"Battle-brother, you have stoked these forges for days without end. What lingers on your mind?" Pantaleon Hyginus, proud Chaplain of the Telchines Chapter, is doing his rounds, checking the spiritual and mental well being of his fellow battle-brothers. They had recently dealt with a warp intrusion, so the seeds of heresy could have been sown among their ranks Though their chapter dedicate themselves to metallurgy and forging in their spare time, it is rare for a single brother to be spending so much time alone at the great furnaces in their fortress monastery. Wearily, the Space Marine ceases to stoke the fires and turns to face Pantaleon.
'Doubts weigh on my mind, Chaplain. I had hoped the forge would help me find the answers I have been asking. It has not.'
'Then share your burden, brother.' The embittered marine looks deeply into the now dying flames of the forge before responding.
"Emperor damn it, Chaplain. We are supposed to be the righteous fist of the Imperium We are supposed to be the ones who stand against the darkness and not falter where lesser men would. But… It is difficult sometimes. We're still just human. I… don't know if I can hold against what the future holds.' It isn't often that the Chaplain sees a Space Marine, of all people, lose hope.
'On our last deployment, there was a gigantic warp rift. It was kind of like a black hole, gradually sucking the area around it into itself. Unspeakable horrors pouring out of it too. I am not unfamiliar with them, but this time was… different. Things more terrible than anything I have witnessed before… I could see them squirming in the bowels of that rift. They sang the foulest hymns, daring to draw me closer. One of them was even trying to emerge before we closed the rift. In those depths, I saw despair in physical form. How can we ever hope to triumph over that?' Such listlessness and brooding could only lead him down a deadly path. This isn't outright heresy the marine is expressing. It is merely cynicism and hopelessness. However, Chaos readily welcomes the broken into its fold, only to turn them into slaves or gibbering mad men. It would not be long before this marine will falter. The Chaplain rests his Crozius against a steel-plated wall and walks up to the marine, looking him dead in the eye.
'Yes, we are human. It is our humanity that is our greatest strength in this endless war we wage. The Emperor himself forged us so that we may be his righteous weapon against Chaos and the xenos who would see mankind destroyed. If he wanted us to be mere killing machines, he would have just made us servitors. In his wisdom, he left you with your humanity because it is the single most precious asset we have. It's not a burden. It's a gift.' As the Chaplain continues to speak, some of the gloom lifts from the weary eyes of the marine.
'Do not let doubt creep into your mind even once. We undid that Warp Rift. We drove the foul daemons back. WE triumphed, where Chaos faltered. Those who have turned away from the Emperor's light… Tell me, what have they lost?' The marine pauses for a moment as he ponders the answer.
'Their humanity.'
'Exactly. There is strength in humanity my brother. A strength which our enemies can never hope to match.'
'Thank you, Chaplain. I cannot lose hope. If I do, that's when our enemies will win.' Satisfied with his work, Pantaleon picks hip his Crozius.
'The Emperor protects.' He merely says as he walks out of the Forge. He plans to keep a close eye on that marine. If he falls, then it will be Pantaleon's solemn duty to purge him.