Warhammer 40K: Socialising

Durance was right - this whole situation was frustrating for Atash. And as Durance continued talking, Atash felt his frustration and apprehension building. He carefully kept his expression neutral, but he couldn't stop himself from tensing up and restlessly shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his damaged metal leg creaking ominously. It seemed at first as if nothing he'd said had truly gotten through to the War Dog.

But once again, Durance surprised him. His last few sentences made Atash blink, then let out a silent sigh of relief, some of the tension easing from his shoulders as he met and held Durance's gaze. "Thank you," he replied simply, giving Durance a sympathetic, understanding smile. "It's a great relief to hear that." His smile turned wry. "And honestly... you don't even need to do that much lying. You were - and are! - a legionnaire of the World Eaters Legion, and nothing will change that. But you are also a battle-brother of the War Dogs Chapter. Just... do not mention your Legion, and keep the Chapter foremost in your mind instead, and you should be fine." He paused for a moment, then added, "And if you need help with any of it, please, just ask me, and I will do whatever I can."

He extended one hand - his real one, not the bionic - to Durance in a silent offer to assist him back to his feet. "Also, a word of advice, if you will take it - I highly recommend that you find Lord Taarn as soon as you can, so we can get all this cleared up as quickly as possible. Taric is already working on containing the situation in the med tent, to minimise the consequences."

Durance shook his head briefly before accepting Atash's hand. His exercises had coated his body with the rust red dust of the earth and there was a definite red mark left on Atash's hand.

"I will see to my punishment with Lord Taarn," Durance said as he gazed around at the human soldiers that worked all around them. "If he still has the heart of the Legion then I expect to be roundly thrashed in the ring. I hope he doesn't disappoint."

Durance bent down and scooped up the discarded cloth before tossing it onto the metal scrap pile that remained of the training servitor. He began to affix his armour piece by piece as he wished to present himself as a proper Astartes and not just as a filthy lout. Atash offered to help but Durance declined his aid. "An Astartes that cannot tend to his own armour does not deserve its protection. I'll be fine, Atash. You should probably tend to your own injuries if we are being deployed tomorrow."

Durance could not tell if that had satisfied Atash but it wasn't much later that the other Astartes left the training ring. Only Durance's pauldrons and his helmet remained on the ground and he carefully began to reattach them. His fingers brushed over the faint impression that marked him as a War Dog and he held it up to look at it properly. It was a canine head with a metal jaw ready to maul its enemies. All traces of the World Eaters had been erased; nothing was left to remember them but what the War Dogs remembered.

Durance had only recently become a full battle-brother of the War Hounds when they had received word of their Primarch. His brothers had been jubilant at the prospect of fighting alongside him once their campaign against the Orks had concluded. There was much boasting that Angron would soon be the greatest of all Primarchs and that the Twelfth Legion would be as revered as the Luna Wolves. So it was that everyone gladly took on the new mantle of the World Eaters to represent Angron's ambitions.

A few of the older warriors were less than pleased at having the achievements of the War Hounds effectively scrubbed clean and repainted as if their history didn't matter. Now that Durance thought on it, Taarn was one of those naysayers. He and the others were roundly mocked for their concern. Durance could still remember the taunts that rang out. "Why stay in the past when the future is unwritten?" "The World Eaters will be a name heard and remembered throughout the galaxy!" "Angron will lead us to become the greatest warriors of all Astartes!"

"How right they were," Durance muttered to himself. And now here he was, desperately clinging to the past while Taarn strove for the future. The irony was not lost on him.

He carefully donned his helmet and stood tall in the center of the training ring. That sense of untold glory and victory that accompanied the birth of the World Eaters was not present for the War Dogs. There was only grim determination that the War Dogs would grow to become a full Chapter of Astartes. Glory, honour, and prowess would come later. Survival came first.

Durance held his right fist to his chest and began to intone softly to himself.

"I am a former War Hound and a former World Eater. Now I am a War Dog. Let this Dog kindle bonds of brotherhood and create a future for the Twelfth.

Let this Dog grow to become a Hound of War. Let that Hound reclaim the honour of the past and forge the victory of the future.

Let that Hound grow to become an Eater of Worlds. Let that Eater cast off the shame of treachery and have the glory of the future writ large across the galaxy.

So this Dog swears."

Durance thumped his chest as he finished his pledge and began to make his way to the Storm Raven where Taarn had established his command post. No matter what punishment Taarn decided to mete out, he would face it.

Taric watched the unrepentant World Eater leave from the cover of a nearby tent.

This is a problem he Thought. Tho he felt glad that Durance was going to report on his own, and it had not come to violence. But it will. He cannot be trusted.

The blood ravens com bead whispered a message, Reinor had to set up Taric's armour after finishing the repairs he was doing. It was ready for him now. Swiftly checking his surroundings to ensure he remained unseen, Taric swiftly but silently headed to the Techmarine to be armored. It would be best if he was there for Taarn's sentencing.

Atash absently wiped the red stain of dust on his leg, leaving a red smear behind as he nodded at Durance's words. "For the squad's sake, I hope Lord Taarn doesn't thrash you too badly," he commented wryly. "We will need you for deployment tomorrow."

He offered his help to re-armour Durance, then accepted his refusal of the offer and left the War Dog soon after. Durance had a point about his own repairs, and he was running out of time. Atash returned to his cot in the med-tent and perched on it carefully, stretching his metal leg out along it and retrieving his tools to resume his repair work. His focus soon narrowed down to his work, blocking out the rest of the med-tent as he concentrated on repairing the damage.