[Simulation starting...]
[Current identity: Space Wolf · Blood Claw….]
[Please choose your identity first]
[If rejected, a random landing will occur]
[Identity selection has been refused]
[Simulation starting...]
[You have descended into the Warhammer universe]
[Location: ? ? ?]
[You materialize behind a massive stone outcropping, the transition from void to reality leaving your senses disoriented for only a heartbeat. Your fingers flex automatically, finding yourself encased in dark green power armor. A white hooded robe drapes over the ceramite shell, the fabric whispering against the armor plates. The familiar weight of a loaded bolter rests in your palm, the weapon already primed and ready.]
[You begin to rotate your helmet's eyepiece to survey your surroundings when the unmistakable roar of bolter fire erupts nearby. Battle cries echo off stone. Then you hear it: a crystalline whisper cutting through air, getting closer, getting louder.]
[You throw yourself forward without thought, power armor servos screaming as they launch you into a combat roll. Behind you, the air itself seems to shatter. Crystal shards, razor-thin and impossibly sharp, slam into the rock face where you'd been standing. Several find purchase in your heavy shoulder armor with musical impacts, each one a clear note of near-death. You glance back at your own shoulder. The star dart ammunition protrudes from the ceramite like strange, beautiful growths.]
[Your head snaps up, searching for the shooter. A sleek raider jetbike screams overhead, its rider clad in black armor that seems to drink in the light. The Dark Eldar banks hard, already lining up for another pass.]
[Your bolter rises smoothly, the targeting reticle in your eyepiece locking onto that narrow, alien helmet. Your finger finds the trigger. The bolter kicks like a living thing in your grip.]
[Boom. Boom. Boom.]
[The explosive rounds detonate across the jetbike in sequence. The Dark Eldar jerks violently with each impact before being thrown clear of the vehicle. The riderless bike corkscrews into the ground with a satisfying crunch of metal and anti-grav systems. The alien hits the rocky earth hard, black armor skidding across stone, trailing dark blood.]
[He's already pushing himself up when you move. Your hand goes to your waist, finding the grip of a broad-bladed power sword of archaic design. The weapon hums to life as you draw it, decomposition field shimmering blue along its edge.]
[You charge.]
[The Dark Eldar spins to face you, weapon coming up, but he's too slow. Your power sword arcs down in a brutal diagonal slash. The decomposition field parts his helmet like it's made of wax, and keeps going. His head tumbles free, the alien's body not yet understanding it's dead.]
[You stand over the corpse as foul-smelling blood pumps out onto the rocks. Your breathing comes hard and fast, adrenaline singing through enhanced veins. You force yourself to look up, to take in the battlefield.]
[The desolate landscape stretches out before you, all jagged boulders and broken stone. A five-man tactical squad, including yourself, is locked in combat with a Dark Eldar raiding party. The power armor is unmistakable: dark green ceramite, white robes, the heraldry clear even at a distance.]
["The First Legion," you murmur behind your helmet. "Dark Angels."]
["Stupid recruit!" The shout cuts through the sounds of battle. One of the Dark Angels has turned toward you, his voice carrying battlefield fury and something else, something manic. "Don't just stand there! Pick up your weapons and give these bastards a lifelong confession!"]
[From his tone and bearing, this one commands the tactical squad. You dip your helmet once in acknowledgment, then raise your bolter and reverse your grip on the power sword.]
[You charge into the fight.]
[The Dark Eldar raiding party is already faltering, but they redouble their efforts when they see you coming. Star darts fill the air like deadly rain. You weave between them, power armor tracking systems helping you predict trajectories. One grazes your helmet. Two more punch into your chest plate and ricochet away. Then you're among them.]
[Your power sword becomes a blue-edged arc of death. The first alien tries to parry, his strange crystalline blade shattering against the decomposition field. Your return stroke takes his arm at the shoulder. He's still screaming when your bolter barks once, removing his head. The next one is faster, ducking under your sword, but you pivot and bring your armored knee up into his chest. Ceramite meets xenos bone. The bone loses. Your sword finishes him while he's still airborne.]
[You don't slow. Can't slow. The battlefield has its own momentum now. Every swing of your blade claims a life. Every burst from your bolter finds a target. You dance between their attacks, using footwork drilled into you through endless training, letting the aliens' own speed work against them. One leaps at you with dual blades, spinning like a dervish. You sidestep, let him pass, and bisect him from behind. Another tries to flank you. Your bolter speaks, and he becomes a memory.]
[The last Dark Eldar realizes he's alone. His eyes, visible through his helmet's slits, widen in recognition of his death. He charges anyway, because what else can he do? Your power sword meets him halfway, the decomposition field parting his torso from his legs.]
[Silence falls. The sudden absence of bolter fire feels almost physical. You stand among the alien corpses, breathing heavily, and realize that all four surviving Dark Angels have stopped to stare at you.]
["Damn recruit!" The squad leader strides toward you, his gait carrying a strange mixture of rage and something unhinged. "My order was for you to assist the tactical team in annihilating these pointed ears! Not for you to risk being surrounded just to show off the results of your training!"]
[You shake your helmet slowly, meeting his fury with calm. "Captain, I completed your order. If I heard correctly, what you said was 'give these bastards a lifelong confession.' I believe I exceeded your requirements."]
[The Dark Angel goes very still. Then his hand comes up, the ceramite-encased finger jabbing toward your faceplate. "Who gave you the courage to talk back to me, recruit? Do you know what you just did qualifies as disobedience on the battlefield? I could make you confess to me right here, right now!"]
[His movements are erratic, aggressive, his whole bearing radiating barely controlled madness. Your opinion of the Dark Angels Chapter plummets.]
["Who gave me the courage?" you reply evenly. "The Emperor and the Primarch. Neither the Codex Astartes nor the Dark Angels' Chapter regulations grant a tactical squad captain the authority you're claiming." You hold his gaze through your eyepiece. "And is this how you treat a battle brother who just won a victory? If so, then you're not a qualified squad leader."]
[The Dark Angel's entire body seems to vibrate with rage. His helmet shakes violently under his white hood. His hands, which had just holstered his weapons, clench and unclench repeatedly.]
["What?" you ask, taking a measured step back, your power sword rising slightly. "Did I wound your fragile dignity? Are you going to fight me now?"]
[The other Dark Angels move quickly, interposing themselves between you and their captain before things can escalate further. One of them, his voice carrying authority, speaks up.]
["Enough! Interrogator Chaplain Asmodai!" The speaker's tone is harsh. "After this operation concludes, I will report your conduct to Chapter Master Azrael. Again. You have once more displayed your reckless and inappropriate behavior to another battle brother, and proven yourself unfit for command."]
[The speaker turns his helmet toward you, dipping it in a gesture of respect. "Recruit, you have earned all the glory of this engagement. I commend you, and I apologize for Asmodai's... behavior." He pauses, then continues, "You and the other brothers should check on the civilians captured by the pointed ears. Asmodai needs to calm down."]
["No problem, battle brother," you reply, turning away without hesitation. You mag-lock your power sword and bolter to your armor as you walk toward where the captives are being held.]
["Interrogator Chaplain Asmodai," you mutter to yourself. "I vaguely remember who he is now. The most infamous lunatic in the Dark Angels Chapter. How did I end up meeting this bastard?"]
[You glance up at the alien sky, seeking some divine intervention. "I hope the Emperor will bless me and keep him from causing more trouble. Otherwise..."]
[You let the thought trail off, unfinished, as you move toward the rescued civilians.]
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