Betrayal - Errata is gonna die!

Betrayal

It’s vile & ignoble touch had become to close a friend since he’d joined the Deathwatch.

Memnon had left the team upon their return to the Battle Barge, without so much as a by your leave. The remaining Battle Brothers turned right & headed directly towards the Stratagem as they left the hanger, Memnon simply turned away left. He knew Cristus could be relied upon to report the Blood Angel’s heresy to the Watch Captain. No doubt the Templars would have plenty to say about the matter too.

To speak of it himself would leave Memnon with a bitter taste in his mouth & he had no desire for that. In the end words were worthless, only action would see his tainted reputation cleansed. Heavy Iron shod footfalls echoed down the corridor, the weight of Memnon’s foreboding given voice in the material realm. The footfalls announced the passing of the dour Astartes to the numerous menials that flittered around. Memnon paid them no heed at all & left it to their wits to avoid getting in his way.

An old helmet was held in the crook of his arm, as he rounded the final corner & his single augmetic eye shone from the shadows as he walked between the illuminated sections of corridor. Ahead lay the armoury & Memnon’s pace remained even as the towering Astartes crossed the threshold of the Quartermaster’s domain.

Pathos looked up from where he was working as Memnon approached.

The old Astartes was armoured except for his gauntlets & helmet, which had been removed to ease the delicate work before him. A gold plated bolter was his focus & lay in pieces across a velvet cloth as he cleaned the revered weapon. As his head lifted to acknowledge the newcomer, the mico-tools held in the Marine’s hands went still as if trapped in freeze frame.

‘Brother Memnon, to what do I owe this pleasure.’ The words were a pleasantry only, the old marine had no comradeship with the dour marine, few onboard did.

The veteran Iron Snake was a respected member of the Watch & had been assigned the honour rank of ‘Master of the Armoury’ or ‘Quartermaster’ to give it the Imperial Guard definition. For some unknown reason it was this ‘unofficial’ title that had stuck with Pathos, not that he appeared to care. The warrior gave the same level focus to the armoury as he did to all of his duties, titles meant very little.

Memnon placed his Godwin pattern bolter upon the workbench, next to the disassembled weapon

‘Pulling to the left again?’ asked Pathos, as he prepared to hand the weapon on to one of the many tech serfs throughout the armoury workshop.

‘No, not this time brother, I wish for the weapon to be returned to my Chapter.’

The words caught the Iron Snake by surprise & were very probably the last he’d ever expected the Scythe to speak. He knew Memnon wasn’t close to anyone or anything, save for his wargear. The re-forged blade, his prized MkIII helmet, the Sothan Leather Cingulum, all were immaculate & the Scythe rarely allowed any out of his sight.
Indeed Pathos remembered how Memnon had sat upon a metal bench, motionless for fourteen hours as a Techmarine worked to fix damage to one of his armoured greaves.

The bolter was his most prized piece of wargear however, an extension of the Marksmen’s very being rather than a weapon. Pathos, couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard.

‘I’m not sure I understand your meaning brother Memnon.’ replied the Iron Snake in a serious tone, placing the small tools on the cloth before him.

‘I require a different weapon, Master Pathos.’ The Scythe said levelly, though the Quartermaster could see a torrent of emotion playing behind the Marines natural eye.

Though normally of very few words, Memnon spoke again;

‘This Bolter,’ a gauntleted hand stroked stock reverently, softer then it seemed possible for an Astartes to do so. ‘…belonged to Brother Antioch, before me, it severed us both well & has claimed kills for the Emperor’s Scythes in every major engagement the Chapter has ever fought. Two hundred years of history, of glory, of duty. It was present as the Scythes fought with the Lamenters’ in their penitent crusade, then again when the Tau of the Damocles gulf were pushed back from Imperial space…even as… as blessed Sotha was lost to the Tyranid. It is part of a glorious history of mighty deeds & should be present as my Chapter struggles back from the brink & re-builds its depleted strength.’

‘As it will brother Memnon, upon your return to your… Chapter’ Pathos grimaced as he almost said fortress monastery, knowing full well it had fallen to the Tyranid years before.

Memnon seemed not to notice, instead he sighed as his gaze dropped from the Quartermaster’s stare. He shook his head before speaking softly.

‘No, it has no place in what must be done now.’

The Iron Snake’s brow furrowed. ‘And what must be done now?’

‘I must seek redemption, for the heresy of a traitorous battle brother. My blade already has the blood of a heretic staining its Sothan steel’

Pathos’ eyes dropped involuntary to the skull hanging beside Memnon’s cingulum, the three metal pins above its empty eye socket denoting it as an Astartes skull. It had once belonged to Brother Novis of the Storm Warden Chapter. Pathos had heard the tale of the traitor Techmarine, of his betrayal & demise, a shudder went down his spine.

‘…but a warrior’s blade is his own’ Memnon continued ‘It will be shattered & burnt with my corpse, it’s corruption dies with me. The bolter however, must be passed on to another. I cannot allow it to be sullied by such a deed.’

Pathos accepted the Marine’s quiet words, the most he’d ever heard any share with the dour Scythe.

‘We’ll see it returned to you chapter, Brother Memnon, you have my word.’

Pathos was desperate to ask which of his battle brothers the dour Scythe was referring to as a traitor? Who now had forsaken their oaths to the Golden Throne? Was the Scythe’s Kill Team actually cursed, as the crew whispered when they thought themselves out of earshot? The Iron Snake knew that the information would filter through the ship soon enough, it always did. He held his tongue

‘My thanks Master Pathos’ said Memnon watching intently as the Quartermaster took the Bolter & passed it to a nearby serf. A look of loss was etched the human side of Memnon’s face, like a parent that has just given away a beloved child.

‘You will need another weapon, brother Memnon & there are several to choose from here in the Agamemnon’s armoury. Stalker & Godwin Pattern bolters, plasmaguns, combi-weapons…’

Memnon pulled his stare back to the Quatermaster, he looked thoughtful.

‘Tell me about your Storm Bolters.’ He said finally.

Thats awsome!

Write a little story and get a bigger gun.... nice work...

Antoine wrote:Write a little story and get a bigger gun.... nice work...

Wish it was that easy, had to get the signature wargear & sig wargear master first.

so it was; nice little story + 1500 + relevant renown = big gun

fully worth it when Errata has to be mopped up into a bucket!

Traitor!

Nice work mate, "more dakka" for the win.

Surprised Memnon isn't after a chain axe!