He had no Name. He had no Form. All he knew was Pain.
It was his universe, piercing him in every way and destroying what little control he had. He wanted to scream, and yet he had no voice. He wanted to strike out, and yet he had no form. He was nothing, lost in a sea of agony and despair. Every time he came close to establishing some sense of order, a bastion upon which he could save himself from the pain, it changed. It always changed, and it always became worse.
He had no Name. He had no Form. He knew nothing but Despair.
Each second seemed to rush by him all at once, and at the same time dragged on forever. His only measurement of time was the changing of his torment. Voices called out to him from the darkness that engulfed him, laughing at his pain and promising him release if he would simply accept them. For the briefest moment he was tempted to accept, standing on the platform of order and peace they made in the universe he existed within. It would only ever be for a moment, before he threw himself from this platform back into the endless abyss of agony.
He had no Name. He had no Form. He would not Succumb.
A light appeared in the void of darkness, a beacon that drew him in. Without thought he cast himself towards it, the pain slowly fading the closer he came to it. A body began to take shape as he drew nearer, forming around the essence that was himself. The memories of a name, a being, a life other than the endless agony began to fill the body. Finally he came to a rest before the light, his body wreathed in late that cast back the shadows that even now clawed for him, begging him to return and cast away all that he was. He ignored them all, stepping into the light and into the world beyond.
He had a Name. He had a Form. He knew nothing but Regret.
He slowly opened his eyes, his advanced body quickly adjusting to the dim light that filled the small room. Few things decorated the room, with only a single banner occupying the wall opposite the door to the chamber. Placed just above the slap of metal that served as his bed was a a banner, with the Imperium of Man's Aquila dominating the center, with the talons of the bird each holding a blacksmiths hammer. He bowed his head to the banner as he slowly pushed himself to his feet from his kneeling position, reaching up to his head to remove the shroud that clung to him. He placed it reverently on the bed beneath the banner before turning away.
Naked he walked across the length of the room, grabbing a dark green robe that he draped around him. It felt cold against his form as he stepped away, walking towards the door of the chamber. He thumbed the console on the side of the door, the large metal slab disappearing into the wall to reveal and equally dimly light hallway. Two figures were just outside the door, kneeling on either side of it with large hoods drawn up to obscure all their features. At the sound of the door opening, they quickly rose to their feet, turning to bow to the figure before them.
The one on his left, the smaller of the two spoke first, a feminine voice coming from the hood. "My Lord, we apologize for the disturbance. We have received word that we have arrived in the star system ahead of schedule. Captain Ellanor requests your presence on the bridge at your early convenience." He nodded his head at the woman's words, looking past them as his mind continued to recuperate from the torment it had just suffered. Finally he nodded once more, mostly to himself as he looked down at the two figures.
"Go to the armory and prepare my armor. I shall arrive shortly." The two figures bowed once more to him, before turning and hurrying off down the corridor, soon disappearing around the corner. Stepping out into the corridor himself, he took a moment to glance back at the shroud on his bed, his eyes narrowing slightly as the echoes of pain and laughter filled his head. He was tempted for a moment to walk back to it and don the shroud once again, but a sudden vibration beneath his feet brought him back to his sense.
All at once his reality locked into place, his mind clearing and the gates of his mind thrown shut. He set off down the corridor, the hesitation in his stride lost and replaced by confident, proud steps. The few other beings he passed on his journey all bowed and stepped out of his way, as he never once broke stride to move out of their way. All showed him the respect and awe that his position heralded. For he was a Space Marine, one of the Angels of War created by the Emperor of Mankind to shield his realm from the dangerous that lurked both within and outside the Imperium of Man's borders. He was death incarnate, a weapon given form, and a herald of death for all those who dared threaten humanity.
His was Ashand Camael, Captain of the Third Company of the Brazen Crusaders Space Marine Chapter. He was a son of Vulkan, a shield of the innocent and protector of those that could not protect themselves. He was the butcher of the corrupt and the savior of the innocent. He was the destroyer of a hundred worlds and the protector of a thousand. The blood of humanity and countless xenos stained his hands.
He was a Space Marine, and he would know no fear.
Hello everyone, ArisenMoon here. This little chapter here serves as the entry of a new story I have been working on for a while, and hope that you all will enjoy. If you would like please leave a review of what you thought, and any suggestions or questions you might have, and I will do my best to answer them.