The members of the Death Watch were forced to stare at one another as their tomb was sealed around them.  Great metal doors sealed shut around them.  There was no return from the path chosen for them, doubtful indeed that any of them had a chance to refuse.  Pride and honor were powerful motivators among the Chapters and to look a Brother Marine in the eye knowing a mission had been refused was a great shame.  So then each of a different heritage of Brotherhood were placed together.  Taken from their homes to answer the call of duty for the Emperor and his will, these newly formed members of Death Watch came to be thrust out into the void of space.  Metal creaked and bent as the pressures of space threatened to tear the container apart.  Yet then the shift of weight came while rockets pushed them forward.  Speed ever growing as the tomb thrust them forward and across the planet’s atmosphere.<br/><br/>Bone jarring the trip was but nothing ever compared to the landing.  Physics tugged and pushed on the mortal frame, tearing lesser men apart without the doors even opening.  Around them flames licked at their tomb, pressed upward as they violated the planet’s exterior.  The world resist, dared to challenge the might of the Emperor’s children but to no avail.  Indeed the warriors pierced the flesh with only minimal trouble and pushed onward to the planetary surface.  Alarms sounded along the interior.  Warnings and alerts of imminent impact just before indeed the world went up and then slammed down for all those inside.  Yet each of them had done this many times before, had seen and felt this experience so often before.  They knew this enough to know that something was different if not wrong.  The interior of the pod rocked again, tipping to the side suddenly and then lurching downward again.<br/><br/>From outside the pod could be heard the sound of glass breaking and creatures shouting.  Metal doors opened one way as the pod was now tilted to the side.  Above them a tattered ceiling bore a hole from the impact of the pod.  At one time a mural of sorts had been painted on that ceiling but no more.  The Space Marines had come and their footprint had left a hole there.  Around them were more painted walls and rotted wood.  Vines covered most inches of the apartment they know found themselves occupying.  A glance outside a dirty window showed them nearly fifty stories above the jungle canopy below.  Somehow the pod had put them down into an ancient resort of some sort.  From their view the Marines could see the smoke of battle out in the jungle, the village possibly.<br/><br/>Yet more pressing was the sound of grunts and war cries as orks began to recover from the shock of the impact.  A cry of “Oomies” went up from down the hall way.<br/>