Thought of the Day: It is better to live a pious life through ignorance than to risk heresy through knowledge.
The Serfs' Tale
"You know this door used to open on its own?" The red haired serf jerked his thumb back to the ornate bulkhead behind him where a small team of servitors armed with thick wooden poles stood unnaturally motionless.
The black haired serf beside him shook his head slowly and gave a thin smirk. "Sure, Ros, I forgot you're an expert on the gifts of the Machine-God. That's why you're pulling door duty."
The red haired serf winced at the jab. "Hey, I'm just saying it didn't used to need a crew to open it. Jeeze, try to start a conversation around here…"
The black haired serf rolled his eyes, "All right, smart guy, I guess since we don't really have anything else to talk about. So, where did you get this little piece of techno-lore? A direct revelation from Mars himself, I suppose?"
"Ancient Lord Oshae told me."
The black haired serf nodded condescendingly. "Spend a lot of time chatting with this Chapter's dreadnoughts do you?"
"Yeah, they had me servicing his sacred fluids before I transferred up here."
"This Chapter must really be hurting for people…" The hollow clanking of power armored footfalls echoed in the dark corridor. "Hup, look lively. Someone's coming." The two serfs jumped to attention, approximating the rigidity of the nearby servitors. "Hail… er… tepmogen!"
A marine in power armor of polished gold emerged from the darkness, the red bound book of office swinging at his hip. His eyes, glowing a dim and eldarich green, stared unblinkingly at the two serfs among the servitors. "Top Omornin, Rosen of Most Holy Terra and Gilden of Rynn's World. Many thanks to your Chapters for lending us your aid as we rebuild. Now...the door...open it."
The servitors mechanically lifted their poles as one and inserted them into sockets in the bulkhead. The surfs scrambled to do the same. A metallic shriek filled the air as they began to push on the door, slowly opening it. The marine stepped through the door and into the hectic activity of the Marine Strike Craft's bridge.
Before beginning the process of closing the door, a pale and wide eyed Rosen turned to Gilden, "H-he knows our names…"