Wyvern Company

Like seeing your favorite wrestler, or getting a book signed by your favorite idol or voice actor. I felt giddy, wrestless. We Primarchs can go for days without sleep, but even so I was too riled up to even think of such a thought.

I have within my very soul four Tactical marines ready for a deployment. Not enough for a squad, but that's not what I'm excited for. My own very Legion, I grew up with them. Reading up on the Ultramarines, the Imperial Fist, the Black Templars, the Dark Angels, they were all cool as fuck. I don't care what anybody says, power armor fucks– and it fucks hard.

I wasn't just going to prematurely spawn them though. They need experience, maybe some would even become sergeants soon. Captains then, and a Chapter Master. My very own Chapter Master of my Legion. I increased my speed at the thought of fighting alongside my Space Marines.

Currently, I searched for an adversary for my marines. Knowing the world, there's no short of them. Coming up on a town, I was correct in thinking that what were once populated areas with humans would leave behind remnants of filthy bugs. I was in need of an LP and items anyway.

Coming along the outskirts of a town, what a gruesome sight. It was still nighttime, the fires of destruction illuminated the town. Toppled vehicles, dismember corpses, rubbled, crumpled buildings, scattered deceased EDF forces. The game never really showed this kind of tone. I heard rumbling and skittering before multiple black ants showed themselves before me at a distance. They were chasing an Air-raider. Unarmed and in panic.

The Air-raider ran in the middle of the street; it seems to me this town was attacked recently considering he's still alive. The ants followed closely behind him, some pursued from the sides, traversing atop the buildings. He wasn't going to last long.

I was correct, some of the ants decided to start spraying acid at the poor dude.

"AAAAAAAAH! AHAA! AHG."

Rest his poor soul– anyways, time to bring in the boys. Summoning the drop pod right on top of the ants is a death wish. I don't know how well their armor could withstand the acid of this world but I'd rather not find out.

Considering I was a good distance away, I decided halfway between them and I. The command view popped up ahead of me. It gave me a good view of what I can see. There was even a world map, showing all the continents and states. Zooming in on my location, I was in Wisconsin. This was way more up north of where I used to live– I digress. I'm getting too sidetracked.

Marking the AO, I heard it. From the sky, was a lone tear drop of what would later be called steel rain. I looked up, a great fire in the sky. I could hardly make out its shape due to the heat. But it was majestic. If an Imperial Guard were to see such a sight they would know two things: comfort in knowing his angels are coming… and that the situation is so fucked up that they need his angels to come. To me, as I watched the fire grow bigger and closer as the pod dropped, I felt my inner kid giggled.

I smiled, my Primarch side had this sense of longing. I was reunited with my sons.

—Bam!

—Thud!

—Dink!

As the pod opened, the doors dropped and behold, my Legion. I ran towards them, not forgetting their look. They sported the Mark VII Aquila Power Armour, also known as the Imperator Armour. It was the current armor as well as the most used armor among the Firstborn Space Marines. They wielded Mark IV Pattern Bolers. 20 usable bolt magazines, capable of semi-automatic and three-round burst. If I remember correctly, it also has a biometric sensor in the grip, identifying the user by their genetic imprint– anyone who isn't registered can't use that bolter.

But these marines had different looks to say the least. The Mark VII influence was there to be sure, but the armor was scaly. The pauldrons had this wing-like aesthetic. The helmet wasn't one I was familiar with. Where normal helms had visors that looked like eyes, they had one long line at an obtuse angle. The helmet was fully enclosed, no rebreathers or openings where the mouth would be. The helmet's shape was kept but the face was completely revamped.

The chest smoothly and intricately ended at one point, making the chest plate look like a spear. The gauntlets curve inward then out, creating an edge– almost looking like a spike on the elbow. The helmet had two parallel dragon scale imitation decor at the temple of the helm. The shin guard too had this dragon aesthetics going on, a lot of pointy, wing-like protrusions from the boots to the shin guard.

To top it off, the armor had gold trims and accents. Silver being the main coat of the armor and black being the undercoat or the secondary color of the armor. They looked as if a marine mingled with a dragon of silver and gold. If anything, they looked even better. A Space Marine was already badass enough, but a Space Marine with a dragon concept, my testosterone is peaking higher than ever before.

They were fast in taking firing positions. The ants were coming this way due to the drop pod. This gives me the chance to see these Space Marines. Maybe I'll name my standard squads Wyvern Squads. All they are missing is a sergeant.

Not a moment's notice, they began firing. The weight of each round fired reverberated from each of them.

—Bolk!

—Bolk!

—Bolk!

They were heavy, packing a punch from the recoil. But my marines made it look like they were shooting squirt guns with how minimal the recoil they showed. The rounds cracked, punctured, and exploded the inner flesh of the ants as they rushed towards. They dropped one by one, reloading inbetween. Their marksmanship was phenomenal, barely a pause between shots. But the four can only do so much against a horde that size. As they got closer, the four marines retreated, never laying off the fire among the alien bastards. It was my turn before they get overran. As I got closer, I leaped into the air and crash landed in the middle of the horde. I fisted the ants, breaching their carapace and used them as bats against their own. I sensed a brief surprise among my marines, but they pulled themselves together as they continued to fire.

I punched, ripped, tore, limb from limb I dismember each and every ant I could get my hands on. With the four marines by my side, we quickly wiped out the ants. I didn't even need to use my stinger; although, I was once again drenched in their stinking blood.

I gathered all the items I could before sitting atop the pile my marines and I created. I watched as the four approached me, the drop pod disappeared in fire.

—Dud

—Dud

—Dud– Dud

—Dud– Dud

—Dud

Their steps were heavy, the weight of their armor evident. Their Bolters tucked in but not holstered, ready for any situation to arise.

They stopped at the foot of the pile and gazed up at me. A tingle, a connection. It wasn't warp based, but certainly vivid– and I can feel they have the very same sensation. These were my marines, the start of the Draconian Revenants.

"My Lord Primarch."

One of them spoke, the classic mechanical distortion still there. One by one they kneeled.

I couldn't help but smile. I made my way down the pile of corpses. Reaching their level I reached out with a hand. Cold, unfeeling, yet a sense of comfort among the stoic marine. That's how it felt when I touched the shoulder of my marine.

"Arise my sons."

So they did. Standing up fully, they reach just short of my abdomen. They had to crane their necks back to look up at me. From my perspective, they really were like my children.

"It's good of you to join me. Say, how'd you enjoy your first bout?" I was happy, my tone suggested so. I thought a more light hearted approach would lead to a more fruitful endeavor.

"..."

Or so I thought, "What? Cat caught your tongue?"

They looked amongst one another, they seemed to be lost for words.

"Apologies my lord," the furthest left suddenly spoke up, "we weren't expecting… a welcoming invitation."

Oh, "and do tell me what you expected?"

"We expected… a more strict and questioning approach, Sire."

Hmm, "Why is that?"

"If I may?" the second farthest to the right inquired.

I nodded in acceptance, "we weren't sure how to act upon your presence, Sire. We didn't want a negative first impression."

I smiled. My marines were thoughtful, but behind that thought was fear. It irked me, the thought of my sons not liking their father. They fear failing their gene-father. I can feel it from them. Even now, as they stand before me, rigid and tense.

"Do you fear me?" I asked.

The marines remained silent, "I can't speak for the others, Sire, but I fear not the father of my existence. I fear the failure of not living up to your expectations."

"Aye." 3x.

My hand placed upon the shoulder of my marine, the other with my free hand, "Remember this: with great power, comes great responsibility. Mankind can't exist without MAN, it is our duty and solemn vow to be the bulwark that protects humanity. You and I were handcrafted by the Emperor himself. Given natural might, unending vengeance, and wargears too boot to mutilate the alien, to rip the traitors, and to purge the unclean. So hear me, as the Primarch of the Draconian Revenants, we are more than just supersoldiers. We are more than his angels. WE are humans given the glory and opportunity to defend our kind from all forms of adversaries. My duty is to the people of the Imperium, all I ask of you is to be there by my side, fighting alongside me as I do with you."

A long pause crowds around us, allowing my words to sink in on my four sons.

"Our duty has no end in sight. From now and tomorrow, and the day after, I can't promise a peaceful end. That is something we must sacrifice so that humanity can live and die in peace. You may not even be recognized as saviors of humanity. Some may even disdain you."

My voice erupts in desolate intent and meaning, "BUT I WILL! WAR IS IMMINENT AND BATTLES ARE MANY, BUT I PROMISE YOU NO WAVERING IN MY RESOLUTION! I PROMISE TO REMEMBER EACH AND EVERYONE OF YOU! DEATH WILL NOT DO US PART FOR I SHALL MEET YOU THEN AFTER I BURN OUR ENEMIES TO ASHES, SO I EMPLOY YOU TO SAVE ME A SEAT UNTIL THEN!"

"So will you stand by me? Will you take up arms to put down the unfortunate souls of the misbegotten kind? Will you join me in bringing humanity and our Legion into a new age? What say you marine? What is your answer, my Revenants?"

No hesitation, no silence followed.

"In your name, your will is my command."

"In your name–"

"In your–"

They kneeled as they pledged servitude– no, calling this servitude is an insult to their resolve. They kneeled in trust. They trust in my leadership. They trust in my vision and our mission. I will forever venerate them until the end of time. They are my sons– my Legion. They were created by the system, their grandfather has no hold on them. They are my people, and I shall be damned if I allow them to be massacred. I may be weaker than my father, not as talented nor venerated, but I sure as hell will be a better father then he will ever be.

These are my marines. I will carve their names across the stars and universes. I will lay waste to whoever threatens us and humanity. We are not to be trifled with. 

I am a Primarch and they are my sons, and we are the reckoning that's yet to come.