Warhammer The Iron Empire (Warhammer 40k)

Thunderscourge

Emulating Kill em All Tomino in all Games
.... My bisexual side is pumping like if i am doing Press Bench. Fucking hot Tristan
Haha, I guess the image generation turned out well then! Sorry to say though that Isolde called dibs.

I was pretty happy with how that one turned out as well. It's got a bit of an eerie/creepy vibe to it meshed with an unkempt appearance, which when tied in with the cheekbones feeds into his moniker of "The Iron Lich". Icy blue eyes add to it as well, while his long hair is a holdover of his background.
 

Thunderscourge

Emulating Kill em All Tomino in all Games
Using Image generation, how is Isolde ? i remember a pictures of Isolde but... she have some BIG Ordenance and a very Big muscle mommy style.
Still working on the Kimaran women overall, so don't have a newer variant of Isolde to share yet. When I hone in on their final images I'll share them too.

As for Isolde's appearance, yeah she's extremely buxom with an incredible hourglass figure. Kimaran women are that in general given their gene-crafting and pride (their women want to be more beautiful than women from other worlds), but Isolde is a scaled up version of the common Kimaran woman so is absolutely massive across the board.

It's not all for ascetic appeal or pride either though: the scans done on Isolde when she visited the Mechanicus showed that she actually has additional organs that seem to have effected her body in various ways, so it seems she has added functionality granted by her increased size. Given that on the Iron Warriors end (which takes place before Isolde's narrative) they managed to create Astartes reproduction via complementary organs to their baseline Gene-Seed, there's likely a connection...
 

AmosTrask

Well-known member
1. What does that have to do with me creating fan rules, just as I have the entire time I've worked on this project.

2. What does that have to do with me creating fan rules, just as I have the entire time I've worked on this project.

3. What does that have to do with me creating fan rules, just as I have the entire time I've worked on this project.

I am not asking for GW support, I am creating fan rules, nor have I been talking to them.

You are wrong there, because nothing you said has anything to do with what I've said.



He's roughly ~108 years old, which with Imperial rejuvnat treatments and Kimaran genetic engineering combined would only really leave him looking late 20's to mid 30's. Young-ish, but not super young.
All three of those men are late 30, early 60, late 60 respectively. The first one might pass for 29 if I squint. Good art though.
 

Thunderscourge

Emulating Kill em All Tomino in all Games
More prototype rules. Not final products by any means, but something to chew on.

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Thunderscourge

Emulating Kill em All Tomino in all Games
Tomorrow I will be releasing the next update, titled "Košava: Rise of the Monarch". It is going to be well over 20,000 words and has taken a great deal of effort to piece together, so I hope you will all enjoy it upon its release tomorrow night. After that, I have finished the introduction to the Bishop's Boundary follow-up chapter, so that is on the horizon as well.

Below are a few songs that might set the stage for tomorrow's update.









See you all soon.
 
"Košava: Rise of the Monarch"

Thunderscourge

Emulating Kill em All Tomino in all Games
Košava: Rise of the Monarch


The flight to the Ehernfürst was one of great difficulty not because of any external threats such as unexpected weather phenomena or Wostyn pirates, but rather due to the incessant chatter of Boudica the entire time. Of the entire crew aboard the unassuming Lighter that comprised of Isolde, Cordelia, Boudica, Tränen, Ärger, Mitleid, Frieden, Glaube, Zweifel, Kleiner, Vogel, Mauer, and Bo, only Boudica was speaking, and she readily proved herself capable of carrying on a one-sided conversation with only an Ixolotl as a willing audience to her stream of consciousness.

"Have you heard about how that the Imperium has enacted pogroms on undesirable populations historically? Even those stuck-up Cadians are the result of that, with the original Cadians being wiped out before the Imperium resettled the planet. The Conomors have said they don't plan to do that to us Kimarans, but if you ask me I think their actions are kind of suspicious...I mean who drafts every single man on a planet who isn't already working in the echelons of their regime? They sent the whole male population off to go 'pay our debt' to the Imperium once and for all, but I don't know, man...couldn't they have just used the wealth they seem to possess to pay our tithe that way? According to them they got all that money from trading, but that kind of war-chest isn't the sort of thing most outcast-nobles in the Imperium can just throw around without anybody noticing. It's like they were preparing for something and, given their popping up out of nowhere after ten-thousand years at the exact moment they could take advantage of the Jarns, it sort of feels staged to me—"

Members of the Schola already tended to vary slightly from the basic Kimaran 'norms' due to the Schola not entirely being comprised of Kimarans, but rather orphans from nearby sectors as well and from Imperial families stationed on Kimara. That said, the degree in which Boudica diverged was enough to tweak Isolde's natural appreciation for quiet, as her fellow Progena didn't appear to have any kind of filter.

"—like they greased the wheels of the Imperium to manipulate events so that they could accuse the Jarns of heresy then oust them and take their place on top once again. Why they'd do that just to get rid of the people afterwards I don't know, but even if they deny it their Wostyn-buddies don't even try to hide their desire to supplant us! Just today there was that preacher guy on the streets talking about how we were all traitors to the Imperium, while his people are the chosen sons of the Emperor whose long suffering soon shall be over once they take over. Can you believe that guy? After all the hard work we've put into Kimara they think they can just move in and say its theirs now, all while complaining about that one time we conquered Wostyn when it was a military threat to us thousands of years ago! I mean, sure, at the Schola we might be engaging in some activities not exactly above-board for the Imperium, but we're only doing that because of what the Conomor regime has forced us to do! Even then it's nothing like the stuff the 'Sons of the Emperor' are doing to our people every single day! Those Wostyn jerks wouldn't dare try any of what they're doing if our men were all still around, present company excluded of course since you guys are still here, but they think that because they're oh-so pious that they can do whatever they want. Hey—"

It would be a simple matter to tell Boudica to cut the chatter, but Isolde held her own tongue regardless given what bits she knew of her fellow Schola student. Isolde might not have socialized much with her peers beyond Verita and Dairine, but the Commandant's daughter had heard enough about Boudica's background to sympathize with the girl: Boudica was the sole survivor of another Fortress City's population that had been massacred by the regime.

That slaughter had been carried out for alleged sedition, but the truth of the operation was known only to those who orchestrated it: the bombardment from surrounding cities had left little in the way of evidence to piece together what drove the Conomors to such brutality at that time, and the issue was swiftly forgotten given Kimara's deep-seated loathing of traitors. In one fell swoop thousands had been purged, and a day after they were forgotten and the issue was silenced in the media.

"—want to know who else considered themselves the Emperor of Mankind's devout offspring? The Emperor's Children! I didn't even know Space Marines weren't all eunuchs until I saw records of their awful exploits, those sick degenerates being even worse than the Wostyn...Wostynians...Wostinite...the Throne's damned bastards who think really sick stuff is just a game! I mean, sure the hounds from Wostyn are disgusting as it is what with being drug-abusing molesters who are on a constant power-trip, but at least they aren't seven-feet tall behemoths who are built like a bunker...no Bo, I don't mean your owner, she's big too but in a totally different way. You weren't there that time, but awhile back we were both in Schola uniforms and she got in trouble for 'public indecency', but those moralizing jerks working for Pyan didn't even notice me! We were wearing the same uniform but hers is indecent and I'm completely fine somehow! I know I'm not as gifted as a woman, but that's just insulting...I'd still be a model on any other planet you know—"

It was obvious that the mental and emotional scars left on the young Boudica were deep, having seen her mother and sisters slain before her eyes without the faintest sign of mercy. It was very likely that when things were quiet she was left with those dark memories, and so she filled the void with chatter that to most Kimarans was beyond palatable. Kimarans were blunt and cold people, but for one of their own who had lost everything they could bear certain eccentricities with few seeking to correct Boudica's behavior except when truly necessary.

"—anyways, given their hedonist lifestyles I wouldn't be surprised if a lot of soldiers from Wostyn actually were secret adherents to the Ruinous Powers, you know? Oh but Boudica, that's crazy talk, how could soldiers devoted to the Emperor be corrupted by the Ruinous Powers? I don't know, have you ever heard of half the Astarte Legions from the Great Crusade and their Primarchs? I'm just saying, if demigods and their demi-demi-god soldiers can fall, a bunch of dimwitted morons who are lucky to tie their shoes correctly in the morning could most definitely go down the wrong path whether they mean to or not. Why do the Conomors want them anyways? Sure their top soldiers are actually on par with Tallarn's best, but they're now recruiting kids and petty criminals for some reason...which now that I say it out loud really just means the average Wostyn citizen, but still, all the more reason to not bring them here to enforce the law! Like if you want Arbites, recruit more Arbites, don't give the inmates the keys to the castle! Come to think of it, how do you recruit Arbites anyways? I think they pull from Scholas, but then how come all my security classes—"

Had Boudica been an off-worlder however no such consideration would be granted, another cause among many for Kimara's poor reputation with other worlds. Boudica was one of their own though, and was one of the Schola's top Progena when it came to handling firearms and explosives, so her ability to kill the enemy outweighed any annoyance others felt at her presence. Those used to Boudica sometimes instead found comfort in her rambling chatter as if it was white noise to drown out everything else, especially given Boudica's well-meaning if notably paranoid nature, but Isolde had not quite reached that point yet and so suffered in silence for a duration of their flight.

"—no, never-mind, that doesn't matter: what matters is that the Conomors seem to want us Kimarans to die out without a real fight, and they're really dragging it out! Couldn't they just kill us and be done with it? Sick bastards are toying with us, that's what I think at least, and I don't think it's just some coincidence either that the men who would protect us from them all got shipped out to fight some battle nobody came back from. Like, I know the Tyranids are scary, but it was a splinter fleet that our armada could crush with its eyes closed! Are you really going to tell me that nobody survived that fight, that it ended in a draw with no sign of our fleet afterwards? I bet the Conomors set them up in some ambush, and that's why they never came back, that way they could have their own planet-wide harem. Millions of the objectively, and I mean objectively because have you seen us, most beautiful women all for them to do with as they please...well not this lady! That's why I keep a gun with me at all times, even when I'm at the mess hall! You never know when you're gonna need it after all, so be prepared and you won't ever be caught off-guard...I guess you can't use a gun, huh? It's okay, those little stubby flipper-things of yours will grow some day. Loxatls have weapons, you know, so maybe we can get you some too—"

With a snap of her eyes Isolde stared at Boudica for a single moment, but it got the message across: her Ixolotl was only there to help pretend Cordelia was her by having Isolde's publicly known pet she would bring everywhere present, not for anything approaching combat-related matters lest the innocent creature be harmed accidentally.

"—from her death stare I don't think your owner likes that idea...still, maybe we should get you a backpack or something, like those Ixolotls trained to bring artillery shells. The artillery shells we've been getting these days don't really seem to pack the same punch as they used to, probably because the ones overseeing their production are busy doing drugs instead of quality control. It used to be that when an Earthshaker shell struck something that something stopped existing, but I don't know, man, I've fired them at Yormungaros and they just don't seem to care as much as they used to. It could be that the Yormungaros have been altered in some way in a lab or something, especially since there seem to be less of them in the wild recently which the government has taken credit for, but I can't prove that so I'm going to stick with my drug-addict quality control workers theory. Wostyn's always had drug problems, but they've really taken off in the past century, especially in the past two decades, so much so that it's spread to a lot of officials here on Kimara. Now, am I saying that the Conomors' wealth in part comes from the drug trade and they are exploiting it to keep a grip on their minions? Well yeah I guess I am, that makes a lot of sense if you think about it, but it makes you wonder if their connections to the Departmento Munitorum and Administratum have let them corrupt officials and groups elsewhere too. That'd certainly help explain how they could rally the Imperium to suddenly turn on the Jarns and kill them all after ten-thousand years of servitude, because I don't know if you've seen what a drug-addict will do for their fix but man, it isn't pretty. Still, do you think they really managed to kill all the Jarns? Seems unlikely to me given how many of them there were, what with all their branch families and whatnot. I mean Kimarans have a lot of kids already, and the Jarns especially did, so I don't know, maybe somewhere out there one slipped away. Like even by chance maybe someone wasn't where the traitors thought they'd be, so they missed them by default and just claimed to have killed them anyways. For an organization this corrupt I wouldn't be surprised if something like that happened, though it's really sick that they executed babies too. The Conomors don't talk about that part, but like the main line of the monarchy alone had to have had a few babies and toddlers and then you think of all the cousins and branch families and all their kids as well...really sick stuff if you ask me..."

When Boudica's rambling hit a natural pause Cordelia used the opportunity to unsheathe her own vocals, her voice soft and melodic as she slowly introduced a ballade to the vessel. Despite a lack of instrumental support Cordelia was capable of carrying the song on her own, having chose a piece that was ancient to the Kimarans that mothers might sing to lull their children to sleep. The lyrics and their meaning were lost to time, being from a period predating even Kimara's own founding and the myriad of Human languages that had evolved throughout the stars, but the arrangement of its pieces still told a story of their own that could either calm or excite depending on the way they were vocalized.

In a time of peace and prosperity someone like Cordelia would find widespread success with her vocal talent alone, far surpassing any of her fellow Progena when it came to raw talent in the field, but instead a voice that ought to be captivating millions was confined to the few around her. Even Isolde found herself moved by her peer's voice, as well as envious that despite their physical resemblance Cordelia possessed a talent she never could.

Unknown to Isolde the feeling was a mutual one, with Cordelia envious of the incredible feats of physical endurance and skill displayed by Isolde even if they did not reach the level of Dairine's achievements. They had all seen the recording of her battle against the mercenaries who left her and the civilian militia to die, and it was obvious to many that even though she was a mere Progena like them Isolde was something special. Cordelia might possess similar, albeit less, height by chance and a strikingly mirrored appearance to Isolde, but she lacked the same aptitude for combat as her peer.

Truthfully Isolde's raw physical strength was only marginally above that of Cordelia's own, their size granting them an edge in many physical endeavors over others, but day after day Cordelia had become well aware of the chasm that separated their respective resilience and toughness. It was no secret that Isolde spent her 'free' time physically training even beyond the rigorous drills that they all participated in, seemingly requiring twice or more of the same drills to grow tired, and Kimarans were already known for their remarkable endurance. Isolde was built differently from them, and she channeled that boundless endurance into furthering her talents. Any of the men around them could crush Isolde in a simple arm-wrestling match, but her stamina was a worthwhile strength on its own.

It was an old Kimaran maxim that excellence was not a single act, but rather one's habits. You were what you repeatedly did, and thus Isolde's efforts were what was truly extraordinary: on a world that regularly fine-tuned various traits for success and superiority from birth striving to further oneself with their own strength of will stood out. Cordelia admired that Isolde did not squander her talents and coast on mere biological advantages, instead pushing herself to the limits every day.

Of course Isolde knew none of this, having never asked, and so Cordelia continued to let her vocalizations instead soothe the spirits of her fellow passengers as they continued their cautious flight that saw Mitleid avoiding storms that could damage or even outright destroy their reinforced vessel.

Despite having grown up around the other occupants her entire life Isolde lacked much in the way of knowledge about them beyond what was pertinent to their roles and missions. Not only did the introverted nature of their people leave them quiet when they could otherwise speak (Boudica as an exception), so too were the Progena separated by which classes they were in and by gender. Isolde knew little of Cordelia beyond her name, appearance, Schola performance reviews, and voice, but even such scarcity was a reservoir compared to the men aboard the Lighter who she had not seen the faces of since around the time they were half their present age. Photos of them were provided on the files she received to be prepared to lead each new team, but with their armor on and their complete silence they were hard to tell apart at a glance since they shared the same builds and approximate height.

Truthfully, their personal lives, personalities, and more mattered little to Isolde so long as they fulfilled their duties, and that was not even in question: the Commandant had drilled absolute obedience and loyalty into them. With their present directive being to protect Isolde she was confidant that they would kill any and all threats posed to her, no matter the personal risk to their own life or status, which was both reassuring as well as chilling: it felt like being a form of nobility that Isolde had not been raised as, instead having had to earn her place amongst her peers with no strings pulled just because she was the Commandant's daughter. If anything she had to endure a greater level of scrutiny, but ever since she entered into the public eye that scrutiny had morphed into her present situation.

Life at the Schola was merciless to all its Progena, but while the physical tests imposed upon its female population were strenuous and pushed them to their limits they paled in comparison to those faced by their male counterparts. In part accounting for their differing physical attributes and also Kimara's historic status as a Death World, the divergence came not only from the degree of the activities engaged in by students but also the fact that whereas female Progena like Isolde would on occasion be given lessons on childrearing to offset Kimara's tendency to kill its citizens the young men would instead be undergoing further military drills.

Said drills would range from environmental to tactical, honing their individual talents all while further institutionalizing the unquestioning nature of their people when it came to orders and objectives. If they were bid by the Commandant to trek through some of Kimara's harshest environments for weeks without aid then they would do so, as to display or harbor disobedience was to invite failure: the old model of Kimaran leadership was born of meritocracy where those in positions of power held their station due to their abilities, and so going against the commands of your literal better was antithetical to their way of thought and life. This fostered efficiency when applied properly as well as extreme disaster when incompetence entered into the echelons of command, thus speaking to Kimara's prior success and current decay where willful incompetence was on full display by the Conomor regime.

In contrast the male Progena reported to the Commandant who valued their lives as well as their success, and so they performed admirably as his personal elite force clad in the Schola's top gear. While not so notable as to be dragged to higher positions within the Imperium's hierarchy the Commandant did possess a near spotless record of service, and his tenure as Commandant was commendable in that each graduate was performing at a level beyond those beforehand. Whereas prior only the top members would be considered for the honor of joining the Mithril Dragoons now every Iceborn among them qualified for that long-since abolished organization, earning their predecessors' wargear and being utilized to train newer recruits and serving as the Schola's personal security force.

It was no easy feat to be passed as a member of the Kimaran Krakens, the name given to the various branches of Kimaran military forces be they planetary guard, Imperial Guard, or Tempestus Scions, but the Mithril Dragoons were the scalpel to the Krakens' hammer: they were the ones who stood beside the last Sovereign of the Jarn family as they fought off unending hordes of Imperial soldiers, facing off against elite infiltrators and assassins to the bitter end so fervently that the Conomors immediately ordered their disbandment following the coup. The forces loyal to the Conomors at the time had suffered such losses that the regime had to rely heavily on Imperial support in the opening years of their leadership to keep control, likely delaying their machinations due to the Imperial oversight at the time.

During the rioting which resulted in the Commandant declaring independence from the Conomor regime hundreds of pseudo-Mithril Dragoons had been deployed to quell those inciting mayhem and upending the law, and the annihilation faced by the local Wostyn garrison was a reminder of what the royal guard of Kimara carried out a century prior. For the Commandant they would do anything and when tasked with bringing law back to their streets they spared no quarter, using their Trivium Hotshot Volley lasguns they carved a bloody path across the Fortress City in formation. Their Mithril carapace armor deflected retaliatory fire, resulting in a wholly one-sided slaughter boasting no casualties on one side and thousands on the other, the ill-equipped rioters refusing to stand down as ordered and being cut down instead.

The faceless soldiers gunning down murderers, arsonists, and rapists were spun by the Conomor's media agents as being heartless monsters shooting upon a protest against the unlawful actions of the Commandant's daughter who had resisted arrest, but even the cowed Kimaran population was not swayed when they saw the footage. Law and order was bred into them for ten-thousand years to the degree that crime had been a rarity on their planet, and while manipulated the footage could not hide completely the uncivil behavior of the Wostyn garrison. Footage of Isolde's conflict that accompanied the Commandant's speech also helped show objectively she had only engaged in self-defense against soldiers who had abandoned her to die and then attempted to forcibly detain her, further alleviating public opinion on the 'Mithril Dragoons' who had been deployed and the issue was soon after dropped, allowing them to continue operation without Conomor interference.

Tränen, Ärger, Mitleid, Frieden, Glaube, Zweifel, Kleiner, Vogel, and Mauer...Isolde would have to see how they performed in this mission, for given its importance she would like to see them receive credit for its success upon its completion should it be warranted. Just because she was the squad leader did not mean any victory was hers alone, it would be theirs as well as was only fair for those who would be risking their lives to trespass upon Kimara's dangerous wastelands.

Isolde continued to listen to Cordelia's voice as they passed through some particularly rough winds, her eyes noticing through the front of the Lighter a valley well known to locals: Reuenthal, the Valley of Regrets, where the Iron Warriors who had once protected Kimara had traveled through to gather at the Fortress City they utilized for their last stand against the Imperial Fists led by Rogal Dorn. Isolde was not particularly sentimental, but the deep chasm between landmasses was one she paid respect to given its geographical qualities allowed for their movements to remain undetected by the approaching Imperial Fists. In secrecy the Iron Warriors were able to gather and then travel to their final resting place where their sacrifice would earn Kimara's survival for years to come, even if it came at the cost of a member of the Jarn family as well who took the blame for their kin.

Unlike certain Imperial Worlds it was expected of nobility on Kimara to engage in Noblesse Oblige, to use the privileges granted to them to serve those less fortunate than themselves, and this was forever codified in their culture when one of their ruling family members took the alleged sins of their entire people unto themself to spare others of punishment. Their details and memory may have been lost to time and censorship by Imperials who wished to deny Kimara a martyr, but the act itself was one that served as an example to all regardless along with the deaths of the Iron Warriors and mortal soldiers who fell alongside them.

It had been suggested by the Conomors in recent years that the valley be demolished with the firepower afforded by the Fortress Cities surrounding it, further removing the planet's past from living memory, though for reasons unexplained such a proposal was never carried out. With sufficient bombardment with their cannons they could flatten the area entirely, so it was not a matter of possibility but rather it must have gone against some unspoken agenda, and so the Valley of Regret remained. In seeing it from an aerial perspective Isolde noted that the landmark was a fairly effective manner of moving troops unseen even after all these years, especially if headed towards the new capital of Kimara from the Commandant's occupied territory.

Another maxim of Kimara was to kill those who were evil or criminal immediately, a practice no longer enforced evenly by the present regime, but one which Isolde had internalized from her first memories regardless. Their deserving enemies ought be exterminated, but for now they had to be careful so that such an act could come to pass. Until each one was dead her sense of justice would be left unsatisfied, for to abide such wickedness was taxing on the blunt, direct nature Isolde possessed like many of her kind. The vile were to be slain, the just and fair to be honored, and anything else was to allow corruption and moral degradation into oblivion.

On the surface their administrators exuded incompetence born of intended benevolence, but below sat the strings of visionary malice. The lower echelons of the Conomor regime were expendable mercenaries and Imperial citizens who possessed substandard capabilities at best, and were woefully inept and counterproductive at worst...all the better to divert attention away from the ones who put them into those very positions by culling the worst among them to restore public faith. When one dug into the weeds it was obvious that they cared not at all for the true victims but rather their own criminal ilk.

A purely corrupt and decadent organization would have collapsed under its own incompetence over the past century, but as sinister as their intentions were the higher ups knew precisely how to maintain a status quo of misery and suffering all without lighting the flames of revolution. They had demoralized Kimara's citizens bit by bit, stripped them of their national pride, defaced their statues, outlawed native holidays and celebrations while instituting Imperial ones, and allowed for the dregs of Wostyn to brutalize innocents without facing justice...but it was not done in a single night. Rather it was a slow march spanning a century that had done it, with the conscription of half the population all at once etching it into stone for all to see.

Once free of the worst of the storms surrounding their region Mitleid brought the Lighter up towards the stratosphere, climbing in altitude with the same caution that he had displayed in navigating the weather conditions previously. This shift wrought Isolde from her contemplations and caused her to check on Bo, who was safely strapped in as he sat between her and Boudica, and noticed that he had grown comfortable with the paranoid Progena's presence despite her rambling. Boudica had remained quiet so as to not interrupt Cordelia, and Isolde realized that it was partly because Boudica had become self-aware about the presence of their bodyguards.

As a side-effect of her typical anxious state of being Boudica would clam up around strangers, at least when she wasn't too distracted by her tangents to notice them at all, and so she was absolutely silent for the remainder of the flight to the Ehernfürst. This silence when combined with Bo's comfort around her would cause an unexpected wrinkle in their mission plans upon their arrival to the Commandant's vessel, for the non-Kimarans would end up mistaking the armored Boudica for Isolde when she was the first female member of the team to depart the Lighter purely by coincidence of where she had been seated.

The welcoming party possessed Kimarans and former Schola staff in it who were aware even at a glance which of the armored figures was Isolde, but as befitting their nature as Kimarans their greetings were silent salutes and organized rows of soldiers who stood at attention on either side of the landing ramp all the way to the hangar's exit. At the front were the Imperial officials who were oblivious about Isolde's exact dimensions that identified her even compared to the similar Cordelia and overall smaller Boudica: Verita was busy at the bridge organizing the general affair and so it was clueless bureaucrats granted the privilege of welcoming the representative of an accomplished Commandant.

This being the case, Boudica's emergence from the Lighter, before Cordelia and Isolde, while flanking their bodyguards was incorrectly determined to be a sign of prestige, of the highest ranked of the three female staff being flanked by her compatriots and aides. Isolde was expected to bring her pet Ixolotl with her, and there an Ixolotl was trailing after this woman, so of course it was Isolde in the minds of the Imperials who were ignorant to the fact that Bo was just running a few steps ahead of his owner instead of behind her.

Such a simple misunderstanding could be easily fixed if not for the fact that Isolde's group did not want to draw attention to the fact that they were about to pass Cordelia off as a body double, and thus did not seek to correct them mistaking Boudica for Isolde in turn. Boudica had just been volunteered to be the body double by coincidence, and since Isolde did not question it or reveal herself neither did the rows and rows of naval crew present: they were to follow orders and follow the lead of their superiors, not question them, and that was their regimental strength (as well as flaw) as Kimarans. 'Isolde' was now Isolde, while the actual Isolde was treated as just another member of her team.

Boudica for her part was simply too nervous to inform them that they were wrong, and so the very same paranoia that made her so talkative earlier saw her entirely silent as they went through the motions of meeting with the staff and joining the meetings taking place to discuss the alleged Coryza threat. Cordelia now was a liability should the question of Boudica's height come up, as instead of being a very close physical double to Isolde she would tower over Boudica, and so Isolde decided to help the illusion they were selling by reassigning her to partake in their actual mission.

Cordelia's records indicated she had a talent for hacking and infiltration anyways, useful skills when entering a base that possessed critical resources, and so she could prove useful on the ground instead of serving as a lingering threat to someone noticing 'Isolde' was not in fact Isolde. As Isolde contemplated this alteration of their mission plans her attention was briefly caught by the Tetrarch lander beside their Lighter, the massive vessel belonging to Verita now that she had inherited the belongings of her Inquisitorial predecessor, and it possessed various modifications ranging from an enhanced sensor suite and external recording equipment to improved armor plating to survive the harshness of Kimara's atmosphere. It fit Verita's nature, and while its large carrying capacity was mostly wasted on transporting only the Inquisitor and her Deathwatch retinue it would afford them the option to transport a small army or tools of war should the occasion call for it.

Beyond her noticing the customized craft Isolde was naturally drawn to the sight of rows upon rows of fellow Kimarans greeting them as if they were royalty, though she figured she was just reading too much into it: the Commandant was an important political figure many looked to these days as a figurehead, representing them both in the public eye and beyond, and that prestige was merely being bestowed upon her (or rather Boudica mistaken as her) in his place. Kimara was not typically one for formality, but it seemed that in the presence of outside Imperials such ceremony was called for with the Commandant's status. In her perspective this degree of formality was wasted upon her as just one of many Imperial servants, but at least it showed proper respect to her father's station.

Even to outsiders the scene might be mistaken as a royal procession with the formality displayed in their formation, a sign of Kimaran pride Isolde was certain since if they were going to bother going through these motions then they would do so efficiently and without any flaws that might blemish their record. While not as skilled at such displays as the famously dressed and drilled Mordian regiments, the Kimarans present would do anything but their best in the face of outsiders.

Notably absent within the procession of military personnel were the members of the Deathwatch that were to lead the taskforce to nullify the Coryza before their rapidly growing numbers could pose a threat to the region, though this was to be expected: they were an alleged neutral entity who had no direct ties to either the Conomor faction or the Commandant's, working with whatever local authority allowed them to operate as necessary and not paying attention to local politics. Despite this the Conomors had maneuvered to remove the previous members of the Deathwatch who they could not control and had subsequently ingratiated themselves to Torian's group, using them to root out alleged corruption and dangerous elements on Kimara. They remained neutral by all outside appearances, but the Astartes served as the eyes and ears of the Conomors through that neutrality.

It had been reports from Torian himself as the Watch Master that had implicated the previous Inquisitor as a seditious element, leading to his elimination and replacement by his youngest acolyte Verita through Torian's Inquisitorial connections. The idea had been planted in the minds of the top officials of the regime that a young teen with little in the way of experience would pose little threat to them, as well as be easily manipulated and misled, so Torian had on their behalf installed Verita as the replacement to her mentor. Her actions were limited and scrutinized thanks to the previous Inquisitor's alleged activities, but Verita still carried the power of an Inquisitor on paper and so acted in her authority as a 'pawn' to the Conomors now.

Of course that was exactly what the Commandant's faction had intended, sacrificing the compromised Inquisitor whose investigation into the Conomors had gone too deep to maintain the power balance and rising an agent of their own in return. Outright conflict would be suicide for them at the moment and the Conomors had grown frightened by the Inquisitor's activities rightfully or not, and so now it was Verita thrown into the fire to fulfill duties well beyond her years. Isolde held no doubts in her friend's abilities despite the nepotism involved, as rather than a rapid promotion of an untalented fool who needed outside interference to rise in the ranks it put a capable mind in the exact position of authority that would let her talents flourish in time.

That the Conomors had seemingly every action and investigation of the young Inquisitor reported directly to them by the Deathwatch entourage Verita now took with her constantly only sweetened the arrangement, as it kept them satisfied by the truth fed to them of Verita's work and so they remained a step ahead of any damning reporting and discoveries...as well as ignorant to the actual work Verita was doing beneath the surface, laying the ground work for future operations to be led against the Planetary Governor and his ilk. It was Verita's own idea to disguise their activities in a shroud of truth rather than fiction, citing that the best lies had a grain of truth to them, and so by feeding truth itself to their enemies they could lure them into an even deeper sense of security than they might otherwise.

Isolde did not know what relation there was between Torian and her father, but the fact that the leader of the local Deathwatch was willing to deceive their enemies on their behalf was telling of his true allegiances. As a former Imperial Fist it was quite uncharacteristic given their (in)famous forthright natures, though Isolde figured that if they had been recruiting from Wostyn for thousands of years then perhaps some of its culturally underhanded ways now permeated through the ranks of Dorn's sons.

Serve's them right. May you rot from within like the world you trampled, Fists.

They might be fellow servants of the Emperor of Mankind, but Isolde held no love for the Astartes who crushed her forefathers and forced them onto the path to their present circumstances. That Torian was willing to assist them did not absolve the rest of Dorn's progeny, nor did it make up for the years they allegedly looked after Kimara and instead allowed it to waste away under crushing tithes meant to shackle them and break their spirit. That the alleged tyrants of iron had been greater rulers for Kimara than the self-absorbed Imperial Fists was not lost on her even as her years of Schola training saw her disgusted by the Iron Warriors who fell to the Ruinous Powers.

Perhaps Torian and his Astartes would prove useful for more than misdirection down the road, but for now it was a comfort to Isolde that Verita had trained Astartes looking after her. Isolde might be fighting on the frontlines in the rising conflicts while Dairine undertook dangerous missions outside of everyday notice, but it was Verita who now had the most attention paid to her as an Inquisitor overseeing investigations into the discrepancies and issues unearthed upon Kimara. She had entered a den of vipers, and Isolde did not envy her for a moment despite the dangers she faced as well.

Not long after the group's initial greetings their Lighter departed again, on-paper to return to their Fortress City while 'Isolde' stayed to deliberate with the myriad of staff gathered, with only those tied to the Schola any the wiser as to the fact Isolde had in fact departed. Isolde's team had to adapt to the misconceptions of others, but the situation had been handled as well as the socially awkward team members could.

In her seat Isolde found herself reviewing the data granted to her by the Commandant to further prepare herself for their mission, though as she combed through the information she found her attention shift to a trinket held in her bag. Palming it, Isolde shot her gaze down at the blue orb that once belonged to her grandmother, its surface smooth and welcoming to touch even with her gloves in the way. Having stolen it, Isolde was careful to keep it from prying eyes typically, otherwise she would proudly wear it as a necklace for all to see. Family meant everything to her, and while she did not know her grandmother she valued her role in her father's upbringing given how fondly he remembered her.

Drawing Isolde from her thoughts was Cordelia once again who began another tune to soothe her peers as they began their descent to Kimara, a daunting proposition given its volatile weather, but all the more reason to grant them reprieve from worrying about things outside their control.

They were to recover the most notable of Kimara's artifacts, Laegjarn's Chest, and in doing so spark the revolution they had trained their entire lives for.

Unfortunately for Isolde's team, however, Kimara itself would soon stand in their way.


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(Continued below)
 
"Košava: Rise of the Monarch" (Part 2)

Thunderscourge

Emulating Kill em All Tomino in all Games
Blurred vision and an askew helmet greeted Isolde as she returned to semi-consciousness, not having blacked out entirely but coming quite close in the moments prior. Pain radiated throughout her body, in particular her back and side where a combination of freshly fallen snow, her armor, and then her body absorbed the impact of colliding with the ground.

It was another moment before Isolde managed to begin moving, at which point she realized that she snow she had been violently hurled into was not only beneath her, but entirely surrounding her prone form. Her helmet was still out of its proper place and so limited her now functional vision, yet it did not prevent her from the sensation of soft snow around her limbs and above her.

Not only had she seemingly fallen into a snowbank, it was a deep one seemingly formed by the very storm she could faintly recall witnessing prior to this predicament. The snow had softened her landing, but with the weight of her armor Isolde had sank deep within and could scarcely tell how far from the surface she now lay. It was restrictive when it came to moving, but not entirely immobilizing, and so as Isolde continued to gather her bearings she forced her helmet back in place to resolve one of her immediate concerns.

Once her helmet was properly situated it fed her the basic data she needed to begin forcing her way out of the snow, rising to her feet through the pain and immediate daze of the Lighter's impact with the ground. Her sensors were unable to pick up on much, but she knew she had not fallen that far from the crash from what her scattered thoughts could recall. It was in so many pieces now that Isolde had been ejected at great velocity and crashed through some its debris to end up in the snow, but it could have been worse: she was still in one piece more or less, and while her body continued to ache it could be ignored in favor of the required actions to ensure survival.

When free of the snowbank that sloped downwards with the natural landscape to meet an icy lake Isolde was greeted by the same violent storm that tore their vessel from the sky. The main fuselage of the Lighter could be barely noticed amidst the winds and snow blown about, but from its angle Isolde gathered that it was partially penetrating the thick ice beneath her feet now. Immediate collapse was unlikely, but it imposed a possible further complication that she kept in mind as she trudged through the winds as well as the snow stacking at her feet, intent on fully grasping her situation and that of her team.

As she drew closer Isolde was met by bittersweet confirmation as to what happened, briefly inspecting the frame of the Lighter and pairing it with what happened moments earlier when the storm erupted. The winds of Košava had come to greet them when they approached the region they meant to search, and they had upheld their title as Kimara's harshest. Isolde knew their Lighter had not been sabotaged given that it received Boudica's paranoid attention prior to first taking off, and none of the Imperials had even touched it in their brief time aboard the Battleship, so all that remained was Human error and nature to account for: Kimara truly was just that harsh to live upon.

Avoiding the storm had become impossible upon re-entry to Kimara, and there was nothing Mitleid could have done to prevent the crash when both of the Lighter's engines cut out simultaneously, the storm having taken a turn for the worst all at once. The blizzard damaged them further and further while the shuttle itself was made a plaything of the volatile gusts, a once simple flight becoming a rapid descent straight to the ground and ice below. Their sensors had been destroyed by the hailstones crashing against their increasingly exposed systems, thus leaving the team utterly blind thanks to the 'whiteout' conditions depriving them of any visual capabilities.

Without the Light's reinforced hull there would have been no chance at any of them surviving the crash, but even then Isolde was doubtful as to her companions' conditions given the nature of the crash. Even with their Mithril carapace armor they were Humans inside of it, so the velocity of the crash, the Lighter's violent evisceration on impact, and the violent elements still surrounding them all did not speak to a high likelihood of survival.

Isolde had been out of her seat trying to coordinate with Mitleid once the storm hit, and while she had tried bracing herself it had not prevented her ejection from the crash. In one sense it had been a blessing, as she did not endure the full crash the others must have as the Lighter tore apart around them, but that was circumstance rather than any form of intention: had she been tossed directly onto the ice itself her injuries would be far more severe than what she ultimately received. On another planet the expectation would be that even her current injuries were worthy of immediate hospitalization, but they were acceptable by Kimaran standards and even more so by Isolde's own brand of durability. She was built differently, that had been obvious for some time now and proven by Mahla, but that inherent toughness only allowed her to push onward rather than absolve her of wounds all the same.

A few others had been thrown or dislodged from the Lighter as well during the crash Isolde soon found, though they had not been displaced nearly as far: she first encountered Vogel's body slumped over such that it was obvious he had broken his neck upon impact and then limply been unable to restrain himself from being thrown out of the Lighter as it continued to crash and come to a stop. The immobile body of Mauer lay against a large piece of the Lighter's fragmented form, impaled entirely through the torso by the sheet of metal as the massive force of the impact forced it into places his armor could not protect. As capable as their armor was of protecting them against projectiles and most weapons, a vehicle's violent destruction could cause more damage than any mere mortal could hope to, something even Astartes would succumb to on the battlefield on occasion as their Rhino transports and Land Raiders broke under enemy fire.

Tränen had undergone a similar fate Isolde observed as she finally fought through the gales to reach the Lighter's aft-section, its rear door entirely missing as its remaining fuselage was similarly coming undone now that its structural integrity was shattered. Unlike Mauer it was a structural beam of the fuselage that now pierced Tränen's abdomen, its angle having brought it through a minor gap meant to facilitate movement around the shoulder and then forced itself through his torso. To the man's credit he was not slain outright and could be seen attempting to remove himself from the beam: what further damage it might cause him to be removed would be lesser than being pinned down to the Lighter in the middle of this tempest.

Isolde knew that Tränen was unable to be saved from a glance and so passed by his struggle to live without a second glance, instead entering the Lighter to see if any of the others had been more fortunate rather than risk the lives of any actual survivors on the hopes of helping a doomed man. The gruesome fate of Kleiner met Isolde next, or rather what remained of him since whatever had become of his lower body was not evident amidst the wreckage but it was not for the faint of heart. If there was anything to be grateful for it was unlikely he had been alive for the entire evisceration, but that was a small mercy to be found within a greater tragedy.

By some miracle Cordelia appeared relatively unscathed, though relatively played a large role in Isolde's initial determination of her status: Cordelia was unconscious in her seat where her full harness remained intact, and outside of an obvious wound to her leg was wholly intact. It appeared from the nearby body of Frieden that he had attempted to shield her from the chaos of the crash, and he knew he had been successful if the peaceful look on his now vacant face behind a broken visor meant anything. Isolde could not tell entirely what further injuries Cordelia might have sustained, but she was very likely to survive if she were to be removed from their present circumstances, and so Isolde left her for the moment to finish checking on the others.

Unfortunately, Ärger across from Cordelia was her opposite in condition, having been crushed by the twisting metal of the Lighter's now unrecognizable form. He had seemingly tried to assist Frieden in aiding the others, though unlike Frieden who found peace in his last moments there was an eternal look of fury on Ärger. He had not been successful in saving all the others from their fates despite using himself as their shield, and so as he rapidly bled out he died likely believing he failed not only his fellow Tempestus Scions, but Isolde and thus the Commandant as well given her disappearance during the crash.

A Scion who Isolde believed was Glaube, uncertainty creeping in given the status of his corpse, lay partially through an opening in the Lighter with the gaping hole caused by the crash large enough that it appeared Zweifel next to him had been dislodged from the craft entirely after Isolde had been. Where Zweifel had gone was impossible to tell since the Lighter had not immediately come to a stop when they struck the ground, and the opening led into the imperceptible white of the storm raging around them. Zweifel's survival was possible, but it was doubtful, and finding him would take hours if he was unconscious, during which he would perish. While heartless from an outsider's perspective Isolde wrote him off immediately, unable to justify the risk to herself and Cordelia on behalf of someone who very well could already be dead.

While last to be seen by Isolde their pilot Mitleid had likely been the first casualty, shrapnel dislodging from the cockpit around him and impaling him from numerous angles. Despite this his corpse's relative position and the position of his hands were such that he continued trying to salvage their situation until the last possible moment, ignoring the metal in his jugular and vitals to instead fulfill his duty. They may have crashed, but it was not his fault as a pilot, merely being a cruel twist of fate wrought by Kimara itself. The Commandant had warned them of such conditions, but the volatility of Kimara's weather made planning around them an uncertain thing.

Mitleid's compassion for his crew and dedication to his task at hand would likely be recognized by the Schola should they ever learn of it, but right now even that was an uncertain prospect. The instruments surrounding Mitleid were even worse off than when Isolde had been speaking with him prior to the crash, now beyond any form of usefulness and repair, and so the Lighter would be worthless when it came to communication with their allies. That Isolde was supposed to be in orbit meant calling for aid would reveal their deception and cause their faction further issues, so even if she could call out for help Isolde was uncertain if she should: she would rather die than compromise her father's ambitions.

After Isolde finished investigating the conditions of her team she set her sights on acquiring whatever supplies could be salvaged from the wreckage. An extended period of time could perhaps reveal more scattered in the direct surroundings of the crash site, with bags and containers having been dislodged just like passengers had been, but such careful investigation was a luxury Isolde could ill afford. Each moment it felt as if the ice beneath the Lighter grew the smallest bit closer to shattering, and while in some circumstances staying with the vessel would aid in being rescued Isolde was unwilling to follow it to the depths of the water they now stood atop.

Looting the corpses of her dead companions was harsh, but they carried on them various tools and pieces that could aid in surviving the wilds of Kimara, especially in the middle of a storm. From the debris and what she could find Isolde fashioned a makeshift sled she could pull with a harness fastened to the torso of her armor, a necessity if she was to bring the wounded Cordelia with her. Isolde stocked the sled with scraps of food, containers of purified water, what limited climbing gear she could find, a functioning backup power supply for her armor, Kimaran survival tools such a single sleeping bag that could shelter its user from even the harshest cold and weather, and miscellaneous objects such as the identification tags of her fallen allies.

For self-defense Isolde had her personal shotgun that had fortunately been secured to the craft when they crashed and thus easy to recover, Cordelia's pistol that her companion would not be needing for the foreseeable future and was fitted similarly to Isolde's own, and then Isolde's own pistol that she had reflexively held in a death grip during the crash only to realize afterwards its presence in her palm. Years of wielding it as an extension of herself in training had allowed her to not only keep hold of it like a Kraken would prey ensnared by its tentacles, but also not even notice until some of the numbness and shock she had been inflicted with wore off. Extra ammunition was difficult to locate with the wreckage being how it was, but Isolde did manage to obtain a few spare clips that would hopefully be enough.

Cordelia remained unconscious, and while leaving her was certainly an option Isolde did not entertain it for more than a moment. Looking at the small collection of identification tags she could find instilled a fervent desire to see to it that at least one other Progena survived this tragedy. Even if Isolde did not have a personal bond with Cordelia she was still a member of the Schola who Isolde had spent her entire life around. To bring her would be a burden, but to abandon her would be cowardice when there was still a chance for them both to survive.

Mitleid and the others did not deserve such misfortune. They had done nothing wrong, and yet by the sheer harshness of Kimara now they lay dead. As Progena they had lived their entire lives up until now training, obeying orders, and preparing for the time that their talents might be called upon to serve...but now it all meant nothing. It was cruel, without an ounce of mercy displayed by the world they called home, but that was what life on Kimara entailed. While their culture espoused a creed regarding survival of the fittest, it was the simple truth that being in the wrong place at the wrong time could strip away any personal strength and merit one might possess.

Isolde could feel the creaking of the ice beneath the Lighter even as the howl of winter overpowered the noise of the inevitable, hastening Isolde's departure and precluding any further search. The storm was raging harder than it had been when she arrived at the crash site and she did not desire to be lost in the worst of it while at the mercy of the ice beneath her feet, hoping to find firm ground as soon as possible and continue forward until a better opportunity arose from their circumstances.

Through jury-rigging born of years of expertise with survival gear Isolde managed to not only firmly tie Cordelia down to the sled but also cover her in the sleeping bag and rest of the equipment such that Cordelia was fully protected from the elements. Swift first aid had been applied to Cordelia's wounded right shin, though mostly Isolde only set it so that whatever break or injury would be somewhat protected from their coming journey. Isolde had patched her own damage to her armor with bits and pieces of broken equipment from the others, ignoring her body's pain to instead ensure that she would not be left vulnerable to the cold either.

Like a sled-dog Isolde attached the sled and all of the equipment it carried to her harness, thick cords meant for climbing connecting them that would be difficult for even Yormungaros to sever with a bite. The mixture of Kimaran pragmatism and their local Mechanicus being willing to create new equipment for their environment as needed had made certain their winter survival gear was top-notch, though right now Isolde just had to hope that what scraps she could recover would be enough to endure.

Upon her departure Isolde, without a word, casually granted Tränen the Emperor's Peace with a shot to the head to put him out of his suffering. As a Commissar in training she had taken some pride in practicing the accurate and swift execution of a given target using various firearms, typically bolt pistols like the one she now carried, and so there was no pain caused to Tränen in the clinical action, only respite.

It took her a moment to get used to treading forward while pulling a heavy sled behind her by four cables fastened to her armor, but Isolde powered through it as the first of many trials on the journey ahead.

A freak accident and poor weather were not going to be the end of Isolde Kohlenstoff.


__________________________________________________________________________________________________________​


The cold wind fiercely blowing across the landscape easily scattered the freshly fallen snow into an impenetrable mist around Isolde, the remains of the Lighter's crash-landing utterly lost in the blizzard's relentless flurry. Shards of dislodged ice and newly fallen hail struck at Isolde's armor with strength enough to tear into one's flesh if not for the metal encasing her, and even then the constant pelting against her plating began to leave the slightest of marks upon it while the armor's inhabitant was left to suffer through the residual force of the blows.

To simply exist within the blizzard's confines was to endure constant pain, but Isolde refrained from the urge to activate her shielding lest she burn through her limited power supply. Even with a spare power source taken from the fallen it was too great a risk: she was endangered by the ravages of nature like any other, but whereas she could possibly survive through the storm with her own grit and pain tolerance those traits were far less adept at handling a stray Yormungaros where shielding could instead prove vital. With limited resources there was a hierarchy of how they ought to be utilized, and for now Isolde would entrust her life to her personal endurance and that of her armor so that she could be prepared for threats far greater than a torrent of snow and ice.

Isolde clenched her teeth as she braced herself against yet another strong gust that threatened to knock her off her feet if not for her boots being fastened to the ground beneath her, her arms continuing to shield her visor as she waded through the elements. Despite the force against her she pressed forward one step at a time, taking careful steps that saw her feet remaining close to the ground lest she lose her footing to the gales or ice. Each time a foot met the ground she locked the boot in place like the suction of a Kraken to its prey, grateful each and every inch she trudged forward that her ancestors had long since developed gear to handle this unforgiving environment.

Even in the warmth afforded by her armor Isolde could feel the ghastly cold just beyond it that was dangerous enough to strip Astartes of their lives if left unprotected, and despite her efforts to shield her visor (to both protect it and maintain some degree of vision) stray snow blown over it was settling flake by flake. Kimaran helmets were designed to protect their user against snow and the cold in addition to mere physical protection, but this storm was beyond what even its systems could completely compensate for.

Within the worst ravages of the storm the stalwart Kraken still strode forth, Isolde's determination to survive the elements inherited from her ancestors who had settled such a forsaken landscape in spite of the many trials involved. Those who fought to bend nature to their will rather than submit meekly to the inevitable were those whose bloodlines were carried on, and the modern Kimaran were the gene-crafted exemplars of such spirit.

The Kimaran populace carried a chip on their shoulder that saw them isolated from all others in the Imperium, but with none to turn to but their own kin they came to rely on no-one but their own for survival. No other world would even notice or care when the day came that the Kimaran people were gone, but, in defiance of that fact, across thousands of years the sons and daughters of Kimara honed themselves to overcome not only their Death World, but any who might dare tread upon it. Such isolation was their ultimate strength and their greatest flaw, driving them to further heights as failure would mean absolute defeat where no savior would be found.

Within the flurry snow traces of dirt were sprinkled that had mixed into it as it blew across the arctic landscape, leaving Isolde's outfit coated in a degree of filth she would otherwise never accept upon her form. Right now though that ascetic pride Kimarans were known for had to be cast aside in favor of pragmatism, ignoring her skin's crawling to instead focus on forging a path and clearing her vision. Beneath her faceless helmet Isolde was fighting to see through her visor, clearing what debris she could from the outside as she simultaneously shielded her face from the elements while continuing to trudge along the arctic wasteland for her sole directive of surviving.

Typically Isolde would defer to her father's authority and instruction, for even if she was confident in her own skills she knew that the Commandant had gone through far more than she had in her relative youth. She followed orders and did as told without asking questions, just like her fellow Kimarans: the difference lay in the masters they served. To Isolde it was her father, who embodied the Kimaran spirit as it once was, while most were subservient to the Conomors who exhausted every opportunity to break their cultural pride and unity.

Even decisions Isolde had made on her own previously had been done in accordance to her father's teachings, for just as he took the lives of three mercenaries trespassing upon the Schola and harming its residents so too did she mete out justice to those who she was capable of punishing. Traitors and heretics were animals to be purged, those deemed evil or criminal were to be slain immediately, insubordination was an unforgivable sin, and so in her loyalty to the Commandant's brand of the Imperium and Kimara she fulfilled her intended purpose as an extension of his will.

Such sentiment was meaningless now however, as beyond the simple maxim of 'survive' there was little for Isolde to draw upon: no immediate objectives provided for her, no communication to higher authority to draw orders from, and while she had trained in the field that preparation only afforded her the fighting chance she now could leverage against otherwise certain death. Had she been ignorant and sheltered she would have stumbled and fallen as countless other souls had on these very fields of snow. She was on her own now without a squad to command and coordinate with, thus invalidating the leadership experience she had cultivated in her training, and the unconscious form of Cordelia only complicated matters by furthering the strain Isolde had to endure.

After hours Isolde escaped the worst of the blizzard, but that did not mean she was free of its grip entirely. Further flurries of snowfall continued to strike at her as she took a moment just to pause and reorient herself amidst it all, allowing a thin sheet of powder to build up by the time her breath returned to a stable level and her muscles enjoyed a minor reprieve. As tempting as it was to remain still for even longer, Isolde grit her teeth and continued forth the moment she felt her endurance could bear it, lest the comfort afforded lull her exhausted body into an eternal slumber atop the snow.

The discomfort actually helped to drive her further, keeping her alert even as her senses remained relatively muted by the elements surrounding her. More than the snow itself the wind posed a threat by almost forcing her back for every step Isolde took forward, howling winds tearing at her armor with enough force that if it wasn't made for these very conditions it may have been damaged. Such gusts tossed and turned the sled behind Isolde, forcing her to steady it time and time again during her travel, but her effective job at fastening it kept anything from breaking free...so far at least. Such fortune was a small condolence to the misfortune of being thrust into the circumstance in the first place, but there was no room for such consideration when action was called for.

Larger chunks of ice were occasionally hurled her way from where they had been ripped off the ground, shattering upon Isolde's armor brutally as she bore it all without an ounce of self-pity: the crash may have been the fault of no individual, but there would be no-one to blame but herself if she fell now. She had been the one to decide to carry Cordelia, she had decided to not wait by the crash site, and in doing so now stood within this blizzard, so she would carry them both out of it or perish within by her own failings.

It may have been her prideful dignity or her egotistic hubris, but Isolde was convinced her planned steps had carried her forward thus far without error: if she had gone off to one direction or another her fate would have already been sealed, an end all too common on Kimara for those forced to endure its wastes without proper training or equipment. More so than any manmade fortifications it was these savage conditions that stripped invading forces of the cohesion and capability to fight. With artillery to slow advances and thick walls and sturdy shields to keep retaliatory strikes from dealing damage, it was nigh impossible to lay siege to Kimara and each passing moment was another for its nature to lay claim to intruders.

Throughout her youth Isolde had seen countless reports of men being lost in the abyss of white, only to have sneered at them given the victims were almost unanimously the Wostyn mercenaries she had come to loathe. Due to such prior failures it remained a distinct possibility that she could salvage gear from some fallen traveler, but it was doubtful that their equipment would have survived the ravages of time. On some worlds scavenging from the dead would be considered dishonorable or otherwise uncouth, but upon a Death World it was a simple fact of life. The disgrace of taking from a corpse would always come second to survival, and a moral compass was no substitute for an actual compass looted from a corpse in such circumstances.

Left utterly invisible to the world, everything around her was as visually distinct as a room at nightfall, Isolde actually felt an affirmation of pride well upon within her chest as the wind began dying down. She was clear of the worst of the blizzard now even if she remained somewhat blinded, having kept going through conditions that would have felled an off-worlder more likely than not, and in doing so she felt a connection to her ancestors she often overlooked. It might be one of the first challenges she would face before returning to safety, and was no doubt far from the last, but in a moment of such vulnerability and pain the Human desire for solace rose from beneath her cool façade.

Isolde had to take some form of comfort if she was to keep her spirits high for what remained of her journey, and why not be satisfied with the same accomplishment her ancestors had pioneered? The gusts around her still twisted like a wicked storm, yet even so they were gentler, as if they were but a breeze compared to the tempest Isolde had forced herself through. Cordelia had remained in tow along with the sled, and with that confirmed Isolde set forth once again with newfound invigoration born of stubborn pride that she intended to repay with analogous performance.

The cold wind continued blowing strong enough to force someone off their feet, but Isolde's mag-boots proved resilient despite their heavy usage and continued to allow her a foothold even on otherwise unstable or slippery terrain. While not a complete white-out the storm still seemed as if it had no end in sight, that it would consume all in its path and allow no escape.

In that way it could perhaps be compared to the all-consuming nature of the Conomors who had ravaged Kimara to their own ends piece by piece for the past century, slowly corrupting all of its virtues and strengths into tools of its own damnation the way water could erode a mountain given time. It was no easy task felling the institutions and customs built over millennia, but they were on the cusp of succeeding all the same with no end in sight to their perverse whims. Millions of lives had been ruined, as had whatever dreams they once held, but so long as they survived perhaps the day would come that they would emerge from it all: forever scarred, but alive in spite of it all.

Adversity bred true strength, that was why the Kimarans took such pride in their world, and why Isolde was certain they could overcome even a blight like the Conomors. From this they could be forged into an even stronger world, one which would never bow again, and the desire to see that future helped grant her the will to continue forward even as exhaustion began to seep into her body step by step, hour by hour. The Commandant had tasked Isolde with finding the tools to rebuild their world's true monarchs, to restore the order that its people craved for a century now, and that sense of purpose kept a fire in her spirit even as the storm beat it down to embers. Physical endurance meant nothing if it did not have the willpower to match it, and Isolde possessed a reservoir of both that she bolstered every day by pushing her limits in training.

Now was the time to call upon a lifetime of training and hope that it could overcome the savagery of an uncaring world that eclipsed even the barbarism of Wostyn enforcers.

Faintly Isolde could make out the form of a mountain in the distance, but whether it was her mind playing tricks on her or a true landmark to set her sights on was something she would learn only by reaching it. With a goal in mind she made certain her harness was still fastened tightly and that the sled was secure, Cordelia still unconscious and still which made it easier than if she were moving around within the equipment. Perhaps an unnoticed breach had cost Cordelia her life already and Isolde was carrying dead weight, but to stop and check now would be to kill the momentum Isolde had acquired to this point. She had to keep going, for in rest lay an eternal tomb forgotten and forever lost amidst the snow.

Isolde's size afforded her greater strength than one might expect of even a gene-crafted woman, though much of that potential lay in pure bodily endurance that let her outlast even Dairine in their drills even if she could not match her raw power. Had Isolde not possessed superhuman endurance the task of dragging equipment and Cordelia all this way would have been unthinkable, but that was why Kimara dabbled in such practices as gene-crafting to begin with: they might sacrifice certain traits like agility or the fellowship expected of typical Human beings, but they were hyper-focused on others that allowed them to live through what others could not.

It was not easy fighting through even the remnants of the fading storm, not by any measure, but Isolde bore the brunt of its constant assault again and again to make that next agonizing step forward. She was not immune to the cold, even if Kimarans were more resilient to it than those of other Imperial worlds. Even though her somewhat patchwork armor mostly contained her relative warmth and kept her from quickly freezing to death it could not wholly protect Isolde from it.

Time became meaningless to Isolde, only movement mattered, and so she did not know how long it took to reach the distant mountain she witnessed but eventually she could just barely make it out a few feet before her. Finally taking a moment to pause and clear her visor properly, Isolde felt her heavy breathing before it became evident by the large puff of cold air she exhaled before her. The temperature was cold enough to slay Astartes and so Isolde quickly finished clearing her helmet to place it back on her head, making certain to not have her long hair get in the way of her vision, and used its now cleaner status to look around and see just what she had arrived at.

With what little Isolde could gather from her surroundings the mountain, or perhaps mountain range, before her was as desolate as the tundra she had traversed. There were no immediate traces of civilization, and little in the way of forestry that one could expect now and again dotting Kimara's surface. Just like its people had learned to endure the endless winter, so too had the flora and fauna of Kimara. Greeting Isolde's arrival at the mountain's edge was not a military base or remnants of a depleted mine, but rather the cold wind that she could feel traces of through her damaged armor.

There was no telling how far this terrain went on for in any direction except that from which she traveled, and while in an ideal situation she would be able to scout out the optimal method to traverse the mountain that was not an option. Each moment spent looking for a solution instead of acting was a moment wasted, and so Isolde in spite of herself retrieved her climbing gear from the sled and approached the best-looking patch of the nearby mountain to surmount. It would be difficult to climb under her current conditions, but what choice did she have? Reaching the top of the mountain could allow her to get a lay of the land and figure out where she was, thus providing a path to survival. Climbing with the sled dangling beneath her would be even more difficult, but Cordelia remained unconscious and the Schola's training had included carrying the weight of others beneath you as you climbed so this was just going to be a realization of the work they did all these years.

It was agony for Isolde each inch she gained upwards, but fortunately the specialized gauntlets she had with her functioned just like her boots and allowed Isolde to 'lock' her hands to the mountain. The strain and effort it took to carry herself upwards along with dragging the sled behind and beneath her was worse than anything yet on her journey, but occasional sections of the mountain let Isolde catch her breath and walk along slopes instead of climb. Isolde could feel blood form from wounds caused by the harness digging into her armor and her armor thus digging into her, but to expel the weight now would be to condemn Cordelia and their supplies to oblivion, so Isolde fought through that sensation just as she did all of the pain preceding it. Like the Iron Warrior she witnessed training in those videos she grew up on this would not end until she gave in, so the tears in her eyes and blood streaming beneath her armor were mere afterthoughts.

In some ways the endeavor was akin to the trials prospective Astartes were supposed to endure on other worlds such as Fenris, accepting only the peak of the Human form to become the Emperor's Angels of Death. Such thoughts were far from Isolde's mind though as she struggled to lift her hand above her, a sudden gale making the already difficult feat all that much more complicated. When Isolde went to lock her hand to a secure spot above her the wind forced her hand instead to brush past its intended position and swipe at nothing, leaving Isolde only held up by one hand and forcing her to cling with all her might as the wind buffeted her torso and half-tore her off the mountain.

With a growl of pain Isolde forced her arm that blew away in the wind back to where it was meant to lock, though by this point she felt the placement of her boots beginning to give way as the ice and earth beneath them was disturbed by the rapid winds. In desperation Isolde shifted her position laterally to where she had been moments before in an attempt to avoid its imminent collapse, though she could not properly lock onto her new spot before her previous one crumbled away. Snow shifted on the mountain as part of its edge tumbled down into the white oblivion beneath Isolde, and so a small avalanche crashed down upon her as Isolde fought to keep her body from falling along with it.

As quickly as it had turned severe the wind died down to its previous state, Isolde just barely clinging on to where she had slipped down to on the cliff-face. She was secured now and could continue her climb, but progress had been lost and now she would have to try even harder with her strained muscles to reclaim it.

About halfway what Isolde estimated to be up the mountain she found a small chuckle rising in her chest as she clung to the side of a sheer cliff, having had no other way up from the part of the mountain she reached and not able to see the top of this section either. Just how did she come to be stranded halfway up the side of a cliff like this? Was it a form of insanity to keep going in spite of it all? It would be so much easier to just give in and collapse, for the fall alone would end her suffering right now. All it would take was one moment of weakness and the suffering would end.

In spite of that and her own natural desire for the pain to stop Isolde forced her arm upwards to the next position to lock her equipment to, almost thankful to the pain for keeping her conscious all this time in spite of her exhaustion. Power did not get her this far or allow her to climb up this high, it was resilience, and even for Isolde that had its limits. Where they would give out on her was an unknown at this point, but she felt her spirit rise back up as she realized the absurdity of how hard she was fighting against fate just to eke out another moment of survival. Alas, this was all she knew, and so she had to keep going even if it was absurd to do so.

Right now she was not Isolde Kohlenstoff, daughter of Commandant Eisen Kohlenstoff, she was just a survivor of Kimara. Identity mattered nothing to the storm, nature, and the mountain before her, and so it was as a faceless daughter of Kimara that she reached the next plateau of the mountain.

Weakly rising above the edge, Isolde pulled herself up first and then dragged the sled up behind her so that it would no longer threaten to drag her off the cliff. Once it too was secured Isolde realized that the storm now was light enough for her to see more than a few feet in every direction, as she could now see off to the side lay a cavern that through its positioning was mostly shielded from snowfall. Perhaps she had passed others on the way up and just been unable to see them, but this was the first she was conscious of.

Most of the climb had been through gradually walking upwards upon sloped pieces of the mountain that were not so steep as to require climbing, but the climbing had worn down the remains of Isolde's strength all the same. For that reason she seized the opportunity presented to rest and stumbled into the cave's relative sanctuary, its size not so large as to have served as a Torice's dwelling or even a pack of Ixolotls, but enough to grant the two Progena shelter for the night.

The storm had done much to mask the passage of time, but the blue of Kimara's moon shone down upon the terrain just enough to signal that night had fallen. Isolde had traveled for the entire day and only now could begin allowing herself to wind down, securing the mouth of the cave with some of her salvaged gear to seal them off and then finally falling down to collapse upon the sled she had spent all this time protecting. Not only did it carry on it another person, but it had all the gear and equipment they had to survive for what might be weeks, so Isolde clung to it in her moment of exhaustion like her life depended on it.

It took minutes for Isolde's breathing to return to anything resembling normal, during which she continued to almost shield the sled with her body despite the lack of imminent threat to its wellbeing. Once she could afford to Isolde began setting up a campsite for them, lacking the means to properly heat the cave save for the sleeping bag she used to protect Cordelia. It was able to fit them both and was designed to ward off the elements completely by forming a nigh-perfect seal. So long as the fairly resilient material was not breached one could survive within it indefinitely, forming their salvation for the night.

To her relief Isolde noticed that Cordelia was in fact breathing still, having survived the journey by combination of fortune and Isolde's struggles these past hours. Isolde had endured the storm, but she was far from unscathed. Bruises and cuts marred her body beneath her armor, some caused by debris which struck her during the blizzard while others were born from climbing. Her armor had mitigated enough of the damage she faced to prevent any one part of her from being critically injured, but further exertion before she could recover would see her soaring number of wounds re-open or worsen.

The interior of the cave was frigid, but it was nothing compared to the outside temperatures especially when wind-chill was accounted for. For this reason Isolde was able to shed her armor briefly to take stock of her injuries and tend to them in a limited capacity, stripping down entirely to disinfect the wounds which had formed on her shoulders from dragging the sled all this way. The cold air nipped at her harshly, but she had felt the cold for hours now and so was fairly numbed to its bite.

Worst among Isolde's injuries was damage to her right shin, not being completely broken like Cordelia's appeared to be but on the verge of it if damaged further. Sore shoulders and a sore back could be ignored even with abrasions and possibly pulled muscles, but if Isolde's leg gave out then she would be mostly immobilized in one of Kimara's most dangerous regions while none knew to come rescue her. So long as it did not worsen she could power through the pain though, and her armor had acted like a makeshift splint until now which is why it had not bothered her as much, having been lost in the sea of her various aches and pains after the crash landing.

Vasoconstriction, hypothermia, frostbite, hypoglycemia...Isolde ran over various issues faced in these conditions and found that while she was in fact feeling cold and numb that would hint at vasoconstriction she did not yet feel the grip of hypothermia upon her, nor did her body display signs of frostbite. For that she thanked her ancestors who genetically selected for resilience to cold-weather environments, though Isolde knew it came with the drawback of severe issues faced on worlds such as Wostyn where the heat could outright kill her. "Kimarans" who were born on Kimara to Imperial off-worlder parents or who lacked a full Kimaran bloodline suffered the vast majority of complications related to the cold amongst the local population, while the Wostyn mercenaries were as intolerant of the cold as Kimarans were the heat and so hid from it at every opportunity.

Once Isolde finished minor first aid on herself she suited back up, only lacking her helmet so she could consume some of their provisions. She needed the energy their food could provide her if she was to continue leading them out of this freak accident, and she had grown dehydrated from her efforts so far despite being surrounded by various forms of water all along.

Perhaps it was the state of her body, but what nourishment she consumed seemed to have no taste despite Isolde's ravenous hunger. Never before had she been pushed to these extremes, and so she was still getting used to the immense pains now needling her body all over. Had she not been too distracted by her pain she would have likely contemplated the fact that she had demonstrated abilities far beyond even typical Kimaran gene-crafting, but such implications were lost on her for the time being.

Isolde made sure that Cordelia was secure in the sleeping bag before donning her helmet again and leaving the small cave, making certain to re-seal it upon her exit to ensure Cordelia would not be buried when she returned. While she had only rested for at most half an hour it was enough for Isolde to justify heading out again, now no longer weighed down and thus able to continue climbing much easier than before and with less consideration. By reaching the top of the mountain, or at least a higher section of it, she could hopefully scout out the nearby area and plan their next steps. Once that was done Isolde was intent on wrapping herself in the relative warmth of the sleeping bag and crashing for as long as her body required to rest, but first she needed to have the peace of mind that there was a plan to act upon tomorrow.

With that, Isolde began to climb once again, memorizing the details that would allow her to return to the cave and braving herself for the next leg of her journey.


__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

(Continued Below)
 
"Košava: Rise of the Monarch" (Part 3)

Thunderscourge

Emulating Kill em All Tomino in all Games
Lacking the weight of Cordelia, her armor, the sled, and the equipment Isolde had gathered made climbing the rest of the mountain relatively simple despite incurring a continued toll upon Isolde's body. When she finally did reach the top it was with severe exhaustion as she collapsed down once again, her breathing like that of someone who had just run a marathon for the first time in their life.

The pride of having succeeded fed Isolde just enough strength to rise up after a few moments of laying face-first in the snow, first lifting her torso up using her arms like she was doing a push-up, then continuing to a kneeling position on one knee...at which point the other gave out and she fell back down upon both knees and hands, gasping for breath as her body revealed its exhaustion.

From there it took Isolde another minute of gathering her breath and strength to even raise her head, at which point she was stunned not by her injuries but by what she saw: beyond the mountain in the sky above was a beautiful aurora that had been obscured to her until now.

In spite of her own lack of spirituality Isolde could not help but feel something as she stared from the mountain's peak towards the aurora left in the storm's wake. The vibrant display before her eyes brought out the natural beauty of Kimara in full, pulling on the hearts of any who might gaze upon such brilliance firsthand. With its utterly fiendish conditions it was all too easy to forget that Kimara had once drawn settlers to it, moments such as this no doubt helping build the bond between its fledgling members and the world they would call home.

Despite its brutality, Kimara was not resented by its inhabitants but rather celebrated and proudly conquered by those who could see the beauty past the endless toil. It was little wonder that such a world had drawn in the Iron Warriors during the Great Crusade whose members would later call the brutal world of Olympia their home, as if it spoke to their own duality as seekers of Utopia and as a Legion made to break all which stood before them.

Just as the young boy named Trahaearn once was reborn upon these very wastes, so too did Isolde feel like she found some degree of purpose and calling as she, for the first time in her life, truly took the time to just bask in the glory of her homeworld. Even with her body beaten to the bones just moments before by the very same elements she now gazed upon it added rather than detracted to her appreciation, knowing she could only now witness such streaks of beautiful light across the sky because she held the grit and determination required to survive what came before.

Isolde could have considered the light of the aurora a sign of some sort or a blessing of the Emperor of Mankind, but instead once the awe of its visage died down she used it for practical purposes: the light it shed around it in the darkness alongside the moon gave her a relatively decent lay of the land surrounding the mountain. Through cross-referencing the visual data with what she had studied before the mission and during her time at the Schola it was possible for Isolde to locate herself within the region, as well as then map out where she would have to travel using the data granted by the Commandant to most likely locate the cache she had been assigned to secure.

Someone more poetic than Isolde would say that Kimara itself was leading her to her objective with the direction in which the aurora faced, but there were only so many relative directions and so it was bound to happen that such dancing lights might point in the same way as Isolde would have to journey anyways.

To descend the mountain and return to the cave would require more strength than Isolde had when she finished planning a traveling route for them that would mostly shield them from the wind and cold, so Isolde decided to linger and continue viewing the aurora above until her body could withstand the journey. She found that she did enjoy the sight despite never having sought out such a thing before, just as she enjoyed looking at the dresses and clothing a woman might have worn in years past that she could not partake in with Kimara's current status. Simply admiring beauty was something lost upon her spartan upbringing, and while she did not regret her years at the Schola neither did she regret having this moment to bask in the beauty of her world.

Eventually the beautiful lights of the aurora faded away into the night sky, and with them so too did Isolde's rest come to end. It was easier for her to descend than climb, even just sliding down some parts of the mountain on her return trip, but she maintained a degree of care to make certain she did not fall to her death after having survived so much.

When she returned to the cave Isolde found Cordelia awake, though only sitting up against the wall as she struggled to reach for their supplies to better treat her leg.

Noticing Isolde, and having figured out what had roughly happened since she had been rendered unconscious, Cordelia weakly bowed her head to her team leader, "I'm sorry..."

Isolde saw no reason for Cordelia to apologize, even though she did understand why the other Progena was doing so: if Isolde had simply left her behind then it would have been far easier for her, and yet Isolde carried her all this way to wherever they had ended up just to save an injured comrade. To Isolde the lack of need for apology came from how it was her decision to save Cordelia despite the difficulties incurred, and so any issues she ran into as a result were her own fault, not Cordelia's.

Seeing Cordelia strain herself to reach for what little first-aid materials remained prompted Isolde to bring them to the injured girl who so resembled her superficially, though Isolde doubted that Cordelia could have journeyed all this way carrying Isolde had the positions been reversed just as Isolde was certain her singing voice would never match Cordelia's.

"Take it easy. You are in no condition to be moving around," Isolde chided out of concern.

Cordelia gave a nod of thanks as Isolde passed their supplies to her, noticing the way Isolde favored one of her legs as she approached, "Even our injuries seem to match."

Isolde simply nodded, not particularly caring that by chance they had both received injuries to the same leg which only deepened their superficial similarities.

While Cordelia treated her own wounds she hummed the tune to the song she had sung while aboard the Lighter, it seemingly being a favorite of hers. Isolde used the opportunity presented to have Cordelia tend to wounds she could not reach while she returned the favor, neither particularly experts at medical treatment but accomplishing what they could with what they had. With Isolde undressed Cordelia made a comment about how once their armor was off it was impossible to mistake one for the other, quipping that it must have been difficult for Isolde to see where she was stepping throughout her trek through the snowy wasteland they crashed upon.

Truthfully Isolde had not even pondered the fact she could not properly look down and see where her feet were stepping because she had not been able to do so for years, years in which she had been training in the field and needed to intuit where to place her feet without seeing past her bosom. It was just second-nature to her now to know where and how to step despite a lack of vision, and while some like Mahla considered Isolde's chest an unnecessary burden she instead took pride in her appearance. Kimarans had selected for beauty because they wanted to be better than others, and if Isolde could maintain her superiority in various regards while having a supposed handicap then she felt all the better for it.

That their ancestors had also selected for traits that nullified resulting back pain (for unnecessary pain was unnecessary) as well as sagging (a counterintuitive feature to the desire of beauty) went unsaid by Isolde, though Cordelia did allude to the former with how she commented about Isolde's poor bra. The custom garment had born some of the brunt of Isolde's journey given her harness bore down on where it carried over her shoulders, damaging it even beneath her armor by the exerted force, as shown with Isolde undressing briefly to have her cuts and bruises taken care of. It was evident that Isolde's marble skin wound take some time to heal, but Cordelia noticed that it seemed to have already begun mending itself to how she recalled Isolde appearing when dressing for missions.

Why or how that was flew over Cordelia's head, with Isolde's subordinate chalking it up to her leader's gene-crafting that everyone was sure Isolde was the result of. One did not simply by chance create a seven-foot tall woman with lithe muscles, curves beyond even Kimaran standards, and a capable mind beyond those possessed by her well-equipped peers. To Cordelia it was as if someone had tried to create the idealized Kimaran form to create a symbol rather than a mere mortal, but she kept that to herself as she knew Isolde would be annoyed by such pondering. Still, Cordelia could not help but feel that any child Isolde might one day have would be well primed to conquer the sector if not the galaxy itself given the stock it would be coming from.

Both Cordelia and Isolde coordinated to further improve the dressing of Cordelia's lower leg, though in doing so some blood poured out and coated the bandages that currently lay across Cordelia that were meant to wrap around the injury. Ruining the bandage before it was even used caused Cordelia to scoff, noticing that at the moment the way they covered her legs made it seem as if she was wearing a dress rather than pants.

"Too bad red isn't my color. It almost looks like a skirt."

"A rarity now even among so-called fashionista's," Isolde coldly commented, her tone an indication as to what she thought of how Kimaran culture had shifted even in their lifetime.

"Generations past wore them all the time," Cordelia noted wistfully, "Long of course, it would be immodest to dress otherwise. Now such normalcy is an invitation to predation. Before we took over city KO-35, Eisengard, I couldn't even sing lest it attract the wrong attention..."

Isolde finished cleaning and dressing Cordelia's leg injury again, it being easier now that she had taken time to rest a bit and that Cordelia was awake, though the fracture piercing the skin would mean Cordelia would need true medical care sooner rather than later. Now done tending to Cordelia, Isolde set aside the remainder of their medical supplies in a weatherproof bag and promptly set about placing herself in her half of the sleeping bag with her back turned to Cordelia. From her body language it was obvious Isolde was perturbed even further by the fact that they were denied even something as simple as an unmolested trip to the city or the ability to dress in clothes that embraced their femininity rather than downplayed it.

"As Progena, we are no longer people. We are tools to be used, pawns who must fulfill our orders," Isolde spoke resolutely, as it was her true opinion, but a hint remained that she wished for something a bit more than just the life of a soldier, "A 'normal life' is something for others to have."

Cordelia lowered herself down and turned her own back to Isolde, the two now fully wrapped in the sleeping gear that would keep their body heat regulated and prevent the temperatures outside from causing harm.

As skilled and beautiful as Isolde was, it was easy to forget how hard she had to apply herself and the risks she had to take as a daughter of the Commandant. To live only in service and never knowing happiness of one's own was pitiful in a way, as while Cordelia at least had her singing to bring herself comfort Isolde's talents all directly were tied to her role as a soldier and spokesperson for the Commandant when he was unavailable. It was blatant that Isolde loved and respected her father, but the shadow he cast was a difficult one to live up to as a beloved public figure and veteran of many wars for the Imperium.

"I do not envy your position and the weight you carry. Every pawn has its role to play," Cordelia's tone remained wistful, "But even so, it's sad, isn't it?"

"My purpose is to serve. That is all," was the only response Isolde would offer, once again truthful even if she longed for a greater calling. To Isolde it was as if her duty and desires were mismatched puzzle pieces that she could not reconcile, and so duty there was to consider.

Cordelia offered up another alternative born of her respect for her classmate who had risked so much to save her life, "One form of service is to assume the mantle of leadership on behalf of others."

That earned a wry retort from Isolde, who in the process revealed an insecurity Cordelia would not have expected of the Schola's top student, "Your voice is the one that others desire. Mine serves to echo my father's."

"My talent for vocalization is wasted on a daughter of Kimara. In all of our patrols through the city how much have you heard the locals speak? I haven't heard a single word from them, and their spirits being broken can only account for a piece of that."

Cordelia's own reply cut to the truth of the matter, as while she was an accomplished singer it was not as if it would ever truly amount to anything. What husband was there to woo with a sweet melody? Children to lull to a peaceful sleep? Their people were set on a path to oblivion, and what remained of them were hardly the sort to care about frivolities such as music. Those who had shown appreciation for her singing now lay dead, whatever possible connections formed working together shattered by Kimara's ruthless nature.

"Words hold little social currency, especially given the Conomors' sophistry broadcasted day-in and day-out. Actions are what we care about, and now that Kalles is missing there are none at the Schola who doubt your efforts."

"Flattery won't save us."

"No, it won't," Cordelia agreed before saying her last words before resting, "But I have faith that you will: in Regicide even a pawn can rise to become a queen."

Try as she might, Isolde had no response to give.


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The following day was mostly spent recovering for both Isolde and Cordelia, the latter still unable to properly walk yet given the status of her leg while the former was exhausted and injured from the prior day's travel. Any thoughts of going outside were whisked away by the storm returning to its previous state of completely blotting out any form of visibility, and so Isolde used the time she had to prepare a travel route from what she recalled of the terrain and the data the Commandant granted them.

Narrowing down the likely location of the base was easier now that she had seen the area herself and cross-referenced it with the Commandant's information, and while she was not absolutely certain she knew where it was Isolde had at least narrowed it down to a particular region of this area. Kimaran bases were made to withstand the harsh weather, and one that was likely subterranean like the one they sought likely had fared better than Fortress Cities that had to endure much more. The possibility of Yormungaros or other wildlife damaging it in the past century was possible, but it still remained the Progena's best chance at escaping the cold as well as fulfilling their objective.

For Isolde finding a way to call for help and then escaping was a last resort compared to locating the facility and making the deaths of her team worth something. Besides, once they found it getting extracted would likely be easier thanks to whatever technology remained at the base, so carrying on with the mission seemed the best option to both Isolde and Cordelia.

When the storm finally died down they set off along the relatively safe route Isolde planned using the terrain to protect them from the worst of the storm, Isolde once again pulling Cordelia along despite Cordelia's protesting that she wanted to help. They were in less danger now that they knew roughly where they were headed and where they were, so Isolde did not want to let Cordelia injure herself further and die pointlessly on the way.

There were setbacks along the path as Isolde would be blown back off a ledge by a sudden gust of wind, crashing down on the sled and Cordelia at one point, but renewed purpose allowed her to carry forth despite moments such as that. It took a great deal of care and effort, but they were able to avoid the worst of the storm while maintaining their general path forward to where Isolde predicted the base to be.

Almost there.

Surveying and climbing parts of the region Isolde expected the base to be within revealed nothing at first, causing Isolde to doubt herself as she failed to find the facility again and again...but upon reaching the final mountain in the range she had sought out Isolde realized she had found it: traces, however faint and weathered by time, existed of Kimaran architecture by the mouth of a particular cave that likely served once upon a time as an entrance to seal off the inside from inclement weather before the technology broke down.

The inside of the cavern itself was nothing special beside its depth, stretching on for seeming ages with many pathways to embark upon. Without a particular reason to pick one over another, Isolde used her gauntlet to mark the cavern wall at points to show where she had come from as she began to explore it all, sled in tow. It was eerie in a sense to walk into almost complete darkness where around any corner a monster may be laying in wait, but besides the occasional falling icicle or other natural disturbance there was nothing to be heard...at least at first.

What may have been hours into her surveying the area Isolde felt that the path she was on was the right one, as while other parts of the cavern had been caved-in and destroyed over the years this one was well-maintained. It had been some time since anyone would have used it, but if she had a good light source Isolde would be that she could find signs of Kimaran architecture holding up various passes and walls beneath the snow and ice that had trickled into the cavern through various holes above.

There was probably an actual entrance on the other side of the mountain that Isolde was unaware of rather than this hidden path through a decrepit cave, but it was too late to turn back now and so she followed her gut instinct deeper within. She made steady progress despite the darkness thanks to bits of light poking down from the skies above, and so with care she even climbed down a particularly steep edge onto a Y-shaped path with two routes coalescing into one that descended to what appeared to be the final depths of the cave. If she was to find what she was looking for, it would be there.

The path which Isolde stood upon was higher than the other, though exact details of each were difficult to determine on her own...though from the other way she began to see artificial light creep in just as voices began to trickle in as well.

"Ya sure know a good tastin' Mol when ya see one, brother," one voice spoke in a heavy accent of one of Wostyn's many regions.

"Bah, when can we finish dem off and be done wit' it? De're jus' animals, so why we waitin'?" another complained in a voice quite similar to the first, likely being the brother mentioned.

Isolde quietly set about undoing the harness she used for the sled, sensing that a fight might be on the horizon and she could ill afford to be tied down. She needed to scout out who these interlopers were and why they were present, as it was quite curious that Wostyn mercenaries would even stray beyond the comfort of Kimara's Fortress Cities and even more so that they would have ventured this far into Kimara's most unwelcoming territory. Were they hunting for the same thing as her? Were they simply trying to line their pockets with whatever they could scavenge from a region others have ignored?

"More'a us arrive by da day so we'll outnumba' dem soon enouf, right boss-man? I'm itching for a real fight, it's no fun when dey don' fight back," the first voice whined, only for a new voice to respond in turn like a patient paternal figure.

"Be patient, just as our Lord has been all of this time. We are but the chorus for the grand theatre that was set before even your grandparents were born. We each have our role to play for our marvelous audience, and when the time comes you will know nothing but your deepest desires."

Recognition sparked in Isolde's ears for this other voice as she crept closer to the ledge separating where she was in the cave and the voices now echoing throughout its expanse. The Commandant had made sure that she knew of the top threats among the Conomor regime for Isolde's own safety, and from recordings of broadcasts addressed to their soldiers she could recall that this voice belonged to Bludol, one of their top ranking mercenaries who oversaw countless men he personally recruited from their homeworld Wostyn.

Of those he hired there were certain traits that were common, and none of them were positive from the perspective of a Kimaran: almost every one of them to the last were addicted to substances highly illegal on Kimara due to their teratogenic nature yet were freely indulged in on Wostyn in recent decades. The teratogenic effects were evident in many of the recruits with their hideous birth defects that were compounded by the in-breeding common to Wostyn due to the natural consequences of a low-technology desert culture whose population were largely incapable of wider travel and lived in small 'packs' like wolves. As the refuse of Wostyn these soldiers were loyal only to the drugs that gave them nirvana, and Bludol was not only their benefactor but supplier. It was not the kind of loyalty practiced in perpetuity upon Kimara towards their own people, but rather a sick approximation of fealty born of the knowledge that each of these abominations lacked the connections of Bludol to obtain the drugs on their own so they would do whatever he asked of them to receive their chosen poison.

Unlike the high value placed on (Kimaran) life by Kimaran culture that valued survival, these soldiers were even more expendable than other mercenaries since every day more of their ilk were born to Wostyn: the drug trade had grown so endemic that healthy children born to the world were growing scarcer, and due to the corruption surrounding their governance and their various clans the Imperium remained ignorant to the fact that a world dedicated to recruiting Astartes would soon have no aspirants capable of surviving the process. The worldwide apathy towards Wostyn suffering Kimarans possessed and their cultural distaste for the Imperial Fists meant that they were not going to be the ones to mention it, perfectly content letting the Wostyn continue their path of self-destruction out of spite both ancestral and present. Why should they care if an inferior world with inferior Imperial servants collapsed? That would just prove that the Wostyn were unfit to survive in the cutthroat era they all lived in.

That desire for the complete destruction of their neighboring society was shared entirely by the Wostyn however, and right now they were the ones empowered by the current governance of Kimara. While the average Kimaran was fine allowing Wostyn's past century of escalating decadence to tear itself apart, those on Wostyn held onto their own grudges from millennia ago and blamed the Kimarans for all their woes. The Kimarans and Iron Warriors had reduced the barely hospitable desert planet to an even more barren wasteland, and for that they would always be guilty and deserved eradication: that the Kimarans had done so because the Wostyn of the time period were attempting to call the Imperium down upon Kimara to see their independence crushed and world destroyed was lost on the Wostyn of the modern era, only remembering what was done to them and not why. It had been punitive perhaps for the centuries of Wostyn invasion and raiding, but the decision had ultimately been made due to the fact that if one Wostyn vessel escaped to the Imperium then it would doom Kimara before it could entrench itself and regroup with the Jarn fleet.

The fact that the Imperium was notified in the end had led the Kimarans to determine that they had been too lenient and humane in their bombardment of Wostyn, further deepening the ruthless nature of their society towards outsiders even though they lost much of their ability to act upon it when the Imperial Fists conquered them. Any mercy to outsiders was a weakness that had cost them greatly, and so at best outsiders could expect apathy while at worst they were received with total hostility. Kimara had no friends or allies to call upon in a time of need, but neither did they desire such things as such outside reliance was a symbol of weakness.

"Serves dem right, ya know? Dose Mols act like dey're betta' dan us, but now we're da ones in charge!" the second voice responded to Bludol, his brother chiming in right after.

"One'a dem called me a sister-fucka' yesterda', can ya believe dat grox?"

Yes, I can, you depraved beast.

Now able to see them, Isolde instinctively turned her nose up at the creatures beneath her both figuratively, disgusted by the mere sight of their deformities that differed so greatly from the perfection of the Human form that Kimarans tried to exhibit. Suppressing her revulsion, Isolde began to examine their group and rapidly counted around ten with somewhat severe mutations and five who were so severely aberrant that to call them Human would be to disgrace the term. Their bodies were distorted in ways that were inconceivable to a Kimaran, so used to perfection that it was repulsive to witness their extra limbs in random places (some stunted and others wickedly long), bulging and emaciated muscles all over their twisted frames, sickly skin that diverged from the bronze expected of those born to a desert planet, and other mutations that would see them executed should the horror of their existence be witnessed by Imperial authorities. Tendril-like appendages joined their collection of distorted limbs, each and every inch of their forms constantly writhing as if in agonizing pain and torment.

It was somewhat difficult to tell with their malformed bodies, but the less distorted mercenaries were tellingly young to be soldiers. It was not unheard of for the Imperium to employ child soldiers, with even the famous Cadian regiment of the Imperial Guard possessing young boys and girls within their ranks. These soldiers from Wostyn were even younger than Isolde by her approximation, teens at the oldest whose upbringing had forged them into cruel monsters who the term morality held no meaning. Whatever innocent wonder children might possess was channeled into atrocities and war crimes, allowed to indulge in their whims and desires when set loose by their masters.

Heavy footsteps beyond their group implied that another grotesque creature was lagging behind the others, bringing their total count to sixteen members plus Bludol himself who stood proudly at the head of the pack. Unlike the others Bludol was relatively normal in appearance, the veteran soldier's bald head and bulging eyes his most prominent features. His body was clad in a stunning fuchsia colored armor specialized to allow for ease of movement while providing a fair amount of protection, fitting to his body like a second layer of skin and revealing his muscles that bulged almost as much as his eyes.

"Dose cozin-fucka's make babies in test tubes an' laugh at us for being in-breads!" one of the two brothers who flanked right behind Bludol scoffed, offended by the gene-crafting of their neighbors. Both of the boys were thirteen at oldest, but the skins they wore as trophies on their gear spoke to their true nature.

"Dats why dat Mol's skull had'ta be split, nobody disrespects me like dat."

From the path they were on the soldiers would soon reach an intersecting part of the cave that would reveal Isolde's position, and thanks to the ledge she just lowered herself from there was no easy way to go back in time to avoid them as well as protect Cordelia and their supplies. A confrontation was inevitable, so Isolde prepared her shotgun and pistols as quietly as she could on the likely outcome that there would be a firefight. Ideally she would unpack the sled and have Cordelia provide her backup, but the amount of time it would take to release Cordelia from the tightly wrapped sled would be too great, a natural consequence of making certain nothing would break free during their trek through Kimara's wastes.

Deeper in the cave was where Isolde predicted they would locate the hidden facility the Commandant tasked them with discovering, so slaying these soldiers of the Conomors was unnecessary: once they reached the base there would likely be ways to contact aid as well as to wall off the mercenaries. All she had to do was get to the end of the cave before they did, following the natural slope downwards to salvation...but right now they were in the way, and with their numbers just trying to break past them was a major risk. If they could be thinned down perhaps she could exploit an opening, but she had to wait and see how they would act so she could take the appropriate actions in turn.

Bludol's head tilted to the side as his forces reached the intersection ahead of Isolde, the man seeming to possess some degree of superhuman instinct as he picked out Isolde's form within the darkness of the cavern.

"My faith in the mirror has born fruit..." he spoke cryptically to himself as he drew his men's attention to Isolde, who in turn had her shotgun aimed right at them from where she stood twenty paces away. The mutant freaks behind Bludol stood as still as their shaking bodies could manage, waiting on their master to give a command to act lest they upset him and be denied their nirvana later.

"You are the soldier Bludol, correct?" Isolde sought to confirm her knowledge to gauge her circumstances properly, her finger on the trigger of her gun to end the man should the situation warrant it. A direct fight was unlikely to go in her favor given her condition and their superior numbers, the only benefit Isolde having over them being her carapace armor providing far more protection than anything they possessed. How the abominations were not freezing to death was unknown to Isolde, but if she had to guess they were on some form of drug that numbed their reaction to the cold since drugs were their specialty.

Bludol offered a half-bow to Isolde, his voice smarmy and filled with a sense of superiority that contrasted his physical action, "I am honored you know my name, Princess. Lower your weapon, we are allies are we not?"

Princess?

Perhaps Bludol was referring to her higher status born of her relation to the Commandant, or maybe he was just mocking her attitude. Whatever the reason, that Isolde was still seeking information that could inform her of how to handle this group was the only reason she did not pull the trigger at that moment, well aware of how Bludol had been one of the officials who saw to the suffering of her people for longer than she had been alive. Behind the false joviality was the mind of a rabid animal famed for shedding blood in such gruesome displays that few would even dare give details of what they witnessed.

"Negative. What is your purpose for being here?" Isolde kept her gun trained on him as Bludol attempted to take a step forward with his hands raised up like a surrendering combatant.

"You wound me, but I can hardly be surprised given the bad...blood between our causes," the way he lingered on the word blood was telling of his true nature, though he corrected himself upon his next utterance of it, "I would refrain from shooting an ally in cold blood however. I brought my personal battalion with me to comb through these wastes, and I would hate for us to possess a misunderstanding that causes any conflict."

He could be bluffing about possessing an entire battalion, but Isolde felt that he was actually speaking the truth: Bludol was careful in a way that many of his peers were not, and so if he had come to apprehend Isolde who might have a full squad of Schola students with her he would not risk bringing just over a dozen malformed soldiers, he would deploy everyone under his command to ensure success. He was a veteran of the Imperial Guard turned cutthroat mercenary, so he had an actual background in military tactics and deployments shared by the other members of the Sons of the Emperor upper echelons.

It also meant that mere rabble like those before Isolde were not the only soldiers likely to be deployed: true trained veterans like the kind that used their lessers as cannon fodder were likely skulking somewhere nearby, accompanied by many more mutants who would fight and die for them. Bludol's instincts had likely led him to where Isolde was with his own personal retinue, but his other skilled companions would not be too far and he likely was stalling for time.

The information she had gleamed painted quite the picture for Isolde, and was well worth not firing immediately upon the mercenaries: now she knew that she had to act with haste if she were to reclaim Laegjarn's Chest and prevent it from possibly falling into the hands of these animals.

"State your directive: this is your last opportunity."

It was entirely possible that they had no knowledge of what lay deeper within the recesses of the mountain and cave, that they had only been tracking her down, and so Isolde sought to learn if Bludol even was cognizant of why she had come to this location. If he was ignorant to its deeper meaning then it meant she could take the secret to the grave alongside Cordelia if things went poorly, but ideally it would not come to that.

"Very well then, let me show you..." Bludol brought one of his hands down to his armor and retrieved from it something too small for Isolde to properly see, especially as he brought whatever it was to his lips and tilted his head back. Isolde did not trust whatever he was doing and so went to pull her trigger...but such a swift action was not fast enough.

In the time it took to pull a trigger Bludol had closed the gap between them, his purple armor a blur as he eclipsed even the speed of Dairine to reach Isolde. She attempted to react, but by the time she could shift her shotgun Bludol had already passed by her, his sword having crossed her shin and knocked her leg out from under her. The impact forced Isolde to fall to her left leg's knee as pain shot through her right shin, her injury flaring up from the force applied directly to it.

Bludol twisted around behind where Isolde had been brought low, his blade twisting with an eerie grace as it plunged towards her neck. Whether it would have penetrated the thinner plating protecting her neck or not would remain unanswered as the blade instead was diverted at the last moment by Isolde's refractor shield, Isolde unable to turn in time to stop the attack yet could instantaneously control her armor's settings to re-activate its automated defenses.

Isolde turned around even as her right leg crumbled beneath her, aiming her shotgun at where she expected Bludol to be only for her foe to disappear right before she could fire. Bludol's speed was truly beyond what was possible through natural means, and so he had taken the opportunity to fall back and put distance between them now that Isolde's shielding was up. Isolde forced herself upright as she tried tracking where he had gone now, only to notice that he had rejoined his fellow soldiers dozens of feet away nigh instantaneously.

"I noticed your leg was wounded already by how you were standing, so forgive me for taking advantage of it," Bludol spoke in feigned sorrow, his voice dripping with his growing bloodlust as he brought a finger to where his blade had struck Isolde's leg. His bulging eyes contrasted his seeming calm, their intensity all the more apparent now that he had scored first blood.

It was almost casual how Bludol moved aside when a solid slug from Isolde's shotgun flew by, the bullet colliding instead with a member of his entourage who flanked him. The soldier struck no longer possessed a face to scream in pain with, and his position at the back of the pack meant that the others barely noticed his collapse, but Bludol glanced back at their demise with a grin before turning back to Isolde who was now figuring out how to survive the encounter.

"I will admit I was impressed by your televised performance when I first bore witness to its carnage," Bludol appeared to revel in every word as his mind played back the sight of Isolde butchering the soldiers who had tried taking her into custody previously, "The brutality, the raw combat of a cornered beast surrounded by predators, it is something I have seen a thousand times before on the hunt, and never has it lost its appeal."

With a nod he sent his small horde of monsters bounding forth at Isolde, having no care for their lives and fully intent on seeing her torn limb from limb rather than taken alive. Some armed with lasguns fired at Isolde and had their shots stopped by her shielding while others alternated between firing shotguns of their own and advancing. Isolde took cover behind a small rock formation and returned fire, prompting the mutant soldiers to take what cover they could as well within the cave as their gunfire whittled away at Isolde's defenses.

Bludol remained beyond the others, content to study Isolde's fighting pattern and her current condition while waiting for an opening since time favored his forces rather than her, "Others have wanted you alive and have had their own designs to that effect, but their hubris surpasses their ability. We only need you dead, so anything more only serves ancillary agendas and purposes. Such politics and scheming are beyond me, which is why I sent Ferlo to take care of you the last time I had an opportunity."

Isolde remembered listening in on Ferlo and his team as they hunted after Isolde, Verita, Dairine, and Clausura, but she also remembered that something dealt with them before they ever reached the Progena...and it seemed that Bludol had a grudge to settle on that front, as Ferlo had been his most capable subordinate.

"Unfortunately, poor Ferlo never returned. Strange, given that I have seen that man cut through an Astarte in single-combat: his grace with a blade was near unparalleled, especially with the elixirs I gave him. His taste in other matters may have been perverse, but I will not begrudge his predilection for Abhuman Beastman-filth when I have my own desires. That is what unites us, you see, the rapacious need forevermore of our wonton desires."

Unable to reload her shotgun before a mercenary charged her forced Isolde to drop it to her feet and instead fire with her personal pistol, drawing it and blowing the head off of the mutant only two steps out of cover. Blood sprayed as a geyser from where his head had been and coated the light layer of snow within this section of the cavern, though none mourned him as his fellow monsters continued their barrage to overwhelm Isolde through attrition. The deceased mercenary had counted the bullets in her shotgun and sought to charge the moment she was out of ammunition, not accounting for the fact Isolde had inherited her father's penchant for the art of the quickdraw. As the dead man fell Isolde noticed the bandolier of explosives he carried, a death sentence to use in the cavern with how they could collapse everything down which was why he opted to instead close in for melee.

In a sort of twisted glee the two brothers amongst Bludol's retinue laughed madly as they darted out of cover together, their own weapons different from the others in that they held webbers: net-weapons that could immobilize prey that they struck, and which would essentially bypass Isolde's armor by immobilizing her instead of seeking to break through it. Once she was vulnerable the others would be free to attack her without retaliation, so being caught in such a net was a death sentence without someone to free her from it.

Caught off-guard by the exotic weapons employed by the brothers, Isolde only managed to move out of the way of one net entirely as it flew by where she had been a moment before. The other however struck Isolde's arm and while it failed to properly wrap around her body did manage to reveal another feature of the webbers used: they were capable of sending severe currents of electricity throughout the body of their prey, shocking them into submission and slowly killing them unless freed. The sudden jolt into her arm made Isolde gasp in pain, shutting her eyes just a brief moment to cope with the agony inflicted as she shook the net free, though as she opened her eyes she had to quickly duck to avoid Bludol's blade from catching her in the throat.

As he had done before Bludol displayed astonishing speed and did not waste the opportunities and vulnerabilities presented to him, greatly surpassing Isolde and in fact even the Commandant in melee potential while possessing enough raw speed to invalidate any advantage they might possess at range. Despite this Isolde was a full foot taller than the muscular soldier and so he had to arc his blade up to try and behead her, meaning that when he missed he had to twist his blade before he could then bring it back down on Isolde, who in that moment lunged at him and tried to force her shoulder into his face.

Bludol avoided the strike by dancing around Isolde and kicking her in the back to press her towards where his soldiers continued to fire upon her, the brothers gleefully preparing their next nets to fire as Bludol slashed his blade at Isolde's back and struck the metal there directly. Her refractor shield was absorbing copious amounts of gunfire already and so could not also block his melee strikes at that moment, Bludol's reaction time allowing him to not even worry about friendly fire it seemed, though that might also just be the broken pieces of a mind hiding behind a guise of sanity.

Isolde dove to the ground and grabbed the shotgun she left there, rolling out of the way of Bludol's next lunge and fumbling to reload the ammunition. It would be more helpful if she had something other than solid slugs meant for penetrating heavy armor at a distance, but she had to work with what she had and the pistol couldn't really be used to parry a blade: the shotgun could, and so having it in hand could help protect her even if it possessed other issues.

Only able to reload one shell in the time she bought, Isolde twisted around and blocked Bludol's next attack at the last possible moment not by skill but by luck: the motion of lifting the shotgun up as a makeshift shield slightly diverted the sword's path and made it slide across the shotgun's barrel before being caught on a part of the frame. Bludol's greater strength and skill allowed him to wrest the shotgun from out of her hands with his next twist of his sword, then ducking beneath Isolde's fist to slam his sword right into her stomach plating.

Isolde was not incompetent in melee combat given her training at the Schola, but next to Bludol she was a novice against a grand master. There was a reason she had been warned about him in particular, and in confronting him Isolde was pushed each and every moment to just survive to the next.

Another pair of nets being fired forced Isolde to throw herself aside and for Bludol to put some distance between them as well, his agility his defining attribute in battle and thus any chance at losing it unacceptable. He could bide his time though and so darted behind a pillar in the cavern to avoid any reprisal by Isolde's weapons.

"I look forward to cracking your shell and feasting on your entrails as your life drains away, just as when I killed those members of the Deathwatch who were getting too curious some years ago...the new ones are far more amenable to our governance, but the flesh of Astartes was a delicacy that is hard to come by. Kimaran flesh is so cheap these days...but yours, Princess, is all too alluring."

After scrambling for her shotgun in the snow Isolde fired at the pillar to try and pierce it and Bludol behind it, but the moment she pulled the trigger Bludol was already beside her. His blade slashed across Isolde's torso as he passed by her, Isolde's armor protecting her from much of the damage but the impact still re-opening the wounds she carried beneath it. Isolde's temper flared as she coughed blood up into her helmet, fully aware that despite years of training she had nothing on this opponent who had mastered dueling a half century before she was born and had not lost his edge.

It was a testament to the sturdy nature of Kimaran weapons that when Bludol next darted past Isolde and slashed at her hand and weapon that the gun was merely knocked away instead of particularly damaged. Isolde's gauntlet absorbed much of the rest of the damage, though her fingers throbbed from the sudden strike that impacted them. With her other hand Isolde drew her personal firearm and tried to aim at where she expected Bludol to be, only for him to disappear in a flash before her eyes and for her bullet to harmlessly sail into the distance of the cavern. Bludol's associates continued their own barrage on Isolde and broke through what remained of her shielding, having rapidly burned through its power supply with the sheer number of bullets and lasgun shots peppering her.

Isolde tried to turn and catch sight of Bludol, but instead she only felt the movement of Bludol slipping past her again as his blade tore some of the armor off the side of her torso in an upward slash. Mithril armor was incredibly effective at protecting its owner, but at close range it was like any other armor and its natural vulnerabilities could be picked apart by a skilled foe. In this way Isolde found herself forced to endure the impact of various firearms, severely dulled by her armor but forcing her to focus on protecting her vitals rather than retaliating, only to have Bludol use her distracted status to make another pass and damage her thick plating further. This combination continued again and again until much of Isolde's armor was faltering just as her body was beginning to. All the while, Bludol continued to love the sound of his own voice as he picked Isolde's defenses apart, pleasantly surprised by how effective she had been trained at protecting herself even if it would prove fruitless in the end.

"I knew my calling ever since I killed another boy and tasted his flesh so I would not starve upon the barren sand dunes of Wostyn. You Kimarans have forgotten who you are: once you were the hunters but now you are nothing but prey. That was your mistake, and our boon."

One shotgun blast from Bludol's minions caught Isolde in the face, her helmet fulfilling its purpose and stopping the pellets which struck her, though part of its visor cracked from the attack all the same. Briefly stunned by the blow to her head, Isolde opted for a desperate ploy and tackled forward, knocking an unsuspecting Bludol back as he approached for his next strike between volleys from his men. Just as they had studied Isolde, so too had she learned about them during the battle: Bludol struck at moments where his forces were indisposed for one reason or another, and so when they stopped firing for a moment she figured he was moving in for the attack.

Bludol caught a fist to the gut, Isolde's metal gauntlet penetrating his thin armor and causing her to draw a small bit of blood from the skin beneath as he leapt backwards to avoid any follow-up attacks. As he had predicted, Isolde had brought out her spare pistol and fired at where he had been, once again missing not due to personal inaccuracy but because it was nigh impossible to track the movements of someone with such unnatural speed.

Content with the pain she inflicted and curious as to what she would do next, Bludol resumed his previous position at the backline of his forces and laughed as Isolde was driven back to taking cover by further gunfire. Her armor might be meant to endure intense punishment, but even Mithril would reach its limits eventually.

"What a tragedy it will be for the rising young heroine of a generation to have her mutilated corpse broadcast to the world at large, turning your very fame into a pyre to burn any remains of the Kimaran spirit. Your father will no doubt do something rash, as you simpleton Jarns are wont to do, and the cleansing of your bloodline will be complete once and for all. At that moment Kimara will truly be ours, our very own playground in perpetuity as promised by our Lord of Excess."

Damn you infernal wretches...

Isolde could barely comprehend what Bludol was spouting nonsense about. Jarn? Lord of Excess? Them being Chaos adherents like Boudica theorized did make sense, but why would a thrall of Chaos call her by the wrong name? She was no Jarn...

"That very Imperium you dedicated your life towards is what sold you out to us for mere baubles. Grease the right wheels, kill the right person, and you can control entire sectors! Your world is ours, so accept your fate and die already!"

Reloading her weapons, Isolde came to a conclusion about the battle and her circumstances within it: there was only one way out, though it was a risky option that could very well kill her rather than save her. Even so, Bludol's words had cut her as deep as his blade, and with no true alternatives Isolde embraced the only path left for her.

The crack in her visor was severe enough that the inner-workings of the helmet were exposed with the optical sensors on the left side exposed from beneath the surface once shielding them. The once faceless mask was given the appearance of possessing an 'eye' by this damage as pieces of the optic malfunctioned and emitted a blood-red glow that shone outward, as if reflecting the rage of its owner who continued to stand in defiance of her pursuers.

While Kimarans lacked much in the way of superstition and general faith their neighbors were heavily religious, be it to the Emperor or the Ruinous Powers, and so the 'daemonic eye' formed on Isolde's helmet would give some of their ranks pause despite being little more than a technological error caused by their own attacks. To them it seemed as if they had unleashed some greater power they had been aware of and so they recoiled as she finished climbing to her feet, blood dripping from Isolde's mouth as she fought through the pain to gather herself even on a half-broken leg.

Stepping out of her cover, Isolde took a few shots at the closest members of the accursed mercenaries before her to pin them down as she sought a new position. Her shots were wild and inaccurate, but that was irrelevant to Isolde as their only purpose was to buy her time.

"Kimara is the birthright of Kimarans!"

Despite their initial shock and her covering fire the mercenaries soon opened fire again, their own shots as wild as Isolde's as they saw she was on her last legs physically and risking their lives now by leaving their cover was pointless. What they lacked in accuracy they made up for in numbers however, as a lasgun shot caught Isolde in a damaged part of her armor and knocked the wind out of her even though it just barely missed searing her flesh. Collapsing from her wounded leg momentarily, Isolde pounded a hand into the ground as they continued to open fire, their shots still wild as they selfishly refused to expose themselves to any retaliatory fire.

"Damn you all..." Isolde had fallen, but she had reached the point she had been hoping to: in fact being closer to the ground helped her see her target even better given where he lay. Unlike her prior shots, now she took careful aim down at the body of one of the mercenaries she slew earlier, ignoring the bullets pinging off her armor and the lasgun shots striking her as she finished lining up her shot, "All of you whose souls are enthralled by the Archenemy!"

Realizing where Isolde was aiming, Bludol shouted for his men to open fire immediately, but it was too late: Isolde had aimed at the mercenary whose bandolier was lined with a small armory's worth of grenades. As Isolde fired she yelled out what she knew might be her last words, deciding to make them count in case fortune did not favor her.

"Iron in ice!"

Whether it was by Isolde's renowned accuracy at the Schola or by chance, her shot connected with her intended target: one explosive was detonated and caused a chain reaction with the others, their volatile nature a result of the shoddy gear afforded to the rift-raff that new Wostyn mercs were outfitted with. Disposable gear for disposable soldiers, Wostyn favoring quantity over quality as compared to Kimara's quality over quantity approach.

In a single moment the cavern lit up as the pillar the dead mercenary used for cover was blown away along with some of the ceiling above him, prompting snow and the cave itself to collapse down on them all in an avalanche of destruction.


__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

(Continued Below)
 
"Košava: Rise of the Monarch" (Part 4)

Thunderscourge

Emulating Kill em All Tomino in all Games
Isolde had dove on top of the sled and used it to slide down the incline of the path to the very bottom of the cave, though in the process she was left disorientated and stunned by the crashes and impacts along the way. It took her some time to drag herself out of snow that had piled atop her, and longer still to realize that Cordelia had been wrested free of the sled by its crash at the very end and that Cordelia was helping her to her feet.

"Quick thinking...that's why you're the leader," Cordelia spoke quietly as Isolde gathered herself, both of the women struggling with the pain they now were inflicted with. Isolde felt like she should need a long recovery period after this, though she continued to display commendable resilience all-throughout that could implicate her as possessing improved healing qualities beyond the Human norm.

"We need to get moving...I doubt that was the last we'll see of them," Isolde's reply was curt, but she did appreciate Cordelia's faith even if she was uncertain if she was worthy of it.

Fortunately for them Isolde's intuition had been correct: at the end of the cavern after all the twisting paths and passageways lay a mechanical door. More than that, it was a part of a greater structure made out of heavily reinforced metal that seemed capable of surviving orbital bombardment.

They had not stumbled across some random outpost, this was what they had come here for.

Wordlessly Isolde passed the datapad the Commandant gave her from the sled to Cordelia, intent on Cordelia using it to access the panel beside the door and grant them entry. Once they were inside they could lock it behind them and deny the mercenaries pursuit, at least for a time.

True to her training Cordelia managed to get the systems to respond to her inputs, the facility seeming to have its own power generator that allowed it to maintain basic functionality all this time even though no-one was present to manage it.

Isolde could hear voices in the distance, confirming that at least some of Bludol's mercs had survived or that their peers were on their way to reinforce their numbers. Whatever the truth of it, Isolde whispered for Cordelia to hurry, not wanting to give away their position: it was entirely possible that beyond the darkness they could not see through that walls and other obstacles separated this recess of the cave from the rest, and so their voices would help direct their enemies towards where to actually locate them.

It took Cordelia minutes of effort working through the various security systems the facility possessed, but the datapad the Commandant gifted them had within it codes that fed into the system that made it possible for her to accomplish anything at all. Under ideal circumstances they could take their time and access it as they pleased, but time was of the essence and so subverting the security rather than go directly through it was necessary.

That was until she reached the final step and a final security measure refused to be bypassed: nothing Cordelia did to try and get around it mattered, and so she was left curious as to why this part was so absolute that even passcodes could not allow them access.

BIOMETRIC SCAN REQUIRED.

The console's command was very apparent as it extended a small device to withdraw a small quantity of blood from one's hand, likely a measure to test who was trying to enter was who they were supposed to be. Cordelia offered her hand, wincing but not making a noise as it pricked her finger and drew blood to study.

It took the console a moment to consider the blood, during which Isolde prepared their weapons for another fight just in case this took too long. Cordelia kept her eyes glued to the system to see if she had satisfied its demand, though a grimace soon formed across her lips as she read the new text scrolling across it.

ACCESS DENIED.

Once again she tried, just to make certain, but the machine formulated the same response in complete denial of Cordelia.
ACCESS DENIED.

Having heard the commotion of the previous battle but been unable to participate, an idea crossed Cordelia that made sense to her. Isolde was just like anyone else at the Schola in how she was raised...but she wasn't like them. It was amazing that Cordelia could even almost match her in height and physical features, and something that Bludol said gave her a possible indication as to why.

"Isolde, would you mind trying something for me?" Cordelia asked, gesturing for Isolde to approach her and the console.

Isolde had been busy preparing for battle and so was distracted from what Cordelia had been doing, though if her hacker needed her assistance to get in she would offer it. She handed the shotgun over to Cordelia to hold while she removed her gauntlet and put her hand into the device Cordelia offered, though while Isolde's hand was indisposed Cordelia took her pistol back from Isolde and placed it on her own belt where it belonged, placing the datapad on Isolde's belt in its place.

A small drip of blood drawn from her finger did not even faze Isolde at this point, having endured far worse in the preceding days, but she did grow anxious as she continued to hear voices in the distance that seemed to be growing ever closer each time she heard them. For that reason her eyes were averted to the side, attempting to look back when the machine gave a different reading than before.

BLOOD SAMPLE RECOGNIZED: JARN LINEAGE DETERMINED. PROCEEDING SCAN.

Cordelia's suspicion confirmed, she drew Isolde's attention back to the screen. Once Isolde faced the console a soft blue light emitted from it to scan her over slowly, her vitals appearing on the screen as it did so and its systems activated.

Despite what it said Isolde was confused, denying what it said to her outright, "But I'm not..."

Before she could deny the heritage attributed to her the doorway began to open, power slowly feeding back into the system as it was brought to life once more.

"I think I see something!"

The voice belonged to one of the brothers, and their kin responding to them indicated that time was running out. With a sense of peace that contradicted her next action, Cordelia shoved Isolde through the opening of the facility and instantly began reversing its opening. Isolde stumbled thanks to her injured leg as she fell into the hallway beyond, not having expected Cordelia to force her inside or for Cordelia to not enter alongside her.

"Cordelia!"

With a smile Cordelia explained herself as she finished shutting the door just as Isolde attempted to step back out and join her, "I don't have access to the inside panels yet, but they'll activate for you with some time...by then those bastards will have caught up. I have to close the door from out here if you are going to access the rest of the facility and live."

Even from the other side of the door Isolde could hear her classmate speaking, though she could no longer see the face that so resembled her own. Instead Isolde lowered her forehead to the door, intent on at least listening to Cordelia before she no longer could.

"Isolde, don't think this is just because of what that mercenary said...I don't care if you're just another Progena, or what your heritage is: you started with nothing, just like any of us. I know being the Commandant's daughter couldn't have been easy either...I've seen how hard you work, even for someone with your talent. None of us at the Schola are particularly 'normal', just about all of us are gene-crafted to some degree, but you're the one who has made the most of it. That's why I want you to let me do this: my life is as good as forfeit, so at least allow me to give my death meaning. You saved my life, so allow me to save yours."

Cordelia looked down to the shotgun in her hands and sighed as the rapid footsteps of approaching mercenaries grew louder: this was it.

"Jarn or not, you are our people's hope now: give them what they need to lift their heads again in pride rather than wallow in the despair those traitors have cast us in. Dynasties are formed by those who rise above the rest and prove themselves to their fellow man, the strongest among us even if they were not born with a crown atop their head. Maybe that's why you were raised like any of us, a nobody from the outskirts...someone who could one day help realign our fates and steer us away from the edge we find ourselves on. Save Kimara, or everything we've suffered through will have been for nothing."

Once more Isolde was left not knowing what to say, except for two words as she turned around and began to traverse the dark corridor she now found herself within.

"I'm sorry..."

Cornered and alone, Cordelia in spite of her broken leg proved herself a true member of the Schola in moments that none would survive or fully witness when she culled eight of the mercenaries' number.


__________________________________________________________________________________________________________​


Despite her nature and her training Isolde realized partway through her limping through the long corridor she was within that tears had formed upon her face. Whatever they meant, she ignored them to continue forward, knowing that while the soldiers behind her would not likely be able to breach the entrance they would likely realize that there had to be other openings and that it was likely some of them had been left ajar or otherwise broken down from their lack of maintenance. Bludol would find a way inside, and so Isolde was intent on finding something that would allow her to even the odds.

After passing through another security check that repeated what the previous one stated about being a Jarn, Isolde found herself in a room that possessed a purpose she was entirely unaware of with its many computers and instruments. Ignoring it, she traveled further into the facility so many had died for her to reach, frustrated as she tried to make sense of what was what within a location she had never been to before and lacked all of the proper security codes for to access the general database of.

In another room that seemed to be for security purposes Isolde found a terminal that had its prerequisite data-key inserted already, left behind as an afterthought by whomever last used it. While not able to go into all of the systems in the hidden base it did have various files to peruse...only for most of them to be nigh endless recordings of the years which passed by without any activity. Going back through the logs Isolde was able to skip through the recordings of nothing at all happening to instead look at the last day in which the base was utilized...and there she saw something that gave her pause.

A group of people whose appearances were close enough, even by Kimaran standards, to indicate they were family...and who were wearing the official regalia long since outlawed of the Jarn Family. The recording was of their armory and showed them preparing to go hunting for what Isolde presumed were Yormungaros, and largest among them were a man and woman who were no doubt the lord and lady of Kimara. The man possessed a massive physique one could mistake for an Astarte's own if perhaps leaner due to the fact he was no Astarte, indications as to his heritage beyond just his jet black hair and icy blue eyes. He was as the many Trahaearn Jarns who led Kimara were supposed to look, and despite being their final monarch it was evident from a single look at him that it was neither brawn or brain that failed him, rather forces outside of his control conspiring to end a dynasty that had lasted almost as long as the Imperium itself had.

The woman beside him stood out the most to Isolde at first glance though, for she had seen her many times across the years: even wearing the armor Isolde sought to find, Laegjarn's chest, she was recognizable as the woman who the Commandant had as a picture in his personal office...the one he told Isolde was her grandmother yet refused to speak of in detail so many times. The gemstone Isolde carried with her was slotted into the front of Laegjarn's chest in the recording, showing that it was a piece of the armor all along.

Accompanying them were two boys who could not have been older than ten yet were definitely older than eight as evidenced by the juvenile Ixolotls by their side. The boys were nigh indistinguishable from one another, almost twins, with only a scar marring one's cheek being readily separating them, something easily acquired on the Death World known as Kimara and overlooked by most for it was just a fact of life there. Their other characteristics were entirely alike even in how they dressed in the same refined yet restrained clothing of Kimaran nobility, though Isolde did notice that one of them wore the heraldry of the Turner family, the last of whom were among those sent to war years back and never returned.

Rather than twins they were likely cousins who had grown up together, and so the loyal Turner family was allowed to have its scion join the royal family on their hunt. The Jarns personally saw to the eradication of Yormungaros where possible, leading by example as permissible and not outright suicidal. It showed their duty towards their citizens while also allowing them to hone their skills in hunting some of Kimara's most dangerous fauna, and so they continued to command the respect of their loyal servants for so long.

Thanks to the Conomors details of the coup which ousted the Jarn family were scarce and contradictory, propaganda obscuring truth and few firsthand accounts even available after a century had passed. Fortunately for Isolde she possessed a companion who specialized in discerning truth from fiction as well as unburying information others would rather never see the light of day: from simple proximity to Verita Isolde had seen articles and images from the time of the coup, and from them she recognized clearly the scarred cheek of the deceased prince of Kimara.

Or so the Conomors claimed, as the audio of the footage saw the unscarred boy call his Ixolotl by the name of "Olympio", the Ixolotl 'Olym' Isolde knew all too well appearing as a newborn Ixolotl who clung to his owner the way Olym did the Commandant.

Isolde was skeptical of the regime and held deep scorn for their propaganda, but unlike Verita she was not one to chase down conspiracies and rabbit holes of knowledge. Such things fell outside the purview of Isolde's interests except when they intersected with her orders and the duties she was expected to carry out, her discipline seeing every moment she possessed working, training, or recovering from the former two. There was only so much time in the day and so much she was expected to do as the Commandant's daughter that her severe nature did not divert from her purpose: discipline and obedience were as Kimaran traits as their prideful, frigid natures, and Isolde had embodied such things since her earliest memories. In an era of turmoil and constant societal change she was able through the Schola to retain a proper Kimaran upbringing that the Conomors would deny others.

Tearing her eyes from the recording and the uncomfortable truths held within, Isolde used the camera feeds to figure out where the armory was: that was where she would find Laegjarn's Chest and her chance at surviving the battalion that was no doubt going to arrive at her doorstep. It was evident that the Commandant had intended for Isolde to discover what lay within this abandoned Fortress City, but his full intentions would only be revealed should she return alive to ask him. She could figure out the genetic databanks contained in the facility later, first came protecting them.

The armory itself was massive with weapons and armor lining it to provide dozens if not hundreds of Jarns and their relatives the means to fight just about any kind of threat, including artificer Mithril Armor and weapons that put any of the standard equipment at the Schola to shame. This alone would have been worth the journey, but Isolde kept looking to find what could be the salvation of their people with its possession of the data necessary to revive the Jarn lineage: Laegjarn's Chest was front and center among them all once she reached the middle of the armory, its appearance befitting of a Kimaran Queen's personal attire. It possessed enough style to it to mark it as different from other armor, but it was also modest compared to what it could be. Effort was put into refining and securing the armor's functionality to prevent any and all incoming damage to itself and its bearer, and while various attachments and modifications existed on the wall nearby it waiting to be connected it was wholly functional without them.

Despite everything the very idea of being a Jarn gnawed at Isolde's mind, as if something were actively telling and conditioning her to not think of herself as one, but her rational Kimaran nature won out as she approached the armor and sought to release it from the clear casing it was interred within.

Like the systems before it the facility appeared intent on carefully guarding the treasures of the Jarns and so demanded something of Isolde as she stood before it.

SECURITY STEP ONE: INPUT 'ICEBORNE LITANY'.

Just what the 'Iceborne Litany' was puzzled Isolde for a moment, knowing it only as something the Conomors outlawed and that the Commandant had made certain no-one repeated within the Schola to obey the law...but as soon as she began to ponder it the gears in her mind began to turn. Before she knew what she was doing Isolde found herself saying words she did not have any recollection learning in this form, and yet they still spilled from her lips like a faucet had been turned on. Her face lowered down into one palm as her brain panged from the sudden shift occurring within, her hand covering one eye as the words continued to flow like the many litanies possessed by the Imperium...and like the Iron Litany of the Iron Warriors.

"From ice cometh fortitude, a glacier's resolute form,

From fortitude cometh will, to bend fate without reform,

From will cometh trust, unyielding throughout any hailstorm,

From trust cometh fealty, always our oaths we perform,

From fealty cometh ice, service like snow shall transform,

The Iceborne Litany endures, our begotten norm,

As we break fate's chains, we shall weather its eternal storm."


As she spoke Isolde felt as if she could hear her father saying those very words to her countless times, drilling them into her as the creed of the Jarn Family, and by extension all of Kimara. Isolde could feel her father's hand upon hers even though he was absent, looking up into his cerulean blue eyes as he smiled down at her in a way Isolde was unfamiliar with for a decade now. Whereas so often on Kimara there was only frigid acknowledgement now Isolde felt aglow with warmth, peering behind the curtain to see the mask worn by the Commandant for what it was.

She had been taught this, but when? When she was not yet at the Schola? Was that why she possessed no memory of her life at that time? She knew of Astartes undergoing conditioning and certain Imperial Forces as necessary, but this felt more like the conditioning she had read of that the Alpha Legion was known to engage in to plant sleeper agents: that with the correct phrase or utterance an agent could be 'activated' to perform some pre-programmed action, behavior, or even entire personality and allegiance. Rather than overwriting her mind it was as if limitations placed upon it were lifting, the Iceborne Litany that the Commandant must have heard his mother repeat on many occasions having been the chosen trigger for a reason.

Tapestries of history played through Isolde's mind like water through a burst dam, briefly stunning her as she experienced sensory overload and grappled with the knowledge unlocked all at once. Years of lessons about Kimara from the perspective of a Fürstin, not Progena, were joined by seemingly minute and trivial memories that surrounded them like the sea surrounding a Kraken. With them came sensations and feelings that further paralyzed Isolde as she let them wash over her, one moment recalling a mother's touch and the comfort of her bosom, then the moment after what it felt to lay her small head upon her father's shoulder as he carried her from a nondescript room to a nursery.

As quickly as the impressions came so too did they depart, Isolde realizing that for that brief moment she had fallen to her knees and unconsciously supported herself with a hand to prevent her body from hitting the ground. It would take time to sort through everything she had just gone through, recovering years of her life before she had ever been 'conscious' as Isolde Kohlenstoff, but without a mental block in place such recollection would come readily.

Everything had changed, as if a switch had been flipped in Isolde's brain that removed mental roadblocks she had never been aware of until they were absent. Her personality, memory, and everything other part of her core remained the same, while her sense-of-self was what expanded. It was not just that she had not considered herself as such due to not being raised officially as one, but rather that her mind had been conditioned from before she could first remember to not believe herself to be a member of the ruling family.

The reason for this deep level of manipulation was not readily apparent, though Isolde held no contempt for it: it obviously had been done for her own good, be it to prevent her from accidentally letting out crucial information that would see her harmed or for other such similar reasons. The fact that the Conomors had sought to capture her previously made it all the more necessary, and perhaps lacking the ability to see herself as a Jarn would have denied them whatever it is they sought.

Regardless as to the reason, one thing was certain to Isolde now.

Her body was battered from the elements and by battle, her once radiant spiritual flame diminished to mere embers. She was alone now as the last of her team lay dead outside, having died protecting her. Beyond the fortification a horde of enemy combatants gathered one by one as their battalion finished traversing the terrain and arrived at the abandoned Fortress City in numbers impossible to overcome in direct combat.

To fall here, to surrender, would be to commit Kimara's future to oblivion as its people die out. Every struggle, every battle, every sacrifice until now by Isolde, her friends, family, and ancestors would have been for nothing. In her state it was futile to fight, and few would condemn her for succumbing to her wounds after all she had endured, as it would seem as if the gods themselves had deemed Kimara's eradication inevitable.

But fighting the inevitable was a part of what it meant to be Kimaran, and so Isolde stood tall in spite of the intense pain radiating through her body. Even if forces outside her control had chosen the ending, she would forever command her part in the so-called theatre she was cast into.

Now was not the time though for such sentimentality: she had to act lest she join those thoughts as a mere memory, and despite how exhausted she felt and her injuries Isolde found herself upright once more.

The system had been continuing its processes as Isolde struggled with her own mind, and so it gave an affirmative response as it finally finished ensuring that it was not bestowing its precious contents on an unwanted intruder.

ACCESS GRANTED.

The system itself aided in fitting the armor to Isolde after first using mechatendrils to remove the broken pieces of her prior set, the machine acting with precision and grace to ensure that every piece of Laegjarn's Chest was as it should be upon Isolde's form.

It was not a perfect fit given Isolde's differing height and proportions that forced her to get custom-tailored gear in most instances, but the Laegjarn's Chest was made to protect Kimaran Queens who possessed their own Amazonian physiques that made it close enough to Isolde's own form to work. Unlike the occasions Isolde had to deal with standard-issue Imperial gear growing up it was comfortable enough to allow her to intuitively wear the Power Armor...at least as much as she could without its systems active. While technically possible to move it was incredibly difficult to do so without its servos and pieces properly activated, so Isolde began to try and piece together how to get that to occur when the inside of her visor properly activated.

Before Isolde's eyes within her helmet the armor's systems began to activate one after another in a feed that was easy for her to follow out of the corner of her eye.

User confirmation: Processing...

...

...

User (Eileithyia Jarn): Confirmed

Permissions: Granted

Awaiting command input


Isolde's very nature being as blunt as it was meant that she would say the Litany again if she had to, but she would rather just get to finalizing the activation...it recognized her by the name of Eileithyia Jarn, a name she vaguely recalled her father calling her years ago, and so whatever doubts remained in her mind were pushed aside for the time being. She needed it to activate so she could protect the facility around them and prevent anything within from falling to their enemies' hands, so as its new master it ought heed her needs.

"I have no need for anything poetic: I know my purpose, just as you know yours. I am the heir to the Jarn Family, and you are a tool: built to protect not only our lineage, but all of Kimara. To serve those who would carry the burden and weight of a world upon their shoulders. Our purpose aligns, so heed the call of your Fürstin!"

...

...

Laegjarn's Chest heeds the call of Kimara's Fürstin. System locks disengaging.

SYSBOOT: RUN

Processing...

ARMOR BIOS LAEGJARN VER_42.1/ID 1

CREATED BY: [USER NOT FOUND] [DATE NOT FOUND]

LAST MODIFIED BY: [USER NOT FOUND] [DATE NOT FOUND]

Powered Armor System // Generation III-II

LOAD: VISR.HUD.PASSIVE.BIOS.DELTA

AUTH-KEY P7TV.MAHW.VZID.C8LV.TO5Q.ZUR0.7NWD.5RFC.AMGO.OMKP.3HP3.RA96.SRIA.RFAC.JBYK.DPJZ

Diagnostic Test: Processing...

Meteorical System Processes: Online

+ Archeotech (CYCLONE-ICE) Device: Online

++ CYCLONE-ICE Remote Access: Confirmed

++ System Control: Processing...

++ Data Input: Standby (Awaiting Processing Completion)

+++ Previous Input: DOWNBURST (Awaiting Processing Completion)

+ Automated Surface Observing System: Processing...

++ Anemometer Data Telemetry: Loading (3.9537%)

++ Barometric Data Telemetry: Processing...

++ Coriolis Force Telemetry: Processing...

++ Differential Vorticity Advection Telemetry: Processing...

++ Entrainment Data Telemetry: Loading (2.5781%)

++ Stratosphere Data Telemetry: Loading (0.0037%)

++ Troposphere Data Telemetry: Loading (0.0829%)

+++ Additional Data Telemetry Systems: Processing...

Central Processing Unit: Online

+ System Downtime: Calculating Error

++ DATA-LOG ERROR: Downtime > 10 Kimaran cycles

+ Feedback Sensor Array: Operational

+ Haptic System Array: Operational

+ Actuator System Arrays: Online

++ R-ARM-ACT Array: Online

++ L-ARM-ACT Array: Online

++ TOR-ACT Array: Online

++ R-LEG-ACT Array: Online

++ L-LEG-ACT Array: Online

+++ R-ARM-ACT Sub-Array: Online

+++ L-ARM-ACT Sub-Array: Online

+++ TOR-ACT Sub-Array: Online

+++ R-LEG-ACT Sub Array: Online

+++ L-LEG-ACT Sub Array: Online

Conservation Mode: Exited

Power: Restored

Revanche Protocol: Initiated



__________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Bludol had rejoined the other parts of his battalion after finishing their foe off with his team's remaining explosives, utilizing her wounded leg to prevent her from escaping and then blowing away whatever was left in the darkness. Staying in the cavern was pointless since they could not open that peculiar entrance by force nor did they have the tools to hack into it...but it was a hidden back-entrance, which meant there was likely another way in.

With that in mind he used the near one thousand soldiers he brought with him to scour the landscape and locate an entrance, which they did thanks to damage caused previously by a Yormungaros since the base was abandoned. To his surprise Bludol found within the confines of the mountain base a miniature Fortress City with everything one would need to survive indefinitely, though much of it was damaged by time and the elements due to the Yormungaros that had once rested there.

Bludol did not know what he would find within, but if the Kimarans wanted to hide it so badly then he wanted to locate it: it could be wealth, a source of power, or something else of value for him to utilize in the coming days as loyalties shifted and the world was thrown into upheaval. With Isolde gone his lord only needed to slay the Commandant and that Iron Warrior who created the Jarns to realize their plans entirely...no, that was wrong. Isolde was window-dressing for his lord to begin with, something he wished to destroy before the Commandant at just the right moment, but irrelevant to the sacrifices they promised according to his master.

Better for her to be dead before the headstrong bitch got in the way of their plans more than she had.

"We lost contact with team G!"

"Team O is no longer responding!"

Bludol turned to face his soldiers who were in contact with the other teams over vox channels, confused as to what could be causing them issue. Had automated systems wiped out those two squads so fast?

Thinking about the deployment of those two teams into the depths of the fortress, Bludol pieced together that he had assigned them to the two floors below the one he now was on: given their positioning and the mechanical noises of the nearby lift it was likely that whatever killed them was on their way to meet them within the confines of this pseudo-city.

"Whatever it is, it is headed this way! Take positions and load your ammo, this isn't over yet! Contact the others immediately and have them converge on this point!" Bludol barked to the three teams he had on hand, the others spread out across the mountain, cave, and facility.

Pointing to the rising lift meant to raise tanks and other heavy vehicles to the surface from the depths of the base, Bludol continued to order his men.

"Surround the target and open—"

The brothers who had accompanied him thus far on the mission were the first to reach the lift, and so as it arrived they fired their webbers at whomever was arriving...only for their nets to be deflected away harmlessly by an overpowering shield that nearly knocked them off their feet as it activated. While they were stunned for just that brief moment they would never know another: a pointed lance spun and slit both of their throats in one wide sweeping motion. As they fell to the ground choking to death on their own blood their previous cackling was replaced with their killer's voice calling out to the many soldiers taking cover and positions amidst the rubble and remainder of the city beyong.

"Bludol!"

Hearing Isolde's voice shocked Bludol who was so certain that the girl he killed a short while ago was her, but his ears perked up at her voice and his eyes widened at the sight of the armor she wore. It had been weird that she had spent her final moments singing with such a beautiful voice as they fought...

"You're still alive!" laughing to himself, he took a good look over Isolde and found himself excited about the challenge ahead as he recognized her armor and weapon, "Why? Why go this far to fight the inevitable?"

The armor was none other than Laegjarn's Chest, an artifact the Conomors had tried to find but failed all of this time...it was worth more than entire worlds, and here a half-broken girl was presenting it to him. Less valuable but still notable was the Kimaran Herald, a Power Lance used by the monarchy to symbolize their reign thanks to the Kimaran Kraken banner waving from one end like a flag.

"Those boys you cut down were only children, and yet you didn't even hesitate..." Bludol had presumed that there would at least be an ounce of hesitation when in such close quarters that she could see their faces, but Isolde had displayed none at all for her foes: they were the enemy, and so all else was irrelevant, "Prey...predator...no, you are a monster like me. This will be fun. Any last words for your pretty vocal chords?"

Isolde pointed her standard's tip towards Bludol and used the time afforded to her, knowing that Bludol was trying to stall for time yet indulging him all the same. Why she would do so was lost on Bludol who saw her do the opposite earlier, but it wasn't like she had reinforcements coming...the only things here were the broken base, his soldiers, and Kimara's temperamental weather, and his forces would arrive long before a storm would. After all, they controlled the Archeotech that manipulated Kimara's weather and he knew they did not even bother to touch this region beyond surveillance, and the next storm was scheduled hours from now.

"I swore my life to the Imperium. I have kept caged my desires and acted within the bounds of what I could justify by Imperial Law, only cutting down your ranks when it could be 'justified' even as you degraded our people, our society, and our history...maybe I am as you say, but I am as I am meant to be: not just as my progenitors made me, but the product of my environment. I am a daughter of Kimara, and of strife wrought by animals like you. If I am a monster, I am what you made, and for that I have no remorse," Isolde proclaimed as proudly and sincerely as one could, accepting herself instead of horrified by how quickly she cut down two boys even younger than she was.

Lifting her banner high, Isolde continued her proclamation that was as much to herself as it was the soldiers gathered around her with killing intent.

"Yet Eileithyia Jarn made no such oath to a fallen, uncaring empire that has abandoned her people. My fate is my own: I will restore my clan, I will save Kimara, and I will purge it of every monster and blight that infects it. Violence begets violence, spawning a cycle of hatred that continues across eons," she looked across the Wostyn garrison all looking down their sights at her and recalled videos of their ilk on Wostyn itself cheering over recordings of their brutality towards Kimarans, entire crowds cheering to kill the 'Snow Devils' as that region had called them, "But even so, there is no other choice for this to end. This blood-feud between our people only has one outcome. We spared your kind once in spite of all you had done to our kin, and for that magnanimity you have repaid us with nothing but misery. I will not make the same mistake. You and your world seek our eradication to the last woman and child, and nothing done will curb your enmity? I accept your terms, for if you wish to invite extinction upon my kind then you ought expect the very same for yours."

Once again lowering her polearm's tip towards Bludol, Isolde finished her declaration of war that sought to deepen her own resolve.

"There will be none to mourn you. None to remember you. None who would bear arms to avenge you. That is how we end this cycle, and if that makes me a monster so be it. I will stain my hands with your blood and every other Wostyn mongrel if it means protecting my people. I will free Kimara if it kills every last one of us...or, better yet, you."

From behind his soldiers and the cover provided by a broken building Bludol could only scoff at Isolde, shaking his head as he pondered her words that were so alien to a man of Wostyn.

"Hollow words from a doomed girl. That armor you wear is impressive, but behind it is just an ignorant child on their last legs. I will never understand you Kimarans and your foolish notions of kinship...your loyalty to your people will be your death, child, that is what makes you weak and us strong in the end. The only things that matter are those that can be converted into power and pleasure: all else is inconsequential and will weigh you down!"

Isolde shook her head masked by an improved version of the helmets she had worn all her life, inherited from her grandmother and found thanks to the efforts of her father. If not for those like Verita and Dairine she never would have come this far, as well as those who had fallen like Umida and Cordelia.

"I cannot expect someone who has never known true kinship to understand our cause..."

The words were almost wistful, as if pitying Bludol for his sociopathic nature and culture, but as she continued Isolde revealed anything but pity for those she fought.

"But it doesn't matter if you understand it, or whether you will wallow in ignorance: you will die for it all the same!"

In a flash a hidden attachment added by Isolde to the Kimaran Herald fired a grenade forward and destroyed the cover Bludol was hiding behind, forcing him to leap aside to avoid the resulting shrapnel as three of the nearly fifty men he had with him were torn apart. As he climbed to his feet to recover Bludol was nearly knocked off his feet by a sudden gust of wind, the weather above having begun to shift throughout their conversation.

Eileithyia Jarn lived once more.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N: 30,672 words in total. Hopefully that's enough for people to have something to discuss.
 

PsihoKekec

Swashbuckling Accountant
I reckon that with the armour command functions and base backup communication systems, all automated systems are recognising Isolde as the highest authority on the world, giving her access to weather control and possibly also the reactivated orbital defences. So while he was stalling for time to have more soldiers arrive at his position, she was stalling for the force of storm to advance down the corridors. Cold will make it difficult for Wostyns to function and if sufficient snow flurries are brought along with the wind, then visibility could be reduced sufficiently for her to pick the fights on her own terms.
 

ATP

Well-known member
Well,that was fast.Cordelia survive to die nobly - nice,but one sacrifice would be not enough.There should be more survivors to cover Isolde retreat.

Aside from that,good chapter.

P.S @Thunderscourge ,Bludo named her as ally - does it means,that he is aware of fact that Iron Warriors are coming,but think that they serve Chaos,like Wolstyn?

By the way,it is very improbable that Imperial Fists do not saw anything fishy on their own world.
 

Thunderscourge

Emulating Kill em All Tomino in all Games
I reckon that with the armour command functions and base backup communication systems, all automated systems are recognising Isolde as the highest authority on the world, giving her access to weather control and possibly also the reactivated orbital defences. So while he was stalling for time to have more soldiers arrive at his position, she was stalling for the force of storm to advance down the corridors. Cold will make it difficult for Wostyns to function and if sufficient snow flurries are brought along with the wind, then visibility could be reduced sufficiently for her to pick the fights on her own terms.

Very close to the mark!

The cold winds of the region were almost unbearable for even Isolde, who is genetically crafted to endure such an environment...but the soldiers of Wostyn have no such protection and in fact are weaker than average to the cold given their own background.

If Isolde calls down the storm on their location (which has been breached by a Yormungaros at some point and thus vulnerable to the weather) then the soldiers who had gone out of their way to avoid the storms will have to face them head-on. Within minutes they would die from the cold: the title of the two-part update stems from the storm that not only causes the conflict but which Isolde ends up controlling at the very end of it to turn the tides in her favor.

As an added bonus, like great-ancestor like grand-daughter: Isolde opened fire while talking just like Jarn did in the first update to catch foes off-guard. Talking is not a free action, and expecting Jarns to fight fair or honestly is a fool's errand when there are more pragmatic ways to dispose of foes.

Well,that was fast.Cordelia survive to die nobly - nice,but one sacrifice would be not enough.There should be more survivors to cover Isolde retreat.

No.

P.S @Thunderscourge ,Bludo named her as ally - does it means,that he is aware of fact that Iron Warriors are coming,but think that they serve Chaos,like Wolstyn?

He was pretending that they were both servants of Kimara to stall for time, that's it. He was lying.

By the way,it is very improbable that Imperial Fists do not saw anything fishy on their own world.

The Imperial Fists haven't been around for many years and so haven't seen what it has become in that time period. Kimara and Wostyn being on the opposite side of the galaxy that they typically operate means that they visit when possible, not as a regular event.
 

ATP

Well-known member
Very close to the mark!

The cold winds of the region were almost unbearable for even Isolde, who is genetically crafted to endure such an environment...but the soldiers of Wostyn have no such protection and in fact are weaker than average to the cold given their own background.

If Isolde calls down the storm on their location (which has been breached by a Yormungaros at some point and thus vulnerable to the weather) then the soldiers who had gone out of their way to avoid the storms will have to face them head-on. Within minutes they would die from the cold: the title of the two-part update stems from the storm that not only causes the conflict but which Isolde ends up controlling at the very end of it to turn the tides in her favor.

As an added bonus, like great-ancestor like grand-daughter: Isolde opened fire while talking just like Jarn did in the first update to catch foes off-guard. Talking is not a free action, and expecting Jarns to fight fair or honestly is a fool's errand when there are more pragmatic ways to dispose of foes.



No.



He was pretending that they were both servants of Kimara to stall for time, that's it. He was lying.



The Imperial Fists haven't been around for many years and so haven't seen what it has become in that time period. Kimara and Wostyn being on the opposite side of the galaxy that they typically operate means that they visit when possible, not as a regular event.
So,she could now rule weather - against enemies like Wolstyn it is game changer.
I knew,that Bludo was lying - but,could he or his boss suspect,that Kimarans still have contacts with Iron Warriors,and serve another Chaos god?

P.S Cordelia was no Duncan Idaho,so she need few friends to cover her Princess retreat.But- it is your story,so i would not complain about it anymore.
 
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PsihoKekec

Swashbuckling Accountant
It had been reports from Torian himself as the Watch Master that had implicated the previous Inquisitor as a seditious element, leading to his elimination and replacement by his youngest acolyte Verita


Since it is not Inquisition modus operandi to leave associates of known seditious elements alive, I presume this also was just a cover story and the inquisitor is continuing his work on some other world in order not to be associated with fallout of upcoming events of Kimara, leaving Conmors to believe they are playing with much better cards than they actually have.
 
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Thunderscourge

Emulating Kill em All Tomino in all Games
Since it is not Inquisition modus operandi to leave associates of known seditious elements alive, I presume this also was just a cover story and the inquisitor is continuing his work on some other world in order not to be associated with fallout of upcoming events of Kimara, leaving Conmors to believe they are playing with much better cards than they actually have.

The Inquisitor died in a previous update where he was ambushed, nearly costing Verita her life as well, but in the time since then the Conomors have been led to believe Verita was given his place despite being too young and inexperienced to truly live up to the role. They think that they have influence over the Deathwatch forces who have done things to aid them despite being 'neutral', and with them keeping an eye on Verita (who as mentioned got the Inquisitor role through nepotism) they think she's neutralized as a threat.

Put another way, they know Verita is against them given her background, but she is a relative nobody compared to if an outside Inquisitor were to replace the one they had killed. Keep the matter hush-hush, have a puppet Inquisitor who lacks connections/resources to accomplish anything installed, and keep an eye on them to make sure that their investigations never amount to anything.

They think that they don't have to worry about the Inquisition anymore with the info they are being fed and think that Verita's shackled by duties beyond her present capabilities, so they definitely think they are playing with better cards than they are: in reality Asier sacrificed an already compromised Inquisitor to have one of his own followers (Verita) put into a position of power while feeding the Conomors information that makes him appear as an ally all the while not reporting on the actual important things he and Verita are collaborating on. He was the one who pulled strings to have Verita promoted, so it's less that the actual Inquisition is leaving Verita alive and more that everyone involved in the situation is someone under his control.

Conomors are happy they have allies in the Deathwatch, that the nuisance Verita is shackled proverbially, and that the Inquisitor who once posed a threat to them is gone. The truth is that they are being fed misleading truths and are lacking the full picture they think they possess.
 

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