Watch Fortress Malepertus, 670.M41, the distant Eressa Sector. You are one among few, an Astartes and now you have been made part of an even more elite group, the Deathwatch. Separated from your Chapter, chosen for your skill, your experience, or merely because your nature would not allow you to fit in with your Brothers, you have taken an oath to serve in the long vigil. Your watch has begun.
As an Astartes, you have been the best of the best, trans human warriors tasked with protecting the Imperium, armed and trained beyond any comparison. Yet, in the eyes of the Deathwatch, you have felt once again what it meant to be a recruit. You have learned to fight with those of other Chapters, to handle the unique weapons exclusive and befitting your service and sworn by your life to keep the secrets of the Deathwatch.
After months of rigorous training in the twisted halls of Malepertus, the time has finally come. You have been put together with Marines from other Chapters, brought to a circular chamber close to the heart of the Fortress. At the center, a round, polished stone table encompasses a holo-projector, lined with chairs that are fit to accomodate even the colossal size of a Space Marine. A few light bulbs hang from the ceiling, spending dim yellow light.
Opposite to you, already here as you entered, are two very different, yet somewhat alike people. To your let sits a woman, human by appearance. A long, green, white, blue & golden dress encompasses a buxom figure, crowned by a face with pale skin and dark, almond eyes framed by ravenous black hair which is tied into a knot at the back of her head. The lavish, flamboyant clothes would not look out of place on a Rogue Trader, but the Rosette, an ornament made of dark blue stone shaped into a capital 'I' and decorated with a golden skull, laying on the table in front of her identified the woman as nothing else than an Inquisitor.
"Welcome, Brothers", she greets and turns towards them with an amiable, warm smile. "A pleasure to have you here aboard Malepertus". Her soft tone and demeanour does little to mask the cold, measuring gaze which she shoots over all of you. On a second glance, you can see a man standing in the shadows behind her chair. His figure and posture indicate age but also experience, though there is little else to make out.
Next to her, sharing her aura of utter self-confidence and authority but complimenting it with the air of command and experience, looms a Space Marine in the signature black & silver armor of the Deathwatch.