Yet at the same time and more in-line with their purposes, a place made to withstand utter devastation. Entire sections with roofs so high, micro-climates formed and cycled through them. So vast was it, one could walk past but a fraction of a section of a single wall on their daily commute, its blinding surface hiding the marks of Heresy-Era Iron Warrior bombardments.
Some five hundred stories deep from its lowest point, with only the Custodians themselves and Dorn knowledgeable of its true depth. On its most populated world, in its most secure sector, and standing taller than the Himalazian Mountains it was built on top of. The Imperial PalaceIt did live up to its name as the seat of power to the entirety of the Imperium of Man. Their trek would take them 9 hours to complete and take them the farthest into the Inner Palace any baseline human with such tasks would be allowed.Īny further and they'd be immediately put through the ringer. Each one more scrutinizing than the last. To call it "overkill" would be an understatement but to anyone who'd spent more than a day within the Imperial Palace, such a thing was seen as necessary. With a solemn nod and a final round of scans, the party was allowed to unload and move further. An ironic thing to dwell upon, considering why they had arrive here. Ten thousand years of Imperial Rule over the galaxy." The baseline reminisced. "We can understand the tenseness My Lord! Today is a day of celebration. True to his words, scanning through all of the containers, there were the intricate mechanism the filters required to make sure an entire Palace Section's energy conduits didn't disintegrate from radiation.
We are here to serve as escort until these menials can replace the old pieces." "The containers hold specially designed filters. Every one of the Ten Thousand stationed on Holy Terra was wary (or some transhuman equivalent.) Last thing they needed today was for some Chaos cult to use a crowd of cheering Terrans as a mass blood sacrifice for their ritual. The usual protocol was followed, a cursory scan of the cargo and all of the personnel. Stepping outside, they would be greeted by Custodes, dressed sharper than usual as for today's event. Another round of cold stares and their excitement died there. "Showtime!" One excited voice came from a particularly excited baseline, seeing the Astartes turn on their color refractors and donning the colors and iconography of the Imperial Fists. Because even if it doesn't, we have put into motion an action that cannot be stopped."Īs the bird came to a slow stop onto the platform which led towards the Outer Palace, a small retinue of Custodes approached the craft. In ages past, his legion's exploits in Void combat would've sparked tales plucked straight out of Humanity's early void exploration history. " It will work." came the statement from the one on the left, grilled by his helmet's vox casters. Now the Imperium would know the wrath of dead men. At the head of the troop seating area, flanked on each side by their battle brothers, were the two who a mere millennia ago would've called this a wasteful suicide mission. No campaign beyond them, no attack plan beyond reproach.Īnd this wasn't some ragtag Chaos Space Marine's squad pitiful attempt at causing a ruckus. Outside, fireworks and celebratory shows with the explosive yields of artillery ordinance could be heard, alongside the rhythmic cries of joy as Terra's populace celebrated the passing of the last year of the 41st Millenium.Įach cold gaze from the Space Marine's helmet visors was enough to give the few baselines their answer. The baseline's voice came through the initial rumblings and creaks as the Thunderhawk began its descent to the planet's surface.
0 kommentar(er)
