Two Terras

The Deathwatch

An empty room, lockers line the wall and a bench sit in the middle. A solitary figure sits on the bench. His skin is coal black and eyes a burning red, he is stripped to the waist revealing deep scar tissue along the length of his back. They are not wounds however, but stylized brands of many things. From anvils to hammer, to the helm of a howling banshee and the deathmask of a necron lord. The door opens and another man strides in, augmetics clicking with every step.

Cadmoth: "Why are you still here? Its late, the others have turned in."

His tone is poisonous.

He'Vak: "Meditation brother, how was training?"

Cadmoth: *Grunts* "Could have been better, I'm getting slower."

Cadmoth begins to take his power armor down from the rack it is on. The ancient Mk IV plate is scratched and dented and bears the marks of many repairs. Cadmoth begins to put it on but has difficulty, power armor is difficult to put on alone. He'vak moves to assist.

Cadmoth: "Sit back down, I don't need your help."

He'vak says nothing and moves to his own Mk X armor, beginning to put it on, The two men work in silence until He'vak is almost done and places his old blacksmithing tongs on a special hook mounted to his belt. Cadmoth shoots a glance at He'vak.

Cadmoth: "Why do you still have those, they can't possibly be strong enough to forge much?"

He'vak smiles.

He'vak: "They are brother, but a Salamander never throws away his old tools. He cherishes them for their services."

Cadmoth snorts.

Cadmoth: "Typical of you Salamanders, its worthless now. Weak and unusable."

He'vak ignores the comment.

He'vak: "It serves also as a reminder, a reminder that all things will eventually grow old and need replacement. Including you and I."

At this Cadmoth has no response, though his fury bubbles.

He'vak: "As I go on I will rust and crack, my skills will dampen and my reflexes slow. But to me it is of little matter, it is as all things should be. The old veteran will be replaced by the fresh recruit. And it is the duty of the veteran to forge the recruit anew, mentoring his replacement."

He'vak looks down at Cadmoth, he towers above the Iron Hand. He'Vak is a Salamander, taller than most marines. But He'Vak is also a primaris marine, making him even larger. Yet there is no aggression in his stance, only a calm patience.

He'vak: "Eventually I will fulfill this role. When my replacement is trained and deemed ready I will take my bolter and hammer, I will march out to face the Emperor's foes one more time. Then I will join my ancestors in death, as is the fate for all Astartes."

Cadmoth thinks, he decides anger is not the right response. Perhaps the words of the Salamander were right. Either way they struck a cord in him.

Cadmoth:" I never thought of you as much of a poet He'vak."

He'vak laughs.

He'vak: "I am honored you think of me as one brother, truth be told however. These words are not mine. But my mentor's."

Cadmoth stands and regards He'vak. He places his helmet on and walks to the door, but he stops before exiting.

Cadmoth: "Your mentor was a wise man."

He'vak watches the Iron Hand go, he laughs. And shaking his head while chuckling quietly the Salamander picks up his Bolt Carbine, Hand Flamer, and Chainsword. They were to fight Necrons in a few days, and he looked forward to branding this newest victory.