Makradon Ipsum - Guardians of the Covenant Techmarine

Knowledge is power. Knowledge is life. Knowledge is illumination. The massive tech-marine scholar sat in the great Librarium of the “Spire that touches the heavens” and read from an enormous tome detailing the Jericho Reach’s history and many of the battles and xenos that could be expected to reside there. He turned the pages carefully, as this tome was of great import to the Guardians of the Covenant, mainly due to the fact that it was their only source of knowledge on the sector. Wish I could know more…Makradon thought to himself in the quiet archive section, the only sound emitting from his mechanical cybernetics. Sure would make me feel more comfortable… He stared out the massive glass window beside him, a view that would take anyone’s breath away. 

Mortikah VII. 

The mountains and vales stretched on for miles in all directions, littering the planet with a beauty that even one such as him, a Mechanicus Adept, could appreciate. Despite this, as one looked close, the signs of war were evident. In the long history of the Imperium, Mortikah VII had seen its’ fair share of wars. The craters from planet killers sprinkled the planetside, as unnatural canyons brought about by enormous firepower curved through the landscape. The citizens of the planet might have forgotten the wars, but not the Guardians of the Covenant. Not for a single second. A home fit for a chapter such as ours… It was time for Makradon to make a new home. 

A few days prior, Makradon had been called into the Hall of Secrecy, where many of the official meetings took place between him and his brothers. Expecting many of them to be around him, he thought nothing of it, a simple matter of upcoming battles or maybe a check on supplies from each Sergeant. He pushed the massive stone doors open, one in each hand, allowing for his bulky frame to pass through unabated. But, instead of booming with the sounds of the entire chapter, there was only one thing potent in the grand hall. 

Silence.

The Hall of Secrecy was a marvel in and of itself. Stained glass windows depicted the great Chapter Masters from before. Golgotha. Lucian. Magron. Astelon. And of course the largest stained glass window was given to the finest of all, Lion El’Jonson, the Primarch of the Dark Angels and all the successor chapters, resplendent in his black armor with his golden hair flying though the wind. The gothic benches of the Hall of Secrecy led up to a large stone podium. As his eyes moved up, Makradon spotted the most influential figures of his chapter. 

The three of them stood in a solid horizontal line in full battle plate, their red robes covering their heads, leaving their faces hidden in the shadows, but Makradon knew them well. He had bled with these men. He would bleed with them again. Apothecary Cadmus stood on the left, his narthecium displayed on his right arm. Battle Sergeant Elyas stood on the right, his gleaming force sword sheathed at his side. In the middle stood an angel of the Astartes, one of the most learned in all the galaxy, shining brightly with a large grin on his face. 

Chapter Master Zahariel. 

To look upon one such as him brought tears to the eyes. Makradon continued his stride up to the front of the hall, wondering immensely at this meeting. What in throne could this be about? Finally, after a good while, the steely boots of his power armor halted before the podium, and the three magnificent figures of his chapter. With a soothing voice like honey, Chapter Master Zahariel spoke softly, but with an elegance that stole the attention of any who heard it. 

“Makradon…my boy. Ease your worrying mind. You have done no wrong this day. Nor do I believe you will ever wrong our chapter. We merely wish to discuss a matter of great importance with you.” As Zahariel spoke, he made his way down the steps and embraced the tech-marine. “We have brought you here into the Hall of Secrecy alone, for you are to partake in a grand adventure, my son. One the likes of which few from our Chapter ever could even dream of.” Makradon embraced his Chapter Master in return and then stood reverently waiting for him to continue. Pacing in front of Makradon, Zahariel got to the point. “The importance of secrecy remains the truest doctrine of our Chapter next to the quest for knowledge. We abhor lies and deceit, as well as the fact that we are Unforgiven for which we strive in any way we see fit to exterminate that perception. You know this more than most, my favored son.”

The brain matter flew in all directions as the inside of the Chaos Cultist’s head exploded out, the silenced round having done exactly what was needed. Makradon held up his hand, stopping the advance of his team, putting an armored finger to his helmeted mouth. The signal was clear to all. Silence is golden. Makradon and the other members of his strike team had made it into the depths of the Chaos Fortress on the planet of Hearth, while his brothers distracted the enemy outside, creating quite the diversion. Soundstrike missiles pounded the walls around them, and specks of dust fell down in the haze of battle. According to intelligence reports, the Cultist Library was somewhere down this hallway. All that was left was to purge the slanderous records created by these Heretics, these foul traitorous guardsmen and their chaos cultist commanders.

Makradon listened for the right moment to come, perceiving the screech of the missiles through the air. He stepped forward, along with his brothers at the exact moment of the explosion, masking their footsteps and taking them down the long corridor. Halfway down the hallway, a figure rounded the corner at the other end. Instinctively, Makradon brought his silenced bolter up and ended the life of the newcomer in a split second, sending him to hell for his transgressions. Makradon motioned for his team to move forward into an adjoining room, he would cover their approach. As they filed into the room, Makradon stood up from one knee and made his way into the supposed Librarium. Inside one could feel the heat of impurity, taste the flavor of deceit, and smell the stench of heresy. Bodies littered the floors, symbols scratched with blood filled the walls, and black tomes stood on bookshelves made from human skin. 

Makradon looked around, searching for something that might hamper their efforts. He found it quickly. In front of them, standing tall and defiant was exactly who they were looking for. The Dark Apostle stood before them raising his Accursed Crozius into the air, performing some perverted ceremony at the center of the Librarium. He turned to greet his new guests. 

“Tisk tisk tisk, my little Guardians, did you really think you could stop us? We will illuminate the world as to the truth of your Chapter and the truth of every one of the Dark Angels!” 

The monstrous Apostle moved to the side and Makradon could see a mortal man, flesh seared from his body, chanting some sick ritualistic words. 

“Do you like my toy? In a matter of moments, he will send the “truth” of your chapter telepathically to every psyker within the sector. And there is not a thing you can do about it!” 

The Apostle screamed through his maniacal laughter and the bodies around the marines came to life, attacking the strike team in a frenzy of claws and teeth. The humans had been reborn as daemon monsters, filling the room with a pervasive taint. Makradon reacted quickly, hearing the screams of his brothers. His servo arm smashed the skull of one of the abominations before he rounded on another and emptied a bolt round into its’ screaming mouth. He saw as 2 of his brothers went down, blood spraying from their necks, the gurgling in their throats a potent sound. One of his team crunched in the ribs of an attacker, as the beings continued to assail his team. 

And all throughout the encounter, the maniacal laughter of the Apostle rang out. 

Makradon knew his only chance was to kill the intoner, a good 20 meters in front of him. Another of his brothers fell before the might and numbers of the chaos creatures surrounding them, leaving only Makradon alive. Well, if my time is now, I’d better go out with a bang. He reached behind him, pushing away the hands of his attackers. Finally he reached the one thing that could end this fight and preserve the good name of the Dark Angels and all of the successor chapters. 

A monoball grenade.

It had been given to him by Chapter Master Zahariel before his mission. “Take care, Makradon. Only use this if you must, for the destructive power in this one grenade can turn a room of bodies into dust in the blink of an eye.”

Usually reserved for only Deathwatch members, the Chapter Master had gone to great lengths to procure it. And Makradon was not about to die and let it go to waste. The powerful claws of the heretical creatures reached up to his face, their force knocking him to the ground. The slimy creatures wriggled and writhed their way towards him, wishing to tear out his jugular and end this. He pulled the pin of the massive grenade, letting it drop to the floor. It rolled forward, the mass of bodies ignoring it, focusing solely on him. The Dark Apostle continued his laughing, a hideous aura emitting from him. The chanting human pressed forward with its ritual, glowing an incandescent blue.

The monoball grenade went off. 

The grenade dissolved into an expanding cloud of fast-moving monofilament, searching for victims. It tore through the bodies all around Makradon, and reached forward towards the chanting humanoid. The Dark Apostle opened his eyes for a quick moment, noticing the filament, his laugh replaced with a look of terror. He tried to shield himself, but it was far too late. The cloud shredded his skin from his body, leaving a pile of bones in place. The humanoid figure at the center of the ritual opened his eyes and let out a shrill cry as the monofilament particles pierced through him, turning him to dust. Blood splattered against the walls and it would be later said that the screams of those victims could be heard outside the Chaos Fortress walls.

Makradon had also experienced the shredding quality of the grenade, and even his Power Armor could not hold back the massive destruction that it caused. He blacked out from the loss of blood; a smile on his lips for his mission had been accomplished.
“I picked you up from the rubble myself. And Apothecary Cadmus saved your life that day.”

“A debt I owe to him to this very day. It was an honor, sir,” Makradon said to his Master. 

“I remember your great sacrifice for all of us. You preserved the secrets of this chapter and defeated the chaos heretics that would spread slanderous lies about us. It is with a heavy heart that I must convey these words to you.” Zahariel took a deep breath.

“None of us wish to see you go, Makradon, but duty is duty. You are the best of our chapter and we will miss you sorely. You have been chosen to take the Long Watch. In 3 days’ time, you will be taken from us to join other members of the Deathwatch in the Jericho Reach.” 

Makradon was honestly surprised by this turn of events. A mixture of emotions played through his head. Sadness. Honor. Pride. Curiosity. He bowed down to one knee before forming his next words. “I will honor our chapter and do all of you proud. I swear this to the Emperor, to the Omnissiah, and to all the members of our glorious chapter.” 
Zahariel brought the tech marine back to his feet, noticing a tear in his left eye. “Do not be sad brother, for I know this, as do we all.” Zahariel embraced the tech marine once more.
A chapter serf entered the Librarium, alerting Makradon that it was time to go. He closed the tome in front of him and stood, looking down at the serf with a smile. “I’ll definitely miss you, my little servitor friend.” He walked from his seat in the Librarium, wondering if it would be the last time he would ever see it. At the entrance, he turned to study it once more. 

Not a chance…