Interpreter

  This grim chapter functions as a reflection on my deeds, meant to carve the way towards the design of the Golden plan.

  The objective was to retrieve a Titan banner at the haven of worms on the blue moons of Gunderhen.

  Our vessel had found a connection to the outpath enabling void-traversal. During this, I had ample time to ready up my armor and weapons and confer with my battle-brothers. I sat next to my bunkbed to softly cite the Psalms of Woe, in an attempt to imbue luck in battle. Afterwards, I set out towards the canteen.

  As I walked out of my little bunk, various Marines stood against the dark railing discussing old tales or mourning lost comrades. Hearing the stories did not make me weep, it strengthened my resolve and willingness of sacrifice. In death, men serve. With this in mind, I entered the canteen.

  'Brother Penthor, come sit with us' the low humming voice modulator of Belmin tusk, my squad mate, bellowed.

  He and another squad sat at a table which was a blend of old oak and dark iron. Guns, candles, tomes and tankards were set on it like midgame chess pieces.

  As I moved towards them I had to manoeuvre myself slightly around Isabella, the bar maid whose auburn eyes lingered in trust and admiration. My passions for her were not allowed to reign. War had made me an utterly dull man, mostly because I was afraid of loss after what had happened to my friends and loved ones... devoured by the hypermites of Ishtar...

  I nodded slowly at her, honoring her role in the affairs of serving soldiers in times of war. She too,gave a small nod as she attended to her thirsty clients. One particular bald,bearded and grim client appeared irate and somewhat provoking towards the lady.

  'Trouble?' I asked.

  'None, sir. He is a Chron-wolf, 'They're....different from the other battalions I serve' she added.

  The bald man with a long blond beard adorned with skulls looked at me from the dark nook from where he sat alone.His piercing blue eyes begged for conflict. I remained standing still and met his eyes as well.

  'Brother, pay no heed to that Chron-wolf, come sit with us' Belmin said from a distant table.

  'Go on whelp. Feast on your drinks' the Chron-wolf said. I decided to let the matter rest and moved onward to my comrades.

  My battle-brothers already had their helmets on except for Arath, who raised three fingers at the bar maid, indicating a round of drinks. He stood from the table to embrace my outstretched arm. I answered it with firm honor.

  'It is good to see you Penthor' He said.

  '-please, take a seat. It will take many hours before we depart.'

  A loud clunk could be heard as our power armors were positioned at the table. I had sat myself next to Brimm, who mumbled a greeting. Across from me sat Belmin Tusk next to Arath. Isabella came up with three tankards revealing a frothy foam from the top.

  'This one is for you Isa, would you join us, Take a small rest perhaps?' Arath suggested. He always was great towards women due to his upbeat and openness. It made them feel at ease and had a way of striking conversation.

  She rolled her eyes and motioned Brimm and me to scoot.

  'I'm exhausted to be fair. Plus I'd like to know the state of the war. What is it that we are doing?' She asked.

  Brimm and Arath went back and forth in their retelling of events. Some recent,others ancient.

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  'We have plenty of time to inform you dear. This hypermite war has always been a menace even in the Jaded Millennium. Back then, engines of war sought justice for some long lost empire. Such archaic thought had not withstood the might of the locusts and the mirror realms of demons. All that is left of that era, are the relics of armor, banners and tomes.'

  -' It is said that such a banner is to be found on Titangar, meant to imbue a valewide gain of a Marine's constitution '

  They continued filling her in on the horrors that loomed through the void of space. Her neck tensed at the mention of the hypermites which had invaded the core machinations of the Gunderhen moons.

  'Brother Penthor' the maid adressed me.

  '-You've been rather quiet on the affair. Anything nearing levity that you might report on?

  'Perhaps him and his other grapes can share tales of soap and bathhouses while you do some work and pour me another drink lass.' The Chron-wolf from the back taunted.

  I stood from the table and motioned towards the Chron-wolf. He too got up and was a head taller than I, meaning I had too target his ribs and rush towards him. A big smile came from the space viking.

  'Do I smell chronax-gene within your grey eyes whelp?' The brute asked.

  'Do not address my blood,cur' I replied as I grabbed a sword next to my table.

  'Ah, you wish to enter a melee.' The Chron-wolf said as he lifted up a mighty mace. A relief depicting gothic wyrms and various trinkets added to the might of his weapon.

  'It would appear so' I said with a slow nod.

  'Ready up brothers!!!' We heard from the back.

  The cackling and scent of petrichor indicated various melee power weapons powering upon behind me. Through clouds of incense I could see blue electricity enchanting axes, swords and hammers.

  'Another time Wolf!' The man yelled at me as he disappeared through the brothers readying up for battle.

  We had to get a move on. The barmaid stood aside and gave all the soldiers a nod as she cast her eyes downward. I looked one final moment back at her and our eyes met for a brief spell. If I returned, I'd buy her roses. She had no man, nor did I think she desired one, but she was worth the daintiness of a gentleman, provided such gestures didn't put her off.

  And so we boarded

  And so we descended

  Into the maw

  Whorls of locusts swirled above like waves of demonspawn. One would have difficulty in finding perseverance and courage were it not for the occasional blast of holy torpedo strikes which hailed from the Astral battlebarges. As the small craft landed, me and my small squad had our weapons pointed outward. In training, immediate engagement would be rare,yet here it was reality. While there was a relief that the training didn't have to be memorized, it soon became an absolute hell to not have some ground of reassurance. War, with all its machinery and industriousness, was manufactured chaos.

  The beasts we fought were these insectoid roaming tentacled creatures who had no remorse, no soul. Nothing but a primal goal towards an endless devouring. Seeing their bright yellow innards spurt out was the only cue towards victory. In front of me, two of the insectoids stood with their serrated mandibles ready to strike.

  The storm and dust were rising now. Peals of thunder drowned out the metallic commands of my brothers. The stinging gusts of wind hit the visor of my ceramic helmet like fiery hail.

  Combat had started.

  I fired my gun towards the left hypermite. Yet the winds and sounds of battle had made me overconfident in my aim. The bullets soared through the wild nothingness of the battlefield. The right beast now stood before me and lunged for a bite. From its primal momentum, I was granted predictability in its movements. Thus, I managed to kick it back. The left one shot a fel green acidic spitball of goo on me which sank into my ceramic armor. I could hear the sizzling near my torso, but still appeared protected.

  My power sword was drawn at this stage and I struck my sword in quick motions at the right hypermite, who was still stunned from my kick in its face. I perfectly, nay, naturally succeeded in my slash and managed to deal my damage thrice according to the damage report on the lower left of my cybernetuc peripherals. The right hypermite perished at a damage output of 19 slashing damage. However, this momentous victory was met with a brute charge from the left hypermite. I could feel and hear a loud crack in my armor as I flew backwards and floundered into the dark shore waters. Splashes of cold dark water came over me. It was a challenge getting up and lifting my half-sunk armor. And for a moment, I just couldn't rise to my feet.

  There were no signs of life from my brothers or my squad. Then from behind me a massive iron gauntlet took hold of my arm.

  I was lifted up by no other than the chronax-wolf. As the hupermite neared for another attack, the Chronax wolf spewed flames at the Beast with a heavy tech flamer mounted with a wolf-mouthpiece. I now charged back at the hypermite, succesfully shoving it back. My drenched armor washed most of the flames off of me, but it was the winds that effectively doused the patches of flame on me. Such fate was not granted at the hypermite beast before me.

  Rivulets of burning fluids ran down its stalked legs as the liquid flame soaked into it's befouled spiky fur. It's vicious mandibles closed and snapped and clicked onto emptiness. Withering in the fury of the seating flame I stood before it. I slashed my power sword in an upward arc and cleft through its soft creaking burnt torso hitting it critically once again. My psalms of woe must have been heard. Drops of innards and blood thumped in the sand and for a brief moment, there was but the syllables of silence amidst these strands of despair.

  All there was, was the Chron-wolf. A man who would become my dear friend. With a wolf mouthpiece attached to the tech-flamer he held up his faithful weapon.

  There stood he.

  There stood Uppegandarf.

  Interpreter, let this grim chapter serve as solace in dark times. Let my words instill some modicum of faith and belief. A remnant long gone. To whomever may read this, I am using the written word of Sol. Our world, Earth, had been alone for far too long. Humankind, my kind, had been alone for far too long. And I, a simple man, had not found my path for far too long. My mind had become a fog of despair at some point. This was before I donned the armor of a Senechal, dear interpreter.