Allanor Malcom Wallace McAlastair Loghain MacFearghas

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Allanor Malcom Wallace McAlastair Loghain MacFearghas Empty Allanor Malcom Wallace McAlastair Loghain MacFearghas

Post by Vulgate on Sun Jul 20, 2014 11:44 pm

The warrior Allanor had always been an outcast within the Storm Wardens; His strength was legendary but his personal methods of waging war eschewed many tactics with which his chapter had always held strongest. Trained in the ways of the predator tank from his earliest days in the chapter, and yet this method of war bored him more than any other. It "lacket tru honorr" and "was only fit fur a coward err an Ultramrine", yet he could not shake his training, and proved to be a talented Tank Commander. The true glory of combat, he would say, lay with the true valor that came with each individual kill. "Ta face an choose wicher yer foes is a mar deservin a-honour an death, that's a true way-a war." His methods were viewed as brash and careless, by his brothers, and while his leaders admires the ruthless way with which he fought for their chapters glory, they found themselves without a place for the blood-soaked belligerent. It is no surprise, then, that the young battle brother was thrown off to the Jericho Reach early on in his career as an Adeptus Astartes, and was sent early on to the battlefields of the Achilus Crusade. It was there that Allanor perfected his methods of war, learning quickly the ways of combating the dreaded xenos. He retained his mighty claymore from his days as a Sacrisian youth, and he used it only on the greatest of foes. All else, he said, "Cood die by the barr a-me hands".  It was in combat with the Tau Empire, however that Allanor realized the folly of such a limited approach(himself long having given up ranged combat), and was forced to adapt himself to a target that refused to face him at Melee. To this end, Allanor utilized two simple bolt pistols, and would wield these weapons simultaneously in his daring charges. Once he had closed with his chosen target, he would attempt to satisfy honor. "Those tha wouldnot lay down'ere arms un face me..well, let'sa jus be sayin er were a few new holes in those lot." This method satisfied his warrior-code, and Allanor began to immerse himself in the true struggle of combating the vile xenos. He was placed within a reconnaissance squad deep within Tau held territoy: A party of five brothers oversaw Tau troop movements and battlesuit positions within a 100 meter stretch, and Allanor was to be their 6th. This arrangement did not suit Allanor, as his lust for battle drew him to wander when he could break away from his team, much to their disapproval. They spent many month in the field, and over time the information they gathered proved indispensable to forward ground operations. The sounds of gunfire and artillery stirred brother Allanor, and he found himself scouting farther and farther beyond his teams set perimeters. On one such occasion, Allanor came upon a figure, adeptus astartes clad in dark and baroque power armor with a green crested serpent, rising with many heads, nestled upon his breast plate. He had caught the figure, that looked to be without weapon or allies nearby, by surprise and sprang upon him with pistols raised, only to call out: "Muckle damred traitor! Reach fer the sky, err else face me in coombat!". The Traitor, although startled, responded with a cool head and a sinister voice "Are you simply going to kill me from behind your guns, loyalist? A true warrior could kill an unarmed and surprised target without such trinkets..." This thought struck Allanor deeply, and with but a moments hesitation he spoke: "Alrriet, iffen that's yer game..." Without a moments hesitation after that last word, Allanor threw down his pistols and charged the traitor with his bare hands, more than enough to deliver the kill he sought.
Or so he thought.
For concealed on the traitors person was a crooked combat dagger, a weapon which the coward thrust between the Storm Wardens armored gullet. The blade cleared armor, and the wound cut deep.
Allanor roared in pain, turning quickly upon his foe with his great blade brought to bare, ready to kill.
But even as he rounded from this assault, ready to swing, his foe was gone.
In the blink of an eye, it seemed, gone the way that Allanor had come.
Of all the thoughts to enter the Storm Wardens head, warning his recon team was last on the list. He did, however, remember to reclaim his fallen pistols, and hobbled his way back towards the recon camp, hungry for vengeance on this cowardly traitor. The scene be entered then was a grisly s how, upon entering the clearing he found the fresh remains of his recon team, cut to ribbons unawares by a threat they had never seen coming.
Several bodies lay about the outskirts of the camp, with signs of violence encroaching closer to the center of camp. There he saw the final battle of his sergeant, attempting to rest the blade away from the heretic, but falling short just as the blade entered into his neck.
What happened after that is still not truly known. When questioned, Allanor could only speak of a bright light and a great heat emanating from his armor, a pristine set of Mark 8 armor that had once belonged to a great hero of his chapter, and the  awakening as if from a dream with the corpse of this traitor skewered on his mighty blade. The ordeal shook the warrior to his core and, upon conveying the situation to his commanding officer, a Chaplain was deemed necessary in assessing the situation of the heretics insurgency. Allanor told the story as it had happened, and the Chaplain seethed with rage. "You would give honor to those traitorous dogs?!" The chaplain ordered that the warrior be sent home to Highcastle and stripped of his armor, he ordered the warrior be strapped to a great pole in the center of the chapters fortress monastery and flogged ruthlessly with a iron spiked whip for 5 days straight, a day for each of his battle brothers lost and proclaimed that "On the fifth day I will bring you your punishment." The days of punishment would have killed a normal man, and the will of the warrior was all that saw him through, but Allanor was no normal man and he did persist to see the eve of the fifth day. He felt the presence of the Chaplain before he saw him, the feeling of dread rising through his gullet as he knew his punishment drew near; "Rise, whelp, and receive your retribution." With that the chaplain wrenched the warrior from his knees and produced a sharp weapon: Allanor's own combat blade. He then proceeded to carve each of the brothers lost to Allanor's arrogant and misguided abandonment. MALCOM, the sergeant responsible for the souls of the recon team and ardent believer in Allanor's potential. WALLACE, a devastator marine holding point for his brothers, but too slow to react when caught off guard. MCALASTAIR, tactical marine serving as rear lookout, first killed by the Alpha Legionnaire. LOGHAIN, marksman of the squad, loudest voice against Allanor's wanderings. And brother MACFEARGHAS, communications expert of the squad, to whom a simple warning from Allanor could have saved the entire operation. Having carved the final letter the Chaplain proclaimed again, "FROM THIS DAY FORWARD YOU SHALL TAKE THESE NAMES UPON YOU. YOU WILL ALWAYS BEAR THE SHAME OF YOUR ACTIONS, AND YOUR TITLE WILL BEAR YOUR GUILT FOR YOU." The warrior was wrenched from his knees, and given over to the apothecary. For five further days did he meditate on this trial, and when he returned to active duty he wore the expressions of a man unchanged. He fought and swore and cursed his enemies, never giving  any hint to the trauma he had endured. "Aye wus havin a wee stroll, laddies," he'd proclaim "nevar mind ye my predicerments.". But within his soul he was ablaze with fury. His honor stained with the chaplains words, and his hatred had boiled over, his rage directed not at the reason of his punishment but the source of pain itself. Cursing the Chaplains name, and returning to the Jericho Reach, Allanor was stopped by several agents of the Ordo Xenos. His passions of making war with the Xenos, and his current status without a place in his chapter, had lead a team to induct him into the Deathwatch. Seeing no better way to do what he did best, Allanor smirked and replied "Laddies, I thought ye'd nevar ask.".
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