Upon boarding the light cruiser, Daedren found himself in a mix of excitement and reverence. The ship hummed with a sense of purpose as it carried him from the lunar forges of Prometheus back to the volcanic, tumultuous landscape of Nocturne. The journey was relatively brief, but it felt like a symbolic bridge between his years of training and the life that now awaited him as a fully inducted Salamander.
When the cruiser descended through Nocturne’s smoldering atmosphere, Daedren felt the heat radiating even through the ship's hull. The landscape stretched out before him in jagged mountains, rivers of magma, and billowing ash clouds. It was a harsh beauty, a reminder of his origins and the fire that had forged him.
As he disembarked, he was met by a figure of formidable presence, his armor marked by the symbols of the Pyroclasts. Captain Adrax Agatone awaited him, his armor decorated with the heraldry of his rank, his eyes sharp and unwavering. The Captain’s presence exuded authority and a tempered ferocity, honed over countless battles and years of leading the 3rd Company.
“Welcome home, Brother Daedren,” Captain Agatone greeted him, his voice a deep rumble. “You are to serve with honor and to keep the fire of Nocturne within you, for we are the Pyroclasts, and we bear Vulkan’s wrath.”
Daedren saluted, feeling the weight of those words sink into him. “Yes, Captain. I am honored to serve.”
“Good,” Agatone replied, a glint of approval in his gaze. “Follow me.”
The Captain led him through the complex, pointing out various training halls, the armory, and the apothecarion where he would receive any medical care or adjustments to his armor. They passed the great halls, the quarters where other battle-brothers resided, and finally, the training grounds. Daedren felt the sense of camaraderie emanating from every corner of the fortress. These were men forged in the fires of combat, bound by blood and purpose.
They came to a halt in front of a group of Astartes engaged in rigorous drills, Daedren’s new squad. Eight brothers, clad in the deep green and black of the Salamanders, moved with lethal precision. Their weapons flashed, drills forming a rhythm that was almost ritualistic. Each movement was calculated, each strike filled with purpose.
Captain Agatone turned to Daedren. “This is your new squad. The 2nd Assault Squad under Lieutenant Largos. They will be your brothers in battle, and it will be your duty to uphold their honor as they will uphold yours.”
With a nod, he motioned to Lieutenant Largos, a seasoned Astartes with a scar running down his cheek, his expression steely yet welcoming. “Largos, take him from here.”
Largos stepped forward and greeted Daedren with a firm nod. “Welcome, Forge Brother. I hear you have a strong grasp of the forge, strength of both arm and mind will serve you well here.” His gaze softened slightly. “We are warriors, and we value those who bring more to the battle than just weapons. Follow me; I’ll introduce you to the squad.”
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They walked over to where the eight assault brothers had just completed their training. The brothers straightened upon noticing Largos’s approach, their attention shifting to the newcomer.
“This is Daedren, our new Forge Brother,” Largos introduced him, his voice carrying an underlying tone of respect. “He may be freshly inducted, but he has been tempered in Vulkan’s fires and will serve alongside us in the second assault squad. Treat him as you would any brother.”
With a nod to Daedren, Largos stepped back, leaving him to face his new squad mates alone.
The first to approach was a tall, heavily built Astartes with a stern expression. “I’m Berus,” he said, offering a hand in greeting. “Welcome, Forge Brother. Word has it you specialize in heavy combat. Good to have a wall like you on our side.”
Daedren clasped Berus’s hand firmly. “I’ll do my best to stand strong beside you all,” he replied, feeling the warmth of their acceptance in Berus’s gaze.
Another brother stepped forward, this one leaner and quicker-looking. His eyes gleamed with a bit of humor. “Name’s Caldon. I specialize in reconnaissance and close-combat strikes, don’t worry, I’ll make sure you see the enemy before they see you.”
Daedren grinned, appreciating the camaraderie already forming. “I’ll count on you, Caldon.”
One by one, he was introduced to each member of the squad. There was Thran, a demolitions expert known for his unshakeable focus, and Maelis, whose specialty lay in defensive maneuvers, often the last line in their unit. The twins, Voss and Kerran, moved in synchrony, each covering the other’s blind spots with a quiet and practiced ease. The last to greet him was Edran, their heavy weapon specialist, who gave Daedren a nod of approval, sizing him up.
“It’ll be good to have someone with a tank-like resilience. We’re the spearhead of the Pyroclasts, and it takes strength to hold the line,” Edran said, his voice carrying a weight of experience.
Daedren felt the strength and unity within the squad and the silent expectations that he, too, would become an essential part of this well-honed team. He was humbled, yet he felt a growing confidence, a certainty that he belonged here, with these warriors who had honed themselves to the edge of perfection.
The brothers began asking him questions, some curious about his training, others about his work in the forges.
“So, they say you’re skilled in the forge. Made anything impressive yet?” Caldon asked, crossing his arms with a grin.
Daedren chuckled, feeling the camaraderie and warmth between them. “I forged my armor, each piece with the guidance of the Forge Masters. Added a few reinforcements myself.”
The squad laughed, nodding in approval, clearly impressed.
Thran chimed in, his voice carrying a hint of approval. “A warrior who can craft his own armor? A rare thing, even among the Salamanders. That’ll serve you well.”
Daedren then added, “And I also forged these…” He reached to his sides, grabbing the two large shields strapped securely on his left and right. The metal gleamed darkly under the light, the intricate reinforcement visible along the edges and the Salamander symbols emblazoned on each surface.
Caldon’s eyes widened as he looked at the shields, a grin spreading across his face. “Oh, so you even made those huge shields? I was curious when I first saw you walking in with them. Thought they were just ceremonial at first, didn’t expect you to lug around full-size slabs of adamantium and ceramite.”
Berus shook his head in admiration. “A true Salamander indeed, to craft both his own armor and his weapons. We’ll see just how much those shields can take when the time comes.”
The squad’s respect was palpable, and Daedren felt a sense of belonging grow stronger within him. These brothers, hardened by battle, were already embracing him, shields and all. And soon, he would join them on the field, standing as both a protector and a warrior at their side.