<div class="floatright">(http://f1.pepst.com/c/2C92F3/257788/ssc3/home/044/wwe.offical.site/triple_h.jpg_480_480_0_64000_0_1_0.jpg)</div><br/>Earlier, before the hymns had stopped, or his armor been donned, Leonatus had acquired a small space in which to train.  He’d danced sword forms there, bare foot and bare chested, with sparks trailing behind his concentrated blade.  The wind swirled around him.  In places, power arched form sword to bulkhead, grounding out into the arcane bowels of the ship.<br/><br/>As his hair whipped about him, Leonatos moved from stance to stance, form to form, sweat beading on his powerful body.  For 13 years now, he’d honed this skill alone, under the watchful eyes of none save a single service badge taken from the shoulder of a fallen brother, Drago.  That badge hung on a peg on the wall now, looking down as it had on every sword form training session he’d done since Drago had lead a suicide march into the heart of a tyranid horde with the rest of the death legion.  It broke their center of power, but tyranids were still scattered across that blighted world.  Leonatos had stood on the front lines of the mission to retrieve the gene seeds from their fallen brethren.  It was there he’d found his elder brother, his swordmaster, his friend, in the midst of a mountain of the enemy.  That was his last defiance, not to the tyranids, but to Horus, the traitor, the memory of who’s betrayal had driven him insane and to the brink of eternal corruption.<br/><br/>Pausing with his blade over his head, Leonatos permitted his eyes to lcose.  He addressed chaos directly.  “As Drago defied you then, so do I defy you, always.”<br/><br/><div align="center">*      *      *</div><br/>Leonatos listened intently to the briefing.  He gave only the slightest nod, as he had no questions at this time.  Unlike his ultramarine brother, he’d had few encounters with the xenos known as orcs.<br/><br/>It was time to change that.<br/>