Iron Blood: The Bloody Path

***"Iron Blood: The Bloody Path"***

**Dramatis Personae**
* Imperial
	+ Iron Blood
		- Pending
	+ Pending
* Xenos:
	+ Pending
* Traitor
	+ Pending

## Chapter 1

Looking back at that moment, from the moment they entered the room, I should have known I was not an Astartes. I did not literally think that, but looking back those were the words for the thoughts running rampant in my mind at that very moment. If ever there was some bit of delusion within me, that I was peer to these giants clothed in metal, it died when I saw them. They came into the dimly lit room, two space marines, clad in black and purple, practically clothed in darkness, with only their limbs visible and their eyes glowed blood red. One of them had, what I now know to be, robotic arms on his back, and a skull like helmet for his face. With him was another, no extra arms, but his right shoulder, arm and helmet were bone white. His helmet was also less of a skull and more, well I don't know how to describe a space marine helmet, besides, 'a space marine helmet' but it was a The other one...the other one was strange, cloaked in grey. Back then I thought it was to hide his deformities, his mechanical components, I have since learned the error of my thinking, that serf did not care one way what bionic component I saw.

I was strapped down to a long, rusting metal slab, in little more than the loincloth I arrived in. I could see and feel the dried blood beneath me, which seemed to not be that old. The shackles on my arms and legs, were covered in blood, someone, or perhaps several individuals had struggled here. Around me were several more metal limbs, like the legs of spiders, I was now beginning to feel trapped. This was not what I was hoping for when I woke up.

"He has awoken..." said the skull face Astartes. To me, they all looked the 'shadow men' spoken of, and I had been taken to their lair of shadows. The elders said this was an honor, it did not feel like it, not then, but then what did I know, I was a boy. The Apothecary nodded, and signaled to something in the darkness outside the door. In came more serfs, more metal monsters half dressed in the shape of man, but they carried something. It was a cylinder shaped container, the center was clear, letting me what was inside, a heart, a large one. The canister was on a table, being wheeled in and surrounded by incense.

Before I could ask, before I voice a word, the apothecary had grabbed me, by the throat, just the placement of his large hand, made it feel like my head was going to pop from the neck. He reach over me and brought down some tube which he fashioned to my head. There was suction, or adhesion and he placed several more. I was quickly, both lethargic and drugged, and was fairly certain, I had begun to drool on myself.

"We give praise now..." said the Chaplain "To the Emperor, the Omnissiah, for his gift Gene-Seed. With it, let us pray that it gives rise to a new brother, bound to the chapter, by loyalty, duty, and blood." Like that, I was released, and the spider legs buried themselves in my chest.

I was no entirely certain what happened next, I would have passed out, I had passed out, several times, but the pain kept bringing me back. It was not the glowing red eyes, or hellish hallucinations that woke me up, it was the pain of my chest being ripped, bones, my sternum split open, like a book and my organs moved about to make way for this new one, which was forcibly integrated into my body. I knew then, why I was drugged, it was to keep me calm, to stop me from struggling, at least too much.

My rib cage was closed, my sternum was welded shut, by a laser, my skin was sown back together, and the clamps that held me, opened and I fell out, the tubes popping off. It was only then that I realized my wrists and ankles were bleeding, I had been struggling, and as I sat there on all fours, I reached out for something to grab, for someone to help me.

"Stand..." said the death-faced one "Stand on your own, or do not stand at all. There are no more options. You will stand as our brother, or the rest of your days will be hunched over, face to the ground, as is the rightful stance of all failures. Stand." There was no cruelty in his voice, no demanding of anything, it was just cold, cruel truth, in his tone. 'This is the reality of your situation', was what he was truly saying to me.

I gritted my teeth, and took a deep breath, surprisingly I had much more energy than I expected after such an ordeal. First my left foot, then the other, and with a grunt and a growl, I stood up. I was hunched over, my hand on my chest, but I stood up. "What is your name?"

"I am Torak, son of Jesper, of Clan Shadow Eye."

"There is no Torak, 'son of anyone', of clan 'nothing'..." he said in a dismissive tone "That boy, died, as all boys do, when they are put on that table. On that table a brother, or a failure is born. They are born, and they follow the blood path to realization. We shall see which you are."

"More...tests...?"

"That, was an operation, but yes, there will be more operations, and there will be tests, trails, many trials, boy."

"To what end...?"

"Come, and I shall show you." I tried to walk towards him and fell to my knee. "Get up." he said, no comfort, no sympathy.

"I am in pain..." I replied.

"And how does that matter?" I looked up and even behind the death mask I could feel the contempt "You are on the path of an astartes now, and I suggest you get used to pain for you and it will come to know each other well enough. If you survive your trials it is to battle you go, and all manner of injury will be yours, to endure, to survive. In the end no astartes has ever died in his bed. Now...I said **get up**." His last two words had an echo that reverberated into my soul, into my now aching chest. I knew fear, and made me stand. It was only much time later I understood, back then I was no astartes.

## Chapter 2

There are many ways to break into a fortification, a high speed strike at the place of weakest defense, flank the position, the often least guarded place we prefer to not think about (gah, the smell), or even Steel Rain when least expected. There are subtler ways but often war does not allow for them. I know, I know, if you ask a son of Dorn, they would say that their fortifications are flawless, but they forget two things. Firstly, they are not their Primarch; we are all echoes of our progenitors, and; they are trained in fortifications.

There are many ways into a fortress, several ways, and we have learned them from the Book, and from the school of the Jungle's Shadow. As predator knows a weak prey, so do we know an entrance when we see it. So it brings me no short amount of...**annoyance**, when this mortal dares to tell us it is 'impossible'. Yet I can sense the captain's calm, so I must mimic it, and keep my displeasure to myself.