The Blood-Seekers

Gregory read the orders with calm patience. A century and a half of life had taught him that much. His Chief Tribune, Stefan, stood at his side. Gregory's grey eyes finished the last bit of text. “We are heading for the outer edges of Ultima. It looks like we will be maintaining our offensive stance, after all.“

Stefan, a stout marine, nodded heartedly. “Someone has to.”

“Indeed,“ Gregory affirmed as he passed the datapad to Stefan. As for himself, he clasped his hands behind his back as he surveyed the bridge. The Fifth Brigade boasted a legacy that only the original four could surpass. A legacy that Gregory had done his best to uphold and to honour. The Crimson Crusaders, as they were known, contained the largest portion of Terran legionaries outside of Irvin Ruel's First Brigade. Such a simple fact, yet one that had no doubt influenced the Crusader's tendency toward aggression and assault operations. At least, compared to the rest of the Wardens.

His eyes studied the stars beneath his midnight coloured hair. With so many brigades being rerouted to holding and defensive operations, Gregory could not deny a fierce sense of satisfaction for avoiding that fate. Perhaps the brigade would celebrate tonight with their traditional meal of raw meat.

His mouth watered as the idea gained traction.

An Astartes could consume many substances lethal to a normal human, but raw meat would not have been considered a favourite meal for any space marine. The Crusaders were an exception since it had originally begun as a habit to maintain the Omophagea. Then came that one incident on Volska where he and his officer cadre had explicitly eaten raw flesh in front of their enemies. The Volkan Confederacy had been flirting with either defiance or submission to the Imperium at the time. After that messy meal, with blood dripping down Gregory's chin, the Volkans had chosen submission.

It also contributed to their nickname as the Crimson Crusaders. [[Category:B]]