack is getting to heavy for you old man"

The voice shook him, he had not heard the other approach. He was about to chastise himself when he recognized the voice and let himself relax. It was not really a surprise he hadn't heard anything, not that that stopped him being brusk in his reply.

"At least I can still carry one"

The second man stood just as still as the first, looking down on the encamped guardsmen, going about their morning routine as the sun rose behind the two orange clad champions of the Eagle Knights Space Marine chapter. Some of the guardsmen were starting to look to the ridgeline, just being able to make out two figure in the morning mist, not quite knowing yet whom or what the figure were, but that would change soon enough.

"You sound angry, battle is not yet joined and won't be for a few hours yet brother. Maybe you need to reflex somewhere else?" Brother Champion Raphael was not a tall astarties, nor was he broad. He was average in almost every way, at least average for an astarties anyway. It was not his strength or his sngththat made him a champion but his sheer ability with shield and sword. He was the best swordsman in the company, he was probably the best man with an axe and maul as well and many believed he could easily be chapter champion, if he ever chose to challenge for the position.

Brother Champion Furian on the other hand was not skilled with blade, axe or maul, no his abilities laid in other areas, namely the ability to completely overwhelm an opponent through relentless overpowering attacks, relying on his relentless attacks to deny the opponent any chance to counter. Against many opponents this worked, but against truly skilled opponent, such as brother champion Raphael, it was all but useless and this was the main source of conflict between the two champions.

The Champions were silent for a long moment, standing immobile as they looked down on the camp below. Their presence had been noted now and they could see numerous guardsmen kneeling, others making the sign of the Aquila, others still just standing and staring up at the two figures. The dawn was truly here now and the sun itself was starting to crest the horizon, giving the two an even more imposing stature. Furian was the first to break the long silence, he tone was dark and angry.

"Look at the fools, if they put as much time in to their weapons and training as they spend on their knees they might actually live long enough to be useful."

"Brother, you are always so quick to judge. Remember, we are few and they are many, its not everyday that they wake to the sight of a battle brother, let alone two! We are the Emperors Angels, harbingers of death. It is their lot in life to die for the Emperor, it is ours to ensure their deaths are not wasted. Allow them their moments of worship, for it is those moments that will carry them in to battle and on to the enemy."

"Sometimes I think your as deluded as they are. Their duty to the Emperor should be enough to carry them to the enemy and if its not then I would happily kill them myself. Only the weak need to delude themselves with talk of religion."

"They are but men, they are not astarties like us. They are not forged in the fires of battle. That is why we exist. If they need to worship us, then I will not stop them, if duty is enough to carry them alone, then it will but remember, without them we cannot hope to win this war, for we are few and they are many, and even we need help occasionally"

Furian did not reply straight away, his attention was caught by two things. The first was the black clad man, the second was a half naked soldier.

The black clad man, a commissar he guessed, both from the dress and the reaction of the men around him. There was fear in the mens movements, all averted their eyes and threw themselves in to whatever task they were doing with renewed vigor. It was clear that the men despised  the black clad man, it made Furian chuckle, well, if duty wasn't enough to motivate a man, nothing worked better than fear. It was another thing that Furian despised about guardsmen, that a commissar should be necessary. That they could be that weak willed still astounded him, even after all these centuries.

It was not the commissar that interested him most though, it was the half naked soldier. Naked from the waist up, a sword strapped to his back and a bolter slung at his side, this guardsman did not look like any of the others. He strode through the encampment of guardsmen, all dressed in their cadian pattern uniforms and with their cadian pattern rifle, like a man walking amongst children. It brought a dry smile to Furian's face, it was most likely how it looked when he went down to see the latest bunch of initiates. This man was obviously a veteran and most likely a sergeant or even a platoon commander with the sword on his back. He strode with confidence and arrogance, he looked up at the champions but showed no signs of awe, if anything he looked bored by the spectical. The men around him seemed to be equally in awe of him and fearful, not in the same way as the commissar, more like they did not want to upset or dissapoint the man.

"They are Hrossey Yeomanry troops I believe and that I would guess would be a Hjaltland Infantry man, a commander by his weapons."

It did not surprise Furian that Raphael had all but read his mind, for despite the animosity between the two, the had fought together for many many years, across more battlefields than he could remember, from when they were new and young battle brothers, experiencing their first taste of combat as fully fledged marines.

Furian would have thought longer on the subject, but the vox chimed in his ear, the company master had called a meeting and he was being summoned to attend. With one last look at the encampment and the guardsmen below, Furian turned and activated his pack. Let them see and hear, let them witness the true power of a marine he thought as he arched high into the sky.

Raphael had hear the same vox chime and turned away to, laughing to himself at the childish need for Furian to show off.

Below many of the guardsmen looked up is awe and astonishment, many praising the Emperor, one guardsmen however stood in the mist of everyone, sword strapped at his back and bolter slung at his side and watch as the astarte lept in to the sky and mutter just one word;

"Wanker"