The Cultists

A mechanical prodigy, the young man discovered his skills for communing with the machine spirit upon a nameless battlefield, where he managed to get his disabled squad chimera to work with but a single wrench and unmatched determination. The troop transport seemed keen on working with him and as such he managed to repair it in time before another shot disabled it altogether. His skills have since then been used on multiple occasions and yet his desires to join the ranks of the techpriests were turned down on multiple occasions. This would frustrate him to no end but he'd always keep quiet, taking it as meaning that his leaders needed him right there with them on the battlefield.

Near the end of the campaign, his request to meet with a techpriest would finally be answered. He'd hoped to be allowed into their ranks, knowing full well the dangers that came with it. Even a lowly neophyte, he'd have been happy to be built from the ground up, to learn and discover more about his gifts. Anything as long as it wasn't the proposition he got - a servitor. And no amount of sugarcoating would seal the deal. He knew fully well that no man ever returned from duty as a servitor. But a refusal was not taken kindly. If he was not willing, then he would be forced. So they tried anyways, but the young man's life wound up spared thanks to a timely intervention on behalf of no Emperor, but the Chaos God Tzeentch, granting him the ability to disable his assailants just in time in order to escape their clutches and the base altogether.

It was in the following months that the whispers tempted him further. They encouraged him to pursue the knowledge he desired, unlike those who shunned it. To be his own man and serve nobody, unlike those who sought to make him their tool. And so a choice was made and a pact was formed. Mutually-beneificial, he would tell himself in reassurance...

Reece Gallows spent his whole life slaving away inside a manufactorum. His only rest came at the end of a day long work shift, following which he'd spend an hour getting himself clean from all the filth stuck to him before going to sleep for 6 hours if he was lucky, only to get up for work the next morning. This monotonous lifestyle forged a very hardy man, though also a cold and withdrawn individual without much sympathy for others. When working on the treads of an imperial vehicle, his right hand got stuck in one of the conveyor belts. Screaming for his co-workers to stop the machine, it wouldn't be until he lost two of his fingers that he'd finally be relieved. However medical aid was non-existent. Even somebody like him, who'd worked more hours than some of his colleagues got to enjoy living, was placed in a queue for days.

The pain grew. Bandages and wrappings did him no good when the wound became infected and started plague the rest of his body gradually. Fever overtook him but he had to work more. When the fever turned into bronchitis was when his work efficiency began to deteriorate. That was when he was finally skipped ahead of the queue and given medical aid. Only to hear the words that no man wanted to hear: "There's nothing we can do." It is true that his life had been suffering. Death would have been an escape. But not like this. He did not wish to suffer his final moments stuck in a sickbay with another 30 half-dead men, desperately clutching on to whatever life they had left. His condition only worsened. He could barely breathe.

Prayers and prayers were cast to the wind. He held onto life, breathing less and less with each following moment as his sickness worsened. But he did not die. Even as many around him began to drop, he continued to live. The pain began to ease. He still felt those ragged breaths being dragged out of him though his lungs no longer felt like they were caving in on themselves. Eventually he got up and off the bed. The feeling of walking again felt almost unfamiliar to him. But he made it to his chambers, where he took a laspistol and his last meal, put on a backpack and simply left the facility before anyone could tell. After all, he was just one of thousands. One enlightened, however...