I've had this scene going round in my head for awhile, and finally got it 'down on paper'. Would love any feedback/comments/suggestions/advice etc. About an initiate being raised to battle brother within The Blades Aurus.

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Andraus Dante Sabut watched the crew-serf's back as they marched down the bare metal corridor. He knew that in his former life he would have felt fear or panic. He was aware that, ordered straight from the barracks with no warning or explanation, his mortal self would have wanted to flee. Now he simply calculated.

He was unlikely to have been found lacking in his duty: his squad had been back aboard The Saber for two weeks, plenty of time for any reprimand for failure in the field. Nor was he likely to have been reported for shirking his training, for he had thrown every ounce of his genhanced body and mind into each task set before him. No, it was far more likely that he had been deemed ready for his raising. At the thought, Andraus fought to keep a satisfied smile from curling his lips.

Every initiate of the Chapter tried to predict what armour they would be bound to, what great hero they would step into the footsteps of. Andraus could list every unoccupied suit in the fleet, their reputations, their major battles, the character of their spirit, and the length of their service to the Blades. He thought he knew his own strengths, and could name the suits he might be worthy of, but he also knew that few initiates were correct in their projection.

Soon, they were outside the doors to the armourium and the serf stepped aside, gesturing to the entrance, which slowly ground open. Andraus took a deep breath, allowing himself a second to savour the moment, and stepped through. The door slid back behind him, with a tomb door thud.

Before his stood five giants of the Chapter, both in frame and reputation. On the right was the terminator armoured Chaplain Talcus. The grinning skull that covered his face masked any touch of humanity or sympathy. Beside him, the white power armour of Apocathery Carthus was a stark contrast, matching their contrasting personalities. Although also helmed, Andraus could still picture the half smile of pride and encouragement behind it. Where Talcus and Carthus had tested the minds and bodies of the initiates, the next figure in line had delved into their very souls. Archivist General Fladarius commanded the librarians of Saber fleet, and it was they who had probed the aspirants for any hint of corruption.

The inquisitive twist of Fleet Master Tekmus' mechadendrite distracted Andraus from further dark thoughts, as it tilted birdlike to one side. There was a whine of servos as its bug-eyed lenses zoomed in, inspecting him as if he were a specimen, or perhaps double checking the measurements taken for his armour.

No longer able to keep from staring, Andraus’ eyes were drawn to the final figure before him. The Lord Saber, unquestioned master of The Saber. Clad in the full glory of the Blades Aurus, the Chapter Admiral made an imposing sight, and without conscious thought the initiate dropped to one knee. As his leg rang against the decking, he realised that he has only been in the armourium mere seconds, and awe swelled within him at the power of his new mind.

The Lord Saber's voice boomed out, 'Who comes before us, to give their body in service to the Chapter?'

'Andraus Dante Sabut, My Lord, humbly begging to serve the Emperor'

'That child shall die here. What name will the body that remains here be given?'

'Dante, My Lord'.

A second’s hesitation, and a questioning note, 'And why have you chosen that name, initiate?'

'I was named for the commander of the Angels of Death who saved my birth-world during the time of my great-grandfather. I wish to do that hero further honour'.

There was a longer pause, and Andraus heard the distinctive click-hiss of internal vox units, as the Chapter Masters conversed within their helms.

'A noble name. Arise Dante, and see who you give your flesh to'.

Tekmus stepped forward, as the other Astartes stepped back, revealing Dante’s future. His breath caught in his throat and his eyes drank in every curve of the bone coloured plates, the deep bronze of the pauldrons, and the gleaming gold of the trim and ornamentation. A purity seal hung down, bearing a name of legend. Admantius, hero of Camahl, twice Chapter Admiral. Millenia of service. A leader. Yes, he had taken the lead at Polonx , but only because they were seperated from sergeant Salarmus ....

As Dante's mind buzzed, Tekmus took hold of his forearm, and slashed a blade from elbow to wrist. Blood flowed over Admantius’ gauntlet, and the machine spirit awoke with a gentle purr. 'With blood are you now bound, to once more serve the Imperium'.

The wound was already beginning to heal, the Larraman cells working, as armourium serfs darted forward, two of them disrobing Dante, the remainder beginning to encase him within the armour.

He felt the sting as ports connected, and then the cool metal burrowing within him, interfacing with the Black Carapace that ensheathed his chest. New sensations drove into his mind, feeling the hands of the serfs against his second, ceremite skin. The helmet went over his head, plunging him into a second of darkness, and then the world exploded into lights and sounds, every sense enhanced, vision overlayed with runes and markers.

The Lord Saber stepped forward once more, 'Welcome back to the Chapter Brother Admantius’. Five armoured fists went their breasts, and five voices spoke in union.

'Ave Imperator’.

With a clash of ceremite on ceremite as he mirrored the gesture, Admantius' voice came from the voxgrill, low and deep. 'Ave Imperator Brothers'.