"Unbroken Sons"
Thunderscourge
Emulating Kill em All Tomino in all Games
UNBROKEN SONS
True to his nature Richter was the first to voice his opinion when he felt something was wrong, and so as he sat in the Apothecary office of Ossus he found himself wondering why they were painting. Ossus had taken him under his wing years ago to train him to one day become an Apothecary of the Iron Warriors, having noted some potential Richter himself did not particularly understand but far was he from questioning given that it meant he would learn some of the most valuable skills an Astarte could gain access to.
This being the case, the fact he was holding a brush instead of a scalpel this particular day left him perplexed and disgruntled. Such an activity was for Tristan and those scale replicas of Basilisks he meticulously crafted.
"What does artistry have to do with the work of an Apothecary?" Richter spoke with barely restrained irritation, feeling as if his time could be better spent actually engaging in the duties of an Apothecary.
Despite Richter's typically negative attitude Ossus never responded in kind, knowing that Richter had good intentions behind each statement or question he would levy. Richter had served the Iron Warriors for years by this point and he always sought to improve not only himself but also those around him, so learning to accept that and instead help further inform his critical thinking capabilities made him an effective member of their ranks. Richter could only be expected to properly critique and help improve what he properly understood after all, and so Ossus took it upon himself to teach him not only in how to properly carry out medical procedures but also in the way a mentor ought to.
"I could speak platitudes as to the finer details of surgery and medical work, though in truth it is much simpler than that," was Ossus' initial response as he finished his current series of brushstrokes that were beginning to make his piece resemble their 'model' of the day, Arien, who appeared to be unaware of this fact and was simply content looking up at the lustrous objects adorning Ossus' wall.
With his hands now free Ossus gestured to that very wall where trophies, baubles, relics, and other things of significance and/or beauty lay gathered unlike the rest of their vessel with its sparse decorations. Over the years bit by bit the art of Ossus had begun to spill out elsewhere within the Iron Legion's fleet, it not being his primary focus or concern but still something he dabbled in when time permitted. As Richter focused on depictions or trophies from past victories and conflicts Ossus spoke again, his voice that of a worldly veteran who had gained the experience to speak on such subjects through innumerable battles and the resulting wisdom they granted.
"The Iron Warriors as led by our Primarch Perturabo lost their way when our ideals and dreams of crafting a greater future were crushed beneath the harsh realities of war. While his possession of greater resources is undeniable it remains true that Roboute Guilliman of the Ultramarines did what we sought to, first conquering or otherwise subjugating worlds before rebuilding them to match his ideals, but what of the worlds we were tasked with?"
Ossus showed his Apothecary tools strapped to his forearm in all their threatening visage, as capable of treating the injured as they were of inflicting death.
"Our Legion would tackle the assignments our peers were unwilling to, the grueling sieges and unforgiving conflicts that would see both our forces and those against us ground to dust before we would then be ordered to do so again on another world, and then another, and so on and so forth without ever accounting for the effects it had on us."
His statements gave Richter pause, as it reminded him much of their present-day situation: they did not have the ability to 'waste' time rebuilding the worlds they visited and extracted resources from, as there always appeared to be another foe to face, another Imperial armada to avoid, and so staying still after an operation would invite disaster.
The only time Richter could remember anything resembling rebuilding what they destroyed was Forescien where he was first officially deployed as a rookie Iron Warrior alongside other members of Alpha Squad. After defeating both the defense forces of the Mechanicus and the Chaos infiltrators who struck their fleet the Warsmith had set aside some time and effort in preparing the world they just conquered for any future attacks by the forces of Chaos, much to the confusion of the forces they just trampled upon with endless artillery.
It was an easy event to remember, as in his first deployment Levente had the honor of securing the mission objectives by breaking through the enemy's warriors one after another and had been promoted to Sergeant by Khyr of the Triarch afterwards. While the Mechanicus had tried to push back when many of the Iron Warriors returned to the fleet to face the Word Bearers the servants of the Omnissiah had found themselves surprised by their own push being countered by a rapid strike that saw Levente break through their lines and go on a rampage they could not properly redeploy to confront.
On that very same occasion Tristan had been admonished for disobeying orders, though his defeat of numerous Daemon-possessed Astartes alongside members of Urkamus Squad had seen to it that he only received a warning for doing so. Notably Urkamus was not the one who took issue with it, but rather Constantine who reported the issue to their Grand Battalion leader Archimedes. Even though Tristan's aid would have proven unnecessary in the battle and he saved a fellow Astarte's life by remaining where he was Constantine saw it as egregious and balked that a student of the Warsmith himself would be so disloyal.
If Richter had any guess though it was likely that Tristan's first encounter with Daemons since his childhood had simply blanked the giant's mind, as Tristan typically did as told to a fault while possessing no real ambitions of his own. Even in their encounter with Beastmen he only stood against Levente because of overriding orders from the Warsmith, such was his personality. Typically Tristan thought too much and it slowed him down in battle, something Richter knew as the one who would have to tend to his wounds afterwards, so the mission report submitted showing that Tristan had quickly and efficiently gunned down Possessed after Possessed showed that he simply was not thinking straight.
Ossus lowered his arm and took his brush into his palm softly, his hand capable of such extreme dexterity despite wearing Power Armor thanks to his Black Carapace, "It is little wonder then that we did not rebuild what we destroyed, even if we envisioned such a bright future. We would destroy, bring untold ruination to our foes with callous indifference, and then continue onward without once looking back. For a Legion which sought utopia was it any wonder that we would eventually break under such circumstances, never possessing the proper time or energy to actually build when the dust had settled? Our warfare may be industrialized and like a well-oiled machine, but beneath the armor and augmentation we are Humans like any other."
By pretending that they were unbreakable machines that did not relent the Iron Warriors had condemned themselves to a slow death of their spirits, trying hard to continue forward even when their Humanity dictated that they need rest, and that very determination and drive that made them so enduring in battle also meant that they would refuse to recognize the growing cracks in their proverbial armor until they were too deep to repair. This insight gave Richter a better understanding not only of the history of his Legion but also of why Ossus seemed to possess such an interest in 'trivial' matters, for by pursuing them he was engaging in the very behaviors that his peers had shed across centuries of warfare.
When Ossus spoke next his tone was hiding amusement, for during the lecture he was giving to his student their painting model had wandered away, Arien still completely oblivious to why Ossus had told him to stand there and so not thinking at all about just leaving now that he was done looking at shiny jewels and war trophies.
"While my art possesses little in the way of practical purpose it helps remind me and those who experience it that there is more to our cause than just conquest and numbers. That when we reach our goals we will be able to engage in such rejuvenating personal pursuits, and that while we work towards our shared future we may still nourish our souls along the path so that we do not lose sight of what is important. What might appear to be a waste of resources or irrelevant to our vision instead is an investment to stave off the worst "
With that Ossus returned to his painting, able to recall enough about the Ixolotl to finish his piece while leaving Richter to try and do the same. The greater understanding Richter now possessed on the subject saw him remain quiet and not criticize his mentor's chosen activity of the day further, instead dedicating his thoughts internally to further contemplate the subject as he continued his work. It was certainly calming and restrained compared to the life-saving surgeries and medical procedures they carried out in their everyday duties.
Now, if only their chosen subject had not wandered off...the Eisernen would be docking with the Iron Citadel soon and there would be plenty actual work to do then, so it was going to prove difficult to finish this without Arien.
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Archimedes was the one placed in control over the Iron Citadel itself as the leader of their Kheledakos, being the master of their fleet on paper even if it was presently unified such that Jarn was always the one actually giving the orders. For the construction-minded Archimedes being tasked with the creation of new vessels to support their endeavors was an honor, and the resources possessed by the Iron Citadel upon its rediscovery allowed him to begin setting their plans into motion even if it was not enough to completely develop a new Battleship.
The sturdiness of Imperial vessels meant that even if they were rendered to inoperable hulks that their 'skeleton' would often remain intact, allowing them to be refitted and fixed for combat again if not reformed completely into a new ship. This gave the Warsmith's forces some flexibility when it came to acquiring the necessary materials for their future fleet, as a defeated Imperial ship or one left adrift could be put to use easily enough.
There was great risk when it came to engaging Imperial ships in combat however as if they were to escape they would reveal the existence of the Iron Legion to the greater Imperium which would result in untold hordes of Astartes and Astra Militarum forces being deployed to eliminate them, so rather than plan to hunt down Imperial ships the Iron Legion instead only took what they could at any given opportunity rather than invite total annihilation.
While not originally meant for the task the Iron Citadel's status as the only recurring location other than the fleet for the Iron Warriors serving Jarn meant that it became a temporary home for them, housing those soldiers not currently deployed or who were recovering from injuries too severe to be properly fielded in battle. In this way the Iron Citadel became a counterpart to the Imperial Fist's Phalanx in a sense, though it existed for a separate purpose and was in no way capable of standing against it. One was a production facility turned makeshift base, the other a veritable fortress that stood as a bulwark against Humanity's foes who might try to conquer Holy Terra.
This status however did make the Iron Citadel possess the closest thing the Iron Legion had to a proper dining hall, as those aboard their Battleships were designed to be efficient places to consume necessary nutrients before returning to duty with little comfort to be found in their brutal confines. Those aboard the Iron Citadel were replicated from the initial dockyards taken from the Black Judges however whose affluence saw them fit even their shipyards with some degree of frivolity and pomp, something lessened by the stern Iron Warriors who replicated it in a time of constant warfare but not wholly abandoned.
Tables were grand like a feasting hall, seats and benches meant for Astartes constructed to best see to their comfort. While they did not possess a great wealth of dishes and meals beyond the basics necessary for their nutritional needs the ability to lay out all their food in a less cramped manner than on the Battleships saw those resting Astartes able to better enjoy their time spent there without brushing against one another.
It was under these conditions that the members of training squad Alpha would often gather when the fleet was docked at the Iron Citadel, their years of training alongside one another forming a lasting camaraderie between many of them even after they were assigned to different squads to best make usage of their talents. They were the most talented Neophytes back then and had since gone on to become valued members of the Iron Legion, each of them possessing a wealth of accomplishments thanks to their mixture of skills and physical capabilities. The dining hall was a way for them to share stories with one another of their individual exploits and accomplishments as well as deepen their bonds as a group, something encouraged by Levente who had grown up in such a warrior culture on his homeworld.
"Bertrand appears not to be joining us once again," Urban spoke quietly after the other members of Alpha Squad had all taken a seat, his statement one of observing the obvious so that it would be out of the way.
Truth be told Tristan had only ever come to a few such meetings, considering them a waste of his time when he could just eat at his workshop and continue working instead. His absence was not particularly cared about by any except Urban and Quidel on most occasions, and it was just the status quo that their largest member was almost always busy tinkering elsewhere rather than socializing with his peers.
Levente scoffed at the mention of his rival, being able to count the amount of times Tristan had bothered to join them over the years on his hands, "Leave him be: he knows nothing of camaraderie, nor of valor. Leave him to his trinkets, for we shall be the ones to secure our future with our might and will!"
Bringing an arm around the taciturn Urban, Levente tried to rouse the spirits of his cohorts with an exuberant grin with boasting to match.
"After all, who was it who brought a Champion of Chaos to his knees single-handedly? Who beat the savage fool so bloody that the Xenos thinking themselves to be gods stripped him of his power and reduced him to a writhing mass of mutation?"
Aldred nodded over to Levente proudly, intent on appealing to his ego while not overselling it, "You as usual, boss."
In a single bound Levente was standing atop their table, his arms twisting to recreate the motion they made when he quelled the Chaos Champion. Right after he brought a hand down to gesture to one of the Astartes he now stood above, his typically small stature appearing less so with the table's added height.
"What of when Dominicus broke through the barricades and locks of those dreaded Tyranid slaves to decapitate their uprising which threatened our operations? Who was it who stood beside him upon the breach, ready to slay all who stood in our way no matter how many of their disgusting hybrids set upon us?"
"We did, somehow..." Faustus replied, gingerly touching at his food as he recalled his harrowing scouting mission into the Genestealer den.
"Genestealer Cults are only matched by Cadians and Kimarans when it comes to reproduction. There were innumerable of them," Richter commented dryly, having assisted Ossus in enough mortal births upon the Eisernen from its Kimaran descendants to comment on the similarity to Genestealer Cultists. Fortunately it was a cultural thing, not a result of actual Genestealer infestation, but it still stood out to him given how it increased his workload at times.
Levente continued to re-enact some of his strikes and slashes of his weapons, eagerly reliving the thrill of battle while effortlessly stepping around the plates adorning the table so as to not ruin their meals. With both hands outstretched down towards his kin Levente turned around to get a look at all of them and also gesture to each one of them individually, his face beaming with a warrior's pride.
"And yet we survived through it all, drowning their filth in their own putrid blood! When we were tasked with infiltrating a Necron Tomb for the valuable resources they possessed, was it not Gunnar who stood at my side as we purged their metal hides such that they could not reconstruct themselves? Gunnar, who cut down one of their mighty Lychguard as I handled their dreaded Lord? Why, that Lich's spindly form reminded me of Bertrand himself!"
That brought about chuckles from most of the table, for it was not at all difficult to compare Tristan's frame to that of a lean Necron just as Levente's was more like that of an Ork Warboss. Richter remained silent however, instead finding that despite coming here for nourishment before he got back to his duties that he had lost his appetite. Gunnar was presently in the medical bay recovering from injuries sustained from following Levente into battle, and while Levente had a perfect success rate for his assignments it was others who often paid the price.
That was why, after all, with Tristan and Gunnar missing there were only seven at the table, not eight as there ought to be.
Levente continued to feed off the growing excitement and energy of the others present, with even the meek Faustus growing more jovial throughout. To Levente such performative aspects of rallying others came naturally, and so he spoke boldly and proudly to them all.
"From Iron cometh Strength! From Strength cometh Will! From Will Cometh Faith, both in our cause and in one another! It is together that we are strong, one unified force of Iron Warriors the likes of which has not been witnessed since the Great Crusade! Under the Warsmith's rule we shall carve our way through the cosmos, bringing all to heel who deny our rule!"
"If we survive long enough to establish it."
Levente was brought pause as he looked over down towards Richter, who had spoken with his typical lack of self-censorship. Only when he looked to Richter their eyes did not meet, for Richter was instead focused on the empty seat of Kastor.
"Do you doubt our victory, Richter?" Aldred commented as if in disbelief following all of their personal and collective successes, prompting Richter to shake his head no and explain himself further.
"Just stating a basic observation as the one who has to piece you all back together when a battle comes to its conclusion, lest we forget that there used to be ten of us at this table."
Of the ten of them Kastor had been the lowest performing, but he had still been well above the typical Neophyte recruit and held a promising future given his penchant for increasing team cohesion through discussion and understanding. Having fallen under Levente's command after Levente was made a Sergeant however meant that Kastor had been right alongside the far more melee-adept Gunnar and Levente in dangerous battles, and it had ultimately cost him his life in a skirmish against the Word Bearers warband they had been avoiding for years now.
Rather than shed a tear over the loss of Kastor it was better in Levente's mind to continue forward and continue fighting, with this remembrance appearing to inspire him further as he spoke with both warmth and vigor, "There are sacrifices in war, and Kastor would no doubt be at peace knowing that his ensured our victory over those damnable Chaos dogs nipping at our heels. What greater end can one ask for than to fall in the glory of combat, crushing all who stand in your way until your last breath escapes you? Rather than mourn we should celebrate him now as we did then, for to fall in battle is the fate of every one of us one day!"
Besides Richter both Urban and Quidel were quiet as well in response, the others all seemingly more swayed by Levente's proclamations. This did not stop Levente from leveraging his talent for rallying though, instead helping the other members of Alpha Squad move past their loss with fiery rhetoric.
"In Kastor's memory I swear to cut down a thousand of those vile servants of Chaos at fault, the last of which shall be their Daemon Prince who dares inflict insult and injury upon our cause! With one strike of my tools I shall obliterate everything above their necks, denying their forsaken benefactor of his beloved skulls!" "Will you join me in this just cause of vengeance and help eradicate their blight in the name of Kastor? Who will join me in paving the way forward to our inevitable future with the bodies of the cretins who oppose us?"
The chorus of cheers which followed was not only from Alpha Squad, but from other Astartes nearby them as well. Levente's reputation was growing with every battle, and his willingness to show off his vibrant successes had won him increasing respect from the veterans of Khyr's company. If there was anything that could unite the common soldier in their Legion it was the prospect of making the forces of Chaos bleed for their damnation, and so while the crowd began to grow more and more enthused with Levente it was a perfect opportunity for Richter to slip out of it all and go about his business.
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Aboard the Iron Citadel Tristan's personal quarters were as one might expect of an Iron Warrior, being sparsely furnished and lacking entirely in the way of decoration. What he did possess within it were practical necessities such as a bed designed to allow his abnormally large body to rest, a workstation for his mechanical tinkering and smaller projects, textual resources, datapads, diagrams and schematics to study, a structure for DOTS to receive nutrients and rest upon, and to-scale models of Basilisks and Predator tanks to observe.
Some might question the importance of such models, but Tristan felt it important for his creative process. He felt he could think more clearly on how to improve upon their designs as well as others while in the presence of the scaled replicas and his 'pet' that did not bother him the way some other creatures might. When he was unable to use the Dodekatheon's larger workshops it was here that he privately tinkered with things and engaged in the work he could get done without access to industrial tools.
Almost all of Tristan's time not deployed in the field was however spent in the Dodekatheon, either within the Eisernen or aboard its place within the orbital docks of the Iron Citadel. So long as he could continue his work the location mattered little and it was not uncommon for Tristan to use the capability of an Astarte to function for weeks without complete rest to continue working on a project that was nearing completion. When his unconscious form would be found later he would not be reprimanded for such behavior however, as he might possess little reputation or glory on the battlefield compared to his peers but he was a growing star in the Dodekatheon who respected his drive and the results his experimentation brought to their pursuits of knowledge.
While some might possess the inherent genius to theorize and discover new concepts to better understand the universe around them Tristan's specialty came from intuitively understanding how various things worked, thus allowing him to replicate and gain a deeper understanding of them. He might be copying existing designs when he engaged in his work, but he was improving upon them by working in his understanding of other technologies he had dissected and recreated as well, thus gradually improving them all bit by bit rather than making sporadic and giant leaps.
Some of these improvements were to his own body, though they differed greatly from what could be considered the bionics or other such modifications done by various Astartes and Humans. It was common practice for members of the Adeptus Mechanicus and their followers to replace pieces of their physical form replaced with mechanical counterparts, a practice which Tristan personally was not drawn towards given that he did not wish to cede his body born of his ancestors and of his Iron Warriors Gene-Seed unless he had to medically. He did not detest such cybernetic changes to the Human form as he did the horrific mutations of Chaos, and so he found it acceptable to augment and reinforce his body mechanically instead of replacing his flesh.
With Tristan's method of combat being to suffer through an enemy's firepower and return it until he won it was natural that he would incur injuries, some particularly nasty and lingering ranging from broken bones to dislodged joints. True to his stoic nature Tristan did not complain about these injuries, for instead once Ossus or Richter was done patching him up and telling him to stop catching bullets he would go to his workstation and begin drafting methods of reinforcing the part of his body that had proven vulnerable. Be it subdermal implants or reinforcements to joints, if a weakness was discovered it was to be diminished or removed by adding to his body rather than subtracting from it.
Such augmentation was not uncommon within the Iron Warriors, with even their Chaos-serving kin replacing corrupted pieces of their bodies with mechanical counterparts, and it was this general practice that helped contribute to the enduring nature of their Legion. "Iron Within, Iron Without" was both figurative and literal with how they would alter their forms and so despite handling it in a separate manner Tristan was living up to the traditions of his Iron brethren.
Battle by battle, wound by wound, year by year, Tristan would continue his constant reinforcement of his body until the point that his inherent durability was enhanced enough that he could be rest assured that he would not bend and break beneath whatever armor he might create. Even with how well his armor had served him until then he was aware of how even blows that did not penetrate could batter an Astarte within, but now with his enhanced physical constitution he could help mitigate such effects even if he could not completely remove them.
Much like the Imperial Fist who would go on to become the founding leader of the Crimson Fists and the so-called hero of Phall, Alexis Polux, Tristan possessed a particularly uncommon height for a member of the Adeptus Astartes which would have to be factored into his creations and armor. In the case of Polux he was observed as being around the height of the Primarch Roboute Guilliman himself and with the physique of a bear like Jarn it left him capable of crushing the skulls of Astartes in his palms. For Tristan his height was beyond that of Polux or Jarn but his form was notably lacking in the same breadth and bulk that afforded them such raw strength even while possessing similar levels of overall mass thanks to how tall he had grown to be.
Whereas Jarn was a man who would have grown to be incredibly tall, broad, and capable of immense physical labor as a mortal Human like his father before him, Tristan was someone who would have likely exceeded the average height of an Astartes and likely excelled at sporting events which relied on such height while lacking other types of physique. This overwhelming size had cost Tristan the speed he once possessed as an even younger man, but at the same time it helped spread out damage incurred since there simply was more of him necessary to harm. It made him incur more damage and be struck more often than an average Astartes might be, but it meant that if he began moving he was a nigh unstoppable force for most to contend with.
An Astartes beating down a mortal Human would break their bones and crush them already, but for Tristan who towered over them the same way that they did over such mortals it meant that a swing of his leg (as his arms were often well above them) would break a man and send him hurling back into his comrades who now had a colossal creature looming before them. Should Tristan instead choose to remain still his very same attributes would make him difficult to shift, whatever armor he was wearing at the time helping anchor him down thanks to its scaled-up size and resulting mass.
Even with such notable traits to his name, Tristan just was not particularly talented at charging across a battlefield the way Levente might. Tristan could not keep pace with his fellow Astartes on the charge and so he was naturally poor at the shock tactics common to Astartes operations. This said it did not particularly trouble Tristan that this often saw him relegated to guard duty and such tasks where his enemy had to come to him. He already possessed a natural tolerance for pain demonstrated by his survival on his homeworld where he staved off starvation for weeks just to prepare for the moment he might retaliate against the Beasts of Chaos, and so when matched with his fully grown form and augmentations it left him as a shield to Levente's proverbial sword.
Among the first of Tristan's experiments was creating his own set of Mechatendrils by using blueprints provided to him by Jarn and the Dodekatheon, beginning with this endeavor to best utilize his time moving forward. Additional arms would mean he could carry out tasks faster and handle multiple matters at once, so it was only logical to begin his career of craftsmanship with such a tool. While servo-arms tended towards being large and unwieldly with blocky segments to them Tristan instead opted for a sturdy series of linked pieces to possess greater range of movement and so the moniker of 'tendril' was quite well suited to the limbs he built.
To utilize them he created a harness to fit to his abdomen and interact with his Black Carapace as well as Power Armor when it was worn, for which he would need to make his own modified suit but that was for later. Through the harness Tristan could control the Mechatendrils attached directly and use them like another set of limbs once he trained with them, occasionally modifying the Mechatendrils as necessary to better improve them in future iterations. As a part of the process Tristan experimented with a horde of Mechatendrils attached to his harness to see just how many he could reliably control, eventually learning to control many of their number but finding that his preferred set was four that he could control with greater precision alongside his own two hands.
For tasks involving heavier loads he would modify the harness to also house two servo-arms meant solely for crafting and not for combat, resulting in him possessing the appearance of a ten-limbed creature that saw some natives of Kimara liken him to their infamous Krakens. This would then inspire Tristan's naming for his creation with the 'inspired' title of 'Iron Kraken', even if typically it lacked the two servo arms that would make it a full ten limbs.
The testing procedure for the Iron Kraken included a variety of metrics Tristan made sure to precisely record to the most minute detail, initially beginning with the raw control over the limbs so that all other tests might be done more conclusively. Tristan would come to train himself so well with them that he could pick up objects the size of a hair with their grasping maniples, as well as properly lift and carry other objects like he would his actual limbs. To do this Tristan had bound his arms to his body and only worked with the mechatendrils until he could use them without thinking, making them like true extensions to himself. Once they reacted promptly, accurately, and their foundation was set he moved onto testing other aspects of them to better enhance them.
To carry out the work necessary for a member of the Dodekatheon one required tools that could at times withstand great heat or not break under intense pressure or weight. For this Tristan made certain to reinforce the outer linked pieces to the mechatendrils as much as he could without detracting from their function, granting them both resistance to extreme temperatures as well as protection from both stress and external threats. The 'skeleton' of each limb was now covered in thick plating to protect them from damage, and they could carry weight comparable to what an Astartes might while the servo-arms he included at times could far exceed that.
Tristan was only satisfied with their durability however after testing them in live-fire exercises where he subjected them to bolter rounds, plasma shots, chemical fires, blunt force, precision weaponry, armor piercing rounds, collected Xenos weapons, and even artillery. When they broke he would remake them and use the data collected to lessen their vulnerability to whatever cracked through their thick hides, and then the testing would be repeated again, and again, until there no longer existed such vulnerabilities.
Following the creation, testing, and many iterations of Mechatendrils necessary to streamline future work Tristan moved right onto experimenting with Power Armor to properly implement the Iron Kraken as well as provide a sufficient degree of protection. It was not lost upon Tristan that his continued existence could be explained by the Mark III Power Armor gifted to him by Jarn being of artificer quality and far above that worn by their enemies, and since living was his preferred state of being he invested himself deeply in the pursuit of how to best ensure his sustained being.
What's more, if Tristan ever hoped to defeat the Daemon who laid his world asunder he would need armor capable of enduring such a threat, and so he worked tirelessly to ensure that when the day came that they met that Tristan would not be immediately torn through.
If there was a simple way to improve Power Armor to some optimal state for Astartes it would have been done eons before, and so Tristan's experimentation largely saw him optimizing smaller details of Mark III armor while also seeking to incorporate external methods of protection into it. Inspired by the Karceri Battle Shield of the Iron Circle machines of Perturabo, Tristan sought to include numerous power fields in one suit of armor to overlap fields of protection though this proved difficult given the power drain it imposed along with the logistics of making them work together rather than conflict and cause issues for their bearer.
With the Karceri shield project shelved until he could work out solutions to it Tristan went back to the drawing board regarding upgrading his Mark III. Testing it against every form of ammunition and weapon possible in their armory let him optimize its minute details and reshape it such that the Power Armor's physical limits were reached with the materials on hand. While expensive to do so it was something Jarn was willing to set aside the resources necessary to do so as not only did the work assist Tristan's knowledge in expanding it also could result in breakthroughs that would better keep their fellow Astartes alive.
This rigorous testing saw Tristan begin to add ablative armor to it to reduce the incoming damage at only the cost of easily replaced external plating. Pleased by the results of this, Tristan expanded his research to include not only salvaged Centurion armor but also information provided by Jarn for the Logos and the Warsmith's own iteration of it.
Taking whatever worked best of each of them allowed Tristan to further his experiments like how the Primarch Guilliman once had been inspired by the work of Mars, Perturabo, and Vulkan to create the Armor of Reason. Knowing that it could be done by being aware of history and Jarn's own work on the Logos emboldened Tristan's efforts, and while he knew he did not possess the raw capability of a Primarch he still believed that repeated tests like those done by Guilliman would allow him to create something befitting of his own needs.
Included in this experimentation was research on the armor used by various Xenos races in addition to those used by Humanity, Tristan's interests particularly drawn to the restorative nature of Necron Living Metal as well as that utilized by Tau Battlesuits given their effective yet lightweight nature. A lack of test subjects in the case of the latter did deter some of his studies, but the Iron Legion's defeat of Necrons from decades past did see the confiscation of some of their wargear which Tristan was content with going over. Jarn's own incorporation of a Phylactery into his iteration of the Logos was at the top of Tristan's interest regarding the subject matter, and so when granted permission he poured over all of the Warsmith's schematics and collected data concerning its functionality.
While wholly unlikely to mass produce self-repairing armor it still was something Tristan naturally wanted to possess for his own suit of it, as if he could create a suit with proper external shielding and force fields, ablative plating, resilient Power Armor beneath, and have the Power Armor reconstruct damaged pieces then the act of dying would prove most difficult barring the usage of foul sorcery. Tristan did not possess a way to mathematically handle that particular threat however, and so he was content preparing for every danger he could mitigate by building as many redundancies into his suit as possible.
Tristan's typically rearline and artillery duties saw him rarely be on the frontline where he could obtain further Xenos specimens to study, but to his fortune there was a source for such materials within the Iron Legion: the so-called Mithril Dragoons of Kimara.
Far be they from a uniform taskforce the Mithril Dragoons possessed a myriad of technologies not utilized by other members of the Iron Legion, a particular quirk which helped set them apart from the more standardized members of the Kimaran Krakens. Sniper rifles, shotguns, bolters, flamers, and even outright Xenos technology such as Drukhari Dark Lances were just a handful of the multitude of weapons they would bring to bear against their foes. The origins for where they even were obtaining such arms was unclear, but with their demonstrated loyalty and unquestioning servitude towards the Warsmith few cared to ask.
After all, the Warsmith was known to take under his wing those who would pledge themselves to the Iron Legion's vision of utopia so long as they denounced Chaos and the Imperium, so what was one more force of renegades within a sea of such souls? The Mithril Dragoons as an organization reportedly possessed history with and ties to the Jarn dynasty on Kimara, but if this was true or just another fabrication was another part of their mystery.
Their history was mostly irrelevant to Tristan for what mattered to him was the wide array of technology they appeared to have access to: most common amongst the gear they would bring with them were the personal energy fields of the Van Saar on Necromunda, devices which could be attached to one's wrist and activated at will to provide the user with night instantaneous protection from incoming fire. Not only that, but they excelled at negating strikes in melee where they functioned just like shields of ages past to keep an enemy at bay.
The shield was small, it was effective, and it worked consistently at diminishing incoming fire and even deter melee weapons. In this way it was an automatic inclusion to Tristan's designs for a suit of armor to wear, for if he could just call forth a shield as he willed it would improve his chances of surviving a battle while costing him almost nothing. To this end he traded resources from his allotment in the Dodekatheon with a member of the Mithril Dragoons to obtain a set of the rare wargear, only mildly wondering why the Dragoons might need equipment necessary for mining. Perhaps it would prove vital to some future mission of theirs?
After obtaining the Van Saar energy shields the difficult part was studying the technology and replicating it as he did not have access to the STCs of the technocratic noble family, though due to the radiation emitted by those very STCs that was perhaps a blessing in disguise. Recreating something by hand took much longer than if he had all the information before him, but through dedicated study and testing Tristan was able to replicate the defensive tool. It may take years to get it just right, and many existing shields may be broken in the meantime, but if it meant progress towards his goal it was worth it to Tristan. Intuitive understanding tempered by hard work was how he had recreated an autocannon once upon a time and it was the exact method he applied to all of his work even years later.
The one who assisted most often in Tristan's testing was none other than Brechung, who appeared to have gained respect for Tristan following the younger Astarte saving his life. Tristan, lacking a particularly social nature, did not seek out such a bond himself but still regularly engaged in ways which built trust between him and his fellow member of Urkamus Squad.
Being the reliable sort, Tristan would always do what he said he would and followed directions to the letter, shown by his methodical sticking to procedure during the Forescien invasion until extenuating circumstances saw him unable to comply. When he was not capable of something Tristan would note it and instead offer solutions based on what skills he did possess, always working to assist his allies where possible without overselling himself. On the battlefield knowing that the man next to you would do their job relieved burdens on you, and in this way Tristan stoically carrying out orders without question made him a well-known factor in the constant chaos and variability of a battlefield.
When the occasion came that Tristan made an error in his actions he was the first to recognize it as well, being very self-critical and prone to overthinking but also being capable of growth because of this very nature. Whereas friction in other squads may form over the mistakes of one Astarte or another that they collectively did not own up to, in Urkamus Squad blame was assigned squarely with whomever was at fault, no obfuscation or hurt feelings permitted. Given that Tristan was methodically testing tactics, firing patterns, and such the amount of apologies he had to make were quite grand, but with every battle the number was diminishing more and more as he came to better realize his skills.
Perhaps most important to Brechung and why Brechung chose to be around Tristan was the fact that Tristan respected his boundaries and did not press the typically quiet Astarte to talk. If anything Brechung was the more talkative of the two when together, as Tristan would often be lost in some schematic or in the middle of construction which limited his focus on 'trivial' matters such as socialization.
Brechung did not often say much about himself and that was just fine for Tristan, who in turn trusted him and saw Brechung as flawed but more capable than Levente in that they possessed seemingly similar talents for melee combat while Brechung could also engage in thought-provoking discussion thanks to his years of experience. Rather than the mutual enmity with Levente it felt like Tristan could benefit from Brechung and that Brechung in turn would benefit from Tristan's presence on the team, and so ironically became the two closest members of the team in part by being the two least disposed towards social endeavors.
Whereas Levente was once the one responsible for nearly all injuries suffered by Tristan outside of warzones that honor now belonged to Brechung, who after handily beating Tristan down in training or testing would only give a terse statement after.
"Again."
That phrase would be used until it was clear that no further combat could take place, and each time Tristan found himself on the losing end thanks to the chasm of experience between him and Brechung. Even so he continued to spar with the taciturn Astarte because few others could match Tristan's endurance and be so willing to assist for hours if not days in testing every permutation possible of how something performed in battle.
After one particularly grueling combat session Tristan lay on his back, too battered to rise under his own power and his mechanical limbs laying beside him in various states of disarray from where they had been carved apart by a Power Lance. In his head Tristan was already going over ways to better protect them from various Power weapons since his efforts thus far had not immunized them, but his calculations were put on hold when he noticed Brechung sit down beside him upon the workshop's floor.
"Survival is important, but something tells me you have more than it on your mind," Brechung noted the continued testing of armor done by Tristan without judgment but rather curiosity.
Tristan was exhausted but able to speak, and so he continued to lay where he was as he envisioned the ghastly form of a Daemon Prince, "There is a man I must kill."
"Levente likely shares such a sentiment."
Brechung surprisingly possessed a fair sense of humor, and so Tristan merely rolled his eyes beneath his newest iteration of helmet. By adding material between his shoulder and neck Tristan's neck no longer was as vulnerable to enemy attacks, preventing possibly lethal hits that could take him out immediately despite his general durability. It restricted his head movement somewhat that his head morphed into the shoulders of his Power Armor, but Tristan could barely turn his head in his armor to look as it was so it did little to alter the situation.
"If I told you I knew how it felt would you believe me?"
That caught Tristan's attention, and so the younger Astarte turned his head to Brechung to show his interest. With his newfound confidante now listening Brechung continued on, able to tell even without seeing Tristan's face beyond his helm that the young Astarte would be listening.
"Do you know what saw us through the Great Crusade?" it was more of a rhetorical question than a genuine one, as Brechung followed up almost immediately afterward, "Brotherhood. Loyalty...for together we were able to overcome seemingly impossible foes and were capable of bringing the known galaxy to heel under one banner. We each had our place, and while not all could obtain the glory of the likes of Kharn or Abaddon we could rest assured that our sacrifices and the turmoil we faced were for a greater cause. That through it all our brothers were at our side, and that even if you should fall they would carry on fighting for your behalf."
Brechung paused so he could let out a soft breath, pausing as he mulled over his own history.
"Then Horus enacted his folly. Brother against brother, Astarte against Astarte, and so there are few of us from then without some degree of personal tragedy," he stated in his typical flat, soft-spoken tone that hid his emotions well, "I was betrayed, lost everything I thought I knew, and despite every wish in my being I know I can never recover what was taken because of one man."
Tristan said nothing, not wishing to disrupt his fellow Astarte while he was still speaking and gathering his thoughts both, instead waiting until Brechung would be finished.
"Time does not heal all wounds, but it can give one perspective," Brechung eventually continued with a wry, bittersweet voice born of remembering an ancient grudge, "I hated that viper for taking something so irreplaceable from me, for helping dim the future we had all sought to realize, and for replacing the Emperor's ambitions and will with narrow-sighted arrogance."
Finally he turned back to Tristan, his voice growing flat once again as he dialed back his emotions.
"I could spend every moment left of my existence repaying their injuries and slights tenfold, seek to destroy all that they had built, but that will not change what has happened. Those pursuits alone will not accomplish what needs to be done. There are countless battles to be won, innumerable foes to cut down, on the path to what we seek. The path to reclaim all that has been taken from us can ill afford such personal pursuits and vendettas if we are to achieve true victory."
Despite how reserved Brechung was at the moment despite his inner-turmoil it was the most emotive that Tristan had ever seen him, and that vulnerability was an unfamiliar experience to him. His years of eschewing most forms of social contact meant that he did not particularly know how to respond, resulting in his continuing silence. Eventually Brechung mustered the words he meant to speak again and did so, his voice that of a tired soldier who still knew what they were talking about.
"But righteous hatred can play its role like many others, and so I wait for when the time comes that I may serve our cause and repay those who betrayed our Emperor in a single stroke," he gave a nod to Tristan, "I have never once seen you lose your composure in the years I have known you, not outside of when you are faced with the horrors of Chaos. You should nurse that hatred for them, but do not let it control you."
Brechung regained a bit of his humorous wry tone again, as if to mock himself as he spoke, "In spite of everything I believe in the value of loyalty. To oneself, to one's brothers, and to one's cause, even after witnessing a turbulent era of betrayal layered upon betrayal. Perhaps I am a fool for placing my trust in others even now, but I do truly believe in our Warsmith."
Tristan finally found an avenue to talk through and so nodded, "The Warsmith is a good man."
Brechung nodded back softly, "In this uncertain age there are precious few who are what they seem, and the Warsmith is one of those few. An honest man with a steadfast and tested devotion to what we once all sought in the Great Crusade. To steer Humanity back upon the course it was meant to take. So long as he survives he will work towards that end even if it means he must face personal hardship or loss, and he has the talents necessary in a man to enact great change: intelligence, strength, and the charisma to command the loyalty of other such men."
There was little argument to be found in Tristan given his own experiences and his firsthand knowledge of the Warsmith's nobility, but before he could properly respond the voice of the Warsmith himself rang out over the base's speakers and his visage appeared on various terminals as Jarn occasionally did to send out a message to all of his men at once.
Quieting down alongside Brechung, Tristan wondered just what the announcement was this time as he stared at a nearby screen at his workstation he used for such occasions.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The Warsmith stood with an Imperial Battleship at his back, the golden cathedral of a vessel having been captured in a recent albeit unintended conflict, and his face was not covered at all as his rigid face spoke with the directness one could expect of a Kimaran.
"I address all members of the Iron Legion as your Warsmith, Trahaearn Jarn. Today begins the official construction of our fleet, and the beginning of our future empire. In the years since the Great Crusade and what is now known as the Horus Heresy it is no exaggeration to say that Humanity has fallen, now standing on the very precipice of complete annihilation. The Imperium of Mankind has had its title appropriated by a splinter faction that is comprised of ignorant traitors to the very ideals the Emperor once held."
Jarn shifted to gesture towards the camera as if to signal each and every man watching the broadcast, his figure imposing yet not threatening as he did so. If anything his voice possessed within it a righteous fury that his men could channel as well, Jarn speaking as if the sole voice of reason in the raving asylum of the galactic stage.
"We, the unbroken sons of Perturabo, have not lost sight of the Great Crusade's purpose and objective. Unlike others of our kin we have not fallen to become slaves of the Ruinous Powers, nor begged for forgiveness and rejoined the bastardized Imperium that once used us. For centuries I have never forgotten those who have sacrificed for our cause, for not only the prosperity and survival of Humanity, but for our vision of Utopia. So many with their hearts pouring all that they can into the outcome that we know is just, a future which they might not see but which they would build a bridge towards for others to possess."
With indignance the Warsmith threw a hand back at the ship visible in the dockyard behind him, its frivolous heraldry and religious overtones an affront to someone who had fought for the enlightenment of Humanity as envisioned by the Emperor himself.
"In direct defiance of the Emperor of Mankind's desire this false Imperium has turned our noble leader into the very thing he once decried, a figure of devout worship and religious fervor. None can be faulted for venerating him as the apex of Humanity, a symbol of its potential, but the God Emperor of Mankind he is not. We may pledge our eternal souls to him to be free of the grips of Chaos upon death, but it is by his very wish and desire that we do not feed the Ruinous Powers of Chaos through false worship, even of him."
It was obvious to all witnessing him speak across the station and within their fleet that their Warsmith's outrage was genuine, not blind hatred but rather a reasoned disgust that called them to action. While dour as a culture the Iron Warriors were not without the ability to be inspired, and it was by a similarly cold man rallying them that they could properly have their spirits lifted. Just as a soldier needed time off to recover between battles so too did they need reminders of why they fought, of the righteousness of their cause and the error of one's foes, and so it was that Jarn stood confidently before them to give their spirits the boost they needed after years of fighting small engagements to build towards those that they truly sought after.
"The Imperium would trample all beneath their heel who recognize this contradiction in their society's foundation, and we know this to be true, for rather than punish those who cross the line as the Emperor once did his son Lorgar the Imperium exists as the antithesis: they slay any and all who dare question their dogma, driving many of their citizens right into the arms of Chaos. They both fight and feed the beast, dragging the civil war we once fought within out across millennia, and the proof of their hypocrisy lays behind me."
"It is obvious that this vessel of their Ecclesiarchy was created in direct defiance to the wishes of the man it claims to honor and worship. It serves not as an efficient combat vessel, but rather a blinding beacon of faith and opulence. What more do you need to know of their vile intentions than to witness where they would allocate their resources even as billions fall in endless war to Xenos, Chaos, or even decadent infighting like we once experienced? They would appeal to virtue while possessing none!"
Calming himself even as the energy of his forces in their various stations, rooms, and halls rose to deafening levels thanks to a surge of rallying cries, Jarn continued.
"The journey ahead of us is long, and for years we have waited, but we are not the reckless sons of Jaghatai Khan who act with unrestrained haste. No, we are the Iron Warriors, and we act with slow purpose to achieve our ends without fail. We stand united, for not one of our cause who will turn from their duty, as it is together that we shall find victory. The day we declare war against all who would turn their backs on the Emperor's vision is approaching, and on that day we shall do whatever is in our power to bring our dreams into reality!"
Jarn clenched one of his fists before raising it and his tone along with it.
"We may bide our time for now, but each day our cause grows stronger thanks to it, and when we have reclaimed the unconquerable world of Kimara never again shall we fall. This vessel shall be stripped of all its treasonous visage and one day be remade as the flagship of our fleet using our accrued Standard Template Constructs and the ingenuity of our Dodekatheon. We shall ignore the whispers of false prophets and their gods, and instead stand true to the cause we have fought for all this time. For the Emperor! For Utopia!"
By all approximations it would take them decades to accrue the necessary tools for the retaking of Kimara, but after waiting so long it was naught but a small frame of time for one as unmoved by time as Jarn. For his men they had heard what they needed to hear and their spirits would be high for quite some time to come, and by the time they needed further inspiration they would hopefully have more victories under their belts.
Concluding his transmission, Jarn sent out a second and more selective message, this one going out only to certain members of the Mithril Dragoons.
File: (XX-XX-XXXXX-XX:XX)
Taskforce: β-Ω-Indigo (β-990 Blackout, β-190 Barricade, β-205 Blight, β-186 Breakdown, β-985 Bombshell)
Operation: PRIDE'S FALL
Status: Commence
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A/N: Thank you for reading, Happy New Year, and I hope you all enjoyed and will leave your thoughts in the comments below!
Taskforce: β-Ω-Indigo (β-990 Blackout, β-190 Barricade, β-205 Blight, β-186 Breakdown, β-985 Bombshell)
Operation: PRIDE'S FALL
Status: Commence
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
A/N: Thank you for reading, Happy New Year, and I hope you all enjoyed and will leave your thoughts in the comments below!