Warhammer The Iron Empire (Warhammer 40k)

[PsihoKekec]

It's good to see other neophytes fleshed out as well.

I hope the Fallen influence on Tristan is only the general influence he might have on the local culture and the predecessor theory being just theory. I like the idea that he is simply a gifted child, as they happen.

Aldred seems like someone you want to have a glorious death, before he can arrange it for you.

 

[Thunderscourge]

It's good to see other neophytes fleshed out as well.

It was fun doing it from in-universe perspectives on them too. One thing I like about 40k codexes is that they have a variety of content in them and so you get all sorts of varying looks into the universe.

I hope the Fallen influence on Tristan is only the general influence he might have on the local culture and the predecessor theory being just theory. I like the idea that he is simply a gifted child, as they happen.

That very well could be the case, as I don't intend to ever confirm nor deny: it's just something that someone in-universe studying the Neophytes could happen to notice and then theorize on. Given that the Fallen seemingly were on the planet for some time them influencing local culture and whatnot is incredibly possible, as is the idea that the personal sigil of one of them would be copied by locals.

This is the kind of storytelling I like, because it allows readers to come to their own conclusions and choose whatever they feel is 'right'. There's evidence for the theory of course, but it's by no means conclusive and can just as easily be explained by mundane reasons as well which leaves it in doubt. From there people can make what they will of it.

Aldred seems like someone you want to have a glorious death, before he can arrange it for you.

He's not a top tier threat or anything, but he is definitely not the guy you want to be relying on personally if he can benefit from your misfortune. As such what happens with him will largely result from what circumstances he finds himself in, as it's hard to be an opportunist if you are given no opportunity.

 

[ATP]

I ilke it.Instead of trying to mold all of them into perfect Iron Warrior ,they use their skills where they could be best used.
Logical,considering kow costly and rare they are - but it is true for both Chaos and IoM,yet both usually try to mold their marines from one chapter into one pattern.
Probably why Iron Warriors still exist.Urban is most interesting,as somebody who probably would act as engineer and architect and rarely see battle.And becouse Space Marines are made for combat,it is fun.

P.S i knew that i wrote about that - but what about Honor Harrington style missiles ?

 

[Thunderscourge]

MOON'S TWILIGHT

"Discover anything?"

Isolde sat down in the Schola's dining hall across from where Verita had already sat, the two of them arriving earlier than many of their classmates by chance and affording them some solitude in what would soon be a sea of students like them. Isolde would have been fine just sitting down with Bo at her side and eating in silence, but the presence of a particular object at the table had caught her attention and interest.

"Very little, but I have a lead now."

Bo and Seta both were fascinated for a moment by the black box upon the table that Verita was inspecting before both of the Ixolotls remembered they had food and began to consume it, plunging themselves face-first into the meals provided to them by the dining hall because they lacked a more proper way to consume it. Isolde's interest did not waver however, as that very box was one of the items they recovered from the Conomor regime some years back and it had held Verita's interest on occasion since then. She was usually busy with schoolwork or learning about various subjects she believed would aid her in her pursuit for knowledge, but when she had a moment she could be seen contemplating the cube and wondering what lay within.

A member of the Mechanicus attached to the Schola had identified the device as an ancient piece of technology that was not only used to contain something, but also to prevent others from obtaining it: should the box be breached the contents within would be destroyed, so finding out how to unlock the box was the only way to figure out what lay within. It was for this reason that Verita had been carefully contemplating it over time, as she did not desire to possibly destroy something her parents had been researching, and so she seemed particularly excited that she was one step closer to unveiling the secret within.

"A lead?"

"This cube reacted when the light of the moon touched it the other night, specifically the full moon. Upon it appeared text as if on a computer screen, but only so long as it was within the moonlight," Verita explained as she gestured to the device, "I believe that it possesses sensory equipment well beyond typical Imperial technology, for how would it know that the moon was full and to react accordingly if not for that? On other nights it has done no such thing, for I have held it at night before without any such occurrence."

Her reasoning made sense to Isolde, and so she nodded while inquiring further about what information it had offered.

"And the text?"

"It was cryptic, but I made certain to write down every detail. From my approximation they appeared to be a set of coordinates, ones with no official importance or markings from the maps I have cross-referenced them with."

Verita pulled out some notes she took down and showed the documents she had gone over to come to her present conclusion, which Isolde saw no reason to question: the Schola was filled with talented youth and some of the Imperium's most promising, and in the case of Verita she was incredibly sharp. Her talent for research, stringing together the pieces of knowledge she could find, and then formulating a detailed conclusion were second to none that Isolde knew. It was likely that same inquisitive and intelligent nature that saw her parents question the official narratives of the Conomors, something that saw them killed for their 'heresy'.

Due to the circumstances surrounding the box's retrieval and the situation with her family Verita did not explain its true nature to others at the Schola except for Isolde and Dairine who had helped her acquire it, and so to everyone else it was just some odd thing that Verita was interested in. She was already ignored by many peers due to the stigma surrounding her as the daughter of alleged traitors, so few thought to question why she had a black box with no external markings with her sometimes. It was not a Chaos object or in any way related to the Warp, so it just flew under the radar especially given how it did not possess a particularly large profile.

Looking at the point Verita had marked on a map, Isolde noted that it was a particularly barren region that held no markings...something peculiar in and of itself, given how well-surveyed the surrounding areas were.

"If we travel there you expect to learn more."

Verita nodded and broke into a smile, glad that Isolde was able to follow her thinking so well, "Fortunately we have an upcoming field exercise that could provide opportunity, should arrangements be made that we travel to this location rather than some other piece of tundra beyond the walls of the Fortress City."

So that was her true goal...Isolde was going to be involved with the planning of a certain field exercise as the team leader in charge of her class, but Isolde wanted to make certain that was what was being asked for rather than anything beyond that point. After all she was Kimaran and thus incredibly prideful, if a friend came to her asking for help with something because of something she earned with her merits that would be one thing, but as the daughter of the Commandant the possibility that she was being asked to pull strings there always remained.

"Are you asking me as the class leader or as the daughter of the Commandant?"

Verita continued smiling, her forthright and honest nature helping assure Isolde of the words that followed, "Class leader of course. No matter where we travel we will have to manipulate the weather to ensure we are not surrounded by Hoarverns and other beasts, so as the top student of our class you should be capable of convincing the Abbots that this location is sufficient for our training purposes. I have already cross-referenced it with migration patterns and it only appears to possess a small population of Ixolotls and Torice, with nests of Hoarvern recorded quite rarely."

It sounded like a fair plan, and while Isolde would have to look over the details she had no doubt that Verita had done her due diligence.

"Anything else?"

"You can see for yourself. I would not ask this of you if doing so would endanger our class."

Isolde was offered the materials by Verita and accepted them readily, placing them in her own bag for later inspection. While she could not promise that she would be able to conduct their field exercise where Verita desired Isolde could at least attempt to make it reality. She just would have to convince their overseers, which Isolde doubted would be an issue if the documents she was given were indeed as Verita said.

"I will look into it."

As she said this Dairine sat down beside Verita, appearing to be in a good and jovial mood after acing her drills that day and proving herself the best of their class once again at physical endeavors.

"I can't wait for you to finally open that box only to find that there's absolutely nothing within it. Boy will you look stupid when that day comes, won't you Verita?"

Verita's smile didn't break as she looked over at Dairine, whose propensity for toying with others verbally did not diminish the good Dairine did for those she was close to.

"And yet you procured for me the tools I needed to properly test and observe it. You are far kinder than your words would suggest, Dairine."

Right after Dairine joined Umida and Clausura, the former of which offered her own opinion on the matter chipperly while taking a seat beside Isolde.

"She's right you know. You've been helping me keep up with the class, and it's not like you really need my help studying in return," Umida offered, her intelligence quite notable but her diminutive size and frailness making keeping up with the class near impossible if not for Dairine's occasional assistance.

Having been called out as softer as she liked to portray herself as caused Dairine to quiet down and grumble to herself while her peers shared a knowing look.

"I have not seen you this flustered since you lost the Schola-wide competition," Clausura commented.

Dairine's good mood deflated at the mention of that, it being one of the few times the girls were even allowed contact with the male students and it just drove in to Dairine how much raw mass mattered in certain matters, "Don't remind me. Everyone complains that I am 'gene-crafted', but what good is that when I still can't even outmatch some of the boys still?"

Isolde shrugged, accepting well that she would never outmatch the best of the boys in raw strength due to how some of them already were beginning to resemble pseudo-Astartes given all the Schola's physical drills, "It is not your fault, the majority of them are being prepared for Tempestus Scion training. You are more skilled than any of them, but powerful musculature cannot overcome a massive disparity in sheer mass. A few of them are already three times and of our weight, and that is all muscle."

Clausura chimed in again, "So long as we place our trust in the Emperor it matters not how strong or frail our physical form may be. It is by his protection and the miracles he bestows upon us that we as a species have survived to this day."

"Miracles are by their nature unquantifiable, and so I would rather rely upon my own skill and preparations," Isolde rebuffed, unwilling to substitute faith where reason was perfectly applicable.

"Some day you too will understand. My own life was forfeit until his majesty the Emperor intervened, so I will never forget the debt I owe him," Clausura added, with the others at the table giving a shrug before focusing on the food before them.

The dining hall was quite quiet for all of the Progena gathered within, but such was to be expected of the well-disciplined youth, many of whom were natives to the planet defined by its stoicism. This was not to say that no discussions or chatter broke out, but it was not uproarious like many such settings might be and instead retained the level of volume one would expect in a classroom discussion. For Isolde's table the conversation that eventually broke out was a contemplation as to what boys were actually like, as Scholas were typically gender-segregated until the Progena were around sixteen years of age and the situation of Kimara's population discrepancy only exacerbated the issue: the girls genuinely knew almost nothing about boys beyond what they had seen of the Drill Abbots and from the local mercenary garrison, the difference between which was so severe that no real consensus could be drawn about them.

Clausura, hailing from another world initially, was able to give some basic details but even her account was limited given that she was not that old before she was relocated to the Schola following the death of her Inquisitor father. She made mention of a boy she had befriended and of his two younger brothers, citing that they were all good people, though this led to Dairine joking that Clausura fancied the boy in question. Despite initial protestations Clausura did eventually admit that the boy would one day be fine husband material given his caring nature that saw him often looking after his siblings, which brought the conversation to the hypothetical preferences of the girls present about what they would want their husbands to be like. They still were uncertain what most men were like beyond being bigger than women in general, but that did little to stop them from crafting their own mental images of what would be desirable in them.

As a baseline that the girls managed to work out a husband, as Kimaran society expected, should be able to provide and protect their family. What's more, they must be stoic and enduring because weakness was to invite death upon one's family on a Death World. After some more debate another important quality decided was that of virility, for a husband who could not grant one's lineage descendants was worthless. At around fifteen to sixteen years of age on average, if not for the Conomor Conscription each of the girls would have likely been engaged by now if not married and expecting their first child. The conditions of Kimara did not allow for waiting to rear children, as the world actively trying to kill its native population at every given moment in a multitude of ways made the population mature fast much like conditions on Fenris or Catachan did.

In ages past the Schola on Kimara had special programs to facilitate this societal norm, with many members of the institution's female population joining the Orders Famulous as a Sister-Chatelain when they came of age and one's specialization was determined. The Orders Famulous were a non-militant sect of the Adepta Sororitas which specialized in serving the Imperium's nobility in a variety of roles, including that of negotiating marriages and alliances. While mundane, this had the effect of shifting the fates of entire planets by aiding ruling families and those with the power to impact the fate of Humanity directly.

For Kimara, a world which held deep traditions and reverence for family structure, this was seen as a particularly honorable duty and was widely practiced on the planet itself with its own nobility for thousands of years. By joining an order based around marriages the Kimaran Progena were expected to engage in marriage themselves to better guide the nobles of the Imperium into ones of their own, and thus often remained planetside on Kimara with their own husband until their first child turned twenty. Their children would grow up in the Schola like they had, and so the Imperium's finest had their bloodlines carried forward.

This practice collapsed in recent years due to the mass exodus of the male population due to Governor Conomor, but the roots of it still had hold on the population left after. What members of the Famulous had been stationed on Kimara had been assigned to other worlds since, and those that would graduate into it now would similarly end up elsewhere for there were no marriages and alliances to broker nowadays. Their absence did not strip the desire of one day possessing a family from many a Schola student however, and even Isolde had contemplated on more than one occasion what it might be like to have a family of her own...not that she or any of her peers expected such a reality to ever manifest, given their circumstances.

Dairine was the most vocal in how she envisioned a man worthy of her attention, stating that they would have to be able to surpass her own skills and that she had no interest in brute strength. Finesse was her specialty, and she only would deem a husband worthy of her if he could best her: this in turn received a round of eyes rolling across the table, as each of the girls present knew that almost no Human could beat Dairine's reaction time and dexterity. How could they, after all, as it was so obvious that she was created in some lab rather than through more natural methods?

Verita did not seem interested in the subject, instead focused on contemplating the mysterious device in her possession reclaimed some years ago now, and so when prompted merely stated that a husband of hers had to understand the value of truth. For someone plagued by the mysterious circumstances surrounding her family it was a somewhat expected preference, even if it was itself vague.

Clausura was vocal about wanting a husband who would help fight the enemies of Humanity and purge all who stood in the way of the God Emperor's will, her personal zeal an inspiration to many Progena from other worlds but near ignored by Kimaran natives. While every student at the school swore allegiance to the Emperor of Mankind it was simply not in their nature to loudly and boldly proclaim as much at every given opportunity, in turn making Clausura seem out-of-place whereas at another Schola she may be a popular rallying figure for a class by infectiously spreading her own zeal to others.

Isolde was tight-lipped about her own 'ideal' partner, simply restating the basic standards all of them had agreed upon and then adding in that such things were the spirit of their world and that she would expect them to be well personified by any husband of hers. Truth be told her idolization of her father made Isolde predisposed towards intelligent stoics, though she kept this to herself. Beyond that, she suggested that 'noble' or 'knight'-like qualities would be nice, though she offered no further explanation even when Dairine laughed at her classmate wanting a knight in shining armor, even going so far as to say in jest that the Iron Warriors were gone. This earned Dairine an earful from Clausura even as Umida spoke up next to say that she agrees with Isolde, and that perhaps someone kind and friendly would be nice.

Perhaps she too would have been mocked in good fun for her preferences if not for the arrival of another at their table just then which caught Umida's attention and redirected the conversation.

"Oh, hey Kalles. Do you need help with your studies?"

The jovial discussion quieted down nigh instantly as everyone at the table turned to see Kalles standing behind where Isolde was seated, with the Commandant's daughter looking up with a bored look of displeasure at the girl interrupting them. Kalles was by many measures beautiful, and had she been in different circumstances she might even be considered the most desirable among all of her peers with her striking looks and ample womanly features...if not for the fact that Isolde was the spitting image of her grandmother, who was a beauty in her own right.

To Isolde it was a detriment to possess the largest curves of her peers while also having inherited her father's considerable height, as it made her stand out far too much to the mercenaries she so despised and none of the standard issue equipment fit her properly. Having to take extra time to get fitted so her exaggerated hourglass figure could be accounted for meant time not spent studying or training, and she found that her chest was an impediment in the field. She was beautiful, yes, but she did not care beyond basic pride in the fact that she so strongly carried the image of her family before her.

This was all lost on Kalles, whose own shallow and vapid nature was obsessed with her own beauty that she only saw Isolde as a threat towards. Dairine possessed an athletic build like one would expect of a professional gymnast, being so lithe that she would appear fragile if not for the strength she could demonstrate, so any beauty she might possess was mitigated by how eerily thin she was. Verita possessed what some might call a 'girl next door' appearance, being beautiful but not to such a degree that she would particularly stand out among her peers especially since her ivory skin and raven hair matched so many other Kimarans like Isolde. The flaxen haired Kalles was the one who truly stood out from the others, appearing exotic next to them simply by not possessing more typical Kimaran traits, and so any rival to the attention she sought was someone she despised...especially when that person was someone who she had disliked even before their growth into young adults.

"I'm here for the teacher's pet," Kalles stated bluntly as she leered down at Isolde, obviously having some issue she wished to raise with her.

Isolde turned back to her food, prompting Bo to do the same as master and pet both resumed their meals.

"If you did your own work for once you might perform better on assessments. Then again, you are without virtue if your nocturnal activities are any indication," Isolde spoke condescendingly in response to Kalles' verbal jab, all the while proving herself to be a true Kimaran by lacking tact or diplomacy almost entirely. While moments ago the table had been discussing the bearing of children, and how they were likely the last generation of Kimarans, it was a societal taboo to engage in pre-marital relations given how severe the population was. Kalles lacking such an aversion made her near unique, and it was an open secret that she had cashed in her maidenhood with various Wostyn mercenaries already.

Kalles jammed a finger into Isolde's back, "As if you're any better, you sly bitch. I saw you chatting with Priomb you know even though he's mine."

Genuine confusion caused Isolde to turn back, Bo mimicking her movement even if his lack of proper neck made him have to also turn his body.

"Who?"

"Priomb! I saw you speaking with him last night, when everyone knows that he's mine."

Isolde furrowed her brow, trying to recall ever having spoken to someone by the name of Priomb before, knowing the name but not instantly recalling where it was from since it was not one she heard often.

"Literally who."

"Priomb is a high ranking member of the Wostyn garrison, so I don't believe for a moment you don't know who I am talking about," Kalles continued as she stabbed her finger with its long, manicured nail into Isolde's shoulder. This earned her a brush of the hand by Isolde, whose own fingernails were short and evenly kept so as to not impede her work.

"Oh, so that was his name. Yes, I spoke to him last night, but not to seduce him. Kimarans do not lie with dogs after all, and he is naught but a mad hound who needed to be put in his place. He was trespassing and so I was politely informing him that if he remained he would be dealt with as an intruder."

No records existed of a marriage between a Kimaran and Wostyn pairing throughout the history of their two planets, such was the bitter feud that even the most open minded among them detested the other. That animosity was what made the Wostyn soldiers perfect for repressing the Kimarans, but also led to their vicious actions visited upon the planet's populace since to the members of Wostyn all Kimarans were less than Human and were traitors who deserved no respect at all.

The feeling was mutual, the Kimarans just tended to be more quiet about it given their inability to let go of grudges.

Sensing that things were escalating brought Umida to try and relax things, though her words fell upon deaf ears, "The garrison really is not supposed to trespass on Schola grounds, especially not so late at night. I'm sure he won't make that mistake again, so let's take it easy."

Kalles ignored her classmate so she could continue focusing on Isolde, who was returning the glare sent her way with one of her own, "Talk to my Priomb again and I will make you regret it you haughty Moll."

Moll, a derogatory term used by the Wostyn mercenaries to refer to Kimaran women, was the last straw at the table...but not for Isolde, who had once again turned her back to Kalles so as to ignore her. If Kalles was going to be all bark and no bite then Isolde saw no reason to entertain her childish tantrum, contently resuming her lunch for a moment alongside Bo until another voice spoke up.

"Some of us are trying to eat here, and it is difficult to have an appetite when the stench of a whore is ruining the meal."

Dairine was now the one scowling at Kalles, having leaned over her tray from across the table to get a bit closer towards the target of her insult. Verita was already packing up her things, knowing where this was going to lead to, while Isolde calmly continued her meal as Kalles yelled back at Dairine.

"Not all of us have daddy pulling strings, or were gene-crafted like you, you Aeldari Xenos scum—"

Umida stood up and moved between the two now arguing, trying to once again make peace ineffectually.

"Hey, lets not fight—"

Isolde finished the last of her food as the argument continued to flare up before checking to make certain Bo had finished as well. Seeing that he in fact had she pat him on the head and let him know he was good, being quite a few years old now but as an Ixolotl he possessed a delayed development akin to that of a Human child. He was smiling contently, completely ignorant to or just not caring about the two girls nearby slinging insults back at one another, and Isolde felt herself calmed in response.

"Bo, go play with Seta."

It took little convincing to get Bo to go visit his Ixolotl friend on the other side of the table with Verita, and so he lowered himself to the ground and ran under the table to go and do as he was told.

"Upa!"

The fact that Isolde was still ignoring her upset Kalles severely, resulting in her grabbing at the back of Isolde's hair as she continued to try and pick her territorial fight over a man that Isolde could not possibly care less about.

"I'll teach you to look down on me, you stuck up bit—"

At almost a full foot taller than Kalles, Isolde possessed a similar size advantage over her upstart classmate to the male Progena who had bested the prideful Dairine. Not only did she metaphorically look down on Kalles, so too did she in a literal sense when they both stood.

The now clear lunch tray Isolde had been using found its way into Kalles' gut, forcing her to double over as Isolde then dropped the tray to grab Kalles by the hair and neck to slam her head down into the table with one hand as the other twisted the other girl's arm behind her back. Kalles struggled, but Isolde's grip was like that of the Kraken their planet's defense force was named after, tightly holding Kalles' face flat on the table without the other girl being able to do a thing to escape her.

"Infighting is unacceptable, and if you dare endanger us all for your petty squabbles I will personally put you down. Am I understood?"

It was almost time for their specializations to be determined, and with that came various tests and field exercises that could be lethal should a member of their class cause unnecessary problems. If this was going to be Kalles' behavior, then Isolde had no mercy to spare for her.

The response Kalles gave was to continue struggling and trying to lash out at Isolde only for Isolde's longer arms to allow her to completely ignore Kalles' efforts. In fact she used more force instead of being made to let go, pressing Kalles so hard into the table that the girl's jaw and cheek would be bruised no doubt after the fact.

"I said am I understood?"

Realizing that it was futile to resist, Kalles gave up and acceded shortly thereafter, prompting Isolde to throw her back over an empty chair to the cold hard floor below. In her mind Kalles had it coming to her, and so she felt no regret as the other girl dizzily got back up to her feet. Kalles was underhanded enough to feign acceptance only to lash out directly afterwards, possessing enough cunning to do so but not being smart enough to engage in a more properly thought out surprise attack. As such preventing that almost inevitable retaliation was prudent in Isolde's eyes.

Isolde was loyal to her classmates and those close to her, as shown by her aid granted towards the outcast Verita, but she drew a line at would-be traitors and sell-outs like Kalles.

"Bring her to the infirmary and get back to eating. We have a schedule to keep."

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________​

Perusing the documents provided by Verita and cross-referencing them with materials available in the Schola's library allowed Isolde to see that her classmate was entirely correct in her assertion that traveling to the coordinates shared by the cube would be without risk, or at least as close to being without risk as could-be. Their field exercise was meant to train them in navigating through difficult terrain and carrying out various objectives that did not involve combat, so the location offered was an ideal way to test their skills without running afoul of Kimara's wildlife. Exercises including live-fire combat with Hoarverns and Yormungaros would wait until their specializations were chosen, as future scribes and administrators did not need to have their lives risked against such beasts, but being able to carry out a variety of objectives in rough conditions was something that could prove useful to any graduate of the Schola.

After the expedition's destination was confirmed the preparations began, beginning with Isolde's class being split into two groups of five to mirror a typical squad deployment. Leading the first group was Isolde herself, with Verita, Dairine, Umida, and Clausura joining her. Competing against them would be Kalles, Madge, Cordelia, Marlene, and Boudica, with the willful and capricious Kalles leading them since none of her group were willing to argue with her over the issue. Isolde had arranged for the groups to be as they were to mitigate personal conflict, knowing that if Kalles was in her own group that friction would result and that was unacceptable in the field since fissures in a squad's trust could lead them all to an early grave. It was also out of her own curiosity that Isolde desired to be with Verita when they went to where the cube designated, if only to make certain Verita's quest for knowledge did not endanger her.

There were other necessary preparations for the expedition, including collaboration with the local regime to ensure that one of Kimara's most powerful tools was put to use to help protect the Progena. One of the tools facilitating Human existence upon Kimara was a powerful archeotech device located within one of its Fortress Cities, with the device in question possessing the ability to alter weather patterns to a certain degree. While unable to make the world lush and warm, it was able to redirect existing weather phenomena and thus manipulate the behavior of local wildlife which reacted to the changes in temperature and shifting storms.

This could disperse a horde of Hoarvern or even help deter a rampaging Yormungaros given that both species relied upon sensing heat to track their prey, especially in the case of Yormungaros. By casting storms around Fortress Cities it thus helped deter attacks of local fauna, though as could be expected of animal behavior it was never an exact science and occasional battles still took place. It is in this way ironically that the most dangerous locations upon Kimara were those without storms raging, as in an open field with no weather to interfere the Yormungaros were known to amass rapidly and devour their victims without mercy. Better risk being lost in the snow than be eaten alive by beasts so massive in size that even Earthshaker rounds needed to be used in bulk to bring them down, as once a Yormungaros was on your trail there was little chance of escaping it.

Tales were often told of how vicious the animals were, as while they were less intelligent than other beasts upon Kimara they still appeared to possess a malicious and wicked nature. Prey caught by them would be killed in the end, but they appeared to feed off of the fear and terror instilled by their presence just as much as they did their victims. Whereas Ixolotls lacked a malicious bone in their body and Hoarverns were more territorial than outright hostile, Yormungaros from what survivors spoke of enjoyed playing with their food and cruelly swallowed many a victim whole if they had not eviscerated them first. Why this was done was unknown of course as actually studying live Yormungaros was a death sentence, and those slain offered little explanation for their behavior.

Yormungaros would kill or torture you if they so pleased, and they did it for no other purpose than their own twisted nature. Stories were told of Yormungaros ignoring freshly dead Humans and beasts in favor of going after live prey, for while they would return to the dead eventually to feast they seemed to prefer something they could first play with.

Even other Yormungaros were not free from this behavior, as the species was known to enter into conflict with one another on rare occasions. When they did clash the victor would often rip their foe to pieces, not finishing the kill until they had wholly ripped the other eel/snake apart. Their lack of eyes perhaps played into their seemingly random biting patterns, but if victory was all they sought then they would simply seek to remove the other's head. As powerful as they might be even a Yormungaros would fall should its central nervous system be disrupted, and while capable of regeneration a swift end would prevent that from even factoring in.

The serpentine creatures would have been deliberately driven to extinction by active hunting by the Iron Warriors during the Great Crusade if not for the primary habitat of Yormungaros being the ocean. They would spawn beneath the waters of Kimara, only rising to the surface on occasion in search of sustenance should they not find it in their abyss. The Krakens there were one of the only things capable of contesting their might, and rather than fight over a meal with something even more massive than themselves Yormungaros would prey upon the weak flesh which populated the surface.

Rather than wicked, the Hoarvern acted like guardians of their nests, treating them like fortresses that ought not be threatened. While they would go out to hunt it was little different from most animals to be found throughout the cosmos, doing what they could to secure food and survive another day. It was in this way that they were far less feared as by avoiding regions where they had chosen to nest Humans could almost entirely avert conflict with the dragon-like beasts whose breath was capable of inflicting severe frostbite and also severe burns at the same time. Skirmishes still would occur, but they were far more predictable in their behavior than the enigmatic horrors that the Yormungaros were.

Far less dangerous were the Torice, creatures that resembled ancient triceratops but whom possessed a more bipedal form which allowed them to use them front limbs to strike. Despite their massive fists being powerful enough to kill a man outright Torice were typically docile and kept to their herds, their strength not affording much in the ways of defensive capabilities when faced with Hoarverns who could strike from the skies or Yormungaros who could weather their punching and horned tackles and slay them near instantly in retaliation. Alongside Ixolotls the Torice were considered one of the only non-hostile fauna upon Kimara, for while they could be brutal unlike Ixolotls they were herbivores who feasted on the planet's scarce flora rather than upon the flesh of other creatures.

After considering the environment and its inhabitants came the more technical side of things, with Isolde personally inspecting the gear of her entire class to be certain that it was fit for purpose. Their uniforms were designed not only to ward off the cold, but also to retain heat while also mitigating the drenching quality of snow. A soldier wearing a wet uniform would quickly succumb to the cold due to their body temperature dropping, as compared to air water conducts heat twenty five times faster. Wind exacerbated this issue due to its 'wind chill' effect that made cold be perceived as even more severe than it otherwise would be, and so to prevent hypothermia and frostbite there was an important need for soldiers on Kimara to wear armor that mitigated these so-called 'wet-cold' conditions. Covered from head to toe, the standard Kimaran uniform was a modified form of carapace armor that was based after that of Tempestus Scions.

Most helmets developed for the armor were featureless on the front, appearing like a silver mirror from the outside while allowing the user to see through unhindered even through severe snowfall. The back and sides of the helmet possessed reinforced armor for protection with them being a modular piece that could be worn atop a mask or other form of head gear as well. When worn with the usual headpiece this gave the impression of a featureless mask with a helmet atop of it, evoking a cold and unfeeling sensation in those who witnessed them in action. While this was an unintentional side-effect caused by a focus on efficiency and effectiveness, it helped distance Kimaran soldiers from citizens from other worlds by stripping away various traces of Humanity. For Kimarans however who already were used to reading one another through layers of stoicism the masks posed little issue or thought, simply being the most effective tool for their intended job that they had come up with thus far.

This field training was important for future soldiers who might have to operate under such severe weather conditions, as completing a mission in a more typical climate differed greatly to completing one in the unrelenting cold. While equipment could lessen the effects of a frigid environment it did not fundamentally change the Human within: even the most mundane of tasks would take longer and necessitate greater effort, dexterity was sacrificed due to the heavier clothing worn, and the uncomfortable conditions naturally reduced one's attention-to-detail. Learning to perform at near optimal levels in spite of these intrinsic facts was important, lest logistical or operational flaws arise during actual deployments.

In severe cold weapons, vehicles, and other standard equipment could be expected to fail, and while over thousands of years Kimara's populace had managed to alter their technology to be better suited to their conditions nothing was entirely immune to mechanical failure. It was for that reason that they employed the durable and hardy 'Snow Cycles' as they called them, though their resilience was based more on their lack of complexity than inherently superior design or craftsmanship. It was hard for something to fail that had less that could fail, and so many devices upon Kimara were designed with similar principles in mind so that if or when they did fail they hypothetically could be fixed swiftly before any issues may arise.

Included in their gear were the jetpacks they had been trained in using to scale terrain, as well as grappling hooks and climbing gear to help conserve the limited power possessed in their jets. They were for situations where rapid movement was called for such as a sudden avalanche, or to carry the user over a crevasse that could not otherwise be crossed while the more mundane tools were meant for all other circumstances.

For weaponry the group opted primarily for the various sniper rifles available to them, being wary of possible Hoarvern encounters that shorter ranged guns could not properly deal with. The sole exception to this was Clausura, who was quite capable with a boltgun and so opted to carry what she was most comfortable with. As combat was not their objective they carried relatively little in the way of other offensive gear that would just weigh them down.

Isolde also made certain to bring a transponder and radio with her, as while Yormungaros were observed to react to them both there would be no harm in having one in case a dire situation came up that required contact with the Fortress City. Being able to transmit their exact location would allow for rapid evacuation, and having radio contact would allow for them to request such a thing if necessary.

Effective leadership was as important to survival in the frigid wastelands of Kimara as equipment, for not only did the dangerous conditions pose a constant threat of morale erosion, a lack of proper leadership could result in unnecessary casualties and even the failure of a mission by not accounting for the environment sufficiently. They instead must manage their personnel and equipment effectively and swiftly, leaving no room for doubt in their comrades and keeping their squad from succumbing to either the cold or the distractions it posed. For this purpose individual units were kept to a minimal size such that their leaders could effectively manage each member within, while also cynically lessening the effect should any individual squad befall some misfortune or accident from the environment and its myriad of dangers.

Should individual squad leaders prove capable they can provide those higher in the chain of command overseeing a mission with valuable intel over their specific unit, allowing for a degree of finesse and control that less disciplined armies in the Imperium lacked. A commander could only see so much from their macroscopic view, and so this dispersed method of leadership granted them a look into the ground affairs of their operation. With that information a commander could determine with greater accuracy the risks of various stratagems, thus improving their chances of overall success as well as danger to their forces and their mission.

Of course, much of this was information everyone in Isolde's team already knew to some degree, but Umida had felt like informing everyone about it anyways. Had Umida been in Kalles' group perhaps it may have been enlightening, yet with her present company instead it was naught but annoying. Isolde, Verita, and even Dairine were all intelligent and so the information forced upon them was like listening to a documentary they already had seen before. By Dairine's approximation the reason Umida grew so tired while carrying the same amount of gear as everyone else was that her brain was weighing her small body down, a sentiment which the others did not even bother to protest against.

"Quiet down will you, Coconut? We're supposed to be treating this like a mission not a picnic," Dairine commented as she mocked Umida's bowl-cut hairdo that resembled that found on many Sororitas.

"My apologies! It is just so exciting I couldn't help myself, but you're right, we need to take this seriously."

Patching up a communications relay, assassinating a series of pseudo-targets, gathering intel from numerous locations to report, all of these and more were the tasks set forth for Isolde's unit and she saw to it that they were carried out faithfully. Hours passed by as they traversed through thick snow, climbed over ledges in their path, and took caution to avoid ice with the only real chatter going on being Umida's particular brand of 'insight'. Isolde silenced her at times it was appropriate and expected that they be quiet such as when they were taking aim at the targets set forth for them to eliminate, and eventually Umida seemed to get the picture and was quiet of her own accord, leaving their squad in near complete silence except for when communication was necessary.

The Schola taught them to be focused, professional, and precise in their operations and so they acted in near unison as they had all been trained to for years now. This was merely a field application of the knowledge and skills they had been accruing over time to better gauge their true potential, and since danger lurked around every corner Isolde made certain to keep her guard up. When they began the storms were as predicted, being so heavy that visibility was what could be described as a 'white out' where one's vision was completely obscured by the snowstorm, but due to their specialized equipment and helmets they were able to continue through it without issue.

Isolde made certain to accomplish most of their objectives well ahead of schedule so that they could afford to make a detour to the location Verita learned of, the decade of relentless training they had undergone at the Schola making actually accomplishing their tasks simple and near routine. Many soldiers only had months or perhaps a year or so to learn what they needed on the battlefield, but for the Progena of Scholas across the Imperium they had almost every aspect of their lives controlled and drilled from their earliest years so that they might one day serve as Humanity's finest.

The individual drives of each of Isolde's team allowed them to stand out even more among their peers, with Isolde's sense of duty and desire to prove herself in spite of her familial relation seeing her train longer and harder than any peer, Verita's drive to learn the truth of all things seeing her spend countless hours studying even archaic texts for greater knowledge and understanding, Dairine's immense pride which bordered on hubris seeing her refuse to let others eclipse the records she set, Umida's raw intelligence allowing her to overcome her physical inadequacy by formulating astute solutions by drawing upon what she already knew, and Clausura's devout nature granting her a determined and dedicated work ethic which rivaled Isolde's own. Rumors were told of how Scholas would sometimes undergo underhanded methods of acquiring children of immense talent to be utilized for Humanity's benefit, whispers which seemed to bear some truth if Dairine's inhuman reaction time and finesse were any indication, and so it was little wonder that Kimara's Schola possessed such gifted youth, especially considering that Isolde's class was but one of many with countless peers possessing amazing potential of their own.

Perhaps it was the confidence born of years of proving themselves that allowed the five of them to accept the gradually clearing weather conditions without particular worry, as even somewhat tamed and controlled the weather conditions could still possess an ebb and flow to them. Everything was going according to plan and it appeared that the Fortress City possessing the unique device was using it as planned thus far so there was no reason to question the present lack of snowfall as the Progena arrived at the coordinates they set out for.

While Kimara possessed plenty in the way of mountains and even forests bearing trees capable of withstanding its cold the location that Isolde's team arrived at was completely barren of either: it was simply a wide expanse with the closest geographical marker in sight being a mountain range just over a mile away. The maps had not lied when they showed nothing as being there, though the terrain was not entirely flat. Snow appeared to be particularly clumped in certain places as if they were atop rocks or other such outcroppings, and so while mostly a frozen plains it was not without features.

"Is this the location?" Isolde asked to confirm, somewhat doubtful that there would be any reason that the cube would give coordinates to such a barren location.

Verita nodded as she cross-referenced their map and the details of their journey thus far, confirming that they were exactly where they set their goal to, "It should be."

Nearby them Dairine was patting Umida on the shoulder as if to tell her that she did a good job, for the short girl was close to collapsing from exhaustion after trekking so far in full gear with all the equipment expected of them to carry. What would be fine on most Schola students was simply too much for her small frame to properly handle even with all her training, and so while the other four girls were standing and observing their surroundings Umida was catching her breath atop a smooth rock she could lean against.

"What's so important about this spot anyways?" Dairine commented, not having asked why they were coming here until now but also knowing that it was not on their official list of objectives.

Verita was already retrieving the cube from a bag she brought with her, carrying its considerable extra weight without complaint due to her determination to follow this trail left to her by her family. Content to allow Verita to go about this however she felt necessary, Isolde turned to the others to give them orders for the meantime.

"That has yet to be determined. Dairine, Clausura, keep lookout. Umida and Verita inspect the area while I will oversee both tasks."

The group all snapped to attention, even the out-of-breath Umida, and saluted as they accepted the orders granted to them: the discipline of the Schola combined with the typical nature of Kimarans saw to it that when given instructions the Progena reacted accordingly.

"Roger."

They all did as told, with Umida tagging along with Verita and asking about what they were looking for as Dairine and Clausura both kept vigilant. Just because there ought to be no dangers present did not mean that none would arise, and so even as Dairine grumbled about having to take orders she still followed them to the letter.

"I should be leading the other team."

Had circumstances been different Isolde would have made certain that Dairine was the leader of the other squad, knowing that the other girl could perform well in the role given her status as the top student after Isolde herself, but it was Dairine's remarkable skill that saw Isolde ensure that she was present here. Isolde did not know what might happen on this covert outing of theirs to see where the box led them, and having the most capable combatant in their class present could prove invaluable.

It was for that reason that Isolde ignored Dairine's minor attitude, as Dairine was completely right: she should be leading the other group and so stating as much was a factual reflection of reality rather than arrogance or greed. Isolde would not fault any of her classmates for speaking truth or facts so long as it did not interfere with their actual work, as it was that kind of repressive behavior that she abhorred with the Kimaran government.

Not long after they began their search came a discovery by Verita, who had decided to use an ice pick she brought with her to chip away at the layers upon layers of snow and ice covering the outcroppings first noted upon their arrival. It took some effort, but eventually she was able to uncover something while wiping away what snow still remained around where she broke through.

"Isolde, I believe I have found what we were looking for."

While it was difficult to make out what it was, it certainly was nothing natural: the unveiled structure was some kind of crafted stone that had been buried for who knows how long out in this wasteland. Verita set about unearthing more of it while the other girls replicated her actions upon other such outcroppings in the area, eventually revealing more and more objects of similar material that had been damaged through some means but were still visibly manmade.

"These are defaced statues and monuments, hidden beneath the snow and ice. They likely have been buried here for quite some time, but their conspicuous lack of notation on our maps tells a story itself," Verita explained as she continued to observe the uncovered objects they had been led to.

Isolde stood beside her close comrade to see what Verita spoke of herself, quickly surmising that her classmate was correct given that she could make out what appeared to be a hand with numerous fingers broken off of it from what was already uncovered.

"Which is?"

"We know from our history books that the Iron Warriors first landed upon Kimara somewhere in this general region, but the landing site where they first made contact with the local Kimarans is not specified," Verita continued as she pieced together what she knew and what they had found, "And this statue, even marred by intentional damage and the ravages of time, is obviously not of a typical Human."

She gestured to the arm the broken hand belonged to, revealing it to be a superbly sculpted mimicry of Astartes Terminator armor. The thought made Isolde think back briefly to the fact that allegedly the Deathwatch were conducting operations in this region as well, being one of three groups to do so alongside their group and Kalles' own, but since their activities were completely separate and the landscape was large they had not crossed paths. For an organization dedicated towards eradicating Xenos the local Deathwatch Astartes often took to using Kimara's wildlife for training, as they were a threat even to Astartes and so required teamwork and planning to combat.

Isolde figured from Verita's observations that this location might be a commemoration of the meeting between the Iron Warriors and the population of Kimara from thousands of years ago, something that would no doubt be censored and hidden by the Imperial government that enjoyed hiding any remaining traces of the Iron Warriors existence upon Kimara.

Was that why the cube had these coordinates? To bring them to these ruins of history since hidden away? Or was it a relic of a past era before the Iron Warriors of Kimara were stricken from whatever history the Imperium could get its hands upon? Was it a reminder, or an irrelevant trinket?

"The Imperium did this no doubt," Isolde mused, her own bluntness indicative of the typical Kimaran.

Clausura scoffed as she overlooked the sight of a fallen Iron Warrior's statue, her faith leading her to sneer at the once-protectors of the world given their eventual fate, "Good thing too. If they had not we all could be considered heretics for daring to visit a former shrine to traitors."

Verita did not appear to share her perspective, but she refrained from arguing on the point as she instead uncovered another piece of the statue's remains, "Whomever damaged it did so carelessly. There is still some text legible."

The others went silent to allow for Verita to read what she was looking at, each of them curious as to what might be revealed.

"Here stands Forrix, leader of the First Grand Company of the Iron Warriors," Verita read off of a placard that survived before pausing and shaking her head at the remainder, "The rest is hard to make out, but it appears to be a memorial made in the immediate years after the meeting of the Iron Warriors and Kimarans. Celebrating the peace and prosperity brought by their meeting, as well as honoring the sons who left this world to become Iron Warriors."

A curiosity welled within Isolde such that it surprised the girl whose countenance was just like that of the frozen landscape they stood upon, with Isolde turning her attention away from Verita to instead begin digging through the other rubble and remains to see what she might find there. What she hoped to find she could not quite explain, but this whole circumstance was so peculiar that she allowed herself to be swept away in her wonder just this once.

As Isolde and the others continued to dig through the area to locate other artifacts of interest Verita decided to bring the cube up towards the monument to see if it would react at all to it, only to find as she did so that the cube already had done so. Upon its form spaces for eight characters had appeared, once again seeming as if text upon a computer screen. Of the eight spaces provided upon its otherwise blank form the cube only possessed one filled in, though whether it was a letter or number remained undetermined given its form.

-O------

As the moments passed on by the text faded away, leaving no trace it had ever been there to begin with as the cube returned to being a nondescript box of obsidian complexion. Verita could not hope to understand what the brief display had been meaning to convey, but she had a hunch that if she were to continue following the coordinates the box might provide over time that she could piece together more of the puzzle. Eight characters with the second one being either an O or zero, it could very well be the code to unlocking the contents within, so she recorded the information as her comrades continued excavating the area.

Beside the ruined statue of Forrix was another that was far better preserved, as if the damage done to Forrix's statue had in some way shielded this one beside it from harm. While still damaged thanks to nearly ten thousand years of Kimara's weather it lacked much of the deliberate defacing done others, allowing its placard to be read by Isolde as she continued to unveil it.

"Trahaearn Jarn."

Behind where it lay were numerous others that had been shattered, their pieces resembling those of normal men rather than Astartes as with Forrix, though from the physique possessed by Jarn it was uncertain if he was an Astartes or just an abnormally large Human. Her uncertainty was quickly broken by Umida, who had joined her by it and who began to look it over with such wonderment.

"This must have been before his return to Kimara during the Great Crusade," Umida smiled over to her unit leader, appreciating this discovery for the novelty and uniqueness of the experience, "I bet there are all sorts of interesting things like this out there, don't you think Isolde? When we graduate we may be able to see so much more."

Isolde remained quiet, possessing little intention of leaving Kimara unless she had to, but she did find herself transfixed with the statue before her. This was the man who had shaped the destiny of their world, for better or worse...and who had disappeared from history so many eons ago, another victim of an era whose records were notoriously unreliable at the best of times and completely erroneous in others.

Perhaps just as interesting was the figure beside Jarn's statue, that of a woman whose own placard was damaged yet also bore the name 'Jarn' upon it. Given the remains of their poses it seemed as if she was seeing him off like a wife might do a husband going to war, and something about her struck a chord in Isolde that she had trouble explaining. The woman's face had remained mostly intact, and her beauty was considerable if the statue had not been made to exaggerate her details. Isolde felt that the statue was likely an accurate portrayal of whomever this woman had been given that the sight of Jarn struck the image painted of him in the history books kept from most of the public, that of a man whose body had been one born for combat.

Despite aiding the others Clausura still had her reservations about this all, eventually voicing them to Verita in particular as Verita finished packing up her cube.

"So is that device you brought with us some Iron Warriors technology? Why else would it bring us to this damnable place?"

Verita gave a small nod no, "I do not believe so, but I do not know enough to be certain. The Iron Warriors are not known for subtlety, in fact quite the opposite."

This said, she turned to Isolde and gave her the signal that they had what they came here for. While part of the Commandant's daughter wanted to linger and continue studying the responsible part of her knew that they still had more to do.

"It seems as if we done as it bid. It is time that we return to our assignment."

Besides her voice the only noise the typical Human ear could audibly hear was the wind breezing across the landscape, not fast enough to cause issues to the group but just enough that it made itself known. The snowfall had been stopped for some time, for had it remained pouring from the skies it would have impeded their progress in uncovering these long forgotten statues removed from even official maps and records.

It was supposed to be snowing still, even if a lull in the weather could be expected. The archeotech device without a proper name from ages past was scheduled to ensure that these chosen training grounds would have continued snowfall, as it would help obscure their heat signatures to the bestial threats of the land.

First to notice this was Dairine, who motioned for the others to stop moving so she could listen more intently, "Something is off."

Whatever gene-crafting had been done to alter Dairine's physical form to what it was also had gifted her with superior sight and hearing compared to her classmates, and so unlike them she could hear something in the far distance growing closer moment by moment.

It took her a moment to understand what it was her ears were making out, but her eyes soon shot open wide beneath her faceless helmet as the beating of wings made itself known.

"Hoarverns incoming!"

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(Character limits prevent me from posting this all in a single post so it shall continue in the post after this)​

 

[Thunderscourge]

(Continued)
​

The warning was heeded immediately by the others, with the only hesitation coming from Umida who instead was confused by Dairine's report and curious if by chance she was mistaken.

"How could that be? According to the geography, weather, and the manipulation of their movements there ought to be none in this region at this time."

Dairine balked at the question posed to her since she knew what she heard, and there were not only a few coming their way. From what she heard there had to at least be a dozen of the beasts incoming, and Hoarverns were not so foolish as to engage their foes on the ground: they would strafe their foes with their fire until they had defeated their chosen target which was why they could prove so deadly in packs. Even if by chance you could knock a few out of the skies if you were on open ground there was simply no defending against them, lest your armor be seared and made brittle in the same breath of flame.

"Somehow I don't think they care, now get your ass moving!"

She pushed Umida on ahead of her as Isolde finished helping the others prepare to move, developing a plan on the fly to best account for their circumstances. The Hoarverns could barely be made out in the distance, but they were headed straight towards the group rather than in other direction making it apparent that they too knew of the vulnerable prey upon the plains. With their distance they would be upon the squad in minutes, but once they got to a certain distance their numbers could be thinned somewhat by sniper fire.

"Head to the mountain range and find cover. If we remain in the open we are all good as dead, so get going!"

Umida's sniper rifle was passed over to Clausura, who was forced to make do with it for the meantime since she and Isolde were a part of the same firing rotation now: Dairine and Verita would fire at the incoming Hoarverns before continuing their dash towards the mountains, then Isolde and Clausura, each staggering their actions to account for the other's reloading speed while Umida kept running ahead of them. This was done to account for Umida's poor physical capabilities as any of the other four would outpace her when running otherwise, and this way when the Hoarverns inevitably caught up to them there would be fewer of them to actually fight.

"Move, move, move!"

Besides barking out orders of when to swap Isolde made certain to continue pressuring the others to continue running, as while utilizing their superior range to the Hoarverns was important at the moment so was reaching cover. The Hoarverns would have to engage in closer ranged combat in the mountains, as the jagged terrain made flying through the area more difficult and even dangerous. While their breath was deadly its range was not so long that they could afford to completely fly above the mountain and avoid its jagged edges safely. When they were closer the Hoarverns would of course be deadly, but gunfire could more accurately hit their vitals so it was an even risk compared to the rapid flight making targeting them near impossible on open ground.

From what Isolde witnessed four of the Hoarverns had their wings clipped from the sniper rounds fired by their group by the time they all reached the mountain range, though what appeared to be around eight more still continued onward towards their would-be prey. The Hoarverns were fleeing from a heavy blizzard right on their tail so retreat was not an option for the creatures, forcing them to continue forward even though their horde was incurring losses in the process. For the beasts the mountains could provide cover from the fearsome weather, so it was not merely a desire for food that drove them but also their own survival instincts. Had their prey gone another direction they would have doubled back to the mountains anyways after picking them off, but now their objectives aligned.

In a bit of fortune the mountain range possessed a fairly tame incline, its slope such that the five Progena were able to quickly set about scaling it using their grappling hooks without needing to utilize their limited jetpack energy yet. Further in the mountains the incline was far less hospitable to Human mobility and so Isolde deemed that a superior location to deploy their jets, as while she and Clausura fired off another round of sniper fire an out-of-breath Umida informed the group of what appeared to be caves higher up. They could take cover there from the approaching snowstorm, during which the Hoarverns would be taking cover as well, so they could stall for time until it subsided and call for reinforcements.

It was not a certainty that it would succeed, but it was the best they had to work with and so Isolde continued to direct her squad towards their newly established objective...at least until the screeches of Hoarverns cut through their rapid discussions and the shadows of the winged beasts passed over them all. The Progena still had some ways to travel to get to where appeared safe, presently standing within a crevasse within the mountains that while open possessed various hazards further above it that would deter the Hoarverns' flight as expected.

Less expected was that the Hoarverns, somewhat cunning creatures, would land on the path ahead of them and begin to prepare their fiery breath to retaliate for the earlier gunfire thrown at them.

Forced to adapt, Isolde realized that there was no way they could avoid a fight now and so altered their plans, "They are in the way, so we stand and fight. When we have opened a path forward we seize it, understood!"

While allegedly a question it was actually no such thing: each of the Progena had a tinge of fear creeping up their spine that helped inspire them to follow orders exactly as they had been told to by their years of training. On Isolde's mark they all opened fire before lunging to one direction or another to avoid the fire being spilled forth towards them by Hoarverns who now were using the limited space in this spot for limited flight to still strike from above. Another Hoarvern fell thanks to coordinated fire from Dairine and Verita, their thick hides not protecting their relatively thin wings from being pierced, while Clausura grabbed her boltgun again to open fire on a more aggressive Hoarvern rushing straight at them. Its fire seared some of her armor as she unloaded a full clip into the beast's mouth and wings, causing it too to fall before it could fully scorch her.

Isolde and Umida both were forced to avoid much of the incoming Hoarvern fire thanks to their relative positions at the beginning of the engagement, each going to ground and ducking as a pair of Hoarverns soared past where they had just been with talons ready to tear them apart had they remained standing. Isolde turned her dodge into a roll that let her immediately take aim at one of the Hoarverns that flew past them and fire a full clip of sniper rounds rapidly into one wing. The holes torn from this caused it to lose control of its flight and crash viciously into one of the jagged outcroppings littered across the mountain, dying either from the sudden impact or after when it fell upon other such edges afterwards.

While Umida had successfully avoided the initial attack, five Hoarverns still remained and everyone in her squad was presently reloading: it was for this reason none could properly respond while Umida took stock of what was happening and completely froze in terror, not just at how the Hoarverns were using the lack of incoming gunfire to swipe at and brutalize her squadmates but also the fact that something far worse was headed their way from the direction they all came.

"Emperor protect us..."

Beyond the mountain range a figure could barely be made out of the approaching blizzard, but its speed was capable of outpacing the snow and winds and so with each passing moment it became more and more visible, eventually revealing a Yormungaros on the hunt. Clausura had been knocked aside and dizzied by a Hoarvern who Dairine was able to scare back with a few shots from her newly loaded gun, Verita was forced to take cover behind a particularly sturdy rock that managed to protect her from one Hoarvern's breath, and Isolde was continually avoiding two Hoarverns as they spat fireball after fireball at her without relent.

The remaining Hoarvern had a completely still target to aim at, and so as Umida was frozen in that moment of horror she was set upon immediately. Blue fire poured over her just as Isolde noticed the predicament of Umida, yet had no ability to properly react except to call out her name.

"Umida!"

The girl screamed in pain as she tried to fire off a shot at the Hoarvern who stood before her, having landed to breath its fire more precisely at its Human foe and continued the torrent mercilessly in the process. Umida's sole shot she could fire before her weapon melted away chipped a fang of the Hoarvern, doing nothing to deter it from continuing its assault as her armor melted away and shattered both thanks to the dual searing and freezing qualities of Hoarvern breath. Umida collapsed down, unable to stand as her seared and frostbitten legs gave out on her, and while she was alive she was also in no condition to continue fighting.

"You bastard!"

Immediately after the Hoarvern responsible had a grappling hook penetrate its hide as Dairine wielded it with one hand, rifle needing another clip still in the other. The Hoarvern cried out in pain and flapped its wings to take flight, only for Dairine to reel in her grappling line to pull up with it. Thanks to her gymnast like coordination Dairine managed to swing on top of the creature as it tried to distance itself from its prey, completely able to fit atop its back thanks to the beast's large size. While gripping tight to it with her body and the grappling hook she managed to reload and fire from atop it at the other Hoarverns, who quickly gave up their attempts to attack Dairine's comrades and instead began to focus on getting this pest off of their own peer.

Isolde and Verita used the distraction to open fire once again, drawing back the attention of one Hoarvern who shrugged off their shots due to the lack of vitals struck. Sniper rifles were not meant for engagements such as this and so some accuracy was being sacrificed for the sake of expediency, and so they both had to break away from where they stood to avoid a sweeping breath of flame as the Hoarvern retaliated.

Dairine meanwhile had three after her as she rode atop the fourth, who was none too pleased by their uninvited passenger and was trying to shake Dairine off forcefully. It moved to swipe its back against one wall of the mountain, only to find its own hide strike the smooth rock there upon impact: Dairine had undone her hook and let go, using her jetpack to fly away from the chipped tooth Hoarvern and unload a shot midair into its exposed neck. The creature fell, but the moment after it did the three others set upon Dairine...or at least where she had been a moment prior.

Her boasting and the envy of her peers was not unwarranted, as Dairine twisted her own flight path to tumble away from their attack while pulling the Power Dagger she obtained years back out of her suit to drag across one Hoarvern's side. The lack of length to the weapon did not allow her to penetrate much into their torso, but the Hoarvern still let out bellows of pain as the blade ripped through its hide as if it was the softest of snow.

Isolde saw Dairine's usage of her jetpack and decided to follow suit, catching the Hoarvern chasing after her off-guard by darting upwards to avoid it divebombing down at Isolde and Verita both with flames spewing wildly from its maw. Now above it Isolde braced herself against a wall of the cave, utilizing the powered grips of her suits boots to take this moment to track the Hoarvern's movements and fire a shot that tore straight through its jaw. What was meant to allow them to briefly secure their footing over icy terrain instead allowed her to perfectly steady herself even after launching herself towards a mountain's side and standing upon it perpendicular to the ground.

By this point Clausura had recovered somewhat from the blunt force applied to her earlier in the conflict, and so the wounded Hoarvern soon found an entire clip of boltgun ammo peppering its side. While possessing quite the punch standard Human infantry sized boltguns were not known for their penetration, and so the thick hide of the Hoarvern allowed it to shrug off most of this even as a couple rounds lodged themselves into the flesh within. For the Hoarvern it wanted to finish off that prey it had been chasing that was still on the ground, ignoring Clausura completely...only to realize after its brief distraction that Verita had disappeared from sight.

Verita had used the moment bought for her to take flight briefly as well, speeding backwards away from the Hoarvern to buy herself a moment to aim just as Isolde had before. It paid off by allowing her to clip both wings of the beast, forcibly grounding it for good, though it also gave her more perspective on their situation by distancing her from the moment to moment conflict. Unlike Umida who had panicked at the mere sight of the approaching Yormungaros, Verita instead called it out to her teammates who all turned their attention as well.

It was not that she was fearless, but rather her own fear made her desire to inform everyone that it was time to go.

Isolde and Clausura quickly ascertained the approaching threat, now much closer than it had been than when Umida froze up, and to ensure their retreat both set about unloading every shot they still had into the grounded Hoarvern. Unable to control its fire thanks to its damaged jaw, the Hoarvern could only ineffectually lumber towards them as it was gunned down like the rabid animal it was. This done, Isolde turned her attention to Dairine to see how things were going on her side of things...and while she shouldn't have been surprised, she still found herself somewhat awed by the fact that only one Hoarvern remained going after her.

Dairine had fought all the others as the other three Progena had contested a sole Hoarvern, utilizing quick bursts of her jetpack to maneuver around her assailants and weaving in strikes whenever possible to wear them down. She had discarded her rifle partway through and solely was relying upon her Power Dagger she always kept with her, its unique pattern presently coated in blood even as the power surging from it burned away most of it.

One of the Hoarverns giving chase to her fell when Dairine activated her thrusters to dart under its neck and slit its throat, tumbling down into the hard floor below as the others remained in flight. After it fell Dairine nearly crashed into one wall of the mountain range and so was forced to activate her jets again to minimize her impact, then kicked off the wall to leap back into the air and stab right into the open wound she made earlier on one Hoarvern's side. While she was strong in her own right, it was the propulsion and the penetrative qualities of the dagger itself which allowed Dairine to skewer the beast's heart before kicking off of it as well to slice through part of one of the last remaining Hoarvern's wings.

With it losing flight Dairine shifted herself above its falling form so she could activate her jets once again to slam down into it with her dagger, impaling the creature's spine as its own momentum was hastened by her attack until it was skewered down on the rocks beneath them. This done, Dairine looked over to check on the others and was just in time to catch Isolde's command that came mere moments after they had defeated their own Hoarvern.

"Now is our chance, get moving!"

Clausura was still dizzied by the impact of a giant beast bashing her against hard rock, so she had little mental capacity to question the order given and quickly set about falling back. Dairine was busy realizing that a Yormungaros was chasing after them, while Verita was expressing concern over the horribly burned Umida.

"But—"

Isolde repeated herself hastily as she went over to Umida's side, this being enough to reassure Verita, "That's an order, now go! I will be right behind you!"

Both Dairine and Verita lingered a moment before going to where Isolde directed, it being a cave stationed high upon the mountain they were closest to. To their surprise there was a small group of wild Ixolotls all standing by a cliff edge to look down at the commotion that had broken out, and so they were welcomed and directed into the cave that could look down at the carnage they had just partaken in. It took using their jetpacks to reach the location rapidly, and with Dairine's having been used so much in such a short span of time Verita had to assist her up using her own. Clausura, Verita, and Dairine were all out of breath after their desperate run followed by brutal conflict that they were extremely fortunate to have survived, and so they all caught their breath as the wild Ixolotls stared curiously at their visitors.

The only living beings now on the lower section to the mountain were Isolde and Umida, though by Isolde's approximation Umida was not long for this world. The other girl was just too badly burned and it would be a miracle if she survived for minutes, and there was next to no hope that she would survive long enough to be evacuated and brought to a medical center to recover. Not only that, Umida's uniform was beyond repair, with her helmet having melted away and her face having been so damaged that she appeared gaunt from the burns searing off some of her flesh. Her limbs were mostly marred by frostbite and severe burns, rendering them useless.

Each moment that passed was one more Isolde had to hear the crunching and sliding of the approaching Yormungaros, which due to its lack of eyes was relying upon heat and sound to track prey. It had followed after the Hoarverns when the weather rapidly shifted, years of hunting other beasts honing its skills while also indulging its violent and cruel nature.

"W...wha..."

The Yormungaros shifted noticeably as Umida painfully choked out a would-be question, her wounds so severe that she was in a daze that saw her unable to presently comprehend what was going on around her. Perhaps a quarter of a mile remained between the Yormungaros and them, and so Isolde clenched her teeth and knelt down beside Umida.

Not to help her, but to remove her jetpack, the sole piece of equipment that had survived the flames of the Hoarverns thanks to it facing away from the worst of it and having been built to survive extreme temperatures up to a point.

This done, Isolde wordlessly cast it aside and used her grappling hook to tie another object onto Umida before taking flight to join the others. If she had brought Umida with her then the Yormungaros would be able to smell her wounds, hear her pained noises, and most of all sense her body heat since she was not wearing a self-contained suit like the others were that would somewhat mask their own temperatures. Mixed with hiding in the nearby cave and drenching themselves in the snow there to help disguise their suits temperature even more they might yet survive so long as they remained quiet...

With the plan she was developing on the fly the Yormungaros would need to remain there for some time...even cities designed to protect Humans from their hunts could not fully deter these fearsome creatures, and so while they could stall for time there was no way they could elude this creature long enough for help to come. For the Yormungaros to remain still however it would need to indulge in its vile sadism, which it could not do with the Hoarvern given that they had been killed outright during the conflict as far as Isolde could tell.

It needed live prey.

"What about Umida?" Dairine asked Isolde as Isolde joined the rest of them, not seeing Umida with her and fearing that she had already passed away.

Isolde said nothing, instead surveying their surroundings and using the scanning equipment they had on them to gather as much information as she could in these precious few moments. The Yormungaros was beginning to reach the site of their battle, and so as Isolde gathered information she soaked herself in a pool of water within the Ixolotl's cave. The others followed suit, willing to risk hypothermia if it meant not being devoured alive, though after masking themselves they went to go visually check on Umida since they feared that the approaching beast might hear them should they ask again.

It was then at this point that they saw what had been done: Isolde had left Umida for dead, removing her ability to join them at the location Umida herself had noted earlier. Unable to speak, and frozen in horror at the sight of a Yormungaros bearing down upon their classmate, the whole squad desired to look away but were unable to bring themselves to do so despite the danger. In Isolde's case it was out of guilt, unwilling to look away from what she had done, and so she watched unflinchingly as the snake-like beast slithered through the mountain's pathways and breaking through areas too thin to fit through otherwise, its overpowering sense of smell and ability to sense heat drawn to where so many fires had been and the corpses that now lay there.

One Hoarvern was consumed nigh instantly, its deceased form lacking what the Yormungaros needed to truly play with its prey. This act seemed to coincide with Umida finally rousing from her initial shock and pain, looking up to find a Yormungaros only dozens of feet away from her. For her no time at all had passed from when the Hoarverns attacked her to this, so seeing the beast which had terrified her into inaction now right before her caused her to panic once again. She twisted around as best as she could in her wounded state, trying to look and find her comrades as they had been at her side only moments ago, or so she perceived. Someone had been, right? She could tell that much even through her dazed state, and so someone had to be able to help her.

"Guys, please, help me!" Umida's voice was as strong as it could be with her lungs having been partially damaged by the fire.

Still receiving no aid, she looked towards where they had agreed to flee, and found herself staring right at her four comrades. A brief moment of hope lit within Umida even as the Yormungaros begin sniffing at her feet, its massive sightless head now bearing its many sharp and jagged teeth at her. Her friends were right there after all, they could save her, if only she could activate her jetpack to run...

It was then that Umida realized that it was missing from her body. Not destroyed like her other gear, but absent entirely. Her rifle had melted in her hand, her grappling hook had as well, and her suit was burned away almost entirely leaving her wounded form bare to the elements. Just beyond the Yormungaros was an approaching storm, and so in but a moment her fleeting hope was crushed.

Despite how sharp their teeth were, the Yormungaros managed to pick Umida up in its maw softly without harming her much at all. Now desperate, Umida cried out with all the strength she had.

"W-why is no-one...I don't want to..."

After licking its prey and shifting Umida around in its mouth so that its teeth could clench around her whole body, the Yormungaros began to slowly close them as Umida continued to struggle and scream in spite of her wounds.

"Isolde! Dairi—"

With a sickening bite the only noise that remained was that of the wind blowing across the mountains.

The silence lingered for a moment but did not last, as mere moments later a sound familiar to any Kimaran rang out across the mountains: the incoming artillery shell of a Basilisk Earthshaker Cannon. While she had been flying to join the others Isolde had used her communicator to make an urgent command to open fire on her position and transponder's last known location, purposefully left and tied to Umida's body seconds prior. She had whispered the data to accurately fire as she observed the landscape, wanting to ensure that the calculations of the Basilisks were as accurate as possible to prevent them from striking the Progena instead of the intended target.

It was with seething hatred that Isolde stared down the Yormungaros as the first round struck its gargantuan form, even having removed her helmet to witness it with her own eyes. The beast howled in pain as the impact struck it center mass, but its cries of pain were quickly drowned out by the sound of ninety nine other Earthshaker rounds soaring through the air with the pinpoint precision of a planet who had trained in their usage for ten thousand years. With Isolde's data and the local Kimaran weather sensors they were able to hit their target almost without error, the salvos coordinated in such a fashion that by the time the last one fired the first was ready to fire once again. A Fortress City's full arsenal was a beauty to behold, and so without relent the Yormungaros was struck and staggered such that it could not actually react to the incoming barrage.

After the initial strike Isolde ordered her squad to retreat into the cave, not wanting stray shots or even debris and shrapnel to endanger their lives. Despite their shared sense of shock they did as told, taking cover deep inside of the cave along with the wild Ixolotls that had already left to go do so as soon as the Yormungaros appeared. It was in this way that they sat in darkness, it only dawning on them then just how dark it had become. Only the reflected light of the blue moon shone down upon them, a beautiful sight to behold surely but not one that interested them at that moment even if it captivated the Ixolotls at their side. Even the zealous fervor of Clausura did not extinguish the flames of grief and horror she felt, nor was the prideful Dairine capable of just ignoring what she witnessed.

The first hundred shots ought to have put the Yormungaros down, but Isolde had not given the order to stop yet. Deep in the mountain they were safe, and a desire for retribution saw her wait until the fortieth salvo was carried out to open her communication line again.

"Cease fire, and send an evac as soon as possible."

A female officer she had been coordinating with verbally gave out the order to bring the barrage to an end before responding to Isolde herself.

"Reports show that a team is already inbound. They should be reaching your location shortly."

On paper that was a good thing, but it instead wrung out of Isolde a sense of paranoia and concern. If her father had indeed ordered an evacuation team he would have provided them all the information required to properly meet up with them, and yet no such information had been passed along. Even if he had not conveyed it himself he would have had someone do it.

Isolde stood up, no longer bracing herself from the constant rumbling of the cannons outside and beckoned the others to join her with a hand.

"Get ready to move. The Schola would have informed us of reinforcements, but if a team has already been deployed it is not one of ours."

Things were beginning to come together in Isolde's mind as outside the cave a blizzard that had been nipping on the heels of the Hoarverns and later the Yormungaros washed over them, prompting her to wear her helmet once again to secure her from the cold which followed. An Ixolotl that had taken an interest in the helmet appeared disappointed that it could no longer stare into the shiny mirror of a faceplate on the helmet, instead opting to cuddle against the Human as a show of empathy like its companions were doing to the other Progena already. The Ixolotls did not understand why the girls all felt such grief, but it was this very empathetic nature that had helped endear the creatures to the Kimarans years ago...after their usefulness in locating valuable minerals of course.

This was not the same storm they first were accompanied by when they set out on this expedition but rather another directed from elsewhere, as the original had subsided while they were at the ancient site of the Iron Warriors' arrival upon Kimara. Isolde had gone over the reports and been informed of the planned changes to the weather patterns in the region so that she could plan to stay within the weakest parts of a storm and avoid any possible Hoarvern or Yormungaros threat. The archeotech was not perfect and was notoriously difficult to operate given that it required one to deal with something as complex as the weather, but this operation should have been incredibly simple to facilitate.

Instead the storm concealing them had lifted just in time for another storm to chase dangerous beasts towards them, something that was nigh impossible to be a coincidence given the dispersed nature of Kimaran wildlife. Someone who had access to sensors, military reports of beast sightings, and a device that could naturally lead them in a direction could utilize all of these things to help otherwise uncontrollable Hoarverns and Yormungaros along a certain path. After all the beasts would just be trying to escape the dangers of a storm and also seek prey where no storm existed, so why would creatures honed across eons to hunt in such a manner not do as was their instinct?

The seeming incompetence of allowing the storm above them to drift away followed by the almost assuredly deliberate direction of a different storm at them was too unlikely, shifting from incompetent to perfectly arranged...but the question remained as to who benefitted from this? To whom was this coalesced happenstance serendipity rather than misfortune?

"Meaning?" Clausura asked, her head having finally cleared from the Hoarvern attack earlier but still not knowing what Isolde was referring to.

Isolde moved to the cave's edge to get a look as to the conditions outside of it, finding that the thousands of Earthshaker rounds had done their duty and wiped all traces of the Yormungaros from existence. Boltguns and sniper rifles would not have even scratched it, but through sufficient and overwhelming firepower even a beast as mighty as this was incapable of surviving. Perhaps if it had an equivalent of an Iron Halo or Refractor Field it could have fared better, but fortunately for all Human life upon Kimara the Yormungaros possessed no such thing. Typically the fast movement of Yormungaros mixed with their incredible durability necessitated the overwhelming firepower just to be able to stop it before it reached a city, but in this instance Isolde's trap saw it immobile as it toyed with its food thus spelling its doom.

The mountain range itself had been dealt severe damage by the artillery strike Isolde called down, with the area they had done battle with the Hoarverns now eradicated from existence much like the Yormungaros that had been atop it. A deep crater now marred the mountains, with one particular mountain seemingly eradicated entirely since it had been in the way of some of the incoming Earthshaker rounds. Thousands of shots from one of Humanity's most potent weapons would have that effect, and Isolde found herself grateful that their chosen cover had not been similarly in the firing path.

Under normal circumstances Isolde would just expect the others to follow her commands without question, but in this situation rather than allow the others to doubt her judgment Isolde set about explaining herself, "The conditions are completely contrary to how they ought to be. I have a feeling that this is no coincidence: someone altered the conditions to endanger us, and they sent a team to clean up if the beasts did not finish the job."

Clausura appeared unconvinced, but Verita was already acting upon Isolde's suspicions and began fiddling with their equipment to confirm them. Dairine had grown quiet and offered no thoughts on the subject, seemingly willing to just do as told at this point.

"I have patched us into Wostyn frequencies so we can determine their purpose," Verita explained as she amplified the volume of the device so that it could be heard clearly over the howl of the blizzard outside as the moon's blue form eerily peered through it all.

The storm raging outside was so severe that they would have to wait for some of it to subside before they departed anyways, as well as preventing a 'rescue' team from reaching them just yet, thus affording them the time to listen in. Unlike Kimarans those from Wostyn were quite verbose, and whereas Kimarans would occasionally discuss a subject as needed at a length necessary to convey the necessary information before lapsing into silence those from Wostyn spent every waking moment speaking even if nothing of value was passed between them. Had they been patched into a Kimaran communication line it would almost certainly be overwhelmingly silent throughout, but instead nigh instantly chatter could be heard being passed between the Wostyn soldiers in their rough vicinity.

Stubborn in their own right, those from Wostyn continued to wear their old uniforms from their desert planet with minimal modifications to allow for them to survive in the cold. Attached to each of their helmets was a microphone to coordinate with one another, not being sealed within the helmet as with those that could be found on some Kimaran gear. The effect of this was that much of the wind and ambient noise could be heard when listening to them speak as nothing prevented the microphones from picking up other things, though it did not prevent one from hearing what was being said. Wherever they were it was not as afflicted by the storm as where the Progena were, though since Isolde's group could not precisely survey their surroundings at the moment that did little to pinpoint the location of the incoming forces.

"Why did Bludol send thirty'a us just to check in on som' stragglers? I hate having t' share, especially ones this young. I need som'thin' ta warm up, it's so Emprah damned cold!" spoke the first voice being spied upon.

"Quit whining Ferlo, we coulda had nuthin', but at least it seems like there will be some alive for us to play with. They called down that artillery strike, so those Heretics must have survived the trap we set for them. Course now we got this damn storm at our heels that was chasin' those animals..." came a second voice who referred to the first as Ferlo, a foreign member of the current administration who was known for his hair trigger temper enforcement of the administration's will, often punishing the innocent for alleged or imagined crimes and meeting due process with further punishment.

Next came a third voice, chipperly chiming in about the situation despite the obvious effect of the cold on his voice, "That was good thinkin' from the Boss. It won't be anyone's fault if some animals shifted paths to avoid some storms...at least not that any'a them arrogant icy bastards can prove. That archeotech device ain't flawless after all, it's gods'damn difficult ta' direct so accidents happen!"

On any planet one might find a myriad of dialects and accents, and from the words of the speakers it was obvious that these soldiers came from the same place on Wostyn with how thick their accent was.

More importantly however was the fact that the loudmouths had revealed what they were actually here to do, freezing each of the four remaining Progena in their places. Through manipulation on the part of these soldiers not only had they witnessed someone they had known most of their lives perish brutally, but now they were about to be confronted by a force thirty strong who were intent on finishing the job.

"Isn't the Commandant's kid one of the ones we're looking 'fer? She ain't in the database, and few have seen 'er, but from what I've heard she'll make a great plaything to warm up on this frakkin' icy hellhol'," a fourth voice added with a sick chuckle. Years of being able to whatever they wanted had left the former criminals recruited by Governor Conomor with even less in the way of personal morals than they had already possessed, and even the once disciplined former Imperial Guard soldiers who were recruited alongside them had drifted into depravity in time.

Verita shot a sympathetic glance to Isolde, though much of the emotion was lost thanks to her helmet still being on. Isolde understood the sentiment however, though rather than respond she went about double checking her sniper rifle and began preparing for a battle. The Wostyn soldiers wouldn't have jetpacks like the Progena did, so perhaps by using this cliff they could eliminate the incoming force before its superior numbers reached them...though a look at their remaining ammunition did not make that seem likely. Dairine held her dagger tightly, Clausura doing the same with her boltgun, each of them ready to fight even if the odds were not in their favor.

The look shared between the four conveyed something without a single word spoken: better to be taken dead than alive, even if that meant killing the others and then oneself if things went poorly. None of them were willing to bear the indignity of being enslaved by their people's ancient foes, both out of pride as well as fear.

"Wonder what that bastard wil' think'a his grankids bein' Wostyn?" the third voice cracked wryly, as if taking perverse glee in the thought.

Ferlo scoffed, "As-if. They all kill'em selves before that 'kin happ'n, damn useless Molls. They're so gung-ho about havin' kids, but would rather send their damned soul to the damn'd abyss 'den have a half-breed."

The second voice returned, possessing a gruff tone that seemed to be full of zealous venom towards those he spoke of, "It's what they deserve for crossin' the Emperor. Heretics like 'dem aren't Human, they're foul beasts who deserve far worse than what we do t' them. They conquered our world in the name of Chaos, took this world we claimed first, an' they have spat on us since the Crusade! Bludol's got the right'a it about wipin' these treasonous cretins out in the name of the Emperor. It's about time we took what's our—"

His vile thoughts were unable to be finished for some reason, but from what could be heard over the crackling of the communication system it sounded as if his head had suddenly stopped existing along with the helmet and microphone attached.

In response the third voice balked in his shock at whatever had just occurred, "What the f—"

Whatever happened to the other soldier happened to him as well, the sound not resembling that of any ballistics the Progena were used to, but it piqued all of their interest: what was happening to this squad sent to kill them?

"Take cover!" a new voice cried out, though the moment after they finished saying as much a cry of pain rang from their lips before being silenced forever.

"Surround'em, there's only one'a—"

In the proceeding seconds gunfire rang out and soldiers let out battle cries as was typical of Wostyn soldiers in combat...but whatever was killing them apparently did not care, as one by one their voices were snuffed out or replaced with screams of terror and/or pain before being silenced. One soldier yelled that he couldn't see their assailant because of the storm, only for a sickening snap to signal that whatever was attacking them had paid the terrified individual a personal visit.

The gunfire continued seeming at random, Wostyn soldiers shooting at anything that moved and even striking one another by accident as their morale was shattered and their actions made erratic as their formation devolved into greater and greater chaos. Within a minute however the sound of bullets spewing forth at an unknown enemy had stopped entirely, the entire force of veteran soldiers seemingly defeated...only for the sole remaining member, Ferlo, to cry out as the hum of a Power Sword could be heard near his microphone.

"For the Emperor!"

His battle cry was one of loyalty to an Emperor he disgraced, but that was lost upon him as he charged his foe. To Ferlo's credit as a soldier, he apparently survived the first moment of combat with their attacker as his breathing could still be heard. From the sound of things he had avoided an incoming attack and retaliated, which if his triumphant scoff was any indication saw him land a hit with his Power Sword.

Unfortunately for Ferlo it did not seem as if the one he was fighting cared.

"That is all you get," spoke a heavily filtered voice in a simple, soft demeanor.

Like all the others Ferlo's microphone went dead as he was presumably slain, leaving nothing but silence on the line that Verita had patched into. None of the Schola students knew what to make of what they had just heard, but none of them were going to look a gift-horse in the mouth: soldiers sent to kill them had been dealt with, and it would likely be some time before anyone noticed the fates of the mercenaries given the storm.

Once things died down the Progena departed the mountains and made their way back towards the Fortress City on foot at first before eventually being rescued by Tempestus Scion trainees sent by the Schola to assist them. Before the arrival of the Scions however the girls had stumbled across the thirty deceased mercenaries, the grisly sight of their bodies hard to miss on an open field as the worst of the storm subsided. Whatever had killed them had done so efficiently, as the faces of the deceased soldiers were missing entirely with markings on what remained of their upper torsos showing that whatever struck them had removed them from existence rather than simply decapitating them or tearing them apart.

The only two who still possessed faces were Ferlo and the one who had panicked about not being able to see their enemy, with the frightened soldier's head having been twisted one hundred and eighty degrees from the direction it out to be facing. Ferlo was far less fortunate however, as he had been split evenly down the middle by some weapon after having landed a strike of his own.

Numbed by their experiences that day as they were however, there was only one thought or consideration paid to the slaughter by the Progena.

"Good."

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________​

The way back to the city was quiet, which would typically not be out of place with the dour Kimarans if not for the fact that it was due to a lack of Umida. Normally she would be happily relaying some fact or information she had concerning something, or trying to get everyone to get along given the arguments that would sometimes arise between Progena, but now there was nothing. They were simply grateful to still be alive, even as they had their regrets about what had happened.

When they arrived at the city they were met by local Kimaran military forces, those being the women who had been forced to take up the mantles of their husbands, brothers, and sons in defending their cities. Having grown up around Kimara's artillery all their lives let them take over the Basilisk defenses relatively easily after the mass population exodus, and they had been the ones defending the city walls for over a decade. The mercenaries were hired to 'protect' the planet, but in reality were only deployed to keep the citizens in check and protect the interests of the noble elite by guarding them or their property. This left all the less glorious roles and mundane matters to the planet's citizens to figure out for themselves, and so the Kimaran garrison possessed some degree of autonomy.

That autonomy was what allowed Isolde to call in the artillery strike she used to wipe the Yormungaros threatening them from existence, as had they been directly under the thumb of the Conomor regime they would have likely had Isolde's order cancelled. Ultimately they still answered to the Planetary Governor, but it was not as direct as his control over his mercenaries given the lack of oversight. This allowed for the garrison's ranks to be filled mostly with young women who used the position as a way to keep out of the notice of the mercenaries, but also had the effect of leaving them without greater unification.

Each fortress city's guards were effectively cut off from the others since they were provided no proper leadership from the governor to coordinate them, and lacked the support and equipment to really accomplish it on their own. This combined with the fierce loyalty of Kimarans and the fact many of the garrison members were not properly trained soldiers was what kept them from lashing out, as while Basilisks were powerful tools for dealing with foes at range they were nigh useless when your enemy was within your own facility.

Medical aid was provided to them all, for even Isolde had been bruised by the conflict with the Hoarverns while those such as Dairine and Clausura received more severe injuries. Isolde said nothing as she was treated, instead just staring down in front of her at the ground within the city's inner gateway. While shock was playing a role in her silence, so too was her burgeoning anger at the betrayal she had just faced firsthand.

It was no mere accident that they had nearly all died, it had been a deliberate ploy to wipe out her squad and by proxy harm the Commandant. What specifically was the purpose of the animosity that caused that was unknown to her, but Isolde had a feeling that it was his staunch refusal to submit to the Conomor regime's will.

"Uwah..."

Leaning into her was one of the wild Ixolotls they had encountered, the entire pack of them having accompanied them back to the city after becoming interested in Verita's cube due to it possessing a particular sheen to it. Isolde pat the wild creature on the head before sending it on its way, wishing that her Bo was here while also being grateful he was not: she might let her emotions get to her if her companion was present, and she was desperately trying to not lose her composure as it was.

"Isolde..."

Dairine had been patched up already and had approached Isolde while the latter was lost in thought, prompting Isolde to suddenly look up to meet her classmate's gaze. Their helmets had been removed to check for any facial damage and so Isolde's black hair was left to flow free from where she had tucked it away lest it get in her eyes. Typically she made certain to possess a dignified and refined appearance, not wishing to dishonor her father by appearing slovenly, but right now her hair was a mess and Isolde cared not to bother fixing it. Dairine was in a similar state, though she had never quite cared about how she looked since she spent so much time training that any attempts at maintaining beauty would be lost to sweat and exertion despite possessing a naturally beautiful form with her lithe musculature.

Isolde's own guilt made her believe that she was about to be accosted for leaving Umida behind, and so she pre-emptively tried to address what she believed Dairine would say, "I will not apologize for bringing you all back alive."

It was not to castigate Isolde, but rather to thank her that Dairine approached her and so she placed a hand upon the other girl's shoulder supportively, "Good. What happened wasn't your fault, and if it wasn't for you we'd all be dead..." bowing her head, the prideful Dairine for the first time truly admitted that Isolde deserved credit, "I'll follow your lead from now on. I owe you my life, and I won't forget that."

The gesture surprised Isolde, but she recovered swiftly and placed a hand of her own upon Dairine's. Just as Dairine was thanking Isolde for leading them in a manner that saved their lives, so too was Isolde grateful that Dairine was able to fend off the Hoarverns and allow for her plan to work out in the end.

"If it wasn't for you we all would have died as well. I intend to inform the Commandant of your valor.

Dairine's gaze remained averted, cracks showing in her typically impenetrable facade as her hand on Isolde's shoulder revealed itself to be shaking ever so slightly in fear, "Valor? I watched in horror as someone I have known my entire life was eaten alive in front of me...a part of me knew to be grateful that you did what you did. That if you hadn't I would have died for nothing, same as everyone else."

While externally she acted as if she was calm and in control of any given situation, Isolde could not help but admit that she too had been terrified. She had been acting from moment to moment, seeking whatever next step she needed to take and direct the others towards just to live a second more. Had circumstances been different they all would have died, and that reality was not lost upon Isolde.

What Dairine said about dying for nothing though...that stayed with Isolde however, so much so that it sent a chill down her spine.

"It is not wrong to feel that way. Our lives have meaning, and it is not your place or mine to have died here today," Isolde spoke softly even as her voice began to regain its more typical composure, "I cannot promise you that everyone will always survive. I cannot even promise you your own life. What I can promise you though is that I will never let your life be meaningless."

Nearby she noticed that Verita had been listening to them, not so much out of a desire to eavesdrop but rather because it could not be helped given how close they all were at the moment as they waited for Clausura to finish being patched up.

"You are my friends...and I refuse to let the people I care about come to harm so long as I can help it," Isolde spoke, more to herself than to the others.

Unlike Isolde and Dairine, Verita had been also paying attention to what else was going on at the impromptu medical treatment center set up to assist those who just came back. Her interest had been drawn in particular to the Astartes who had come back from the field, all of them bearing the armor of the Deathwatch and most of them allowed through without question given that they lacked any signs of damage.

The sole exception was the seeming leader of the squad, who by his armor appeared to be the Watch Master of the sector's Watch Fortress. Kimara's orbital defenses had long ago been converted into a permanent base for the Deathwatch, launching operations into nearby areas when Orks or other Xenos threats arose. Some years back a brutal campaign had nearly eliminated the entirety of the local Watch Fortress, with those survivors mostly being new recruits who had not been fielded on the mission, causing the sole veteran surviving among the fortress to rise to leadership as its new Captain.

Formerly Lieutenant Torian of the Imperial Fists 5th Company, it was supposedly dishonor which saw him depart from the ranks of the Imperial Fists, though the details of his failure were unknown to all but a scarce few. Whatever had happened in his past had been more than made up for since however, as under his command the Deathwatch had slain many a foe of the Imperium and even managed to bring back online all of Kimara's orbital defenses to prevent the once occasional invasion of Orks.

"You are wounded, my Lord," a medic stated as they observed Torian, his power armor having been breached on the front and dried blood surrounding the opening made. The woman appeared uncertain if she should be addressing the Watch Master at all, his rank and height serving as a powerful intimidating combination. What records remained of the Iron Warrior Trahaearn Jarn would show that this warrior was of similar stature, which helped explain how he had succeeded in his mission to slay a dangerous beast upon Kimara with minimal aid.

Torian rose a hand to stop the medic from treating him, his voice warm as he denied the help as he explained it would be unnecessary, "It is naught but a paltry and superficial injury. Given the creature slain today I would consider it fortunate this was the price. The enemies of Humanity and the Emperor ought be cut down to the last, be they Xenos or be they traitors and heretics such as the ignoble Iron Warriors. It is our duty to slay each and every one of them, and such a trifling wound shall not stop me from carrying out my duties just as the Imperial Fists have since the Great Crusade. "

The Deathwatch had used the appearance of a Hydraka, a species once imported from the Iron Warriors homeworld of Olympia under circumstances long since forgotten. Given that Olympia had been reduced to nothing following the Horus Heresy, these creatures were perhaps some of the last of their kind, yet they were incredibly rare to the point of being considered legends by most upon Kimara. Next to the Kraken they were one of the only beasts capable of fighting Yormungaros on the planet, such was their might, and it was said that once upon a time the Primarch Perturabo himself had slain one while he was a mere child.

Whatever the truth was, Torian had brought back a scale from the beast with many heads to show that it had been dealt with and to serve as a trophy of their victory. To the Astartes it was a mere training exercise, and yet to the Humans present felling a Hydraka in direct combat would have been an impossible feat to replicate. Such was the difference between the Deathwatch and even the students of the Schola, and so was it that Verita's attention had been piqued even as she joined Isolde and Dairine in what would devolve from merely huddling together into the first group hug the girls had ever shared.

True to her inquisitive nature however, Verita could not help but contemplate the fact that Torian's chest wound appeared to have been made by a powered blade of some kind rather than the claws of a beast.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________​

Once she was cleared to go Isolde had immediately returned to the Schola to check-in with her father, who she found brooding over a clenched fist held in the other hand as they formed a triangle off his table to support his leaning forehead. His composed and dignified manner was what Isolde always sought to replicate and demonstrate herself, but now he appeared as if any other man worn down by a stressful day as midnight crept upon them.

"This world was made to be unbreakable. To withstand any siege and repel any foe who dared cross it. With a full garrison to helm our defenses the gates of Terra would appear fragile by comparison," he spoke, acknowledging Isolde's arrival even though she had not yet said a word and his eyes were shut. He had heard her, even as deep in his thoughts as he had been ever since he received news of what had occurred.

Sensing that her father had something he wished to say, Isolde simply stood before his desk and let him speak, not desiring to interrupt him even though she was just happy to be able to see him again.

"But this is not a siege we were prepared for. The Imperium had always tried to strip away our identity and spirit, but the Jarn dynasty kept our spirits and resolve all this time. Outright conflict on this world would never be worth the cost, so it was better to allow us a vestige of autonomy even if we still had to answer to them," his hands lowered until they lay on the desk before him folded into one another, his eyes opening and showing how weary he truly was through the exhaustion visible in them, "It was not until the Conomor family returned to power after all these years that the Imperium had its way."

His eyes remained glued to the table before him, as if he was unable to bring himself to look up and face his daughter. Having felt a similar form of guilt earlier, Isolde accepted how he felt since she knew he must have been terrified by what happened or almost happened regarding his daughter.

"Our people are too proud of their loyalty, too resolute and stubborn to buckle and lash out when they had every right to. Decades of wearing us down, undermining our culture, our very spirit, has brought us to this...where countless men can be sent off to die in a war the Imperium does not even acknowledge, against a Tyranid threat that never emerged. Where innocent women have everything taken from them by those claiming to serve the Imperium, when it is truly only their own selfish whims and desires that they pay allegiance to no matter how much they fool themselves. Every day more monsters who do not deserve the title of Human come to our world, taking more and more because no-one tells them they are wrong to do so."

"Once we were strong. Kimara was to become an empire that could rule not only this sector but all that surround it...we willingly submit to the Imperium when it was a benevolent entity, but we have suffered ever since for our loyalties towards those who had actually given us aid. It is by the Emperor's light, by his vision, that Humanity can even truly grace the stars...but the Imperium which claims to serve his will is naught but a decayed, corrupt husk that siphons everything it can like a parasite. It worships a man who so fervently opposed worship of his being that he burned Monarchia, these ignorant fools unaware that through their devout worship they dishonor the great man they wish to venerate."

After a sigh and taking a moment to breathe the Commandant continued again, his voice as if he was carrying the weight of a world upon his shoulders.

"These years of turmoil have pushed our people to a breaking point, and as things descend into conflict we will find ourselves in a war for our world. These false agents of the Imperium, of the Emperor, will keep wearing us down as they line their pockets and satiate their sinful selves...and in these next generations the people of Kimara will be no more, all without us having fired a single shot back because on paper we face no enemy. This is an attack from within, something antithetical to our very way of being. They see us as the villain, and to prove them wrong we take the moral high ground even though none will ever recognize it."

From what Isolde knew her father was doing what he could to resist the Conomor regime, and she would not be surprised if he had connections across the world undermining them. Truth be told it would explain why the day's events played out as they did, with the regime trying to kill off someone close to him through a supposed 'accident'. Everything she had witnessed between him and the local authorities spoke to hidden animosity, and she knew her father would not sit by and do nothing as his people were harmed.

But the time had come Isolde felt to take action herself.

"Then let us be the villain."

Finally looking up at her, Eisen Kohlenstoff met his daughter's gaze with a worried and sympathetic glance of his own to match the one upon her face, "Isolde..."

Isolde clenched a fist as the day's tragedy played throughout her mind and steeled her resolve, "They are traitors to the Emperor of Mankind and for that they are our enemy. If Vandire could be ousted then so can they. Kimara is our home, not theirs, and if they would see our people erased entirely then it is our duty to not yield. So what if it would play into every belief they have of us? If virtue towards them brings us damnation, then it must be eschewed towards those undeserving of its grace."

She lifted her arm so that her fist remained before her clenched, her already alabaster complexion appearing even paler where she gripped. Not only was she standing firmly, her voice conveyed her newfound determination and righteous indignation without an ounce of hesitation or mercy to be found.

"It is not our place to wither and die, it is our right and destiny to take back what was ours to begin with. Past grievances, sins of the father, rebellion, none of it matters in the face of extinction. Humanity is assailed from all sides, and we cannot stand strong against Xenos and the Ruinous Powers if we are being undermined from within. What right do they have to draw our species ever closer to annihilation? Their actions have wounded Humanity, not just the citizens of our world, and for that these Abhuman beasts devoid of virtue have committed treason."

Isolde brought her hand down upon the desk forcefully as she continued to speak, her father sitting back and listening intently as he and his daughter had their first true discussion about how they felt about the planet's circumstances.

"Within a generation our people will be wiped out by those animals, leaving us as a footnote in their history as we are forgotten! I refuse to stand by and allow everything our civilization has fought for to be destroyed by those who would write us off as damnable Heretics! We are not their playthings, we are not their slaves, and if our prayers will not be heard then it is our right and duty to take measures into our own hands. The Emperor hasn't saved us no matter how many of those suffering must have begged for salvation, and if we do not help ourselves we cannot expect others to either!"

As her impassioned speech continued Isolde cast her hand outwards as if to gesture to the world beyond the study's walls and even those of the Schola.

"For so long we have treated the Yormungaros as the threat, but there is a great threat to our prosperity and survival than them: those Daemons who wear Human skin and act as if they are righteous as they prey upon those too weak in will or body to resist them! It's time that we remind those Wostyn animals their place just as we did when they first waged war with us, to take up arms and show that we are they are the prey and we are the hunters! I don't care how many corpses must be trampled upon, anything is better than accepting our fate without once striking back! I would rather die fighting on my feet than remain living on my knees, and I know I'm not the only one!"

Finally taking a pause, Isolde calmed herself as she clasped her hands before her, as if to beseech her father to listen to her pleas.

"I know the thought must have crossed your mind before, Father...so please, tell me what I have to do to free our people from these shackles that were never ours to bear. Help me stand and fight not only for Kimara, but for the Emperor and Humanity itself even if we must stand resolutely against the Imperium's rot."

A familiar silence fell between the two for what felt like an eternity even if it was but for a few moments, the Commandant first lowering his head before eventually shaking it and making up his mind about the issue. Try as he might he could not protect his daughter forever, and it would be a lie to say he never foresaw this day coming.

In fact, he had been doing everything he could to raise his daughter to be exactly the strong woman before him with an implacable will, a natural leader who could draw others to her cause through not only skill but also through her understanding of what it meant to be Kimaran. There were few on their planet who better bore the spirit of their planet, something that would be invaluable now that Isolde's eyes had been opened to the sheer depravity that had befallen them thanks to their supposed protectors and rulers.

"Do you have any others you can trust?"

Isolde was surprised by the question posed, having expected her father to continue to try and hide the worst of their world from her, but despite this confusion she nodded and let her hands fall to her side.

"Verita. Dairine."

The Commandant nodded, "I expected as much. Very well then, bring them to me. There is much we must discuss, as well as things best left unspoken...do you understand?"

Isolde bowed her head, having to suppress a smile that might make her appear soft even after her speech, "Yes Father."

At her father's beckoning she joined him on the other side of the desk and embraced him, receiving a hug in return as a worried father who almost never displayed his feelings held his beloved child who he believed he never would see again after receiving the initial reports earlier. Having her back and by his side brought him peace of mind, even if now he knew it was time to involve her in the true purpose of his Schola: the liberation of Kimara from within.

"You are my precious daughter, and you deserve so much more than I can give you...but if we are to change the circumstances of our world there is much work we must do."

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N: This update has about 8-10 updates worth of content in it and was quite the undertaking to put together, so I hope you all enjoyed it and will leave me your thoughts in the comments below! Here we can get a glimpse at what is to come for Kimara, and while they cannot hope to wage a revolution immediately things do certainly now seem to be heading in that direction.

Thanks for reading, and please do leave your thoughts below so I can know what you thought!​

 

[PsihoKekec]

It's terrible to see a friend die, even worse if you have to sacrifice them (despite consciously knowing she is mortally wounded).

Yormungaros would kill or torture you if they so pleased, and they did it for no other purpose than their own twisted nature. Stories were told of Yormungaros ignoring freshly dead Humans and beasts in favor of going after live prey, for while they would return to the dead eventually to feast they seemed to prefer something they could first play with.

Reminds me of cats

The group all snapped to attention, even the out-of-breath Umida, and saluted as they accepted the orders granted to them

I would have thought the this Schola, being of more pragmatic kind, would have taught them not to do that in the field, even if it's training.

They see us as the villain, and to prove them wrong we take the moral high ground even though none will ever recognize it."

"Then let us be the villain."

That reminds of the scene from the old Ivan Grozny movie ''Then terrible I shall be.'' With Isolde being inducted into the conspiracy, along with her two friends.

And it looks like the Iron Empire has already infiltrated the world, is the melting of the ice under the fortress underway?

 

[ATP]

So,Isolde was Thorin,and Yormungar was plaing role of Smaug? good,good.
But where is hidden treasure ? there should be at least one fortress hidden from IoM,where Isolde could become KING UNDER MOUNTAIN.
Deatchwatch could help - their role is help Empire,not some local rapists.

 

[Thunderscourge]

It's terrible to see a friend die, even worse if you have to sacrifice them (despite consciously knowing she is mortally wounded).

It shows Isolde's nature and that of the Kimarans however that she was able to do it despite the anguish it brought her, as by sacrificing one she was able to save four. It was the correct move by all accounts and so it was the action taken, personal emotions be damned.

Reminds me of cats

I actually was channeling cats in writing the sadism of the Yormungaros given how cats can sort of play with their food so to speak, so you are spot on.

That reminds of the scene from the old Ivan Grozny movie ''Then terrible I shall be.'' With Isolde being inducted into the conspiracy, along with her two friends.

If circumstances demand that they cast aside some of the moral high ground then so be it, or so Isolde believes. If the only way to survive and win is to be as 'evil' as those oppressing them already believe then that is the course to be taken.

And it looks like the Iron Empire has already infiltrated the world, is the melting of the ice under the fortress underway?

The fortress you are thinking of is not on Kimara, as Kimara doesn't have an Astartes garrison on it. The Deathwatch have their orbital base above, but that's a small handful (given that many of their number perished) and obviously not on a glacier, so whatever Jarn is planning to lay siege to down the line is on a world like Kimara that isn't actually it.

So,Isolde was Thorin,and Yormungar was plaing role of Smaug? good,good.
But where is hidden treasure ? there should be at least one fortress hidden from IoM,where Isolde could become KING UNDER MOUNTAIN.

Truth be told despite having studied him academically I am not a giant Tolkien fan. Don't dislike him, just never been captivated by his work and so he doesn't come to mind when I'm writing or influence much at all directly for me. You're the second person to draw LOTR comparisons for the update which I find funny given the above.

There is something hidden upon Kimara however, if the mysterious cube is any indication though, so perhaps Isolde's group will happen upon something of value.

 

[PsihoKekec]

And while I would love for Isolde to repay Kalles for the ambush right away, I reckon she will wait patiently until the payback aligns with whatever grand plan that is in the making.

 

[Thunderscourge]

And while I would love for Isolde to repay Kalles for the ambush right away, I reckon she will wait patiently until the payback aligns with whatever grand plan that is in the making.

Kalles was not the cause of the ambush nor was it ever said as much. The planetary regime was.

 

[The Whispering Monk]

Pretty sure the inspiration for the ambush was to cut at the Schola Commandant.

 

[PsihoKekec]

I was under impression that since the class was split in two groups, it was Kalles that supplied information in which group Isolde would be in.

 

[Thunderscourge]

I was under impression that since the class was split in two groups, it was Kalles that supplied information in which group Isolde would be in.

They wouldn't need an inside informant given that the Schola had to coordinate with the local government to alter the weather and create pre-planned routes for the Progena to go along to best use that weather pattern.

Kalles is a complete bitch, but she's at least smart enough to not betray her team during a mission that has the threat of giant monsters. This isn't to say she will never do such a thing, or that she doesn't want to at the very least, the circumstances simply were not such that she did here.

 

[Thunderscourge]

ASTARTES

"Aearn, just promise me you'll come back some day."

"I swear by my honor that I shall see you again, even if it is the last thing I shall ever do."

The words of his dream lingered as Trahaearn roused from his slumber, just as they had a thousand times before across countless restless nights.

"Always the same dream..."

His words were to no-one in particular despite possessing Arien by his side, his quarters empty of other company now that Tristan possessed his own living space. Trahaearn's voice was soft, being barely above a whisper, as he had no reason to particularly raise it since it was just an idle musing. A deep sorrow had gripped him, and try as he might he could not quell the feelings within him.

Eileithyia...

How many times had he dreamt of their parting? Of when he set out to the stars to join the ranks of the Iron Warriors, only to return to his world one day and find that everyone he had known was gone? Becoming a member of the Adeptus Astartes made one more than a mere mortal Human, but in the process one lost something as well...whereas some retained much of their Humanity, most grew detached from it and concepts such as family were replaced with feelings of brotherhood and duty.

Trahaearn had been so wrapped up in the Great Crusade and so blinded by his transformation into an Astartes that he had not looked back until it was already too late to do so. While his service under Forrix for the sake of Humanity's future was never something he would dare regret, so too would he always regret not also being able to fulfill his promise and return home to the woman he had loved since his earliest memories. Even now that such concepts as romantic love were foreign to him the attachment had managed to remain, and it was with a heavy heart that Jarn could never quite recall the finer details of her face and features when his eyes would wake from that very dream that haunted him.

There was little use in trying to drift to sleep again, for he knew from experience that it would continue to elude him after awaking in such a fashion. A dream born of a memory once forgotten but recalled upon his return to Kimara so many years ago, it was one of the few things that could truly evoke such feelings from him and they would continue to linger until he could cloud his mind with other thoughts and minutiae.

For this reason the Warsmith rose from his bed, softly so as to avoid awaking Arien, before seeking out a location upon the Eisernen which always helped bring him peace of mind. Through this he found himself standing in a personal library he had compiled of technology and Human history, a location beside the Dodekatheon and available to its members so that they might possess as much knowledge as possible. While his personal writing was kept in his own quarters, or occasionally at his work station in the Dodekatheon, here lay the writings of others from what he could scavenge from Iron Warrior facilities over the years. Texts born from Perturabo's great mind were present as well, allowing for Jarn to have replicated so much of the Primarch's own technological innovations even if he could have never developed them on his own, such was Perturabo's mastery of technology.

By immersing himself in the thoughts and wisdom of others Jarn could possibly drown out the feelings of anguish deep within his soul, though as he entered the semi-private facility he knew immediately that he was not alone.

Restless nights were not unique to Jarn, as he had encountered Asier many times over the years at times when the other man ought to be resting instead taking care of tasks that could be left for the following day's events. That they were presently traveling through the Warp seemed to have something to do with it, and Trahaearn could not blame Asier for his unease: their shared distaste for it was part of why they worked so well together in fighting the servants of Chaos.

Asier was standing by a computer terminal, its light faintly reflecting off the dull grey and iron of his armor in the otherwise dimly lit room. Jarn had not bothered to turn the lights on yet, instead taking the moment to bask in the darkness afforded as it made it truly feel like there was night upon the vessel. As much as becoming an Astartes had changed him, Jarn still preferred for there to be darkness when it was time to rest one's body and mind.

From what the Warsmith could see Asier was contemplating records of the Imperium regarding Imperial Fist fortresses, and even without words passed between them each knew the other's reason for not being in their own quarters. This was not the first time they crossed paths like this, not even the first time in this very location, and so it went without remark. Instead Jarn took a seat by where Asier stood, deciding that instead of simply silencing the pangs in his heart and mind he could voice them to one of the few he felt he could entrust with them.

"I couldn't protect them. When they were in need, I wasn't there for them," Jarn spoke of the lingering sentiments of his dream, knowing that he had been unable to save either his family or his planet from what happened following the events of the Horus Heresy. Had circumstances been different he could have stood at their side and at least died fulfilling his vows, but such a fate was not to be.

Asier said nothing, but given his slight pause Jarn knew that the quiet soldier was listening intently. While Asier could be vocal when he wished to explore some topic or relay information, more often than not he was content keeping his thoughts to himself unless asked for them: it was this quality that made him a great sounding board for Jarn, who while capable of stoicism himself was once groomed for leadership of a world and thus taught from an early age to clearly and accurately express himself to others. Kimara was not a den of vipers to hide one's thoughts from, at least not back then, instead being a place where direct action and sentiment was both expected and appreciated.

"What good is power if it cannot be used to protect what matters most to you? My closest kin deceased, my homeworld fallen, the Iron Warriors shattered, the Imperium in ruins...what did that make me, who swore my life to serving and protecting each of them? For what purpose did I continue to fight, to survive when all else had been lost?"

Jarn looked down at his own hands before him, taking in a deep breath as he continued to speak to his observant ally.

"For some time I was plagued by these doubts, until I realized that my survival was its own answer," his gaze lifted to where Asier stood, his voice resolute as he spoke, "So long as I live, not all was lost, for whatever else I might be I remain an Iron Warrior to my very core. While I stand strong in the face of the darkness that surrounds us I may still protect those who need me, I may protect Humanity from its own excess and fault, and I may seek the utopia that was once sought by not only my Primarch but our Emperor as well."

Asier returned his gaze, only offering a nod in return. While he did not often say as much, it was this nature of Jarn's which saw Asier join him as it offered a way forward for Humanity, should Jarn's ambitions be realized. While not wholly breaking for the typical mold for an Iron Warrior, what truly separated Jarn in Asier's perspective was the willingness to see past numbers and look past grievances to see a bigger picture. While they held some differences in opinion, in goal he and the Warsmith were entirely aligned, seeking not only their own survival and prosperity but that of Humanity itself. They would see to the Emperor's will, even if his actual servants did not.

"My mother...my father...my wife...my child...they are gone, and nothing can bring them back to me," Jarn admitted sorrowfully, knowing that the pain within him was something he would never be able to erase nor should he. What made it difficult however was his status as an Astartes, for the changes to his mind were something he was entirely aware of, "You can ask me of a calculation I did centuries ago and I can tell you the minutiae to as many decimals as you please...but after all this time I can barely remember the faces of those who meant everything to me."

It was perhaps this regret that saw Jarn raise both Levente and later Tristan as if they were sons of his, for he was intent on not taking family for granted now that he had realized firsthand how fleeting life could be. Perhaps training them day-in and day-out was not particularly fatherly, but then again perhaps it was. He had never gotten the opportunity to raise his own child, so he simply was doing what he felt was best for the two Neophytes as well as the Iron Legion. They had a home now where they had once been deprived of one thanks to the ravages of the forty-first millennium, and for that he was content. If they could live on and improve upon what he built then perhaps more meaning could be brought to Jarn's own survival against countless threats, be they Human or otherwise.

All of this did not truly mend the pain within, but there was a way for Jarn to feel as if he was properly honoring the memory of those lost due to his own negligence. While his kin could no longer fight for their dreams Jarn could still hold up their mantle and do so in their honor, so that even in death their shared vision could be realized.

"They lived and died for a vision of a better world, one where our people could live and prosper without fear of the galaxy beyond. That one day we might too be able to reach out to the stars and shape them in our very image. Never again will I know the comfort of their company, but I can live on and see to it that their deaths were not in vain. That, even if no one else remembers who they were as individuals, I can carry their dreams forward," he opined to Asier, who he knew would understand the feeling he spoke of. Those who lived as long as they had while retaining their Humanity were the only ones who could truly grasp the weight and burden it placed upon them to see everyone they cared for perish or disappear into the sands of time, never again to rise and stand beside them. That shared sense of loss had helped solidify their partnership, being a shared sensation derived from their common Humanity for all of their so-called superhuman nature.

It took a moment, a lifetime of calculations for the brilliant Asier, before the man spoke in a soft tone, "If you wish I could tell you of your world. Of what transpires."

There was no hesitation in response for even though the temptation was great Jarn's pragmatism overrode its alluring nature, knowing himself well enough to understand that it would be the ruination of his Iron Legion to accept.

"Only when the time comes that we are ready to retake Kimara will I cast my gaze upon it. Any sooner and my sentimentality will force me to return sooner than we may succeed," Jarn shook his head, knowing that he was doing what he had to do but regretting his inability to return all the same, "Resources, production capability, Fabius Bile's experimentation, and finally the reclamation of our Gene Seed. Until we complete each of these objectives any attempt we make at reclaiming our world will fail eventually. Our actions must be measured and excised of flaws if we are to one day reach utopia."

The very defenses he once built upon Kimara were what now held him at bay, a fitting albeit cruel irony he felt, for he had built the world to be impenetrable from outside forces should it be fully manned. Had the Imperial Fists not used their full Legion's might when Kimara's population was not enough to properly man its stations the world would have bled the Fists and the Imperium long before they came across the Iron Cage, but that was no longer a consideration: barring some mass population exodus down the line the Kimara of today would no doubt possess what it needed to repel any invader.

His personal ties to the leadership of Kimara perhaps would allow Jarn to smooth things over, but the planet's stubborn loyalty was both its strength and its downfall. They presently served the Imperium and would no doubt die to the last fighting for it, so it was a requirement that the Iron Warriors prepare for a full campaign that would ensure the planet's eventual submission without destroying both its people and the Astartes seeking to join them. The calculations and preparations for this were innumerable and many decades would be required to reach that point, but Jarn was nothing if not patient: it came from being a seasoned commander of the Iron Warriors in the Great Crusade where siege warfare could drag on for ages before victory was eventually achieved.

Jarn just had to make certain that they would one day reach that point, and for that he would continue to lead his men forward.

Just because he worked in perfect synchronicity with Jarn did not mean Asier did not ever possess a different thought, and much like how Perturabo once enjoyed discussing strategy and tactics with his Dodekatheon before paranoia drove them apart so too did Jarn enjoy discussing with Asier the finer points of their operations. It was only by playing devil's advocate and exploring alternatives in both action and viewpoint that the correct course to take could be determined, and for this Asier was a vital given his intellect.

"Utopia goals are counterintuitive to a species' survival. Ambition that is inherently impossible is ultimately corrupting, for one cannot hope to engender, or force to be engendered, a state of perfection," Asier stated not as an opinion, but rather as a fact because the flawed nature of Humanity was not something any could deny, "Therein lies the seeds of disaster, for perfection is an absolute that cannot be attained by an imperfect species. In this way utopia is naught but a dangerous myth and a fool's errand to chase, for it is better to manage and maintain the flaws of man on an ongoing basis than expect it to rise above its true potential."

Jarn nodded, accepting Asier's thoughts rather than balking at them because they had spoken along these lines before and Jarn knew that their viewpoints did not truly diverge: rather Asier desired the pragmatic outcome of what could be achieved rather than seeking for things beyond his reach, and on this point the Warsmith was completely in agreement. While the Iron Warriors and Perturabo had spoken of 'Utopia' once upon a time it was not truly actual perfection they sought, but rather their own subjective viewpoint of what the world ought to be like even if by other measures some could find it imperfect. To Jarn that dream the Iron Warriors possessed was actually obtainable, and even within their reach, so long as they continued striving towards it.

"Seeking actual perfection is the path of Slaanesh and the folly of the Emperor's Children. But in truth the utopia we seek is not the utopia of definition, but rather that of our own conceit: a state of being where we are capable of not only surviving, but thriving. Where we have quelled the existential threats within our domain to conquer, and where we are able to build rather than only destroy. A world where our lives possess meaning and value beyond what can be quantified in raw data. To overcome and endure is to be an Iron Warrior, and my men could not envision a world without such hardship, but it is my purpose to lead them towards the light that is existing beyond such concepts."

Asier nodded, adding, "When faced with extinction every alternative is preferable, and for that the ends justify the means."

Jarn was in agreement, demonstrating the key difference between the Iron Warriors and the hopelessly idealistic and dogmatic Imperial Fists, "But even so, the means must not spoil the end."

They would fight tooth and nail and use everything they had at their disposal to find victory, but some things were not to even be considered as a part of their toolkits: there was no point in achieving victory if it meant bowing down to Chaos and its corruptive influence. To do so would mean sacrificing the actual goal for a poor substitution, becoming the tools and vessels of others once again where Jarn had sworn to his men that they would never again be the pawns of those who would use them.

Underhanded tactics, callous disregard for life both for one's foe and one's allies, unrelenting sieges, these were all necessary and did not sacrifice their goal. So long as their goal was reached it did not matter if puritans thought them devious, for it was better to succeed and be demeaned by one's foes than to die playing by the rules one's foes dictated.

It was thanks to this that Asier was in full agreement with Jarn even if his words might indicate a point of contention, as they saw the world in the same way even if some finer details could be argued between them, "Just so."

The Warsmith entrusted Asier with tasks no other could accomplish, knowing that with no questions asked that his ally would see to their completion. Jarn did not inquire how Asier did his work so long as it was done, the sole rule between them being that nothing done or gained would possess the taint of Chaos. Given his own unrest regarding the Warp this was something that went without saying for Asier, whose distaste for the Ruinous Powers perhaps eclipsed Jarn's own. The Warsmith had little doubt that Asier was manipulating the tools of Chaos to his own ends, but rather than toying with them directly he would have their actions serve his own goals from afar before cutting their strings and seeing to their complete destruction and ruination.

Such was the fate the servants of Chaos deserved, and so long as it did not come back to bite them Jarn was fine to allow their foes to unwittingly destroy one another for the Iron Legion's benefit. It allowed the Iron Warriors to stay one step ahead, and in this way Asier was of irreplaceable value to them. He would ask Asier to carry out certain tasks and they would be done, and in return sometimes Asier would come to him with a request that he in turn would fulfill. While it may sound foolish to entrust one's life to someone as secretive as this particular 'Iron Warrior' tasked with covert operations, Jarn knew that he had nothing to fear from Asier given their shared purpose and values. They each required the other to do what needed to be done, and so they worked in seamless tandem.

That shared trust and loyalty allowed for Jarn to ask something as he sat in the darkness of the room, looking up once again to ask a minute detail about Kimara that could give Jarn peace of mind until the day came that they returned.

"Tell me one thing: does my lineage continue?"

Another pause followed at first before Asier eventually gave a nod yes, not speaking a word lest Jarn feel the need to return home and save what remained of his family line from the Imperium. The Warsmith was unaware of the fairly recent rise of power of the Conomors, and had he heard of the purges which followed there was little doubt that he would do as he spoke of and feel the need to return home before he was ready.

Jarn knew as much himself by his own admission, but by giving him this small piece of accurate information his fears could be quelled for now and their operation could continue without issue. While some might consider it a lie by omission, it was what Jarn was looking for and what Asier knew to give in return.

Accepting the confirmation at face value, Jarn nodded in return, allowing his head to hang down as he tried once more to remember what Eileithyia had looked like. Beyond her raven hair and ivory skin he remembered little, try as he might, for he could scarcely remember the necklace he gave her as a parting gift just like her actual features.

A statue commemorating the two of them had been erected upon Kimara, giving the Warsmith hope that once he returned home he could fulfill his promise in spirit even if not in word.

Perhaps then the dreams which haunted him would come to an end.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________​

When the restless night ended Jarn found himself drawn to the training grounds of his Neophytes, intent on observing them as a way of looking forward rather than stewing in thoughts of what had once transpired. Ossus greeted him, the Apothecary ready to tend to the wounds of his trainees if needed but seemingly content by the way things were going: the Neophytes were sparring with one another in free time allotted to them to allow for them to do what they believed necessary to further themselves, and so Ossus' presence was more a safety net than a necessary factor. For this reason Jarn found the Apothecary painting upon an easel while still wearing his Power Armor, the finesse allowed for by their Black Carapaces enabling Ossus to engage in one of his many hobbies without issue.

It was inspiring for Jarn to see an Iron Warrior in part living up to the ideals, for while they were disposed towards siegecraft it had been the hopes and dreams of Iron Warriors in years past to be able to create rather than destroy. Ossus was limited by what supplies they came across to partake in such activities, but the Apothecary made it work as best as he could, and in this instance was painting what was shaping up to be the very vessel they were upon in all its beauty. After all, a magnificently crafted vessel was something of inherent allure to the members of the Iron Warriors, and so it was a worthy endeavor to see the Eisernen immortalized in such a fashion.

Beyond where Ossus sat were nine Neophytes rather than the full ten, with Jarn having a good idea where the last of them was at that moment and thus not worrying about Tristan's absence from this recreational set of duels between Neophytes.

Of the Neophytes in Alpha Squad perhaps only Gunnar could provide a decent sparring partner for Levente, such was the young man's natural talent that was bolstered by his completed Gene Seed transplants. In some ways Levente was held back by being a part of the squad despite being comprised of some of the best recruits the Iron Legion had managed to come across (not that it particularly had ideal circumstances to find them), for if he was alone Levente could very well serve as a member of the Astartes and accomplish much if he was let loose.

It was that very fact that saw Jarn continue to keep him tied down with others behind him in development and experience, as everything had always been too easy for Levente. He might not possess the greatest mind Jarn had ever witnessed, but the boy was still quick-witted and it was not until Tristan's arrival that Levente was completely overshadowed in terms of intelligence. Levente might not be able to best Jarn's veteran Astartes yet, but for someone not officially a member of their ranks yet he still left a mark in whatever duels he participated in thanks to his mixture of raw might and instinctual understanding of his foes and ability to read them almost supernaturally.

He truly was gifted, and if allowed to forge on ahead the young Levente might believe himself invincible. He might be one in a thousand as far as Astartes go or even rarer in terms of potential, but he would find himself surrounded by those incapable of keeping up with him since not every soldier was so talented. Jarn had little doubt that every group of Astartes had their own promising pupil like Levente, and it was in recognizing that talent early on that Jarn had been able to help it blossom. Just as important as the skills an Astartes developed however were those of the Astartes beside them in battle, for the unforgiving universe they lived within gave no quarter and death lurked behind each of them waiting for the smallest opportunity to strike.

If Levente could be humbled by working alongside those less capable than him and truly understand their worth rather than just his own he would be a capable commander some day, leading from the front and inspiring his forces with not only charisma but through displays of great heroism and strength.

If he couldn't...well, Jarn hoped things would not come to that, as he cared for his students as much as he could allow himself to. It would be a shame to see Levente bring about his own ruination, and so Jarn continued to do what he could to guide the boy towards his promising future. Just as Jarn would have to instill in Tristan ambition so the boy would not sit on the sidelines and squander his own talent like Jarn once had, so too would the Warsmith have to temper the flames of Levente's own ambitions. Where Levente had issue seeing beyond himself and thus had his vision at times clouded, Tristan was always thinking too much about things and even had devised statistical representations of his fellow Neophytes directly comparing their attributes with one another.

Taking action was important, but action taken with reckless haste or glacial contemplation would both lead to ruin...if only the two were not so different in mind that they detested having to deal with the other, or they might learn from one another's strengths. That rivalry drove them to even greater lengths to outdo the other however, so it was not without its own form of merit and Jarn accepted it even if it meant his two understudies each refused to spend any more time than necessary around the other.

Soon they would be serving as actual Astartes and Jarn's direct influence would lessen as they entered into the general ranks of his forces where they would have their own duties and missions to carry out, so it was important for him to impart some of his wisdom before the chances to do so lessened.

As one might expect Levente had little trouble wiping the floor with each of the other Neophytes, his broad shoulders remaining rigid as he carried himself with pride after knocking Dominicus clear off his feet in a single mighty blow. Each of the Neophytes now stood as tall as any Astarte or even taller in the case of some such as Tristan, but even with their massive forms Levente was still able to wrangle them and move them with brute strength reflective of Jarn's own at his age. Even as the others gained superhuman strength they still were unable to overpower the slab of muscle that was Levente, whose growth had been outward in the form of his musculature rather than upwards like many of the others.

Truth be told Levente's height was the bare minimum of Astartes, barely being taller than merely above average Kimarans given the typical height of those on Jarn's homeworld, but in sheer mass he was only in competition with the colossal Tristan who while thin had the height Levente lacked in spades. Overall size allowed Levente to throw his weight around quite literally, bashing aside full grown Astartes like rag dolls when he would on occasion duel them, and he was already gaining a reputation within the Iron Legion for this very fact.

While he could throw Tristan around just as easily however the height difference between them made it more difficult for Levente to properly grapple with his rival, so the physical contests they would have on occasion were not as one-sided as one might otherwise expect: while Levente was incredibly strong, with Tristan his own frame afforded him a greater deal of toughness that even Levente could not match. Like always they were opposites, and it only drove them to bash heads (sometimes literally) all the more.

Soon after the crushing defeat of Dominicus the Neophytes broke apart to allow for some rest between their matches, granting Jarn the opportunity to approach Levente without interruption from the others. Jarn had no issue with his other Neophytes and in fact was keeping close tabs on them all, but this was a conversation meant for Levente and so he made certain to bring his pupil aside so that they would not be overheard.

Levente abided by Jarn's direction as one might expect, bowing his head in subservience as his Warsmith and keeping it bowed even after moving away from the other trainees just to show how dutiful and reverent he was.

Ignoring the gesture, Jarn spoke of what Levente could expect from the coming days, for his time as a Neophyte was finally coming to a close, "When Ossus gives his seal of approval you will not be returning to join Urkamus, Grund, and the others like before. With your prior fieldwork you do not need his guidance, nor is his skillset useful for developing your own moving forward."

"What would you have me do, Warsmith?"

"I will be leaving the specifics to Khyr, the Company Commander I entrust with ending sieges. Shock tactics, line breaking, you will learn from him how to bring a swift end to conflicts efficiently, doing what he says and asks of you without question. If you are to charge a battle line without reinforcements you will do as told. Every operation you partake in will be one which comes with the risk of your very life, and if need be you will be expected to lay down your life for our cause."

Having briefly looked up in awe at the Warsmith, Levente quickly set about bowing both his head and body as he pledged himself to the Iron Legion's cause once more.

"Of course. Anything you ask of me I shall do without a moment's hesitation. My life is yours, now and always, just as I swore on my homeworld. I will follow you to the gates of death, fighting until my last breath for the one to whom I owe everything. At your command I shall decimate our foes and bring triumph to the Iron Warriors, for the strong survive and the weak shall not be permitted to thrive!"

Sensing the seeds of arrogance in Levente's tone, Jarn sighed as he was forced to drudge up old memories once again to teach his student an important lesson.

"The Decimation was no triumph, simply a labor I once endured to survive. To kill one's fellow Astarte, even in self-defense, is naught but a reflection of how far we have strayed from the Emperor's vision of a unified Humanity."

Once, when he was a younger man, Jarn had been awoken at night by the dreams of the slaughter he had been forced to commit...now he no longer was under the grips of such grief for the loss of his comrades, instead solemnly resigned to the knowledge that he had done what he had to do and that in doing so he had been able to save countless more lives among his Iron Warrior kin than the nine he slew with his bare, bloodied hands.

"It is Human nature to hesitate when one's morals are brought into question. Had my brothers been firmer, had they not at least partially questioned the decree of our Gene Father I never would have survived. That merit of theirs, of understanding that our Primarch was asking them to commit a grievous sin, was what killed them in the end."

That glint of doubt was what allowed Jarn to rally others on Olympia when similarly questionable orders were passed down, Forrix looking the other way to allow Jarn to take those he could who could not carry out Perturabo's wrath. It took convincing from someone who would become one of his closest allies within the Iron Legion, but that event had set Jarn upon the path he now tread and given him the ambition to fulfill the ambitions of the Iron Warriors in his own way.

If only his nine Battle Brothers he was forced to slay could have joined them.

"Had they survived until the fall of Olympia they would be here beside us now, being those among our brethren who could will themselves perhaps to ignore the orders passed down to them. It was simple misfortune that they had to be chosen alongside me as a part of our unit of ten for the Decimation, and I mourn their deaths as much as any of the others who have fallen for our cause," Jarn spoke sorrowfully to his pupil, hoping to impress the true weight of that day rather than the glorious tales his men shared about their commander.

"One stepped forward, and without a moment's thought I crushed his skull in my hands. His blood splashed upon me, but by then a second had moved past his uncertainty and so I struck again. They were to beat me to death, and few among the Iron Warriors could hope to harm one as large as I with their bare hands...but even so nine could accomplish such a task, for they were Astartes and I was but one."

In the conflicts he had endured Jarn had killed countless many, but it was when he had to turn his strength upon his own comrades at the order of his Primarch that made him question it all. He did not regret surviving, nor that his instincts to live had been honed from his earliest days, but he wished that he could have done so alongside those thrown away at the whim of Perturabo.

"My world knows no mercy. For the years I spent on it that simple truth was instilled on me each and every day...the first time I saw a man die I was no older than five, a Yormungaros striking our mining convoy and taking one of my father's most trusted workers within its jaws," Jarn explained to Levente, whose attention was completely honed in to each and every word his leader was speaking, "As capable as he was as a member of our staff, he had grown slow with age, and so when it was inevitable that we would be overtaken my father left him behind. A cruel fate perhaps, and one he was loathe to do, but necessary so that the rest of us might survive."

Kimara's brutality held its very own sort of beauty as Forrix once suggested, though as a child it had been difficult to appreciate its finer points when faced with the gaping maw of the Yormungaros.

"Once its first victim was consumed it gave chase for another, and another, until half our number were gone. I only survived until then because I was carried by the convoy itself as a passenger, riding with our equipment. With the proper maneuvering my father was able to force the beast into a trap, detonating charges meant for the mines instead upon the vile serpent and turning our mining lasers upon the wounds opened."

While shorter in range, the mining equipment possessed throughout the Imperium was similar to Lascannons in raw strength and so proper application of them to the small openings made spelled the downfall of the Yormungaros. Had things even been the slightest bit different that would have been the end of all of them, and so the sacrifice of half their number was accepted by all without question. It simply was the risk of day to day life on such a Death World, though as a lasting effect it helped inspire Jarn to build the defenses of Kimara to the point that the planet was essentially impossible to conquer given it possessed a proper garrison.

"Those born to fairer circumstances may have been capable warriors in their own rights, but it cost them in the end. Survival comes first so long as one does not forsake their purpose and goals, for without survival we are unable to realize those ideals," Jarn clenched his fists that he could still imagine the blood upon even centuries later, "So I killed the first who came at me, the second, and then the third and fourth when they charged together..."

Levente remained quiet, recognizing the grief of his leader while not sharing it as a result of his divergent worldview based entirely on strength: those who fought Jarn and perished were weak, so why mourn the loss of those so pathetic as to lose with overwhelming odds? Such was a mindset one could find throughout many Iron Warriors which was why he had already proven popular among some veterans within Jarn's fleet, but it was not a view which Jarn shared for obvious reasons.

Jarn continued with his wistful reminiscence, "As nine they could fell me without issue. As nine, eight, six, four, and then one they could not. Perhaps honor prevented some from engaging in such coordinated tactics, or perhaps fear at being ordered to slay the strongest among them kept those of questionable willpower from throwing their lives away so brazenly since they saw what I had done to the first. Any number of factors would have played a part in my survival, but by the end all that mattered was that I still stood, battered and bloodied, while they lay dead at my feet."

If Jarn had not been born as a member of his family, if the countless brushes with death in everyday life on early-Kimara had gone differently, if the Iron Warriors had not visited his world, if Forrix had not taken notice of him, if the Great Crusade had claimed his life as it had countless others, if the Horus Heresy had done so, if, if, if...there was so much uncertainty in their world, and it was by fortune alone that they all still survived when others just as capable perished. But fortune was capricious, and Jarn sought to do whatever he could to mitigate its influence over him now that he had the power to dictate his fate, and he hoped that his students would do the same.

"Our lives are fleeting, comprised of an untold myriad of coincidences and happenstances that shape who we are where if one slight divergence occurred the strings of life would be cut. Had one bullet flown differently, one more blade found its mark, one detonation caused a chain reaction upon a vehicle, had my world simply gone unheeded by the Iron Warriors, none of this would be possible. Every one of us is the amalgamation of the circumstances which we have survived and endured to reach the point we are at, and it is by that very truth that we must continue to strive forward in spite of them."

Jarn placed a hand down upon Levente's shoulder as he came to the end of what he wanted to say before then departing, "Remember that as you prepare for your looming final examination: all it can take is one mistake and you will never receive the chance of facing another. Death awaits us all and is an unforgiving mistress, so be vigilant and act accordingly."

"Understood, Warsmith!"

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________​

"I am not surprised to find you here while the others are sparring."

Tristan did not look up from his workstation in the Dodekatheon to greet the Warsmith, so honed was he on the circuitry he was piecing together and welding for his next intellectual pursuit. It was not out of disrespect or lack of reverence, for Tristan near worshipped Jarn for all the Warsmith had done for him, it was simply that suddenly placing down what he was working on and stopping would damage the fragile pieces he was working on and so snapping to attention would be a doubly inefficient waste of time.

Proving the boy's faith in him, Jarn did not take offense to the lack of 'proper' greeting and instead took interest in what the Neophyte had surrounded himself with in his own personal piece of their Legion's top workshop. It had only made sense to give Tristan his own place to work as Jarn's own workplace was sometimes in use by the Warsmith himself, and this way Tristan could experiment on his own rather than just work with whatever Jarn had handy.

"My aptitude for close combat is average at best, my time is better spent here," Tristan explained as to why he did not join the others in their recreational sparring exercise, showing an acknowledgement of his own limits as well as his strengths.

Jarn approved of his apprentice's decision, having in the past made similar choices for there was no use in training his own raw speed such was Jarn's general mass and the weight of the armor he had to bear. Pursuing pointless endeavors was a waste of time, an inefficiency that could be so easily replaced by a more productive cause, and so Jarn made vocal his support of Tristan.

"So long as your other skills do not atrophy then focusing on your strengths is a wise usage of your days."

The boy was different from Levente in innumerable ways, and while Levente was no doubt honing his finesse in close combat as they spoke such an effort would be wasted upon Tristan. This was not to say Tristan was weak by any means, as despite his slight build for a future member of the Adeptus Astartes he had already grown to possess a height matching Jarn's own and seemed to be growing ever taller. Jarn knew of some Astartes growing to heights even beyond his own and believed Tristan would one day join their ranks, the natural result of someone who would have already towered above other Humans being made into an Astartes.

This significant size gave Tristan a strength of his own, for while he lacked the same raw might as Levente he still possessed an overall increased mass compared to almost all other Astartes resulting from his height and Astartes musculature. Ossus once had to treat Kastor after the latter had charged Tristan who in return dug his heels in and stood firm against the charge, the result of which was Kastor wiping himself out on Tristan and tumbling away from the giant he had charged. Possessing greater reach than others was also a benefit, and one Tristan had been keen to learn how to use in his favor by favoring spears and utilizing leverage in combat when forced to engage with a foe without access to weapons.

Like Jarn however there came a cost at possessing such a height, and that was that Tristan was simply too slow to properly keep up with his fellow recruits. His stride was quick and long, so unencumbered he was capable of running just fine, but the weight of the armor he would have to bear greatly outstripped that of his fellow Neophytes. It afforded him great protection since his lithe body allowed for extra defenses to be incorporated into the structure due to the space not dedicated to housing a surfeit of muscles. This protection combined with Tristan's physical stature made him a true juggernaut in combat exercises, even if he did not particularly get anywhere swiftly as one would expect of an Astartes.

Jarn would know, having crafted Tristan's first set of Power Armor himself. Someone had to make the custom suit after all, as there was no way for Tristan to fit into a typical set of Power Armor just as Jarn had never been able to. At nearly twice the age he recruited Tristan at the boy had already reached his height while Levente had grown a set of muscles that would match Jarn's own, the combination of which would equal Jarn's own considerable form that granted him the power to crush the skulls of other Astartes bare-handed. The boys he took under his wing had required specialized armor to properly fit them and so Jarn had gone to the effort of crafting it to play to their strengths, granting Tristan durability whereas Levente's emphasized speed.

Their highly divergent physiques did not only grant them benefits however, as Tristan's height made him an easier target whereas Levente's breadth similarly afforded a wider form to strike. While Tristan was slowed by his height, Levente had some of his raw potential for close combat mitigated by the reality of his form, not preventing him from being the monster he was in close combat but all the same making his movements more telegraphed than they might otherwise be.

The subjects of Tristan's interest were well apparent from a cursory glance at the workshop, for unlike certain other stations in the Dodekatheon the Neophyte's own was meticulously labeled and organized such that everything was exactly where it ought to be at all times. While it could be attributed to Tristan's naturally fastidious manner of handling everything he did, in truth it was a result of him mirroring Jarn's own efficient workplace that saw the boy arrange everything so precisely. Thanks to this Jarn was able to see Tristan's first experimentations with the inner workings of Power Armor, beside which rested preliminary tests of Refractor Fields with a focus on overlapping their capabilities, while beyond there lay dissected servo-arms and mechadendrites/mechatendrils, and pinned to a board were vehicle schematics of Basilisks, Xiphon Interceptors, and other such important cogs in their war machine.

While some technically minded Astartes would focus on one particular field of interest it was a reaffirmation of Jarn's own beliefs about Tristan's mind to see that the Neophyte was already studying so many different technological fields. Tristan was not yet capable of producing and truly creating things on par with the veteran members of the Dodekatheon and it would be many years before he could even hope to, but he was spending all his time on improving and learning from those who came before him since there were no secrets kept between members of Jarn's Dodekatheon in regards to technology and development. That was why it was an open environment with various forges and workspaces that could be freely traveled between, allowing for the free dissemination of information between its members to better allow them to improve their own work.

This said, Jarn would choose to overlook that Tristan had also seemingly devoted some of his time into creating miniature model representations of the forces he used in the Dodekatheon's wargames which Tristan was steadily improving his capability for through route trial and error. By testing enough times Tristan was learning every possible permutation and outcome for various scenarios, which allowed him to better plan ahead for them in later matches even if he lost the initial one.

His tactics remained simple in nature by focusing on overwhelming firepower, but in that simplicity lay an effective method of victory for it had few things that could go wrong and did not rely on complicated factors to overcome one's foe: either the firepower was sufficient to wipe out the foe it faced, or it was not, and it was for this reason that Jarn had faith in Tristan's potential elsewhere: while the boy would no doubt be perfectly content to sit in a workshop for centuries studying and improving whatever technology caught his fancy, his growing tactical acumen and his understanding of complex calculations allowing him to hit targets he fired at almost every time he fired a bullet meant Tristan could hold his own on the battlefield even if someone like Levente could run circles around him in close combat.

What caught Jarn's attention in particular however was that Tristan had a dissected machine before him that no longer resembled whatever it had once been, and the precise wiring and soldering Tristan was doing was being done to replicate what it was he had before him as reference. Jarn's own manuals and records were present too, a page open to Jarn's examinations of Perturabo's own creations that Jarn had studied at length to replicate for himself long ago. Even after parting ways with the main Iron Warrior fleet in the Horus Heresy it had been a fascination of Jarn's to follow their technological developments, discarding those reliant upon the Warp or other such sorcery while taking whatever else he could to strengthen his own forces.

"What is it that you are working on?" Jarn questioned out of curiosity, for Tristan's current project was the only one with no clear subject matter. Tristan's current experimental subject was not like the Power Armor which was obviously dissected, or a mechadendrite just laying in a specified place for examination, but rather the innards of something that no longer resembled whatever they had once been since they had been broken down as much as Tristan could manage to allow for individual study of each piece.

Tristan continued working, still unperturbed by the fact his Warsmith was looming over his shoulder, "Iron Circle."

Jarn wanted him to learn and study all he could, and so he was following the directive given to him without second thoughts or further questioning: he might not loudly proclaim his loyalty and reverence of Jarn every opportunity like Levente might, but the very same respect was there and was why he did not bother to pry himself from his work to socialize beyond what was necessary in this instance. It would just be inefficient to stand on ceremony given how much Jarn disliked it anyways, and there was work to be done to fulfill Jarn's expectations of him, so of course he was going to be as terse and blunt as possible.

The Iron Circle he spoke of was one of Perturabo's later creations in the Horus Heresy, a series of machines crafted to serve as his bodyguards after the most humiliating loss for the Iron Warriors in that era. Known as the Battle of the Phall System, the Iron Warriors had fought the Imperial Fists and despite possessing superior number and leadership they ultimately failed both tactically and strategically: the battle ended in the favor of the Iron Warriors, but it was a pyrrhic victory which saw the Imperial Fists even board Perturabo's ship in an assault which saw him lose faith in his own men. Driven by paranoia the Primarch of the Fourth Legion would create the Iron Circle, machines whose loyalty was absolute and who could be controlled directly by Perturabo himself without tiring.

Such was the effectiveness of the Iron Circle that when deployed by Perturabo in the days leading up to the Siege of Terra they were able to assist him in open combat against the Daemon Primarch Angron, for Perturabo had been tasked with dragging the World Eaters' deranged and insubordinate figurehead to the conflict whether Angron wished to partake or not. The conflict with Perturabo saw Angron humiliated to his patron god Khorne as Perturabo dragged out the battle, tanking what blows and strikes he could from Angron without flinching while their forces battled one another around them. Through disciplined fire the Iron Warriors wiped out the World Eaters who fought them like rabid beasts driven by the madness of the Butchers Nails afflicting them, while the Iron Circle through similarly coordinated gunfire and action were able to wear Angron down bit by bit as Perturabo held Angron at bay.

With Khorne's favor lessening with each humiliating moment in the battle eventually Angron was so withered that he was bested by Perturabo, who while wounded was ultimately the victor through attrition. The immense strength and power afforded by the lord of blood and murder himself, the almighty Chaos God Khorne, was unable to overcome sheer tactical capability when crossed with technological might, and so it was decided that Angron would partake in the coming siege. If the Iron Circle could be used to help quell a Daemon Primarch then they were worthy of observation and study, and so Tristan had broken down a damaged member of their ranks to learn from. While initially Perturabo's bodyguards, eventually he had developed so many of their ranks that the Iron Circle could be found deployed as forces of their own even without their creator's presence...so widespread did they become in fact that whispers would be spoken about Perturabo's creations being used to spy on his soldiers, for as the war raged on the Primarch grew increasingly paranoid by the day.

Since Jarn himself had made this one though the threat of it being a Chaos spy was zero, and so Tristan saw no issue in toying with the machine like any of the other broken down technology kept by the Dodekatheon for further study and experimentation.

"It will be many years before you are capable of crafting true battle automata," Jarn wryly noted, knowing both that something of this level was well beyond what Tristan was capable of crafting at this point in time but also quite certain that the boy would get there some day.

Tristan would have shrugged if he was not preoccupied with replicating the circuitry before him down to the last minute detail, growing his understanding and comprehension by actually engaging with the subject of his inquiry, "We all must start somewhere."

"Allow me to lend a hand."

Having been the one to construct the damaged Domitar-Ferrum class battle-automata, better known as a member of the Iron Circle, Jarn was able to walk Tristan through on much of its minutiae while building off of various concepts the boy had become familiar with from Jarn's journals. In a tinge of irony the haste necessary for the deployment on Tristan's world saw Jarn deploy without his machine cohort, as they had been in need of repairs after a brutal conflict with Imperial forces and the time it would take to make them operational again would have lowered the chances Jarn had of reaching the Fallen in time. Fate had it that he could not arrive in time for the recovery of Castiel's comrades, but that time bought allowed for Jarn to recover Tristan before the Word Bearers would have slain the boy.

Perhaps it had been reckless to deploy without the giant behemoths tasked with guarding him, but Jarn's technological edge over his opponents and raw strength had seen him return nigh unscathed regardless. Asier and Castiel had both chided him in the days after citing the importance of his survival, but Jarn brushed their concerns aside because he had calculated the risks correctly, though he was not so arrogant as to believe himself invulnerable to harm. The Iron Circle belonging to him had since been repaired or replaced as needed and had accompanied him into the field since, though their size made them cumbersome in boarding actions. Armed with Graviton Mauls, Olympia Bolt Cannons, and Karceri Battle Shields, they were capable of battling even a Primarch on an open field but the size that afforded their strength was more often than not in the way in confined spaces like the interior of a ship.

Olympia Bolt Cannons were designed to possess higher caliber rounds than Heavy Bolters as well as an increased rate of fire, and since they were designed to be mass produced with ease like all of the Iron Circle parts replicating them had been an easy task for Jarn. For this reason they could be found throughout his forces even as a part of their infantry squads, possessing an edge over other groups without access to them.

Tristan in particular seemed interested in them, though he seemed to possess no such interest in the Graviton Mauls that could batter armored troops and structures with ease, instead wishing to see the melee component of the machine replaced with more firepower since you could use a gun in close combat but you could not use a melee weapon at range...at least not a great range, as Jarn scoffed at how he was used to hurling his own Eirlithriad at unsuspecting foes. That said he agreed with Tristan's assessment even if he did not abhor close combat, as Jarn utilized his Peleneira wrist cannons to gun down foes at point blank range almost as often as he did at range while wading into combat.

What Tristan focused the most on was the Karceri shields, as despite their massive size making them impractical for deployment for standard infantry that did not deter the Neophyte from wishing to see them repurposed. The shields possessed their own power field to amplify their protective qualities, something which was amplified when in close proximity to one another and made them unstoppable juggernauts. What made the shields so bulky was their length being made to protect a giant battle automata, but if scaled down in size while retaining the same sized power field they could prove useful tools for protecting Astartes in Tristan's view, even going so far as to recommend altered ones that could be fastened to mechadendrites and servo-arms to provide a more flexible range of cover.

As they discussed the practicality and possibilities of Tristan's ideas Jarn found himself impressed, for while the Neophyte was not contemplating some new invention he had a mind well suited to recreating something in existence for and for altering it to fulfill his objectives. Tristan was not discovering some new technology, but his thoughts on how to better improve and utilize existing ones were prodigious for his age...making it all that much more unfortunate that he and Levente were at odds with one another, for whereas Levente had the mind to constantly adapt and could develop new technology it was Tristan who could make the most of whatever he was given to work with by intuitively understanding it.

Had he been born on a more modern world Tristan would have likely been sent to university at a young age, or if he was on a world with the Mechanicus either recruited into their ranks or executed for 'heresy'. As they went through the Iron Circle's specifications and information it was evident that Tristan was pleased by the machine's purely technological basis, not possessing a 'Machine Spirit' to muddy the waters and deter greater understanding of its functionality. The partly organic nature of many Machine Spirits was something the boy claimed to be disgusting not out of a dislike of flesh like the Iron Hands possessed, but rather because he found it unnerving to mix the two, a perspective which Jarn shared which was why their Legion had so many 'retired' Astartes who no longer participated in active duty due to their wounds rather than forcing them into Dreadnoughts to continue fighting on.

Given Tristan's aversion to Machine Spirits the Warsmith made sure to help his understanding of machinery without them while also cautioning the usage of such machinery without proper precautions: he did not explain the entire history of the Men of Iron who once threatened all of Humanity, but he gave the Neophyte enough of a background to understand that dabbling in such matters was never to be taken lightly. Fortunately Tristan's taciturn and risk-averse nature left little worry in Jarn, as the boy would rather slowly reach a perfect solution than rush and unnecessarily imperil his projects.

Jarn assisted Tristan in developing some vague concepts for a series of battle automata of his own, knowing that it would be long before they were fully realized but also willing to help his student begin taking the steps needed to reaching his goals. Using a simple naming structure, Tristan labeled the members of his project Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, Epsilon, and Zeta with each possessing a different design philosophy to explore various avenues of battle constructs. Alpha, for example, was the test-subject and initial model that the others would be developed from rather than something to ever be fielded in battle itself. Designed to facilitate further development, it was what Tristan had begun development on already with a rough skeleton of the machine sketched out in his blueprints.

Coming after it was Beta, which was meant to be a well-rounded machine that mirrored the design of the original Iron Circle in functionality by mixing close ranged combat with ranged firepower. Its brother Gamma was similar in theoretical design and purpose albeit given a greater emphasis on accuracy and remote operation. Tristan's obvious favorite was Delta, being the fourth in the proposed series of machines, which would possess greater emphasis on protection protocols and defensive capabilities while possessing a completely ranged armament meant to mirror its creator's own interests. After it was the theoretical Epsilon which possessed a focus on speed and anti-vehicle armaments to destroy armored foes which may threaten its charge. Lastly was Zeta, which lacked almost any mobility because Tristan had decided to have it be a walking weapon platform of as many weapons as he could hypothetically arm it with.

All of these were figments of Tristan's imagination and were based on things he had observed in the Dodekatheon, but as Jarn helped him develop initial plans for the Alpha unit the Warsmith found himself continually pleased. This was the very purpose why he had given Tristan such resources, for even the greatest tree would never grow if it never received the water and nutrients it required.

When they reached a natural conclusion to the design process Jarn made sure to voice his approval, showing the appreciation and validation of his Neophyte that the Iron Warriors had once been so deprived of, "You continue to surpass my expectations. There is much still for you to learn, decades of study and work ahead of you, but I have little doubt that you will surpass me as well as the other members of my Dodekatheon in time."

Given Tristan's nature he was uncomfortable with such direct praise, being prideful yet awkward when actually having the skills he took pride in recognized. Like Jarn once upon a time he was uncomfortable being the center of attention, content instead to simply be a part of the scenery and do as he is bid rather than have a spotlight focused upon him.

"You are too modest, Warsmith," Tristan humbly responded, casting his gaze down to his blueprints since he was unable to bring himself to look up at the one making him feel such an awkward sensation.

Jarn shook his head, dismissing Tristan's attempt to deflect the praise granted to him, "I would not say it if it was not true. Others consider me a lesser Perturabo, and in some ways they are correct: I cannot truly hold a candle to the capabilities of our Primarch as my potential only goes so far. At your age I was nowhere near as skilled with mechanical matters, and while you have had blueprints to study so once did I too have them to study, and I came from a world far more technologically advanced than your own. Be proud of your talent, just as you are wary of your flaws."

Taking pride in your strengths and successes was important Jarn felt, just as it was important to acknowledge and either improve or work around one's shortcomings.

"Regarding your flaws, I have little doubt that if left to your own devices for centuries you would improve and build upon everything in this room, but you lack the personality for true innovation," Jarn admitted, saying something that Tristan had become aware of himself whether he fully realized it or not given the derivative ideas and designs he produced, "That is fine, however, because understanding all of the technology at our disposal and improving upon it can bring us forward. Much of the technological innovation Humanity is capable of has been accomplished at one point of time or another, and having someone who can learn from it all and in part replicate it will be more conducive to our success than if we instead possessed someone with bold yet unrealized concepts."

To think that a few years ago Tristan was naught but a small child ignorant to the greater universe beyond his small piece of it...he still had countless things to learn, but now he stood tall as a young man and was ready to begin facing that universe head on. There was so much more than war to the forty-first millennium, and Jarn hoped that his protégé would be able to survive the horrors which threatened to overcome the good that could be found.

"In that vein, is there any particular cause for this newfound fascination of yours with automata?"

Tristan was poor with eye contact already, so he continued to awkwardly avert his gaze from Jarn's as he instead began sketching out a picture of battlefield deployment showing a series of troops surrounding a set of artillery batteries, "Screening. Some battlefield positions are inherent sacrifices for tactical objectives and victory. Better sacrifice machines that can be rebuilt than sacrifice flesh and blood that cannot."

His reasoning earned Jarn's approval, as it mirrored Jarn's own thought process when he created his own automata, "It is for that reason that I constructed my own Iron Circle. I would not have my subordinates stand in the way of a lethal strike and I...that mindless heroism is for the Imperial Fists and their blind dogma. Loyalty is a virtue, but valuing their lives, our success, and our vision above something as fleeting as glory is how I expect my soldiers to exhibit their loyalty. Senseless sacrifice is unacceptable, that is the Iron Warrior way."

Even with the Iron Circle around Castiel served as an unofficial bodyguard to Jarn thanks to his background as a former knight of Caliban, though this was not something Jarn asked of the Fallen Angel nor required: Jarn typically could handle most threats on his own, and those he could not typically would fall to the might of the Iron Circle. That said he appreciated Castiel's fervor and loyalty, and treated him with trust in return for despite being 'Fallen' the former Dark Angel was a man of his word and would rather die than face further dishonor.

"My world possessed similar constructs. Golems they were known as. Made of materials beyond our understanding, and standing vigil over ruins and sites with no known value to us," Tristan added, helping further explain his interest in the general concept. His background had shaped who he was even today, keeping strong to his roots as a blacksmith's son and possessing the spirit of a noble knight even if it was often covered by his lack of amiability. It was a sort of comfort to Jarn to see as much, as it showed that even after becoming a member of the Adeptus Astartes that Tristan had retained some of who he had always been...something Jarn hoped was applicable to himself as well given how little he could remember of how he once lived.

"Wherever your pursuit leads you, always remember the difference between Abominable Intelligence and the Machine Spirit, as well as their variations."

"Self-improving artificial intelligence bad, stagnant capabilities artificial intelligence good," Tristan noted simply, intent on creating automata that would not threaten Humanity while also being wholly machine rather than partly organic. While simply a theory, he believed that it might help keep his creations from Chaos corruption if they lacked a Warp presence of any sort.

Jarn looked down a moment after when he realized Tristan had written something and held it out towards him on a scrap piece of paper, appearing to be a list of some sort from a cursory glance.

"And this is?"

"List of required technology for observation."

The Neophyte's response was so blunt that it could be construed as rude if Jarn did not know him better than that. To Tristan the terseness was simply a way of conveying the necessary information of a conversation without muddying it with flowery language or peripheral ideas, allowing him to get back to work faster and for whomever he was speaking with to do the same.

A more egotistical leader would see it as insolence from a subordinate, but Jarn in truth appreciated it and so looked over the things Tristan had requested.

Kastelan, Thanatar, Hunter-Killer, Domitar-Ferrum, Man of Iron...

Jarn grinned wryly, seeing that while his personal ambitions were minimal Tristan's technological ones had no real limits. He was asking for some mundane things as well as extraordinary ones rarely witnessed throughout the cosmos, and so Jarn could not actually ensure that what Tristan desired would become available to him. If the circumstances allowed for it however Jarn saw no issue providing these things Tristan had read about...so long as whatever surviving Man of Iron they obtained was escorted by a full squad of Astartes at all times even if the machine was disabled. Humanity had learned the hard way once the threat such intelligent life posed, and Jarn would not allow his forces to be the doom of their race just because of technological curiosity.

"I cannot promise that we will come across all of what you have listed, but I will make certain that what becomes available to us will be provided for the Dodekatheon."

Tristan was not the only one who could benefit from studying such specimens, so Jarn felt it only fair to offer the opportunity to their entire Dodekatheon to make the most of such an endeavor.

"Understood."

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

(To be continued in part 2)​

 

[Thunderscourge]

Soon the day came that all the Neophytes in Alpha Squad had completed their Gene Seed implants, allowing them to begin their final lessons and learn to better wear Power Armor now that they possessed their Black Carapaces to interface with it. For most of the Neophytes this was a simple affair while for two of them it required further effort: Levente's massive breadth was unable to be properly contained within a normal suit of Power Armor, while Tristan's height also made him unable to fit in the standard Astartes gear. To rectify this they were each presented with a unique set of armor by Jarn, crafted by the Warsmith himself as a way of recognizing their successes thus far.

For Levente his MK-IV Power Armor was streamlined to better allow him to carry out a charge upon his foes, enhancing his already noteworthy talent for close quarters brutality by enabling him to reach his targets and better maneuver around them once he had. His broad form was apparent even beneath the armor with Levente appearing like a Terminator in overall bulk, a source of pride for the Neophyte since he was an inheritor of Jarn's intimidating strength. Levente had taken naturally to the armor and was capable of great feats of finesse in his close-combat encounters despite appearing so bulky, a surprise likely to those tasked with facing him who did not already know of his skills.

As Levente's perpetual opposite Tristan's armor was fashioned to trade mobility for reinforced plating, being a combination of MK-II and MK-III Power Armor that was altered to allow for Tristan's height. There were records of Astartes standing at twice the height of a normal man, towering over their own Astartes kin as well, and like Jarn it would appear that Tristan's growth was nearing such territory with each passing day. It was a source of irritation for him to constantly have to change armor to fit his growing form, but he endured it because complaining unnecessarily was not in his nature. On the outside his armor appeared normal beyond its elongated nature, but this was a result of Tristan's slighter frame being supplemented by the heavy plating.

There was more to being an Astarte than donning Power Armor, for even normal Humans could wear Power Armor if they had access to it. What truly separated them was the Gene-Seed implantation process which took young men and turned them into the massive warriors known throughout the galaxy as the Angels of Death, for it was by these artificial surgeries that their physical form and capabilities were wholly transformed. The process took many years and was done in various stages to best facilitate their growth, usually nearing around the Neophyte reaching fifteen to sixteen years of age when the nineteenth and final organ was added to them. In some instances this process would continue until a Neophyte was around eighteen years of age, though the chances of successful implantation decreased significantly with age and so timing was a key component of the creation of a Space Marine.

Phase one of the Gene-Seed implantation was an organ known as the Secondary Heart, a simple and self-sufficient organ that would allow an Astarte to survive the destruction or damaging of their primary heart. In addition it possessed the ability to boost their blood flow around their body, as well as allow for survival in low oxygen environments that other Humans would struggle in. The presence of this second heart has allowed for many an Astarte to survive what otherwise would be lethal blows thus making it invaluable for the members of the Angels of Death.

Phase two was the Ossmodula, a complex organ than secretes hormones that effect the ossification of the skeleton as well as allowing better absorption of nutrients in their diet to facilitate this bone growth. It is this organ that largely shapes the form that Astartes will one day hold, for within years of implantation their bones will have increased in size and strength such that some even could be described as bulletproof. Iron Warriors were known to possess a seeming flaw in their Ossmodulas that would cause their bones to grow awry after hundreds of years, but among Jarn's forces this had been winnowed out through careful selection of Gene-Seed over the centuries. Perhaps traces of it could be seen in the seemingly abnormal growth of Jarn and Tristan, but testing by Ossus suggested the more mundane explanation that they were simply tall Humans who had been enhanced even further by the Gene-Seed process.

Phase three was the Biscopea, an organ placed in the upper abdomen that would significantly increase muscle growth throughout an Astarte's body as well as serve as the hormonal basis for later Gene-Seed implants. It was thanks to this that even the skinny Tristan possessed superhuman strength and the much broader Levente in turn possessed overwhelming might that could one day rival Jarn's own.

Phase four concerned the Haemastamen, which when implanted in the circulatory system would increase the hemoglobin content in the Astarte's blood to improve oxygen flow while having the side-effect of causing their blood to turn a brighter shade of red. In addition it controlled the processes of phases two and three, supplementing other Gene-Seed like many of its fellow implants.

Phase five was another important organ for Astartes by the name of the Larraman's Organ, for this implant was connected to the circulatory system and generates what were known as Larraman Cells. These would be released into the Astarte's blood stream upon injury where they would attach themselves to the subject's leukocytes in their blood and then travel to the wound, night instantaneously sealing the wound and creating a patch of scar tissue. This would increase their odds of surviving what otherwise might be grievous wounds as the Larraman Cells act as if they were the platelets of a normal Human, only superior in function.

Phase six was the Catalepsean Node which influenced an Astarte's circadian rhythms of sleep and controlled their body's reaction to a lack of rest. By sequentially allowing parts of the brain to rest while others remain alert an Astarte can retain awareness while resting, or even continue operating for up to two weeks without any sleep at all. For most Astartes this organ allowed them to only require four hours of sleep a day to perform optimally, thus allowing for them to spend longer performing their duties or otherwise preparing themselves for them.

Phase seven of implantation revolved around the Preomnor, an organ which served to neutralize poisons as well as indigestible substances consumed before reaching the stomach. While the Preonmor did not digest anything itself it served as a method to prepare things for the stomach to be then handled or isolating substances that would be particularly harmful from the rest of the digestive tract.

Phase eight possessed a particularly unique organ by the name of the Omophagea which granted Astartes the ability to learn from genetic material they consumed, thus earning the organ the alternate name of "the Remembrancer" for it allowed an Astartes to gain the memories of the dead by consuming them. The information gained from said consumption would be passed along to their brain, though mutations in this organ have been known to cause Astartes to crave blood or flesh, something which the Iron Warriors were fortunately not afflicted with.

Phase nine was aptly named the Multi-Lung, as it provided an additional lung which provided an Astarte the ability to breathe in water, low-oxygen environments, or even toxic atmospheres for some time. When presented with such conditions the Multi-Lung would take over respiration from the natural lungs which in turn would be shut off for the time being, dispersing toxins or other threats in the process.

Phase ten altered the Astarte's eye functions through what was known as the Occulobe, allowing the Astarte to be subjected to optical therapy that could allow Apothecaries to alter the growth patterns of their eyes so as to enhance their general and low-light functionality.

Phase eleven saw the complete replacement of the Neophyte's ears with what was known as the Lyman's Ear, an organ which while indistinguishable from a typical ear granted them immunity from dizziness or motion sickness. In addition the Lyman's Ear afforded them the ability to tune out certain noises and sounds around them as well as enhance others, better enhancing their situational awareness and granting them keen hearing that made scouting far more effective.

Phase twelve concerned the Sus-an Membrane, also known as the Hibernator, which while implanted above the brain would eventually come to merge with the entire organ. While requiring follow-up chemical therapy and training this organ granted an Astarte the ability to enter suspended animation either consciously or resulting from severe damage, allowing the Astarte to survive for years even through mortal wounds, though the process could only be suspended through subsequent chemical therapy and such practices.

Phase thirteen was for the Melanchromic Organ which controlled the melanin amount in an Astarte's skin, adjusting based on what was suited for their environment when exposed to it while also protecting them from certain forms of radiation. A rarely utilized organ due to the often wholly armored nature of Astartes, it was best known for how flawed Melanchromic Organs in the Raven Guard and Salamander Legions caused the former to possess chalk white skin and the latter onyx skintones with each going well beyond any Human standard.

Phase fourteen, the Oolitic Kidney, served in concert with the Secondary Heart to allow an Astarte's blood to filter quickly and thus rendering them immune to most poisons. This was not without consequence however, as when the Oolitic Kidney was used for emergency detoxification it would render the Astarte unconscious as their body processed the poisons. In everyday functionality the kidney also monitored the Astarte's circulatory system and ensured that their other organs were functioning optimally.

Phase fifteen of the implantation process was for the Neuroglottis, which would enhance an Astarte's sense of taste to the point they could determine many common chemicals through taste alone. This sense was so strong in fact that it would allow for an Astarte to track a target if then combined with the other skills and capabilities afforded by their transhuman form.

Phase sixteen provided an Astartes with resistance to both heat and cold through a substance created by the Mucranoid, the Astarte in question sweating it out to coat their skin, though with the drawback of only being able to be activated with outside treatment. While not infallible, it could assist Astartes when fighting in vacuum and thus was a common process to be implemented for such operations.

Phase seventeen was a two part implantation of what was called the Betcher's Gland in the Neophyte's lower lip by the salivary glands and into the hard palette. Functioning akin to the poison glands of venomous reptiles the Betcher's gland grants the Astarte with the ability to spit a poison that blinds on contact and can even corrode otherwise durable materials given the proper amount of time. Thanks to the Betcher's Gland the Astartes are themselves immune to it, thus limiting its usefulness in battles between Astartes forces but still serving as a situational tool for other scenarios.

Phase eighteen, the penultimate step in the Gene-Seed implantation process, was actually one which the Iron Warriors were well known for: the Progenoid glands. One would be situated in the Neophyte's neck while the other was placed within their chest cavity, with their purpose being the growth of new Gene-Seed to later be implanted in further Neophytes. The Progenoid gland situated in the Neophyte's neck would grow and reach maturity in five years time, while the one in their chest would take ten years to grow, and it was through this method that Astartes had been able to 'reproduce' for millennia. Typically Gene-Seed would be removed upon an Astarte's passing, or during a ritualistic ceremony, but for some individuals like Jarn who had lacked either criteria they could persist in the Astarte for longer: it was thanks to this that he was able to pass his own Gene-Seed down first to Levente and then later to Tristan after having it removed prior and kept secure by his Apothecaries.

Gene-Seed could be quite fickle, with some Legions having difficulty implanting it successfully, but for the Iron Warriors they possessed the most accepted Gene-Seed which had allowed them to repopulate their ranks even after catastrophic losses. With Gene-Seed as their method of perpetuating their kind Astartes were known to greatly value their Gene-Seed and even that of their enemies, though Astartes born of another group's Gene-Seed were often looked down upon. A creation of Fabius Bile by the name of Honsou well demonstrated this fact due to his Chimeric Gene-Seed coming also from the Imperial Fists and not just the Iron Warriors, and Asier's reports showed that the Warband Honsou was a part of had begun experimentation with how to better swell their ranks through Gene-Seed. Jarn was little different, although unlike the Warband of Barban Falk it was through scientific discovery and partnership with Bile that Jarn sought to restore his Legion's strength rather than through utilizing the corrupting powers of Chaos. What those plans entailed were known to few, but their importance to the Legion was such that Jarn continued to supply Fabius with whatever resources were required to see it realized.

Phase nineteen was the final part of the Gene-Seed process and one of the most important for Astartes in combat, that being the Black Carapace which would be implanted beneath their skin. Likened to a black plastic film composed of various sheets, it would harden on the outside and spread neural bundles throughout the Neophyte's body. Once the organ matured the future Astarte would be fitted with neural sensors and interface points cut into the carapace's surface, allowing them to directly link and interface with their Power Armor which could not operate to its full potential without it. Finer motor functions, control over suit systems, and directly linking into certain Astartes vehicles were all made possible by the Black Carapace and thus made it one of the most important pieces of an Astarte's arsenal.

When each of the Neophytes were familiar enough with their new bodies and their armor it was decided that they be given a final test to see if they were prepared to become proper Astartes of the Iron Legion. Ossus gathered them together along with Omega Squad, another group of Neophytes who had recently finished their own implantations and basic training, and brought them to a world covered in thickets everywhere land was to be found.

This planet was known to Ossus due to his dealings with Fabius Bile, who had carried out experimentation on the local Beastmen population in years past only to leave them behind when he had gathered whatever data he was seeking to obtain. Rumor had it that Fabius had in fact created the various strains of Beastmen to be found upon the uncivilized world, genetically modifying Humans to eventually possess the traits reminiscent of Beastmen rather than these ones being mutated Abhumans like most of their ilk to be found throughout the stars.

Whatever their true origin they were largely backwards in their technology and civil society, being fragmented into various tribes based on their unique animalistic characteristics, but this did not detract their lethality: in fact their brutish ways of living made them even stronger than they might otherwise be, and the average Beastman to be found upon the world was as strong physically as the typical Astartes. It was for this reason that their world was chosen to be the final testing ground to determine if the Neophytes were ready to properly join their Iron Warriors kin. If the Neophytes could survive for thirty days upon the planet and prove themselves worthy in the process they would be inducted into the true ranks of the Iron Legion, though the specific criteria for success beyond survival was purposefully kept vague so as to make the Neophytes think for themselves.

The Iron Legion would be engaging in operations of its own during the trial, something to do with the 'Black Judges' from what Tristan had heard, and so the Neophytes were expected to be self-sufficient as it would not be until the return of the fleet towards of the trial that they could receive reinforcements. That on its own could be fine, but it was supplemented by the fact the Neophytes were to be sent unarmed with only their Power Armor to assist them. Given that the native population of Beastmen possessed only the most simple of weapons themselves the Neophytes would have to rely on their superior wit, speed, and endurance to overcome their more numerous foes whose strength could match their own.

It was not a test of defeating the local Beastmen at its heart, but the Abhumans were the largest obstacle for survival given their dangerously aggressive natures and so conflict was inevitable: how the times they were encountered would be handled was entirely upon the Neophytes.

To differentiate Alpha and Omega squads they were provided different paint schemes for their Power Armor for the mission, as Ossus would describe via his own peculiar manner.

"Those in Alpha Squad will bear bronze and copper highlights, while those in Omega Squad will bear the garish hazard stripes that do not account for taste. You are to remain separate unless circumstances dictate that you must unite so that you may survive. This trial will be kept under observation, but do not expect aid: succeed or fail by your own merits."

With this said he dismissed the twenty Neophytes gathered for their final test and allowing the two teams to depart into the forests beyond, the bestial roars of the planet's locals echoing all throughout.

As to be expected of Astartes they began to fan out and scout their immediate surroundings as per their training, though Tristan lingered a moment to hear the cries of war beyond, memories returning to him of his homeworld as the death throes and cries of 'Humans' rang throughout the terrain.

Silencing the unnerving memories within him, Tristan focused on catching up to the others and following the lead Levente had already established, ready to embark on this last exercise of their training. It was time to prove that all they had learned aboard the Eisernen and in Dreagher's gladiator pits had not been for naught.

Today was the day they proved themselves as Astartes, the next generation which carried the Gene Seed of not only their Warsmith but of all the Iron Warriors that came before them.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N: We will follow the Neophytes through their final examination next time, so I hope you all enjoyed and that you will leave me your thoughts in the comments below!​

 

[PsihoKekec]

Nice bit of Jarn's introspection, but I don't think Levente really internalized the sage advice he gave him. Perhaps his life experiences will hone him through the years, we will see, even if story is more focused on Tristan (and Isolde).

Will anyone seek to ''spice up'' this trial, as that of Isolde was?

 

[ATP]

Good chapters.
They would never have numbers,so they need superior technology.Start using science again and get what DaoT used.
Possible even in canon - Macharius genocided world who stopped his Crusade for 2 years using technology invented without STC.

 

[Thunderscourge]

Nice bit of Jarn's introspection, but I don't think Levente really internalized the sage advice he gave him. Perhaps his life experiences will hone him through the years, we will see, even if story is more focused on Tristan (and Isolde).

Will anyone seek to ''spice up'' this trial, as that of Isolde was?

Since the Neophytes are being sent into a conflict zone on purpose rather than just skirting around one, chances are it won't take much to "spice up" their trial. Things can certainly happen that further complicate things, but they are going into it with the expectation of fighting so it won't be like Isolde's bit where they were undermined by their supposed 'allies' in the government.

Good chapters.
They would never have numbers,so they need superior technology.Start using science again and get what DaoT used.
Possible even in canon - Macharius genocided world who stopped his Crusade for 2 years using technology invented without STC.

They may be able to have numbers some day given that Iron Warrior Gene-Seed is the best for expanding one's ranks. They just need to establish a stable base of operations on say a world that nobody else can take from them and which would welcome some new overlords...but certainly such a world isn't just awaiting their return at this very moment.

 

[PsihoKekec]

but certainly such a world isn't just awaiting their return at this very moment.

Not surprising, considering your statement that Tristan's/Jarn's POV is about century removed from that of Isolde.

Start using science again and get what DaoT used.

Their scientific and industrial base are far to small to just miracle the DAoT tech back into existence, even the Emperor with infinitely larger resources had trouble doing it.

 

[ATP]

Not surprising, considering your statement that Tristan's/Jarn's POV is about century removed from that of Isolde.


Their scientific and industrial base are far to small to just miracle the DAoT tech back into existence, even the Emperor with infinitely larger resources had trouble doing it.

Emperor gave science to techno cultist,so he could not achieve anything.
Science is about what we could do new with known Laws of Nature,when Mechanicus is about rediscovering how technology was made once.
If people after fall of roman empire only try to rediscover roman technology,then all what would we have now would be Heron machine.