Everything is so dark in here. The metal walls, entombing, closing in. The dull flickering of red lights. I can hear whispers all around me, constantly. What are they talking about? Why is it so cold? I often wonder this...

...gunfire, all around us. The smattering of bullets impacting against ceramite and adamantium, the crack of lasweapons, the explosion of bolters. The Hammer was a smoking wreck. What was going on? Ah yes... of course. I had ordered the Hammer in as a spearhead through the first breach of the gate. We had smashed through their barricades, crushing multitudes of traitor guardsmen, and Brides of the Emperor, an elite warrior-cult of women loyal to Vandire.

We were cut off from our brothers, my command squad encircling the wreck, fighting to hold off the traitors. The Hammer and the two mechanized squads that joined us had done an admirable job holding off the enemies from reinforcing the gap, and sabotaging defense platforms from the inside. We just had to hold out a little longer...

“...Tarsus...”

The fires were all around us. The apothacery had fallen as he tried to tend Brother Arons wound. Brother Aron was dead too, and I was running out of bolt shells. Why is everything so hazy? This is not as I remembered it.

“Elder Tarsus.”

Why can I not remember anymore? The Imperial Palace, the siege... why was there a siege? Whom would we besiege? We were not traitors, we never were. A traitor on the throne of Terra... but the Emperor was the lord of Terra. No, the memories are eluding me again!

“WE WERE NEVER TRAITORS. WE FOUGHT THE ENEMIES OF MANKIND, WE WERE IT'S DEFENDERS.” The words were mine, yet why was it so loud, and so distant? Someone else was there, with me. He talked to me.

“Tis only I, Elrim. Do you remember me, Elder Tarsus?” The voice said. It was a gentle voice, young, inexperienced. I do remember something... that voice, it was familiar. “You must wake, the chapter requires your services once again. Once again? I had never left service, no Astartes ever did.

“NO.” I opened my eyes, and took a good look around me. It was a large chamber, filled with machine parts and weaponry, chains hanging from the ceiling. The man in front of me was smaller than me, clad in red robes. Around him were even smaller, mechanical looking humans. Servitors? Yes... they were Servitors. It was very cold, I noticed again.

“NO. THIS IS NOT THE PALACE. I REMEMBER NOW, I WAS AT THE PALACE, FIGHTING TO REGAIN THE EMPERORS THRONE. WHO HAVE TAKEN ME FROM BATTLE?! WHERE AM I?” My voice was filled with rage. Yes, I remember quite clearly now, the battle, the spearhead, Vandire, the Imperial Fist, gunfire, blood, death, killing. Why was I not killing now? I flexed my fists, it felt strange. Clumpsy. Loud grinding sounds. I brought up my arm, it was large and metallic, inhuman.

“Calm yourself Elder...!” The little man urged. “You are aboard the Indomitable, with your brothers. Do you not remember me, Brother Elrim?” The voice and name was familiar, true, but this could be a trick. Where was my bolter, so I could shoot the little man? Even that they had taken away from me!

“YOU LIE. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BROTHERS?” I moved my arms violently, as in an intimidating move, followed by the noise of cables snapping, chains rattling. A large crash as I brought down my fist over a machine next to me, crushing it utterly. My legs felt stiff, and took small steps forward, towards the little man. He backed away, and dodged out of my clumpsy attempt to grab him. Instead, I picked up one of the Servitors, giving it a shake before I crushed it utterly.

“Forgemaster! Elder Tarsus has awoken... confused....” I heard from the little man, but I no longer cared. He did not have the strength to hold me here. I moved my legs, one at a time, accompanied by a heavy clank as my weight set down against the metalic floor, or a crash as I crushed something underneath my steps. I fled this terrible room, determined to find my brothers, smashing at vents and machinery in anger and frustration, as I waddled down the wide corridors of what I assumed was a ship.

Several times, in the distance, I could have sworn I saw yellow armored figures of the Imperial Fist. But as I hurried to meet them, they crossed into corners too small for me to enter, and dissapeared. It was as if the ghost of my brothers were haunting me. I do not know how long I wandered those corridors, but it felt as an eternity. My anger had died down, and now only confusion was left in it's wake.

I entered another large room, filled with crates stacked high, more servitors carrying them across the room. I looked around warily for enemies hiding, and noticed something odd in the sheen of one of the metal walls. I approached slowly, and so did the shape in the metal's reflection.

A large, squat metallic form, carried by two thick legs, with a powerful 4-fingered fist. A humanoid resembling form, a machine of death, an elder of war, a dead hero. A dreadnought. It all came back to me now, hundreds of battles, and most vivid of them all, my last as captain of the 3rd company. I extended my hand, the hand of the machine I was entombed in, and touched the wall in recognition, standing motionless and remembering.

“Do you remember again, Elder Tarsus?” Came a monotone voice from behind me. The Forgemaster.

“YES. SOMETIMES IT IS HARD TO REMEMBER. SOMETIMES I GET CONFUSED.” I responded in all earnest. How much damage had I caused? I could not remember that.

“It is getting worse I fear, but such comes with your age. Come, the Captain has requested your presence, and wisdom at his war council. Do you wish to accept?”

“YES... YES. I WILL GO, OLD FRIEND. IT IS GOOD TO BE AWAKE AGAIN. YOU MUST TELL ME OF EVERYTHING.”

I still remember the palace, but the memories are sketchy. Sometimes I remember certain details, while others slip away. I am ever thankful to the Emperor for the chance to serve, even in death, but my memories fail me more and more.
How many friends have I forgotten, those whom have watched over me and taken care of my broken old shell? It saddens me, that I cannot honor their memory anymore, but at least I will still fight, for the Fist, and for the Emperor.

I liked this. Would certainly read more.

Oh man...that's...man.

Poor guy.

EVEN IN DEATH I STILL SERVE.

lol senile dreads. also awsome read

Chapter?

>>5265024
manly tears

Giving this a small bump.

>>5265407

ITT: Me who doesn't know what the refresh button is.

>>5265400
Imperial Fist

>>5265405
no tears shed for those who are given the chance to serve beyond death, only silent admiration

8/10

Would read again. Would recommend to friends.

I've been trying to introduce a friend of mine to the 40K universe. She's read a bunch of the fluff, but she's in another state so alot of our conversations are through text messenger.

Would writefag mind if I copied this and sent it to her? I haven't been able to explain to her what exactly a dreadnaught is like. She understands the concept, but this actually catches the -feel- of it.

>>5265475
What's hard to explain, it's Space Marines entombed in a box connected to a Walking robot with guns and shit.

>>5265490
As I said. She understands the concept. It's the feel of it that's eluding her. Spending millenia, trapped inside a metal box. Fighting for the Emperor even as you slowly decay. When not spending your time fighting, sleeping away existance, lost in the memories of your past. It's very melancholic.

>>5265475

Sure, I don't mind. If my writefaggotry is to use to someone, I'm happy!

Saved, good work writefag!

>>5265400

Wait, were you asking which chapter of the story this was? It was the first I did.

Carry on, noble Dreadnought. Carry on.

Why is it that I think I wouldn't care if it was from the Ultramarines?

sniff

Archive?Or 1d4Chan?

Regardless, needs saving!

Needs more.
I shed manly tears.
First write faggotry that felt good in a long while.

Elder Tarsus was standing on the observation deck, the large bulk of his body bent downwards as he looked upon the planet below. He wondered if anyone lived there, perhaps humans too primitive to realise who they were, and whom were watching over them. He reminded himself that he had to ask the Forgemaster about this planet. There were so many things to ask about.

The old venerable dreadnought had walked with the Forgemaster earlier and discussed, but as they randomly came upon the Observation Deck, Elder Tarsus had simply stoped, and stood transfixed, staring at the stars, the planet, and the sun. The Forgemaster had stayed with him for a little while before returning to his sanctum. It had now been several hours of simply looking, and leting the emotions of the universe settle on him.

"THIS IS PEACEFUL. WE FIGHT TO PRESERVE THIS. IT IS AS THE EMPEROR WILLS IT." Elder Tarus said his booming metalic voice echoing across the empty room, answered only by silence, and the light hum of machinery.

The dreadnought continued to stare. It occured to him, that no doubt all his actions were recorded, somewhere, in tomes, on dataslates, or strange information networks. The mysteries of science was beyond him really. He reminded himself he needed to ask the Forgemaster about that too. But while he would not remember most of his deeds, his brothers and comrades, others would. Others could read it, and remember, while he continued to serve. If he still had lips, he would smile, the thought brought a little joy to his troubled heart.

"THANK YOU. FOR REMEMBERING FOR ME." He said into the empty room, and again answered only by silence.

The old venerable dreadnought then started the long walk back to the Forge alone.

Just out of curiosity, did the first person or third person fit the most?

>>5266167
First person was better, but in the long run... I don't know.

>>5266167
First person was good for the first part, because it allowed for a little mystery and dramatic irony.

But the third person isn't bad either.

I say go with 3rd from now on.

Did anyone else think the last part was the dreadnought thanking us for reading his story?

>>5266252
I think that's kinda the point.

loved it

>>5265699

Well, I don't usually archive my own threads, at the risk of being presumptious, but since you requested it I guess I will bite. Though suptg is down right now, I will try later.

If I fall asleep before it's up, you are free to do it for me.

How often do you reckon these things happen? Dreads going haywire due to age and memory problems. It's a tradgedy in the making really, old heroes who can't even remember what they did, only that they served the emperor, and still do.

This lil' batch of win needs archival & adding to 1d4chan.

>>5266745

Well, I'm heading to bed now. suptg is down at the moment, and I've never used 1d4chan before.

But if anyone wants to upload it in the meanwhile, you have my blessings. I've uploaded it on deviantart at least, though that's hardly /tg/ related.

Thanks for reading!