No Stain Shall Spread
We are the bulwark against the darkness.
Your existence as you have known it is dead. Your family, your former allegiances, your past loyalties are as dust upon a tomb. The past for you is no more.
Ahead lies a grim future, but one of unparalleled importance.
You have been recruited into an unending war against foes both unimaginable and as numerous as the stars in the heavens. We are tiny candles, the last, dying light to fend off the approaching twilight. Our greatest efforts can only slow down the inexorable tide that bears down upon the Imperium.
You have been chosen to be burdened with this duty, and you are expected to stand resolute and unflinching in the face of that encroaching horror, the terminus of our very existence as a species, with faith in your hearts and flame and blade in your hands and through gritted, bloodied teeth say, “Enough.”
There is no glory in this. There is no reward. Your names will be lost, forgotten in some data vault and none will ever known of your sacrifice. We do this—you do this—because it is right, because it is duty, and as part of the greatest civilization to ever fight its way among the stars, to do any less is to be as guilty as the forces arrayed against us, and woe be to the foes of Mankind.
It is ours to see that no stain shall spread and mar the great works of man, and we will give anything, face any foe, to see that oath fulfilled.