A slightly smaller Mess

"No one sane"

"To some, simple perpetualism is a sign of taint."

"Idiots, sir."

"Perhaps. And perhaps not. A quote... from a man long dead, before chaos was even known... I don't know if i knew him, or, read it somewhere... but it is poignant... Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you. not the words of an idiot, Noctis."

"And do you let words such as those get to you, sir?"

"They are words i attempt to live by."

"You have lasted this long sir. You are a captain in a chapter of the emperor's angels of death, one known throughout the galaxy for its compassion and kindness to those that others consider beneath them. And even amongst them you have a reputation as a great man, more than willing to shed his own blood and to suffer for the sake of others. I see no monster, sir. I see a hero."

"Even the mightiest fall, brother. Our lost brothers prove this beyond doubt."

"You have lasted far longer than any other sir"

"I have been many things in my time. I was not always a salamander."

"But you are now"

"Indeed... But can past evils be washed away, in truth?"

"What evils, sir?"

"Too many to list, brother."

"One of them, then"

He sits, and thinks for a few moments, gazing off into space, then looks down, into the lifeless eyes of his helmet. "Innocent people put to the sword. Towns ablaze..."

"May I be...blunt, sir?"

"Speak freely."

"How many countless heroes of mankind have done far worse?"

"How many of mankind's heroes once..." He continues to stare at his helmet's eyes.

"Sir?"

He offhandedly tosses the helmet across the room, where it clatters into the boot of his armour. His tone changes, back to that unreadable upbeat. "Doesn't matter. Unless you have any other questions?"

"Sir... you recognise any wrongs you have once done. And have done more than any man before you to make amends."

"Your opinion is noted."

he frowns, clearly not pleased by the sudden shift in tone, but nods.

"Dismissed."

"...sir" *he nods, and puts his helmet back on*

"Some things are better left unsaid, brother. Some day the past will swallow it." With that, he stands up, and walks over to his armour.

"Not if you don't let it, sir."

"Sage advice..."

"We are not the men we once were. We are the men we are now."

"indeed... but we carry their sins on our backs."

"We need not carry them our entire lives"

"Perhaps not. But it is stubborn in my memory."

he nods

"I'm sure you have duties to attend"

"yes sir" *he turns to leave*

The captain remains silent, looking over his armour.

meanwhile....trouble finally comes to the paradise world, as an iron warriors battlefleet emerges from warpspace in orbit

the fleet is...large. very large. dozens and dozens and dozens of warships, from cruisers to battle barges, not counting escort ships

Laurence is stood on the balcony of the house. The restless sea, stirred by a storm, smashes against the cliff face. Rain drives down, the wind sending it down at a near 45 degree angle. In his hand is a data slate, a small sphere of force keeping it dry. His face is dead set, gaunt.

the fleet is closing in on the defence ships, fast

Laurence watches the screen, a wireframe field, with small blinking icons scattered throughout. The imperial forces represented by aquilla, with their ship number displayed beneath, the chaos, by the eight pointed star. He watches as one by one, the aquilla blink out. The disappearance of each small icon, indicating the loss of a hundred thousand tonnes of plasteel, and thousands of lives.

It is as many stories are told in the imperium. The defense fleet is vastly outnumbered, out gunned, and out maneuvered. Levering their few advantages, the captains, some of merchant vessels simply unable to escape in time, with weapons more suited to seeing off the occasional pirate, force engagements within the firing arcs of other ships, the defensive platforms. The volleys of macro cannon fire from these emplacements could in fact be enough to damage, or even cripple one of the larger iron warriors ships.

at which point, the nail is hammered into the fleet's coffin. A large portal opens, behind the defence fleet, and in lower orbit than any of the defensive space stations, with more iron warriors vessels emerging from it.

The vox chatter abruptly descends into panic, the fleet admiral yelling to try to regain a semblance of order +YOU ARE MEN OF THE IMPERIUM. SELL YOUR LIVES IN HIS NAME DAMN YOU!+ With that, realizing the oncoming doom, the flagship, a Luna class heavy cruiser. Breaks from the force, as the rest mill about, two other ships follow the Luna, Identified as "Barachiel", A vagabond class merchant vessel, and a single sword class escort.

it isn't long before said ship begins to draw a LOT of fire. the moment its shields are down, the iron warriors launch a teleport strike onto the ship.

The Barachiel holds for a while, the Luna class's notorious durability allowing her to close to weapons range and begin to open fire. The captain, showing obvious skill despite his lowly posting, purges the void shield heat sinks, diverts power, and voids the entire cooling system to the emptiness of space, desperate measures which buy precious seconds that the void shields continue to function. Once they fail, he stands from his command throne, and draws his sword and pistol. An elegant sabre and slender laspistol. "Stand with me men."

moments later, a lascutter beam begins to carve open the door to the bridge

"Gentlemen. It has been an honour." The rest of the crew aim their sidearms at the hatch. Mostly snub laspistols, the odd autopistol, and four guards with lascarbines.

and the door bursts open, revealing iron warriors with boarding shields, who immediately open fire.

The crew return fire, for all the good it will do. in his last moments, the captain roars above the din of fire. "Go with the emperor!" And charges towards the iron warriors sword held above his head.