So... story time with my most recent squad now completed.
When I first started playing 40k, it was the end of 6th edition. My friend showed me the Astra Militarum and I was sold. But... as a longtime RPG player, I love making things my own. So I changed the Cadian color scheme to my liking and then I was going to later make them a different regiment from a different planet. With that I never put the Cadian symbol on their right shoulder pauldron.
Then the end of 7th edition came and Cadia was destroyed. I was broken inside. I had strongly based my regiment on Cadia and now that reference would be sung in Hive City taverns across the Imperium rather than gazed upon by those "fortunate" enough to visit the fortress planet. (That Eye of Terror thing wasn't exactly pleasant). So... this is the first time I have ever placed a regimental symbol on a shoulder pauldron. I now proudly embrace being Cadian and wish to carry on the flag, discipline, and stubborn resiliency of those who died defending Cadia.
For the Emperor!
To celebrate my 500th post I have some images and a short story for you... =I= Inquisitorial Access Approved =I=
I was hauled by my tattered overcoat from the APC's wreckage with the help of the massive armoured gauntlet of Brother Donatus.
To think the great Inquisitor Lord Malcador Steinbeck; pulled to his feet like a frail old man... But that's what I was, nearly 300 Terran years old, I'd long since stopped counting.
Far too old for "field" duty, yet there I stood. My savant, Skullhopper slinked beside me, recording what could be our final moments.
Rapid vox clicks sounded around me as my Kill Team took up positions and prepared to hold back the foul xenos.
We were outside manufactorum Xeta-Silon-993, on the desert world Galathan; searching for answers.
That didn't matter now... Orks were emerging from the equatorial jungles all around us. Their numbers where innumerable, hulking monsters with teeth like knives whose sillouets flickered with the fires of the APC.
But Malcador Steinbeck does not go down without a fight. Reaching for my Force Sword Falcatis, I thumbed the activation rune: yellow streaks of light danced about the ebonite blade. Worn from centuries of use, it knew my hand well.
The time had come, one last time.