Board Thread:Warhammer 40k Roleplay/@comment-25239171-20140802095755/@comment-24821739-20140826143350

Smiling, Thracnyck turns back to the training arena, intensely watching the troops training.

Hand to hand, firing lines, movement drills, all performed to precise, perfect quality.

Thracnyck had changed the Typhon 1st from a rag-tag force to a high precision, high morale fighting machine.

This, however, had come at a price. Thracnyck was hated amongst the Typhon 1st, for his strict regimen. Men rose at 0300 ship time, and went to sleep at 2100. They were not allowed to carouse, release tension, or engage in any form of sexual activity.

Thracnyck watched as a silent operation/infiltration/demolition team moved across a darkened corner, and was proud of his soldiers-on-loan. He knew that the only thing that could break their back was Astartes, or deamons.

Deamons... His memory flashed back to that moment, when the foul warp-spawn had beared down on him, hoping to destroy his essence. The only thing that had saved him was the timely arrival of Captain Draven, Assault Marine of the Blood Angels Astartes Chapter. He had come howling into melee with the horrible creatures, scything off appendages with his power-sword, as if they were so much chaff. When Draven had finished, he calmly walked to the alarmed Thracnyck, and helped him to his feet. Draven had handed him his Combat Knife, and said, "You are stronger than you look, fight with me. Let us take the Emperor's Judgement to This Chaos filth." Thracnyck took the sword length combat knife, and followed Draven into the fray, mostly just finishing off the ones that Draven wounded.

He had tried to give Draven back his combat knife after the battle, but Draven would not accept it. "You were born to wield that, keep it, and remember that you are strong, steadfast, and worthy of the praise of the Emperor."

He had never forgotten, and he has carried that blade with him since then. It never leaves his side. People that have met Space Marines stare in awe at the honor done him by one of the Angels. It had kept him alive through numerous battles.

He shouted to a Mercenary that was out-of-step in one of the marching drills, assigning him 2 hours in the armory for his laxity. If he could not command Space Marines, he would command the best damn troopers in the galaxy, whether they liked it or not.