Heartripper's Tale of Woe (A Warhammer 40k Short story series continued)*UNEDITED!*
READ THIS: I had limited time this evening, so this segment will be finished when I can spare the time. This section is rather slow-paced, but you cannot have a story that's just full throttle through and expect any sort of quality of it. Anyway, I hope you appreciate and enjoy this, rate and comment, so I can improve further!
The familiar whirring of the armoury calmed Kharemas's tense nerves as he stepped into the suiting chamber. The door closed behind him, and before him stood the tactical dreadnought armour he had inherited, in pristine condition.
Mechanical arms buzzed into life, and in a smooth movement, planted the differing pieces of armour on Kharemas's body. It was heavy, but he knew that once the assembly as completed, the exo-skeleton would sort that out.
The process took only a few minutes in the dark room, and the helmet was placed upon his head, glistening bronze hand clutching a heart adorned the brow. He tok a step, , acustomizing himself to this new armour. Once he was satisfied enough, he walked towards the door, and it's sensors opened the door as he approached.
Outside, stood a Chaplain. he took the newly inducted Master aside into the chapel, and taught him the Litanies of Hate, as to recite, to officially induct him into the Steelhands, a custom inherited from their founding chapter, the Dark Angels. A new sense of purpose filled Kharemas, and he then and there decided, that for when he fell in battle, it would be as heroic as his predecessor.
Thariel then entered, spoke briefly to Kharemas, and thus the ritual was complete.
As he stepped out of the chapel, the ninety-nine members of the Steelhand greeted him in utter silence. Again, he recited the Litanies of Hate in a flawless manner, and they broke into a cheer. Servitors of varying size and configuration carried tables into the middle of the massive square, and thick logs upon which the armoured bulk of the Steelhand would be seated.
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