ANGELS OF DEATH
Thanks to the tentative alliance formed with the Centors the Neophytes remaining with Tristan were able to expand their knowledge about their surroundings, with Tristan in particular inquiring about where to acquire various natural resources to facilitate their survival. Given the relative lack of technology and knowledge among the Beastmen he was not able to completely satiate his inquiring mind's desire, but he learned enough to go off of.
Splitting into two groups, Tristan led the observant Faustus with him to locate what they would need to construct fortifications as agreed upon by the four of them. He left Urban with Quidel to survey the area around the cave as well as prepare the land for construction, an endeavor made more difficult by the general lack of tools at their disposal. Despite this complication Tristan had faith in Urban's construction talents and so believed the taciturn Astarte could manage through improvisation.
As they scouted out the surrounding area Faustus made markings on various trees to serve as a quick reference for the various regions, allowing them to be more readily returned to in the thick forestry should something of note be discovered there. There was a general lack of other Beastmen in the immediate area thanks to the presence of the Centors, though traces of Ungors could be found and were avoided lest the underhanded creatures overwhelm the two Astartes on their own. While the Ungors were the weakest of the four primary tribes they were still a threat, and caution was a trait both Tristan and Faustus shared in arguable excess.
Half the day passed by as the two navigated their way around as they each noted mentally anything at all that could be of use, ranging from clean water sources to trees that possessed qualities useful for construction work. Thanks to their efforts no conflict arose with the locals, though on their way back towards their campsite Faustus paused suddenly and motioned for Tristan to do the same.
"I believe someone is following us," Faustus spoke in a hushed tone through his helmet's communication line, his paranoid tendencies having made him jumpy throughout their scouting mission. Despite his obsessive worrying he had not bothered to stop them until this moment, something which drew credence to the threat of whatever it was he just sensed.
Tristan spoke as he typically did through his own communication line, knowing that their helmets were equipped to prevent others from discerning anything said by them if they so wished, "Did you hear anything out of the ordinary? Ungors perhaps?"
Faustus shook his head no as he began scrutinizing the area, feeling as if he was missing something yet uncertain as to what.
"I thought I saw movement, but nothing is here..."
With that said Tristan's mind was drawn to the various cloaking technologies possessed throughout the galaxy, as well as to the natural camouflaging capabilities of some creatures. Just because they were briefed on the primary threat of the Beastmen did not mean there was no other possible adversary on this world, and so Tristan began looking around with caution.
"Stay vigilant. We do not know every detail of our surroundings and it would be foolhardy to believe the only threats present are the Beastmen."
Before Faustus could agree something rapidly crashed into the ground beside Faustus, with the twitchy Astarte throwing himself back from whatever just fell beside him only to have two more rapidly drop to his sides and further startle him.
"What in the Emperor's name—"
Far be it from a threat, the fallen objects instead appeared to be harmless flora to Tristan even if he did not recognize their kind. Standing at about half a meter in height, they possessed a cupule on top of their pericarp body which from a glance appeared quite sturdy. At the bottom of their form lay a pair of 'feet' that were not actually feet but rather simple nubs that ultimately served a similar purpose for them. On the pericarp were a pair of eyespots, a mimicry of actual eyes possessed by various animal species to ward off predators and likely used by these creatures to protect themselves from birds or other fauna.
And by Tristan's approximation these flora were certainly 'creatures', for while their eyes were false they seemed to possess the ability to sense their surroundings and were actively 'looking' up at Faustus who in turn was still startled by their sudden appearance. Had he possessed a boltgun there was little chance he would not have shot at them immediately, but instead the odd beings were hopping up and down in place as if they took some sort of mischievous pleasure in his reaction, further supported by a rattling noise emanating from them that was reminiscent of a Human's laughter. Beyond their apparent sensory capabilities this showed that they were as sapient as a particularly intelligent animal might be, and Tristan doubted they fell by accident: they had dropped from whatever trees they had been on just to surprise the Astartes for no other reason than they could.
"Leave them be. I do not believe they wish to cause harm," Tristan spoke, his posture relaxing as the sensors of his helmet confirmed that there were no toxins or other sources of danger from the new arrivals.
Despite his being agitated by them Faustus was forced to agree that the odd flora were not a threat, it being entirely within his and Tristan's capability to punt them far into the distance given their diminutive size and lack of means to defend themselves. Far be they from the vicious monsters which inhabited some worlds that seemed to relish in killing all which stood before them, these plants were more akin to misbehaving children who enjoyed playing pranks and so could be safely ignored.
Something about the sudden appearance of the plant-animals struck Tristan as odd, but before he could consider them further a loud cry rang out from hundreds of meters away. The voice was human in nature, though it was not recognizable to Tristan and so was almost assuredly a Beastman. With their present location in the forest taken into account it was likely a Centor as well, something which made Tristan wonder what could make a member of the savage nomads cry out like that.
"Did you hear that?" Tristan asked near rhetorically, well aware that Faustus had heard it too but wanting to make certain his companion was paying attention to it as well.
To Tristan it was something that needed to be investigated, as it was a possible danger to them that would have to be dealt with one way or another. If he needed to flee he would, but first he had to know what lay beyond the nearby crop of trees that blocked his vision on where his enhanced ears picked up the scream.
"Generally speaking it is advisable to move away from danger," Faustus warned Tristan as the latter began to approach whatever it was that caused the disturbance. His advice was ignored however as Tristan instead picked up his pace as the loud growl of something inhuman bellowed throughout the woods. Despite his own reservations Faustus followed behind him, not wanting to abandon Tristan even if he desired to flee with every fiber of his being.
Almost as soon as they had reacted did they come across the scene of the noises which captivated their attention, the easily recognized form of a Grox looming over a wounded juvenile Centor who had been collecting herbs and useful resources for his tribe when the Grox suddenly appeared and lashed out with its claws. The Grox possessed an orange hide and was acting as if it was unfamiliar with its surroundings, likely having migrated recently from another region to the present location it inhabited. Its lumbering form and caution about this unknown area allowed a minute to pass by as it closed in on its prey, the Centor having collided with a tree and been too wounded to rise in the immediate aftermath.
Right as the Grox reached the Centor and began to swipe down at its injured target the Grox instead found itself being knocked aside by a sudden collision into its neck and shoulder from one side. It had taken Tristan the time afforded by the slow creature's hesitance to figure what he should do, weighing the odds of him combating the creature against the possible consequences of leaving it be. If he was Levente he could fell it through brute force swiftly, of that Tristan was certain, but he wasn't Levente and his own skillset was not readily applicable under these circumstances.
Ultimately he did not find the chances in his favor, though the values instilled in him by Jarn caused him to turn the low likelihood of victory into an alternative plan entirely.
"Gather the others. I will handle the situation until they arrive," Tristan commanded Faustus the moment before the colossal Astarte charged forward, throwing the full weight of his massive plated armor into the Grox. He did not look back to see if Faustus had listened to him, Tristan instead using his momentum to drive the Grox's body towards a tree far older than either of them. The Grox was a large and powerful beast, but once its path had been thrown off-course it had trouble slowing down in time to prevent collision with the tree's thick bark.
Briefly stunned, the Grox's horns in the middle of its face buried into the tree and revealed themselves to be dangerous as they thrashed about and ripped through the wood in short order to free the beast. It turned to see what had struck it, only to realize that the figure that crashed into him no longer was at its side. Its strength had done more than just pierce the tree, instead applying enough force to shatter it from the inside as well and weaken its aged form. Having seen this, Tristan had moved to the tree's other side as the Grox dislodged itself, and by ramming it with his own body he snapped what remained of the tree's structural integrity: it snapped, and the Grox howled in pain as the tree slammed down atop it.
A moment to spare opened up, and so Tristan turned to check on the condition of the Centor. He could have told Faustus to leave with it, but that would slow Faustus down as he went to gather the others and Tristan was not certain if he could best this creature on his own. Perhaps with enough fortune he could, but it would not be an easy battle and so he had prioritized his own survival over that of the Centor's even as he stood between it and the Grox and put his life on the line.
All of this had been calculated in his mind in these moments, but he was running out of the pre-planned ideas he came up with as he ran towards the Grox. Now he would have to fight on his feet, something he was nowhere near as adept at as his peers and especially Levente. It was risky, perhaps entirely too much so, but he had acted all the same: just as Jarn had once been what stood between Tristan and the savage Beasts rampaging through his village, so too did Tristan feel the urge to step-in here. Jarn considered them all to be the defenders of humanity, and despite the horrible actions they had to take part in on occasion it was that ideal that had been able to inspire Tristan in his induction into the Iron Warrior's ranks. The technology offered to him was enough to captivate him, yes, but for a boy who once had been the son of a retired knight living for something greater than himself, for the Utopia Jarn envisioned and made others believe in, that drove him.
It was illogical, but not at the same time, given that risking himself for a lowly Abhuman was counterbalanced by the fact that such behavior was also what brought Jarn to saving Tristan. It was an interesting contradiction Tristan would have to ponder another time, for now he had to weigh his options moving forward.
"Can you flee?"
The Centor tried to stand up, but even though its wounds were upon its lower abdomen rather than its legs they had weakened the creature enough to make it collapse even after it fought to remain upright. With retreat for the Centor unfeasible Tristan turned his attention back to the Grox, his voice raising to make certain the Centor heard him.
"Keep back."
A hunting spear with a blade at each end lay nearby, belonging to the Centor but knocked from him when he was suddenly struck while his attention had been elsewhere. By now the Grox had ripped through the fallen tree and swung itself around to face Tristan, roaring in bestial rage at the one who had caused it harm. Tristan grabbed the fallen spear and twisted it in his hands to get a feel for its weight and balance, correctly expecting it to be far lighter than the Power Spears he had trained with as suggested by Jarn and taught by Asier who according to the Warsmith was their most skilled spearman. Tristan was still by no means an expert in close combat, but with a spear in hand his arm length afforded him numerous advantages in duels.
Unfortunately this was not a duel where Tristan could simply keep his foe back with the spear's reach, meaning that the only thing he had in his favor was the experience he had with the type of weapon he now held. The Grox was larger, stronger, and quite sturdy so fighting it directly would be far too risky even for an Astarte which meant victory would not come from just trading blows with it. Tristan realized he would have to find an alternative condition for winning against it, but before he could formulate a plan he found himself being charged by the enraged beast.
Grox typically were fast creatures, which made the relative sluggishness of this one seemingly indicate some kind of malady or injury unknown to Tristan, though even impaired it was still agile enough to leap its five meter long body at where Tristan stood. The Neophyte threw himself to one side while slashing simultaneously, his spear carving across the Grox's body fairly well but ultimately dealing superficial damage the beast could ignore in its fury. Where it crashed into the ground the Grox twisted and smashed its horned head to the side to swipe at Tristan, contacting his legs and sweeping them from out under him.
Tristan's heavily reinforced Power Armor caused him to fall to the ground quite fast once his balance was removed from him, though by stabbing out with the spear mid-fall Tristan managed to impale the closest forelimb of the Grox and distract the animal from its intended follow-up strike. With no time to weigh his options Tristan rolled over and away from the Grox so that he was now on his hands and knees rather than his back, allowing him to shift then into a charge where he stabbed out with the spear and impaled the Grox in its side. Unlike his other attacks this one was able to pierce through its scaly body and draw a significant amount of blood thanks to his charge adding a degree of power to the attack.
Not a moment was granted to celebrate this success however as Tristan was struck by a flailing claw as the Grox again turned to face him. The strike drove him back, but by digging his heels in he was able to remain upright and instantly retaliate by twisting the spear. This action ripped it from the Grox's hide as it turned and allowed Tristan to slash down with its other bladed edge, though the damage was minimal as the Grox's thrashing form made the strike cut shallow.
By striking Tristan had left himself open to further retaliation and soon found the Grox's forehead and horns ramming into his lower abdomen, charging forth and driving him back until Tristan's back collided with another of the forest's aging trees. Given their positioning and chance the horns did not pierce through his armor the way the Caprigor's had before, but they did dig into his armor plating's surface all the same and help pin him against the tree.
Rather than allow the Grox to continue its attack now that it had his back against a wall Tristan jabbed the spear into the Grox's neck, not able to apply enough force to cut deep but dealing enough damage to have the Grox twist its head and throw Tristan away from it where he could not strike at its vulnerable, meaty neck. The reptile continued its mad thrashing and trampled over Tristan as the Astarte brought his arms up to shield his head, the beast's weight such that by stomping down on him Tristan was unable to readily free himself.
What he could do was grit his teeth and bare it until an opportunity arose for him to do so, and so Tristan endured blow after blow for nearing a minute against the animal until eventually one of its rabid movements left a gap between strikes. Tristan rolled out from underneath the beast right as it attempted to bite down at him, kicking it on his way out to propel himself away from the Grox and marginally push it back as well. With this done Tristan spun in place and stabbed down at the Grox as its gnarly teeth bit into the grass and dirt, dealing a powerful blow down between its scales with his spear.
In retaliation the Grox swiped at Tristan and bashed him back, wrenching the spear from his grasp as it remained embedded in the reptile's back plating. Now unarmed Tristan had no proper way to fight back and so began thinking of how to retrieve the spear, only for the Grox to tackle him mid-thought and knock Tristan back again. This time Tristan managed to land on his feet after the strike, but his footing was far from secure and so he fought to keep upright as the Grox bashed into him again and again alternating between its head and claws. Tristan attempted to reach out and grab the spear using his lengthy arms but each hit against him disrupted his attempts at recovery.
Beneath his armor Tristan was growing increasingly bruised, not just in flesh but his bones themselves were beginning to stress from the powerful strikes he was enduring. Even so the armor did its purpose and protected him from more severe injuries, but the residual effects of each strike were still noticeable and adding up as the conflict continued. The barrage continued until Tristan pressed forward again to take one of the hits head-on, bracing himself as he once again reached out for and gripped the spear where he had left it in the Grox's hide. As the Grox smashed its head up into his leaning chest Tristan got a firm grip on the weapon and dragged it towards himself, cutting across the Grox's side from body to cheek as he finished retrieving it.
A claw drove Tristan back once more, though in his attempt to brace himself the reinforced wooden shaft of the spear was broken in half which left him with a dagger-like piece in each hand. Unperturbed by this, Tristan gripped them and lunged forward to stab into the Grox's neck from either side as it bit its teeth at his armor. As the spear-tips penetrated its neck once again the Grox reared up on its hind-legs to try and break free, only to fail and instead try and dislodge Tristan by killing him outright: the Grox opened its maw and tried to bite down at his lowered head, aiming for his neck just as he had it's own.
By shoving his shoulder into its maw instead Tristan managed to jam it, for the reinforced armor was larger than the mouth could fit and the Grox's jaw strength which powerful had difficulty properly clamping down with something so large forced into it. This did not deter the Grox from trying however, and it would eventually succeed at biting through the Power Armor which meant Tristan had to act immediately.
Shifting both tips of the spear into one hand, Tristan impaled them upwards into an opening afforded by the Grox's wide maw. While its outside was quite durable its internal sections were far less so, allowing for Tristan with the strength afforded by his superhuman physiology to forcibly jam the spear's remains through the Grox's skull and tear through its head from the inside. This action killed the beast near instantly with it falling from where it clenched onto his torso and laying limply down at Tristan's feet.
Aching all over did not prevent Tristan from wiping some of the creature's leaked bodily fluids from his shoulder, the Astarte able to repress the shudder a normal Human might emit under such disgusting circumstances. He had weathered the attack and been fortunate enough in the encounter to emerge mostly unscathed. Even if it would take a day or so to recover from what damage was inflicted that was acceptable given the circumstances, and so Tristan just thanked the Emperor that he had survived.
While not as pronounced as the Imperium's worship of the Emperor it was accepted and even somewhat common for members of Jarn's forces to pay respect or thanks to the Emperor, lacking the zeal of the Ecclesiarchy as they did so but still believing in his vision for Humanity. The shrine in Jarn's quarters was dedicated to the Emperor after all, so Tristan had followed in his mentor's footsteps and found himself respecting the Emperor's accomplishments even if he saw him as flawed as any other Human. After all would a leader without faults cause half of his sons to turn against him in open revolt? That being said the Emperor served as an acceptable figure to pay some respects towards rather than the Ruinous Powers, paying respect to the idea of Human supremacy and survival rather than serving the cause of eternal damnation.
Ultimately the one Tristan placed his faith most in was Jarn himself, but unlike Levente's lavish praises of the Warsmith Tristan was less vocal in his devotion and loyalties. He preferred action to words, showing himself dedicated to Jarn's cause through how he acted and with what he did rather than just by pledging blind allegiance to the idea of him.
Tristan turned around to find that the Centor was finally managing to muster the strength to rise up, though thanks to being a juvenile the male Centor was no match for Tristan's own massive form. It was thanks to this that Tristan appeared all the more intimidating and otherworldly to the Centor, a massive armored behemoth having appeared just as suddenly as the Grox to combat it and ultimately succeed over the creature. Out of respect and fear both the Centor bowed their head to Tristan, recognizing that he had intentionally been fighting to protect them, but uncertain of what to say or do now since he did not know the intentions of this outsider. It was like a figure of myth and legend had stepped into reality to witness an Astarte do battle with such a wild beast, and it would forever be etched upon the Centor's mind.
Faustus returned with Quidel and Urban moments after the conclusion of Tristan's engagement, having been delayed thanks to being spotted by a group of Ungors he was forced to silence to maintain the Neophytes' general secrecy. If not for their presence he and the others could have fought the beast four on one making it far less dangerous, but Tristan did not begrudge them for being late in their arrival. If the Ungors had decided to report the Neophytes to some higher figure in their society who desired to wipe out the handful of intruders then all four of them would have been swarmed and doomed rather than just Tristan, so Faustus had acted with the proper caution as Tristan expected from him.
After each Neophyte was caught up on the present situation their attention diverted to the Centor protected by Tristan's decision to combat the Grox, an event which led to where they would spend much of the remainder of the day: the Centor encampment. The Beastman saved was a younger member of Tearik's tribe by the name of Sorn, being one of Tearik's many progeny and thus expected to pull his weight especially among their community. This led to his search for useful materials and herbs for the Centors, while a general lack of rest caused by recent attacks on their campsite by other Beastmen groups led to his lapse in perception.
Tristan hated Sorn's name, it being one letter off from that of the Primarch Dorn, but he acknowledged that this was irrational and so did his best to clamp down on his gut reaction to learning it. Rogal Dorn and his Imperial Fists were well documented by the archives possessed aboard the Eisernen and what Tristan had read of them did not impress him: whereas the Iron Warriors had to undergo the most brutal aspects of the Great Crusade and received little to no thanks for their sacrifice the Imperial Fists were widely lauded when they shared credit with the Iron Warriors for an engagement, leaving the Iron Warriors in the shadows despite them having contributed just as much if not more. Records shared by Asier showed that the perception of the Fists as being rewarded unduly was a sentiment shared not only by the Iron Warriors but other Legions as well, though Asier made certain to preface the statement with a warning that not every record of history is truthful be it willful obfuscation or based on the ignorance of the one composing the record.
Mitigating his irrational dislike of the Centor whose life he saved was the fact that they offered to bring the Astartes to the Centor tribe and speak of Tristan's actions, thus building upon the alliance they possessed. What particularly piqued Tristan's interest was how when he was musing about how to repair segments of his armor Sorn had made mention to a forge his tribe had taken from a now eradicated group of Ungors. Seeking to leverage his alliance with the Centors to gain access to such a valuable tool Tristan had asked the others if they would be willing to go as well, and so it was unanimously decided to accompany Sorn back to his kind.
On the way Urban asked a simple question of Tristan, curious as to if this was his ultimate intention all along while also wondering if his fellow Neophyte was as reckless at Levente but just better at hiding it.
"Why risk your life for them?"
"The Warsmith claimed us to be the bulwark of humanity. We stand strong so that those weaker than us may yet survive. We cannot save everyone, but that is no reason to not save those we can."
The answer satisfied Urban, who kept quiet as he mulled over the risk to benefit equation of the encounter and found himself agreeing with Tristan's actions ultimately given the outcome. Second to Levente in most raw physical matters, Urban was second to Tristan in raw durability and so knew well how the other Neophyte could endure battles until he could gain some kind of advantage. An irrelevant trait to have for conflicts only going to first blood, but an invaluable one on an actual battlefield where the last man standing was the one who often was the victor.
Given the nomadic nature of the Centors their camp was actually one belonging to the Ungors they had wiped out, the crafty Beastmen having provided a fairly capable base of operations for their equine cousins to use in the meantime. Tristan counted at least four dozen adult Centors as being present along with a handful of 'foals' as they called them visible, almost all of the adults present being female and tending to the younger members of the tribe while the male members were carrying out daily tasks to assist their tribe elsewhere. Whereas the males appeared to be quite warlike and severe their female counterparts appeared quite docile and soft, an interesting contrast that Tristan had heard to be true of female Beastmen in general but which was especially true for this more civil group of them.
For the most part the settlement shared the backwards and generally undeveloped nature of those the Astartes Neophytes had carved their way through in the prior days, but it was obvious with the forge's presence and the weapons utilized by some of the Beastmen until now that some degree of technology did exist even if it was only in minor quantities sprinkled throughout. It was enough to work with for Tristan though, having once lived upon such a world and knowing well how to best utilize its minimal tools to great effect now that his knowledge had grown considerably.
Sorn brought the four before Tearik, who greeted them with a slow yet polite nod, listening as his son explained the circumstances behind them being brought to him. Having one of his kind, even if it was just one of many sons, returned to him and saved from a wild beast helped earn the chieftain's trust and reaffirmed him in his decision to make a tentative alliance before with the Astartes. This gave way to them discussing who they were in greater detail, further impressing him with the information that there were thousands of others like them out in the stars including many who were stronger or otherwise more dangerous than them given the youth of the four present.
It was obvious to the leader of the Centors in the region that these were no normal Humans, nor typical Abhumans like those found upon their world. No desire for conflict with them remained after seeing the brutal massacres they had carried out on other tribes in their way, and learning that one of them had alone slain a beast it would take numerous Centors for demonstrated that it was no accident that they were successful.
As the conversation continued they explained their nature as Astartes, as well as connection to Humanity and the origins behind their creation which only further elevated Tearik's opinion of the Astartes. As the 'sons' of the Emperor of Mankind's own 'sons' he considered them as near divine beings, something one might expect of a less advanced culture trying to make sense of the universe beyond their present understanding. It was why to Tristan the Daemons of the Warp and their corrupted servants were 'Beasts', as he had once not understood what they were and that was all he could think of calling them with the limited education his world provided him despite his intelligence.
While not outright deferring to them, the chieftain displayed far more respect to the Neophytes, who for their part did nothing to keep him from looking up to them, the Primarchs, and the Emperor. After all why bother if it suited their purposes? Normal Humans tended to be in awe of Astartes anyways, and so this was hardly a unique reaction anyways and it fit the image the Iron Warriors held of themselves as titans let loose in the universe doing as they so desired now that they were free of the Imperium's shackles, knowing that little could stop them on its own.
Out of the growing reverence towards them Tearik asked a question, one which he posed mainly at Tristan who he acknowledged as the leader of the four present even if they made no such distinction themselves. His height, role in brokering the alliance, and having saved Sorn were enough for Tearik to form this opinion on his own even if he did not outright state it to them, rather implying it subconsciously through his addressing Tristan more directly than the others.
"You have come to protect our people and grant knowledge from the stars, yes?"
Mulling it over for a moment, Tristan found himself nodding soon thereafter since what Tearik said was not far off the mark: Jarn had impressed upon Tristan the role of learning and improving upon what he learned, thereby enhancing technology for those around him. Furthermore Jarn saw Astartes collectively as the defenders of humanity and a bulwark against the terrors of their universe, and so protecting Humans, even Abhumans such as the Centors, fell under that purview when possible. Tristan would not likely die for the Centors, but if he could assist and defend them while he was briefly present in their lives he had no issue doing so. If they were antagonistic like the other Beastmen tribes were known to be and a threat then they would have to be removed as obstacles so the general vision and aspirations of Jarn's forces could be realized, but so long as the cost of aiding them did not outweigh the risks of doing so Tristan felt they were worth protecting.
"Affirmative. That is what we Astartes were created for. To protect and improve."
It was right to help the Centor, for in relative terms they were weak and the Astartes strong. If the weak were to serve and dedicate themselves to the strong, it was a natural corollary for Tristan that the strong ought to use that very power to protect those beneath them lest their potential be wasted on self-indulgence.
The Astartes spoke with the Chieftan for some time before eventually going their separate ways, departing the Centor camp along with some tools and supplies granted out of gratitude by the Centors present for saving Sorn. Arrangements for more goods to be provided had been made as a trade for the Neophytes further eradicating local threats to the Centors, but for the most part they were just given looks of awe on their way out of the village.
At the outskirts the four were stopped by Sorn himself, who offered a personal gift of his own from among the supplies he had been gathering when Tristan rescued him. Tristan was skeptical of what he was handed however as it was an incredibly small object that was hard to make out, but if he had to fashion a guess was some kind of seed.
"What is this?" he questioned, not particularly caring if he received a gift from the Centor but wondering why he would be handed something so seemingly inconsequential at all.
"Seed for Akran. To bring fortune," Sorn replied as if that answered the question entirely, bowing his head once again out of respect.
Not to appear ignorant, Tristan just nodded and awkwardly accepted the gift granted to him. It honestly reminded him of when Arien would randomly bring him objects with a particular shine to them, things he had no use for but was expected to accept all the same. It would be ungrateful to turn down the gift, and so he went along with it then and now.
"I see."
Tristan did not particularly like social interactions such as this, not really knowing what to do inherently nor going out of his way to practice the expected behaviors for these matters, but he tried to show a modicum of respect back to the Beastman. Upon their departure Tristan resumed his own, carrying with him the seed of an 'Akran', whatever in Terra's name that was.
What interested him more was the access they had gained to a forge, something he intended to utilize to its potential unlike its former owners the Ungors.
"Lend me your forge. Bring me iron. Bring me charcoal. Preferably high grade, but whatever is available will do. Lend me what tools you are able so I may show you how they ought be used."
To satisfy Tristan's needs the forge was moved with the aid of the Centors to where the Astartes had begun fortifying their position, as it would be quite inefficient continually going back and forth between the Centors present settlement and where work on the fortress would take place. Best to move the forge at the beginning and cut down on travel time moving forward, a simple mathematical matter in Tristan's mind that conveniently meant his socially awkward nature would be indulged by not having to always pass by the Centors. He still would have to go to them on occasion to meet with their leader to acquire aid in some task or another, as well as carry out tasks in return for said services, but this way at least he did not have to continually risk discovery by other Beastmen tribes.
It took some time, but within a day Tristan had managed to recreate his father's forge, or at least what was within his means to do so. The forge itself was the most important piece of the puzzle, fortunately already having been constructed by others and transported via a 'horse'-drawn palette created for the task by Tristan. With it came the anvil and hammer, though it took some crafting and time for Tristan to acquire the other necessary tools: tongs, a vise, a set of drifts, center punches, twisting tools, chisels, and so on. By working with his father every day when he was younger such tools were second nature to him and so reconstructing them was possible, if challenging given the initial lack of tools.
Perhaps as a bit of irony there was plenty of iron ore to be found within the mountain's cave for the Iron Warriors to utilize, though Tristan figured that like the other materials necessary for them that it was just a common resource that could be located on many worlds. The building materials necessary to construct a makeshift fortress were fortunately abundant in their surroundings, for among the most needed were stone, clay soil, lime, and wood which all could be found in abundance between the cavern and the surrounding forest.
Trees were cleared nearby the cavern's entrance first to provide more space to work as well as acquire the necessary wood for their operation. Mining and digging out soil and lime might have been time consuming for a standard Human, but to Astartes was a simple endeavor that the Iron Warriors excelled at to their own historical chagrin. While Jarn's forces had stayed away from their Chaos-serving kin during the Horus Heresy word still traveled of how other traitor Legions felt that such mundane work was best suited for the Iron Warriors, showing that even among others who despised the Imperium's treatment that there still was little respect to be found towards Perturabo's sons.
In repayment for the protection offered by the Astartes the Centors granted aid to haul stones and other materials to where the Neophytes were working, thus streamlining the process for them and allowing construction to continue while allowing the Astartes to apply their skills elsewhere. Stones would form the bulk of the walls they were erecting, and so to shape them into usable pieces Tristan and Urban studied the rocks provided to understand where they would fracture. By driving a line of holes into the stone and applying specific force to the holes shockwaves would then pass through the stone and break it as planned.
For stone which needed to fit smaller needs in the construction process the stone would be chiseled into blocks, which then depending on the size would either be lifted by the Astartes and put in place or for those larger carried through a makeshift crane system powered by the Astartes' own strength. While Tristan was only average at best in terms of strength for an Astartes his fellow crafter Urban was one of their strongest in Alpha Squad and so could readily handle whatever tasks would be too tiresome for Tristan.
As they worked on the stone and utilized their keen eyes to properly manage it Quidel and Faustus worked on crafting mortar from the soil, lime, and what water they could harvest. The mortar would then be used to hold the stones together on the walls and structures they were erecting rapidly, as rapid construction was one of the essential skills of any Iron Warrior given that during a siege they may be called upon to create a stalwart bunker or fortress. Even upon the Eisernen there was room to practice the construction of such structures, and so every Neophyte in the Iron Legion had the skills needed to create them under normal circumstances: it was the particular ingenuity and wit of Alpha Squad which allowed them to do so rapidly even in their less than ideal situation.
Day and night Tristan could be found working away at his appropriated forge, only ever taking a break from it to handle other crucial tasks such as mining more ore or lending a hand to the others in moving particularly heavy objects. Right after he would return to hammering away at the next tool or piece needed for their work, including beginning work on objects that would be used to protect the walls they were erecting. First among them were simple balls around the size of a fist, something crafted en masse with how simple their design was. The only thing preventing them from being a complete sphere was the section which revealed their true identity: the section built to hold the fuse that would lead down into the orb to detonate the gunpowder that would be poured into it.
Forged from iron, Tristan had created the shells necessary for primitive grenades and was also working on crafting the gunpowder necessary to make them fulfill their purpose. Charcoal necessary for its creation was easily acquired given their presence in a vast forest, though still required effort to properly handle. The carbon from the charcoal would serve as the chemical and fuel in the gunpowder and so was vital in its function. While an oven would be more ideal for burning selected wood Tristan did not have access to one and so was forced to make a substitute vessel using the iron they gathered to burn it uniformly. Higher temperature and longer heating times for the wood would reduce hydrogen and oxygen in the charcoal, both chemicals making ignition more difficult.
Once it was properly handled within the makeshift furnace it was inspected to make certain it was evenly burnt before then being cooled to help prevent spontaneous combustion which could occur from the charcoal being met with oxygen from the air. It was a long and arduous process, but one which Tristan tended to diligently since it was necessary for the rest of what he had in mind to create. His work with all of the chemicals and tools in his father's forge had allowed him to craft an autocannon after witnessing one, his own model being more akin to ancient cannons one could find upon ships sailing the seas of Terra but still capable of firing thanks to him knowing how to create an explosive reaction by mixing certain things. He had always been inquisitive and tested everything he could to learn in his father's shop, even if it on occasion caused trouble when Tristan was still figuring out how to do something right...little did he know his way of avoiding socialization with his peers would later prove instrumental in his present fate and survival thus far.
Another vital part of the creation of the gunpowder they would be using was saltpeter, something of varying abundance on worlds but was fortunately present in the local environment the Neophytes were in. Tristan did not find it a coincidence that they were left in an area with the resources they would need to be self-sufficient like this, fashioning a guess that Ossus had researched this world and region before deciding upon it for the training exercise. Whether by chance or by design saltpeter was present and so could be mined off the ground in specific areas mapped out by Faustus during their construction.
The last important resource would be sulfur which saw the Neophytes having to mine into nearby hills in the region because there was not an abundance in their own cavern. Aid granted by the Centors made hauling it back to their worksite faster, at which point Quidel worked with what was harvested to distill the sulfur itself from other impurities. Their situation was such that they had to resort to the wasteful method of melting the sulfur, losing a good two-thirds of it in the process, but it was a necessary sacrifice. The smell itself was casually ignored by the Iron Warriors who filtered it out, though it did cause some irritation among the Centors assisting them in manual labor.
When the necessary materials were all acquired they were separately ground down into a fine powder using mortar and pestle, a process which was later replaced with a ball mill crafted by Tristan to expedite the matter. Once ground down precise measurements of each material were made using a scale fashioned by Urban in a moment of spare time, thus allowing the Neophytes to calculate the ingredients percentages by weight. With the correct proportions prepared they were then moistened to prevent accidental ignition and then mixed together using the ball mill while the existing mortars were used to do the same with lesser quantities of the gunpowder. When fully processed the gunpowder was then tested in minor quantities to see if it would be reliable, and then stored once the tests yielded positive results.
After the gunpowder was prepared Tristan began work on constructing further methods of employing it on a battlefield, forging red-hot iron and steel as needed into the correct shapes before being cooled down. While he was using a hammer it seemed more like a precise tool in Tristan's hands, his years of learning from his father's work followed by even more time in the Dodekatheon resulting in him possessing a fine and steady hand for such matters. His methodical and repeated actions at the forge drew crowds of younger Centors curious about what this strange being was capable of, but they were ignored entirely as Tristan's eyes focused intensely on the metals before him.
Urban lent a hand by crafting some stocks out of wood to cut down the need of metal for ever piece of the rifles they were to make, chiseling from blocks of prepared wood the necessary shapes. Tristan meanwhile focused on crafting the barrels, receivers, bolts, springs, and other such components of a functioning autocannon to allow for sustained fire rather than a single shot wonder like his original one he crafted as a child. He had been trained at the Dodekatheon for years to know the precise function of various weapons and their pieces, being able to deconstruct and reconstruct them without even thinking even better than his peers who were similarly drilled with such knowledge. While it took time to craft them using his limited equipment Tristan was still capable of doing so, and as he slaved away at the forge for days without rest he continued to make piece by piece of their fortress and its armaments.
Once the first set was completed it was tested, not just for functionality but also for range: once marked the other Astartes began to cut down the remainder of the nearby trees that had not yet been used for their construction, removing anything from the immediate area that could constitute cover for an approaching force. This removal was done up to the point that the autocannons could fire, serving as a visual marker for their range and making certain that anything within the primitive weapons' firing arc would be unable to hide. The construction process of the weapons was slow mostly due to what the Neophytes had to work with, but it was coming along steadily as Tristan got into the groove of making them.
Excess wood was given freely to the Centors to aid in their own endeavors, something Quidel suggested as a way of keeping them content as well as arming their allies. While the Iron Warriors worked the Centors had been keeping at bay other Beastmen who might interrupt them, and so granting them extraneous wood for spears, arrows, and other such tools cost the Neophytes nothing but helped bolster their perimeter defenses via the Centors.
Operating more like a machine than a human during all of this, the only time Tristan truly afforded for himself was time spent planting and then nurturing the seed he had been given, mostly doing it on a whim and also because he was curious if there was any benefit or purpose behind the plant given to him. Was it something that one should eat once grown? Something useful for medicine? Was it merely ascetic? Whatever the true purpose of the 'Akran' it was not something he wanted to ask the Centors about, lest he appear ignorant if it was something obvious and he just was unaware for what the locals called it. He was not a botanist, but his general understanding of science allowed him to take care of the seed bit by bit, day by day, and so when a spare moment made itself available he saw to making sure the small thing was nurtured.
While the weapon construction and formation of gunpowder would take more time, the actual fortress was built so rapidly that any worry of Beastmen assaulting their position disappeared early on. Standing three stories tall it was by no means ascetically pleasing to Urban's disappointment, but it had everything it needed to function in its role and nothing extraneous to make it anything but a defensible position.
The outside of it was heavily reinforced stone and metal both flattened as precisely as the Neophytes could manage to deprive any who sought to attack it a way to climb up without in turn climbing over the dead bodies of hundreds of their kin. Towards the top it sloped outwards to both provide cover for those atop it as well as further prevent would-be climbers from scaling the walls, and armored stations were set for weapons to be fired from without receiving arrow fire or thrown weapons in return. Barrels of oils harvested from their surroundings were prepared as well, able to be poured down atop foes to deter their climbing efforts, as well as being capable of being heated to boil the foes it would cover.
The walls were layered such that what might penetrate a stone would be then stopped by metal sheets placed one after another before having to then pierce through further stone and then more metal to even hope to break through. While perhaps excessive it meant that no siege weapons the Beastmen were capable of utilizing would pose a threat to it, and that merely bashing it with sheer strength alone would accomplish nothing even for the Bovigors. With their back to the mountain scaling the mountain became a more tenable solution to reaching the defenders of the fortress, and so preparations were made for that possibility as well: metal spikes had been embedded all across it with enough length to cause damage to Beastmen but not enough to properly support them and make climbing any easier. Nails, caltrops, extraneous metal bits and flash from his other work, whatever form Tristan could make them in he had done so and had the others spread out all over the mountain's surface.
To further deter such efforts a moat was dug fifty feet deep and twenty feet wide around the entire mountain and fortress at the end of it all and filled with further sharp objects, meaning that to fall would be to die. The only way to cross was a gate that lowered from the fortress itself that could be retracted and had another gate behind where it stood so that even if it was compromised there was still a redundant way to keep out foes. This gate in turn had another two behind it of the same thickness as the second, each of which required immense effort to open once closed and so were only to be deployed when facing attack for efficiency's sake. They would keep out just about anything that struck them, and that was what mattered. This set of redundancies was for the sake of making the front gate as invulnerable as the rest of the fortress, Tristan and Urban agreeing while designing it that a gate was a natural weakness and thus needed to be mitigated however possible, even if in such a mundane manner as making there be four gates invaders would have to actually pierce through one after the other with each being capable of enduring an incredible beating before possibly breaking.
Once they were finished twenty autocannons were placed on the top floor, their crude designs necessitating backups be ready in case they stopped working partway through a battle. It also was enough for each Neophyte who had come to this world to use one to defend the base, and so Tristan resolved in what time he would have moving forward to make even more to account for the possibility of them all gathering together at some point so there would be even more spares. Ammunition storage was prepared as well on the floor with proper casings made for it to prevent a straw fiery arrow from detonating everything, and containers of water were also prepared to put out any other fires that may threaten them be they caused by the enemy or by accidents on the part of the Neophytes, however few they might make.
For closer range firepower the grenades were prepared as well and properly stored, though only a few were kept on the top of the fort as the others were set elsewhere. In addition Tristan had the more standard rifles he crafted stationed right beside where the autocannon emplacements were so that a gunner could swap which weapon they were using to meet the situation, though the focus of his creative weapon endeavors mostly rest in the autocannons he had a fondness for. Shields, swords, and spears were also prepared in the case that they were forced into melee combat but even less emphasis was placed on that as Tristan figured that their ranged defenses were mostly sufficient so only forty of each were crafted.
If not for the ability for Astartes to work for days or even weeks without rest the construction of this all would have been too difficult to accomplish in such a short window of time, but thanks to many restless nights it had been done. Rather than gleefully celebrate their accomplishment the tired Iron Warriors lay near comatose for over a day to recover before then going about further fortifying the position, making use of each moment available to them. Time not spent on their own projects was spent dealing with local threats the Centors requested aid with.
Most notable of the tasks done to maintain positive relations with the Centors and secure their aid in various physical tasks for the fortress were dealing with the deadly avian Stymphgeons, conquering a rival group of savage Human-flesh eating Centors who migrated from another region and sought to wipe out their tamer kin, cleansing land to be used to plant seeds that would one day benefit the Centors, and also acquiring the gemstone-plated belt of an Ungor tribal leader who had stolen it from the Centors former Chieftain before disappearing into the night some time ago.
The Stymphgeons were a species of bird on the world most known for their brown and tan feathers, with the brown feathers masking their beaks quite well from a distance. No larger than a hawk, the Stymphgeons were a menace to the Beastmen of the world thanks to possessing beaks as hard as the bronze they resembled while being far lighter, meaning that by swooping down in packs they could tear apart even the strongest of Beastmen before flying away without retaliation. Completely vicious, it was their relative rarity and generally herbivore diets that allowed other life to thrive upon the world, but they would set upon Beastmen who were planting seeds to feast upon their future bounty and it had deterred efforts to actually grow crops for the Centors who realized that they could not remain nomadic forever with their growing number.
After studying the Stymphgeons in nature for some hours by using seeds he found as bait, Tristan realized that the creatures were attempted natural predators of those weird flora creatures that scared Faustus before. They were drawn to the chuckling-like noises emitted by the plant life and would attempt to eat them, though their beaks would have issue breaking through their outer shells and other of the plants divebombing suddenly from the treetops would scatter the Stymphgeons for some time. It would seem that the Stymphgeons desire to devour plant life made these odd creatures delicacies to them even if actually consuming them was difficult, and so Tristan developed a plan based around this fact.
The Stymphgeons in the region all moved together as one large pack of around twenty, and so if wiped out all at once they would cease to be a threat to the Centors. Using the seed-like creatures as bait, Tristan waited with a bow and arrow he crafted for his needs and unleashed his arrow when the readings in his helmet said it was optimal to do so. In a single moment a Stymphgeon was impaled and pinned to a tree, its light form affording it little in the way of defenses beyond its ability to take flight after striking. Three others met a similar fate until the flock noticed that they were under attack, Tristan firing one accurate arrow after another and hitting most of his shots due to the birds stopping to attack their would-be prey.
In response they stopped trying to grab hold of the flora to drop it from a great height and instead swooped towards Tristan, noting him as a threat and seeking to tear through him like they had various Centors, Ungors, and even Bovigors in the past.
Instead they collided with his armor at great speed, not piercing it like they could bare flesh, and snapping their fragile necks and bones upon impact. Those who did not collide with him tried a different angle of attack, only for Tristan to grab them out of the air and crush them with his bare (save his armor) hands. Power Armor was leagues beyond what the Beastmen were capable of creating for themselves and so these birds with beaks like metal were severe threats, but to Tristan it was like having a poorly crafted dagger slam into a far sturdier shield. All he had to do was protect his vitals when they flew into him and they would hurt themselves more than they would him, and so in short order they were eliminated to the last.
The few hours he spent eliminating this menace earned the Neophytes even more aid from the Centors in constructing the fortress, thereby speeding it up at little cost to Tristan himself. This kind of calculated tradeoff was also what saw him reroute a river to flood an area that would have been ideal for growing crops if not for the Caprigor filth and death covering it which left it diseased and dangerous to primitive beings without proper medicine. They did not possess the understanding of science to properly reroute a river, but it was simple for Tristan to arrange and direct and so once the area was cleansed he fixed the river to how it had been and went back to his other work. Centors murmured about him controlling water itself, but Tristan ignored their superstition since it was just a case of sufficiently advanced technological knowledge being indistinguishable from magic, something he had learned firsthand when mortal servants' children aboard the Eisernen were slack-jawed at the various things he built. As per his personality he shied away from them and their amazed stares, uncertain how to react to them, and he felt little different now.
More difficult to deal with were the flesh eating Centors he was told of as a warning by Tearik, though Tristan took said warning instead as advice to eliminate this roving threat because the Neophytes' base was not yet complete at the time and thus a tribe of Centors could pose significant risk to their operations. That they enjoyed eating the flesh of Humans disgusted Tristan, who due to his Astartes physiology might have to do the same on some occasion yet disliked the idea of unless it was necessary. Figuring out their location and how to deal with them was the hard part, so with Faustus as a guide they tracked them down and then set thick wires made by Tristan for the occasion between trees. Appearing before the Centors was enough to bait them into charging forth at possible prey, and so they stomped forward until their legs suddenly gave out from under them.
Tristan and Faustus crippled their already injured legs first before methodically killing them, treating it like pest control rather than some heroic battle, and so the ravenous horde of dangerous Centors was eradicated in mere minutes. It seemed that their ferocity which made them so dangerous had come at the cost of the caution and wisdom of their Centor kin, and so Tristan felt no guilt at removing this genetic strain from the Centor pool. While he reported their defeat to Tearik's tribe he did not ask for a reward since no action had been asked of him this time, he had done it for himself, though he did not resist it when Tearik offered the Astartes some harvested nuts and berries. Tearik had not expected the news and so he had nothing else on hand to offer when they had approached him in the middle of a hunt, but his respect for them was growing that they had wiped out an entire other tribe as if it were nothing. Rather than fear them he had realized these odd Humans were to be trusted, though he still informed them that most Centors were not like those slain and that it was a service to their entire kind that they were gone.
By mining through the cavern for the resources they required for days some natural gemstones had been acquired, and while Tristan had little interest in their shine it reminded him of Arien which brought a near smile to his face. His lack of caring for the ascetic value of the gems was soon put on display when he left them outside the Centor camp unattended at night, returning in the morning to drag the mangled corpses of the Ungor thieves that had come for them before falling into the pitfall trap he left them atop. A simple warning had prevented Centors from taking them, and Tristan had figured that the crafty Ungor thieves made regular rounds to steal things of value from other tribes since they could not take them by force.
Upon one of the corpses was the belt sought after since the Ungors were a greedy kind, thus unwilling to leave behind their spoils in the care of others and the Ungor chieftain stealing what he could in-person rather than entrusting it to his subordinates alone. By returning it to Tearik and completing other such tasks Tristan had completely ingratiated himself to the Centors, though he saw it as merely trading service for service and also securing his surroundings by dealing with local threats and empowering an ally. It was nice being thanked for what he did, but since he was doing it for himself firstly he did not pay it much mind. If he was doing it for their sakes and they were ungrateful that would be one thing, but being thanked for what he would likely have done anyways in many cases was peculiar to him and Tristan was uncertain how he should feel.
Inside the fortress was the forge itself and other necessary structures for their operation, with the only sign of personal comfort being the beds constructed from whatever leftover materials the Iron Warriors had. They were fine sleeping in uncomfortable conditions and so it was a complete afterthought to them, instead having put all their attention into ensuring their safety before even contemplating comfort. Urban would furnish and make things more ascetic if he could afford to, but all their primary resources had been spent in making the fortress and so he had to settle for whittling wood into symbols of the Iron Warriors. As per his nature Faustus prepared a resting place for a rifle right beside his bed, worried about possible infiltrators attacking him while he was vulnerable. Quidel was content with the conditions as they were, having grown up as a mortal servant in the depths of the Eisernen.
Tristan had planted the seed gifted to him in some prime dirt he placed inside a large pot he crafted and kept that by him, though otherwise he was bereft of a personal touch to his space within the fortress despite the space afforded inside of it. What had mattered to them was the construction of the walls to prevent intrusion, and outside of stairs, stored armaments and ammunition, the forge, and their bedding there was quite little within. It was just another tool to them and was treated as such, including some preparations by Tristan in case the fortress were to somehow fall into enemy hands. In addition the cave was prepared as a place to fall back to in such an instance, with the mining done having widened it enough for ten Astartes to stand shoulder to shoulder. The cave's mouth was completely surrounded by the fortress itself, but the mountain's slope formed the back of the fortress so it had cut down some of their construction needs.
One night the Neophyte found himself laying down atop the fortress, staring up at the stars because he did not quite care where he rested with how exhausted he had grown with all the labors he had endured thus far. As tired as his body had grown his mind was always turning and constantly contemplating how this or that worked, and that extended to their general situation as he let himself rest. Just what was the connection between the Iron Legion and Fabius Bile, who had crafted the Beastmen of this world? What exactly were the other Iron Warriors doing in the nearby sector? While given access to tools and a facility to learn, Tristan was still much in the dark about the greater whole of the Warsmith's operations.
It was only a matter of time until he received greater insight though, Tristan reckoned, as once he was an official Iron Warrior he would be partaking in the missions himself. Until now he had just been a child learning the skills needed to be of use to the Warsmith, but this was the final threshold before he truly entered his mentor's world. Before he could begin repaying the debt he felt he owed Jarn for saving his life from the Beasts of Chaos. From the servants of a Daemon Prince who orchestrated the ruination of an entire world.
Palamedes.
The name was one that Tristan had not been able to truly keep from his mind after he had learned of it. He had been told that it was common for Astartes to forget about their prior lives as they continued through the implantation process, but to learn of the one who had destroyed his former home, his entire world, was not something he could just forget or shake off. It kept his past firmly in his head, still recalling the faces of those he had lost, but he worried that in time even those vivid memories would begin to fade.
What he knew would not leave him was the burning hatred of the Daemon Prince Palamedes, whose mere contemplation was almost enough to drive Tristan into a furor quite uncommon for him. He tried to keep himself calm lest he resemble Levente's mercurial nature, but when he thought of the 'Beasts' that took his former life from him there was no mercy or calm to be found.
Reaching a hand out towards the stars, Tristan soon clenched it as he imagined the day he would be able to avenge his kin, the imagined chorus of unyielding Earthshaker cannon fire lulling him to sleep before another day's tireless effort.
While their compatriots elsewhere had been fortifying a singular position Levente's portion of Alpha Squad had been forging ahead, diminished in number thanks to the split but still fully enhanced Astartes trained for years in the art of warfare. From their battles they had come across more information about their Beastmen foes, namely that for each strain of the Abhuman there was a singular leader that near all others of their kind bowed to. For the Centors in the region it was Tearik, the Chieftain encountered before at the cavern, while for the Caprigors it was a giant of his kind known by the title of 'Twenty Horn' thanks to the many jagged growths from his skull. For the Ungors it was the crafty Discar who had climbed to the top of his breed through cunning alone, for he was weak in body yet always a step ahead of the others. His opposite was the leader of the Bovigors, that being the Chieftain Horbull whose size dwarfed that of Tristan and Jarn considerably and whose might allowed him to assert control over his brutish kin.
These leaders were spread out throughout the region, each reigning over their own particular domain with only Twenty Horn and Tearik being particularly close to where the Neophytes had first arrived. Beneath the leaders were their trusted officers who would keep order in other areas for them, who in turn had forces of their own spread out to further their influence. It was these smaller camps which the Neophytes had been carving through in their initial rampage under Levente's orders, and based out what information they had gathered since there were untold thousands of Beastmen spread throughout the forests covering the continent. Most of them were Caprigors or Ungors, for the Bovigors were lesser in number and the Centors even lesser than them, but their relative capabilities was what had kept them from completely annihilating one another despite constant conflict and warfare.
With this knowledge Levente developed an evolution of his original plan, that being the desire to conquer or otherwise cow the Beastmen into no longer being a threat through a show of force. As Horbull was not in the area that meant he had a Bovigor underling commanding others of their kind somewhere nearby, and by killing that local officer of the tribe the Neophytes could seize control of the Bovigors here who valued raw strength above all else.
It was with plan that the six of them found themselves in the thick of combat once again, with Levente leading the charge as to be expected.
"Come on, come on, come on!"
A stolen axe cleaved through the neck of one Bovigor as Levente twisted and disemboweled another approaching from behind him with the sword of the one he just slayed a second prior. He was as strong as many Bovigors were, but what set them apart was finesse: he bobbed and weaved between their massive forms as he impaled and slashed out at their hides without hesitation or error, their own attacks swinging wildly by where he had been yet had suddenly shifted away from.
Behind him Gunnar was cleaning up the Bovigors not slain outright by their squad leader, their attention almost all tied up in Levente's blitz and their backs vulnerable to those only some steps behind him. This camp of Bovigors had dozens of their kind present and likely possessed others out hunting, but by leaping down from the treetops Levente had assaulted their leadership directly and cut down each of the Bovigors accompanying Horbull's officer. The representative of the chieftain did not shy away from battle himself, standing at twice Levente's height and possessing a musculature that left little wonder in any who saw him why he was the one in charge of the others present: he was the strongest of their kind in this region and he commanded them with that very strength.
Unfortunately for him Levente was powerful too, perhaps less so but more than making up for it with enough speed to run circles around the brute. For every blow it landed against Levente he had managed to strike with five of his own, and while not as durable as Tristan nor possessing as heavy armor Levente was still able to endure the brutal strikes sent his way to continue fighting on. Where a lesser Human might have been slain outright Levente fought through a maul to his gut to slam his axe into the officer's neck and then slash from the opposite direction with his blade.
"We are the Iron Warriors, and for us there is no path except the one that leads to the bitter end!"
As if using a pair of scissors Levente crossed the sharp edges of his weapons and cut deep into the Bovigor's flesh, only able to reach its neck because it had lowered its body to slam its weapon up into Levente. His Power Armor's front was shattered, but the retaliation done by Levente had assured him victory: the Bovigor was gushing blood from its wounded neck and its actions became erratic, allowing even the concussed Levente to avoid its swings and then cut its legs out from under it. The axe and sword were unable to completely carve through the Beastman's thick trunk-like limbs, but it was enough to sever tendons and disable them.
As the Abhuman fell to its knees Levente finished it off with several hacking blows that could have torn through a tree to instead cleave the remainder of its neck away. Lifting the Beastman's head up for all to see, Levente roared as a way to both capture their attention and divert himself away from his own pain.
"Bow to your new king, the future Warsmith of the Iron Legion! Kneel and know that you are now serving a warlord whose name shall go down in history!"
In one decisive battle Levente had managed to acquire for his group a fort of their own as well as the subservience of many Bovigors, who quickly bowed to him once they saw that he had slain not only their leader but all of his guard in mere moments. That he was not a Bovigor himself was secondary to the fact that Levente had proven himself the mightiest one there, and so they willingly became his thralls without further conflict.
Levente quickly set about placing his fellow Astartes in leadership roles to replace those slain in the attack, most notably having Kastor take up the role of his spokesperson when he himself was not present out of respect to Kastor's knack for diplomacy. By directing the Bovigors attention to the conquering of other groups of Beastmen in the local area Levente rallied them to a singular purpose that was not undermining his new rule, and as expected of a warrior chieftain he was at the front of these conquests and further proving his might. Despite possessing a dour demeanor and speaking little the Bovigors were simple in their loyalty to strength alone and so through Levente's continued victories they remained docile towards him and vicious towards those he would point them towards.
Richter was often left at the main camp thanks to his friendship with Kastor, serving as a capable combatant and general soldier in case a Bovigor tried opposing the directions given by either Kastor or Levente himself. Beyond serving as muscle to keep the Bovigors in their place Richter also took upon himself additional duties, revealing that for all his criticism of others he was dependable. Enforcing discipline, teaching the Bovigors how to properly wield certain weapons while not teaching them enough to make them a threat to the Astartes, offering to take watch, and assisting the others whenever needed all demonstrated that Richter telling them how to do their jobs better came not from a place of malice but out of a callous desire to help.
Aldred in turn was left in charge of keeping a keen eye on the Bovigors to be aware of possible dissent or rebellion brewing, an important role because there were foreseeable circumstances where the Bovigors might no longer consider Levente the most powerful being around them. If he was incapacitated, if Horbull were to come to this region, if they were left alone to their own devices for too long, it all could prove disastrous to the Neophytes forcing them to submit through sheer power and martial skill. Rather than undermining those around him to his own benefit he was doing so to an outside group that needed to be kept in check, making the negative aspect of his nature into a positive through proper application of it.
Gunnar and Dominicus together formed the vanguard of Levente's assaults along with their squad leader, Gunnar the best at matching Levente's pace while Dominicus was loyal to a fault of hierarchy and thus could be trusted to act as ordered and needed by Levente. The tendency of Gunnar to feud with others created some conflict with Dominicus over how the latter's actions made those around him feel as if they were somehow disloyal for not always proclaiming and demonstrating their devotion to Levente, though after a brief scuffle between them they resolved their issues and Dominicus toned down his exaggerated exhibitions of loyalty. The many bruises on him would show that Gunnar had made his point, as well as showed to the Bovigors that even these newcomers were not above reprimand if they stepped out of line. That Gunnar would make sure to cover Dominicus in battle too and not just Levente showed that no hard feelings were kept, and as a trio the three conquered a dozen other camps in half as many days.
There was something about being superior to the Abhumans that appealed to the Neophytes in general, as if reaffirming all of their time spent training and preparing for the day that they would become Astartes. It was by their sacrifice and duty thus far that they possessed the skills and strength to conquer like this and it felt rewarding, though Richter was quick to point out that they ought to keep from becoming complacent.
While fickle in their loyalty being to whomever happened to be the strongest at any given point the Bovigors took well to Levente's leadership, his own brutish behavior matching well to their own and his battlefield successes unquestionable. Seeking to learn from one so deadly on the battlefield the Bovigors hung off his every word when night fell and they would all gather at a campsite, Levente telling stories fondly along with his fellow Neophytes about their conflicts both recent and past. Unlike those with Tristan who were all working day and night without rest or time truly dedicated to themselves Levente's group were met with uproarious cheers and laughter from one another as they recalled moments from their training.
Serving as a warlord upon a primitive world was fitting for Levente, who came from a somewhat similar background, and by continually elevating their station within this new setting he was keeping the faith of his fellow Neophytes. While he did not particularly pay dire attention to them in battle and Levente did risk all of their lives in continually fighting he led by example and did not ask of them anything he would not do himself. As the days passed by and he recruited more and more Beastmen to their cause the risk in battle itself was diminishing more and more, and while dangerous at first to attack Beastmen in numbers larger than their own they now had over a hundred Bovigors under their command.
Everything seemed to be going well until the final days of their trial when Richter returned from scouting to report that Omega Squad was currently in danger of being overrun by the united Caprigor forces of Twenty Horn. It would seem that the ten man group had stayed together as one unit led by the top of their class, Helash, and had acted similarly to both Levente's faction and Tristan's by both fighting local Beastmen and also fortifying a position of their own making. On paper it was a good idea, but they had managed to draw the ire of the Caprigor leader before they could fully establish proper defenses and were currently under siege.
Just as Dominicus was loyal to authority to a fault, so too was Levente loyal to his fellow Iron Warriors within the Iron Legion: without a moment's thought he commanded his acquired army to reinforce the position of the other group of Neophytes, not willing to let a disgraceful fate befall them and deprive the Warsmith of ten warriors he might otherwise possess while gaining nothing in return.
The ramifications of this would soon be felt by the forest as a whole.
The days went by for Tristan, Quidel, Faustus, and Urban without issue once their fortress was established and armed. Wild beasts did not dare approach it given the open terrain cultivated around it, the lack of cover leaving them vulnerable to predators. Beastmen had witnessed their fortification, but those not slain before they could rejoin their kin seemed to possess no desire to combat it. The Bovigors would have relished the challenge had they been the ones to cross its path, but it was too daunting for the Ungors who mostly inhabited the surrounding area.
Time not spent on ensuring they were armed and ready for conflict was instead used by the four for training exercises, Quidel taking the lead in most of them due to his varied skillset leaving him the most skilled at most combat scenarios they imagined. While Tristan had the mind for defending the fortress from invasion and manning its defenses, Quidel was the one out of the four who could most reliably lead a counter-charge and shift to close combat. It was all reinforcement of what Ossus had instilled in them all but by assisting one another that they could begin mitigating their individual weaknesses bit by bit in the days made free to them.
One recurring thing that had occurred to them were accidents seemingly befalling Faustus at random, with the Neophyte claiming himself to be cursed until Tristan spoke with him bluntly about how illogical that was. If Faustus had been cursed then the Iron Legion would be aware of the fact given their sensors for Warp taint and the like, and none of the Beastmen present here knew how to cast spells nor were they seemingly even aware of the Ruinous Powers. Through this appeal to logic the paranoid Neophyte was calmed down, and even put to work by Tristan who utilized Faustus' neurotic nature to assist him in planting well-concealed traps for any would-be attackers on their base. His misfortune drove Faustus to double, triple, and quadruple check everything to make certain that things would go according to plan and this obsessive need to counterbalance natural variability made him effective in his role.
On another occasion Tristan had found Urban attempting to restructure some parts of their base to be more ascetically pleasing and artistic, only for Tristan to note that in the process Urban was weakening the integrity of the base's construction. Urban ignored this at first until Tristan asked Urban to explain how he was going about his reconstruction, playing on the other Neophyte's pride in his work and succeeding as Urban did as asked despite being irritated he was being confronted at all over it. While ultimately Urban's ideas held merit and elevated the fortress beyond simply being a temporary base of operations, and the designs were done in a way to maintain as much structural integrity as possible, Tristan was able to note parts of the effort that would diminish their actual purpose due to the resources on hand. If constructed in an ideal situation then Urban's way of doing things would not sacrifice any defensive or structural capabilities, but due to the relatively poor quality of the materials and tools at hand flaws that would not otherwise be there cropped up. Realizing that his theoretical additions did in fact possess some imperfections when faced with reality Urban worked with Tristan to keep what he could while reconstructing the rest to how they were before, knowing that the base's practical needs were more important than his personal desires and grateful to have learned from the endeavor.
The days and weeks passed by without issue for them, not only being undiscovered by the Beastmen hordes at large but also invulnerable to the attack of any few that might come by, until finally the last day of their trial was upon them. While it was possible the fleet could have been delayed and would not be there for some more time there remained less than a single solar cycle until they were expected, and Tristan longed to return to the fleet where he could finally be initiated as a full Astartes with all of the responsibilities and privileges resulting from that.
With little else left to do he decided to go water his Akran seed, only to be surprised when the plant he was tending to popped out from the pot's soil once the first drop fell, revealing in the process a familiar looking type of flora: the small creatures encountered by Tristan and Faustus weeks prior and occasionally glimpsed afterwards. At about a foot in height, it was absolutely miniscule next to the Astarte now kneeling down beside it, but this did little to intimidate the creature as it instantly began hopping up and down as if in seeming joy at its release from the soil.
Tristan had, without intending, created his own 'animal' companion akin to Jarn's Ixolotl Arien. This gave him some pause as he had no intention prior of possessing such a creature, and so he thought over whether he should release it into the wild or what else he might do with it as it continued to move about. It was only when it began hopping from one 'foot' to the other in a sort of jig and seeing Faustus jump back at the sound of its rattling noise which evoked laughter that Tristan made up his mind: he found that he was intrinsically fond of the creature, not just as a representation of the thanks paid to his efforts for the Centor herd but also as an embodiment of hard work paying off through perseverance. If he had been negligent in watering the Akran then it may have simply withered away and died, a fate which could still await it if Tristan was not cautious. It demonstrated his general ethos and that of the Iron Warriors in his opinion, and so he picked its small figure up into his hands which seemed to please it if its 'laughter' or rather rattling was any indication.
It needed something to be called, and so Tristan thought it over briefly before settling on something that appealed to his quirks.
"You shall be Delta-Omega-Theta-Sigma."
Alpha-numeric naming akin to his planned mechanical projects along with it being four words long, or rather four letters when abbreviated to represent the number the Iron Warriors were associated with.
"That is not a name," Quidel spoke bluntly from nearby, having approached Tristan within the fortress to see what the noise was.
Tristan continued to look at Delta-Omega-Theta-Sigma and observe its features more rather than turn to face someone he had not chosen to ask the feelings of, "Opinion unsolicited and ignored. D-O-T-S is a good name."
"If I were to fashion a guess you desired to name the creature 'Dots' and found a technical acronym for it," Quidel quipped with some amusement, earning a moment of silence from Tristan.
"This hypothesis may possess merit."
Quidel sat down on Tristan's bed to get a better look at the Akran now named Dots, not really caring too much about the creature itself but rather curious about how Tristan seemed drawn to it. When he sat down Quidel had accidentally caused the bed's pillow made of Stymphgeon feathers to fall to the ground, instantly resulting in Tristan placing the pillow back where it had been with incredible precision that bordered on obsession. It needed to be where it had been put for Tristan to be comfortable, just like how he liked having everything in the forge be exactly where he placed it, something the other Neophytes had learned the hard way when Tristan froze up briefly in their construction as he tried to find out where certain tools went.
"Less than a day left, and from the looks of things we will not have any casualties to report to Ossus," Quidel spoke up as a way to divert Tristan from his sudden obsession with placing the pillow back, only for the Akran to hop up onto the pillow as soon as Tristan's attention was turned, revealing the creature to possess some modicum of intelligence as well as cunning.
"Hopefully the same will be true for the other sixteen," Tristan noted, not wanting harm to befall even Levente, "I would not wish to be responsible for them falling because we split our forces."
Tristan noticed that the Akran had taken his pillow for itself, earning a glare from behind his helmet that he wore near obsessively. If the Akran noticed it did not show it, remaining where it lay until Tristan's attention returned to Quidel with a question to ask the Astarte whose helmet remained scorched.
"Do you wonder if you made the right decision?"
His constant self-doubt was near anathema to Quidel who was firmer and hardy in his decision-making, not overthinking things nearly as much as Tristan was prone to even when Tristan was fairly certain he was right about something.
"Consider my being here self-preservation, and thus correct by default in this situation. Levente will win more honors and battles than you no doubt, but I do not desire to join the bodies that his victories will be paved over."
That earned a nod from Tristan, setting some of his worries at ease as he recalled conversations he had with Jarn before, "The Warsmith has spoken to us about how there is a thin line between being a hero, and being a memory."
Quidel could agree with that sentiment completely, noting that Tristan's standing to protect Sorn from the wild Grox was heroic but also calculated since Quidel knew that if Tristan believed it to be a losing battle he would have not stepped forward at all. He had no doubt weighed his options and chosen to take action because he believed he could overcome the Grox, displaying foresight and risk-analysis that Quidel supported fully. He had noted those traits in his years of training alongside Tristan and it was why he felt he would survive being at his side rather than Levente's, who pushed every envelope he could for greater success even if it risked greater failure.
"He has invested a lot in Levente and you both," Quidel noted not out of envy but rather some degree of pity, knowing that unlike him Tristan had far greater expectations placed upon his shoulders, "I know not your origins or familial history, but the way he treats you is as if you were his kin."
The sound of a war-horn from the forest beyond the cut field around their base drew their attention and prompted both Neophytes to climb the stairs they constructed until they were at the top floor, joining Faustus and Urban who had already been stationed there checking their gear. The day was beginning to draw to a close and light was dimming minute by minute, but even so the sight of sixteen approaching Astartes was unmistakable.
For some reason Levente's team and Omega squad were coming to meet them, and while it was possible that this was merely to gather together in one place for the arrival of the Iron Legion's fleet Tristan had a sneaking suspicion that such a thing was not the true cause. Rather, the rumbling coming from the forest beyond seemed to indicate that something was headed their way, something that the Astartes were only briefly ahead of.
Tristan and the others quickly went about lowering their gate and ushering the sixteen other Neophytes inside, realizing as they did so that they each carried wounds indicative of recent conflict. Omega squad secluded themselves off to one side to tend to their more severe injuries while the rest of Alpha squad lingered around their brothers they left behind weeks ago, helping close the gates they just entered through as Tristan gave a curt greeting to Levente.
"You return."
Levente scoffed in return, his mind preparing for battle even as he spoke, "Save whatever lecture you have thought out until after we fend off the Beastmen headed our way. There are too many of them for us to fight alone, but here together we may stand a chance."
"Understood."
It only took moments for Levente to explain the basics of their situation, chiefly that he had gone to reinforce Omega Squad who had been attacked by the combined forces of the Caprigor leader Twenty Horn only to find that the Caprigors were not alone. Tale of the Astartes' achievements and slaughters had traveled far, and with not only Caprigors falling to them it had been decided by the leaders of the Bovigors, Caprigors, and Ungors that they needed to eradicate this threat before they could resume their own conflicts. The devastation wrought by Levente as well as by Omega squad's own operations had pushed them to this, along with the Ungors reporting that the Centors appeared to be allying with these outsiders. They had no way of knowing that the Astartes would soon be leaving, nor would they believe them if told as much, so as a united group they had stormed the fortifications erected by Omega Squad and forced them on the run.
This would be a problem on its own, but by leading his Bovigor followers in full to reinforce Omega Squad Levente had brought them to Horbull directly: the only figure in their minds that outranked Levente in strength, leading to them instantaneously turning on him upon their meeting. From there the treacherous Bovigors had tried slaying their once conquerors as well as the fleeing Omega squad members, with the Astartes only managing to fall back and escape this far due to infighting over who ought to get the honor of killing them between the Bovigors and Caprigors.
The ambitions of Levente and Helash, as well as the caution of Tristan, had culminated in this situation and now they were all left to face the consequences: a trifold Beastman army with Abhumans from far beyond this specific region all united with the singular goal of annihilating the Astartes. Who was most to blame could be an argument for another time, what mattered right now was survival because not even this fortress was constructed to endure such an onslaught indefinitely.
Tristan in turn caught the newly arrived Astartes up on the base's defenses and directed them to the top floor where they would mount their preliminary defense, facing some backlash from Helash whose personality seemed prickly and prideful but still ultimately deferring to the four Astartes who built this place and were instructing the others how to best utilize it.
"I thought such weapons were disallowed," Helash noted as he picked up a spare autocannon, only for Tristan to shoot down his objection to its usage.
"We were not permitted to bring them. Nothing was said about creating them with our own hands while here."
Accepting his logic, and knowing that it would be vital to their survival, Helash quieted down and stood in formation with the others as they too prepared to use the autocannons Tristan built. Such firepower was beyond anything the Beastmen held and would greatly outperform their arrows, so as long as they could be kept at bay with these weapons the Neophytes held the advantage.
"We have multiple points to fall back to should they breach our outer defenses. Do not retreat backwards until the order is given, as remaining in formation will be paramount for our success here," Quidel informed the others as he prepared some grenades to throw when the time was right.
Tristan followed up on his squadmate's proclamation with another to better coordinate them all, "Thin their number before they reach us, then when they breach our defenses we will utilize a phalanx maneuver: ten across with ten behind. With our backs to the cave we will be less vulnerable to their numbers."
Levente scoffed at the terminology used due to its association with their faction's ancient enemies, "The Phalanx is the Imperial Fist's primary fortress."
"They are free to try and take the name back, but it was never theirs to begin with," Tristan responded coldly, not caring what Levente felt about the appropriate name for a defensive maneuver even if he too resented everything he knew about the Imperial Fists.
Faustus tried drawing his attention to what appeared to be a crashing meteor in the distance, curious what it was, but it was seemingly irrelevant to their present circumstance and so Tristan instead readied his own autocannon he had taken extra care with to ensure its precision. It was his and when a member of Omega squad had almost picked it up for their own usage Tristan had forcefully grabbed it for himself, not saying a word as he ensured they did not touch his weapon. It was his.
Trees shifted as the pounding of hooves from hundreds upon hundreds of Beastmen shook the region like thunder, a row of Bovigors, a row of Caprigors, and finally a row of Ungors emerging from the edges of the forest. A Bovigor nearly as tall as some of the trees they stepped past was the most notable of the gathering forces, seeming to be the Horbull which Levente warned them of and living up to his reputation as a fearsome beast.
Tristan began adjusting his autocannon, not showing fear thanks to the distance between them even as the Bovigor commander began to speak in a booming voice.
"Do you cower in fear at the sight of our armies? Come out from hiding, metal-men! Not only have you allied yourselves with your hornless kin, but you have dared trespass upon our lands!"
His forces all let out battle cries as if to emphasize just how many of them there were, followed by similar growls from the Caprigors and Ungors who did not wish to be shown up. Just because they were united as three groups for this singular goal did not mean they wished to be shown up by them, each wishing to be the one to possess the glory in the end.
Emboldened by the likely thousands of Beastmen flocking around the cleared area, Horbull continued to roar up at the Astartes who had as of yet said nothing in return as they all focused on readying for battle.
"Surrender now and I shall offer you the mercy of a swift death—"
Finished readying his autocannon, Tristan had fired a high caliber shot that tore through the Bovigor chieftain's eye and skull while ripping apart much of his head in the process. In close combat Tristan had no doubt Horbull would kill him, but more civilized methods of combat had been created since the dark ages these Beastmen thrived in and melee was not nearly as important as they believed when alternatives were available.
Having made his point, Tristan spoke in return from atop his fortress walls, "Your move, Abhumans. We are the Iron Warriors, the Angels of Death who serve Humanity, and nothing will save those who stand in our path. Whether you lay siege with hundreds or thousands of your savage kin, it matters not: not one of you shall pass this threshold alive."
Rather than be frightened this 'cowardly' act enraged the Beastmen, who felt reaffirmed in their hatred of these outsiders who posed such a threat to them. The first line of Bovigors were the first to give charge, as well as the first to fall as the Neophytes opened fire without mercy. The only Neophyte not firing yet was Quidel, who was preparing something he, Faustus, and Tristan had set for the Beastmen. As Bovigors, Caprigors, and Ungors flooded forward at the command of their remaining leadership they did not notice that the ground they were trampling upon had been torn up and replaced sometime recently. It was only when the entire field was covered in charging Abhumans that their mistake was revealed to them.
With a single fuse connecting dozens of iron grenades Quidel in one action erupted the entire ground beneath the Beastmen horde, in a single action killing hundreds of the Beastmen before they even knew what happened. Blood and gore splattered as the minefield detonated manually, Beastmen who survived the widespread destruction missing limbs or even entire parts of their bodies thanks to the calculated placement of each grenade by Tristan and Faustus.
Now the battlefield had mangled corpses and deep holes spread across it thanks to the series of explosions that made advancement more difficult, but that did not deter the countless Beastmen still remaining. The Ungors were herded by the others to serve as unwilling meat-shields, some even being used as literal shields by Bovigors who lifted the smaller Beastmen with a single hand out in front of them. This second wave was fired upon without relent as they shambled forth over their fallen comrades, many dying in turn before they ever even reached the moat while those who did soon found iron grenades being dropped upon them since aiming the autocannons down was less accurate than outwards.
Arrows began to fly from Ungors who had gotten close enough to launch them to the fortress, but those that managed to clear the top of it bounced harmlessly off the combination of autocannon defenses and Power Armor protecting each Astarte. They lost some of their power the further they were launched from and so by continually clearing out the closest archers as priority targets it helped diminish the enemy's firepower. The approach of Beastmen from a full 180 degrees around the fort made dealing with each and every approaching one difficult, but by choosing targets the Neophytes were able to eliminate the immediate threats while leaving the more melee-focused Abhumans for later as some tried to leap across the moat or begin scaling the mountain only to be met with failure.
There were so many Beastmen that counting them was impossible, and there was only so much ammunition to spare between the autocannons which led the Astartes to rapidly depleting their stores for them. Before running empty Tristan informed the others to hit as many Bovigors as possible before they were no longer able to abuse the autocannons' ability to rip through their thick hides at range, though by this point some Bovigors had gotten close enough to fire crossbows back at them. Some shots managed to make glancing hits on the Astartes, but one managed to pierce through the side of Kastor's Power Armor thanks to prior damage to it in the battle directly preceding this one. Richter began to tend to his friend's wound, leaving their ammunition to Tristan to poach as other Astartes began to swap to the rifles to pick off Caprigors attempting to hurl rocks on strings as blunt projectiles.
Bodies were piling up more and more, closer and closer, as the battle dragged on and night completely fell. While Astartes possessed some degree of night vision the conditions still made it more difficult to aim down at their foes who were surrounded by so many of their dead kin that differentiating them in the darkness became a task in and of itself. To mitigate this Quidel fired fire arrows down onto some pyres previously set on the outskirts to illuminate their targets better, and so the echoes of gunfire continued as more and more Beastmen fell.
Some craftier Bovigors had torn down trees to begin hurling into the moat and fill it, crushing some of their fallen Beastmen comrades in the process who had tried and failed from leap across the gap. Those attempting to climb the mountain had fallen screaming to their deaths as well as their hands and feet had been torn by the sharp objects embedded there, but as the bodies and makeshift logs piled up it became increasingly inevitable that the Beastmen would begin to breach the fortress.
As rifle ammunition began to grow scarce as well Quidel approached Tristan, handing Tristan what he had remaining while grabbing the grenades Tristan had neglected until now to hurl downwards.
"They will soon overrun us."
"We shall not grant them the honor. When I give the order fall back to the cavern and prepare the Ironfall contingency."
Quidel nodded before going off to drop more grenades down upon the approaching Beastmen, leaving Tristan to continue aiming down at the increasingly close Beastmen. Such was their brutality that they did not appear to care at all how many of their fellow Abhumans had died, all that mattered was crushing their foes, and so they pressed forward in spite of it all. Some had managed to lean some trees against the walls after piling enough trees as well as bodies (including some still living) in the moat, with Caprigors being the first to begin scaling the walls and hurling sharp objects as they did so.
Knowing that his personal autocannon would not survive this next stage of the siege allowed Tristan to sorrowfully kick it over the edge, its heavy metal crashing down and sending some Caprigors to their deaths. This done he began preparing the oil barrels to pour over the edges, soon drenching the clambering savages with the oils his group had managed to acquire partially with the aid of the Centors and their knowledge of the land. As Beastmen slipped and fell along with their 'ladders' Tristan told the others it was time to fall back, as the Beastmen would soon be reaching the top and this was merely a stalling tactic. On top of the fortress the Iron Warriors had the disadvantage for close combat since they could be surrounded from many sides, so if they were going to be forced to fight they would be best off in the cave. The front gate was still holding, though from the thuds Tristan could hear the Beastmen were attempting to ram it down and it would only be a matter of time before the four gates gave way.
Leaving all else behind Tristan grabbed his Akran and told the wounded Kastor to bring it to the back of the cave for it was vitally important, not explaining himself before leaving and helping Urban retrieve the backup shields and close combat weapons, the other members of Alpha Squad helping pass them out as the group finished evacuating the fortress. Urban seemed to be grimly accepting that his creation would soon be no more while Faustus was seemingly distracted by the sound of something, though whatever it was he was not quite certain yet. Quidel was working on the Ironfall plan as readied days ago in case of the worst, while Omega squad complied with whatever they were told because they were already so tired and worn down from battle that day that they had little strength to do more than that.
Once ready Tristan closed a hidden reinforced door to the cave, able to see in the darkness thanks to torches that were used to assist their mining operations, "I will lead the front row, Levente you will lead the second. Alpha Squad will form the right half of the formation with five in front and five behind, while Omega Squad forms the left portion."
Ten Astartes across, ten behind, with the front serving as the shield while those behind them would stab over and past them at incoming enemies, it was a simple but effective tactic that would best utilize their small number against the encroaching horde.
"Are you sure these shields will hold?" Richter spoke up, noting that they were not anywhere near as sturdy as the shields their fleet possessed.
While not up to Tristan's desires he had done what he could with the shields, reinforcing them heavily as if they were just metal slabs to make use of an Astartes' strength while also amplifying their protection, "They will. Make certain that you do not yield before they do."
Levente furrowed his brow as Quidel used a torch to light what seemed to be a fuse, with the short Astarte casting his gaze over at his titanic rival as if to question what it was they were planning to do.
"How many times have you faced me in wargames? You do not believe I would only plant one set of explosives did you?"
The true purpose of the reinforced metal before them was revealed as explosive charges built into the structure of the base itself erupted outwards as per their design. Like the field beforehand the many explosions leveled everything in their path, tearing apart the fortress just as the Beastman began to congregate upon and within it. Their death screams reverberated throughout the cave as metal shrapnel and exploded gunpowder tore them apart, dying to Tristan's contingency plan that they had never seen coming.
Against more modern foes it would be dangerous to set explosives all across your base, but that was why Tristan had made certain to plant them in ways that it was near impossible for them to be ignited from the outside of the fortress. Instead they were only half prepared and readied as a last resort when the time may come that they were needed, and the Beastmen lacked the weaponry to properly ignite them from afar not that they would even know to do so. The oil poured prior to the Astartes' retreat spread the flames and damage even further, causing mass chaos and injury as their foes were burned severely if they were not incinerated by the explosions themselves.
It was another minute before a Bovigor knocked down the damaged metal door blocking off the cave, but it was enough for the Astartes to catch their breath. In the darkness beyond the now ruined fortress more Beastmen were still visible, showing that even after all this carnage there were plenty more waiting to be the ones who could claim the honor of slaying these deadly foes. The Beastmen were crazed and wholly irrational at this point, continuing to march forward in spite of egregious losses as if they were no better than mindless animals whose bloodlust could not be sated.
Quidel hurled one last grenade forward to slay the Bovigor right as it broke through before taking position right beside Tristan as a part of the phalanx, holding his shield firmly as a slew of Caprigors rushed past the felled Bovigor and crashed against the Astartes. There was little room to spare across where they stood which prevented the Beastmen from getting around them, and as the second row were commanded to counterattack by Levente the Beastmen were slain or driven back as their reckless courage abandoned them. Those attempting to flee after sustaining injury were either trampled over or pressed back into the battle by the ones charging in after them, in either case dying before they could act upon their survival instincts in full.
Right behind Tristan stood Levente, and despite their enmity towards one another neither showed it in the moment: all that mattered was survival, and on that front they were in complete concert with one another. Tristan endured as a Bovigor tackled into his shield and bashed an axe down upon it, the Astarte's hunched posture to not hit his head on the cave's ceiling aiding him in absorbing the blow and also allowing the far shorter Levente to stab over and past him with a spear into the Bovigor's throat. The front row would beat back the Beastmen to create an opening that the second row would use that opening to slay the foes present before more could reinforce them.
It was like this that they fought back the powerful assault of the Beastmen, though nicks and injuries began mounting up more and more with each charge. Quidel had been almost taken out of action by two Bovigors striking him at the same time, one managing to get past his shield and thus bury their blade into his Power Armor. The wound was fortunately not mortal, but it did lessen his ability to protect himself and Helash behind him which resulted in Tristan taking up some of the slack by using his excessive size to help cover them. Helash at one point stepped past Quidel to catch a charging Ungor off-guard, killing their leader Discar who had sought to slip into their ranks during the confusion of another mass assault to claim the glory of victory himself. It seemed personal to Helash, for whereas Tristan's group had allied with the Centors and Levente's conquered some Bovigors the members of Omega squad had formed a tentative alliance with the Ungors which the Ungors had betrayed.
The death of one of the remaining leaders gave pause briefly to the onslaught, time during which Faustus spoke up again as one wounded arm hung limply at his side.
"I hear something, but I am not certain what it is. If I had to hypothesize however it sounds like stone being ground to dust."
Tristan realized what he was getting at, but if their foes were capable of drilling through the earth they would not be attacking like this. While cautious about whatever it was Faustus was hearing given that the Astarte's senses and instincts were often right, Tristan ultimately opted to focus on the threat at hand before splitting their focus, "These Beastmen do not possess the capability to engage in such actions, so for now we can discount that possibility. When we have dealt with the threat at hand we will ascertain what it is you hear."
A large group of Caprigors cut off any further attempt at discussion as they rushed past and over their massacred comrades, a particularly large one with a mangled mess of horns jutting from his skull leading the pack. Realizing that Twenty Horn was leading them and was likely accompanied by some of his most elite followers Tristan yelled out for the others to brace themselves and be ready.
"Steady!"
Seeking out the largest foe for himself, Twenty Horn collided with Tristan and actually knocked him back a few steps and into Levente. Before Tristan could recover from the hit Levente had slipped by him and impaled the Caprigor through the chest, though a quick move on its part had kept it from being a severe wound. Gripping the spear now embedded in it, Twenty Horn blitzed past the Phalanx and began grappling with the one who dared stab him as Tristan resumed his position in the defensive line to prevent others from getting past.
Levente tore sideways with his own grip on the spear to tear it out of the Caprigor leader, though it used this same moment to ram its head into his already damaged Power Armor. The hit broke what was left protecting Levente's chest and the horns impaled him, though thanks to the Power Armor absorbing most of the blow the hits were shallow. To pay this back Levente brought a mighty uppercut up into its jaw with his free hand, knocking the Beastman away from him and freeing him of its horns. While he was mostly fine Levente did spit up some blood into his helmet, prompting him to toss it aside so he could properly see who he was fighting.
In the Beastman's hand was a chainsword, unique for its tribe in that it seemingly had acquired a weapon far beyond their own level of technology and managed to keep it functioning. How or why was beyond Levente's caring, but since he was quite experienced with such blades Levente dodged multiple incoming blows from it before stabbing directly into its whirring teeth with the spear Tristan lent him for this engagement. The spear's head was torn apart by the metal teeth, but in being impaled the chainsword was broken and it created an opening for Levente to disarm the Caprigor by tossing the spear and the sword it skewered off to the side.
Twenty Horn lowered its head to impale Levente once again, seeking to finish off his wounded torso with one last attack...only for Levente to have anticipated this and intuitively moved aside at just the right moment to avoid it entirely. As the Beastman missed him Levente grabbed it by the upper jaw with one hand and the lower jaw with the other, utilizing his impressive strength in an unsuspecting way on the Beastman.
It struggled for a moment, but through brute force Levente ripped Twenty Horn's head apart from the jaw, hurling the lower jaw away into the darkness while ripping apart the rest of the head in his palm. Content with his victory over one of the strongest of their foes, Levente looked back over to the others where he found that they had managed to defeat the Caprigors present. Beyond them he could even see that the Beastmen were falling back, something he laughed at as he proudly returned to the formation.
"Would you look at that, the horned bastards are running."
Tristan nodded as he began to look over his own damage incurred, noticing now that he had been stabbed numerous times by arrows and blades and had just been blocking out the pain. All the others were in similar situations, though due to his size Tristan had been targeted more and it showed by the shambles his own armor was in. His Mirmillon-styled helmet was perhaps the only part still mostly intact, for with his height less damage was able to be done to his head relative to his body.
"It is the logical course of action. Even if they could defeat us there is far too little to be gained while risking annihilation to do so."
It seemed that their battle was over, and yet a sense of tension remained in the air...one which Faustus gave voice to.
"Something feels off however. Do you hear that?"
Now finally listening to what Faustus had spoken of earlier, Tristan felt he could hear the sound of machinery somewhere which was odd given that the Beastmen did not possess it...and in the distance the sounds of the retreating Beastmen had been replaced by some other rapid beating of feet across the ground.
"Faustus, can you tell if those sounds are coming towards us or if they are of the retreating Beastmen?"
Tristan was uncertain and wanted to know as fast as he could what it was they were about to be dealing with, as something definitely seemed off and he did not wish to rest on his laurels and be caught off-guard.
"Are those Centors trying to stab us in the back?" Levente suggested, only for Faustus to shoot down his suggestion as the latter continued to try and focus.
"No, whatever's headed here isn't cavalry...it sounds more like footsteps than hooves."
So it was definitely incoming and was not reinforcements from the Centors, who Tristan now noticed must have been present on the battlefield attacking the flanks of the Beastmen based on how he recognized their weapons in some of the corpses in the distance.
"Stand ready at your positions, this conflict is not over yet!" Tristan readied his shield even as his arm pained him from where a blade had impaled it, his voice carrying his concern in it as well as frustration that the battle was not yet won.
And in the moment after a familiar sound roared across the clearing, the ones who bellowed it finally emerging from the woods.
"WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Like the Beastmen before them a massive horde of Orks appeared from the woods' edges and began running towards where they believed a battle to be, the war-hungry Xenos having crash landed here not long before the battle took place and having rushed over to take part in the massive melee. They were too late to catch the Beastmen who heard them coming and fled rather than be caught in their weakened state against a fresh foe, but the Neophytes had no such option available for them.
"Greenskins..." Quidel sighed, wishing he had a flamer now more than he had for the past weeks.
Even with their gear in prime condition and with regular firepower the Neophytes had little doubt concerning their ability to withstand an Ork horde, so their wounded status mixed with their ruined sets of armor and weapons was a death sentence that each of them understood. Even so Levente stepped forward and raised weapons torn from the death-grips of the Beastmen who had expired before them.
"Stand and fight! This is our only way forward, for we are Iron Warriors now: the only way this ends is by fighting to the bitter end! If you must die, do so taking as many of these foul beasts with you as you can!"
Tristan nodded slowly, having tried to think of an alternative but knowing that there was no way they could cross all the bodies and ruined terrain before them to run somewhere else by the time the Orks reached them, "Given our injuries there is a low likelihood for success, though you are right for once: there are no other options left for us except to dig our heels in."
The first Orks had proven themselves quite agile, crossing the field in moments despite their hulking physiques that showed them to be 'Nobz', the Orks' version of elite infantry, while running right behind them was the even larger form of what was likely their Warboss. The Nobz continued their warcries as they crashed into the wounded Neophytes, beating against their shields savagely without any form of caution or care for retaliation: all that mattered to these Orks was killing the enemy before they killed you.
As they did this deeper in the cavern more Ork voices could be heard as the sound of drills finally burst through the rock, revealing what it was that Faustus had been hearing before.
"I told youz der we sum 'umiez around here! Lets crak der skulls boyz!"
Self-styled "Digga Nobs", these Orks had heard the word before and did not know what it meant, resulting in them creating odd vehicles to dig through terrain and catch their enemies unaware. It was near suicidal against a true foe, but for the wounded Astartes it was another nail in the coffin. Only three of these Nobz had broken through this way, but it was enough to present a severe threat by attacking the phalanx from behind right as they were struck from the other side by other Nobz.
"Second row, turn and face the Xeno-filth burrowing into the cavern!" Levente ordered and the others obeyed, seeking to eliminate the smaller threat before returning to the one bearing down on them from the front.
Unlike the rest of the second row Levente actually remained with the front row, climbing over Tristan as his rival held back a Nob and kicking the Ork in the face. Driving it down and into the ground, Levente stomped on its green face and launched himself at the four other Nobz that had reached them so far. Now eleven on four the Astarted were able to bash and beat the Orks back just in time for another group to arrive alongside their Warboss, the five Nobz now arriving rushing to combat the shield wall as the Warboss roared and ran at Levente to take on the Astarte it just witnessed crush one of his minions' skull.
Realizing that Levente would no doubt meet its challenge, Tristan stepped forward and defended Levente from its first strike that was far faster than either of them accounted for. Its Big Choppa was like a bladed maul and carved easily through the remainder of Tristan's shield and then partially across his chest and into the side of his neck while also slicing into some remaining armor on Levente's wrist. The impact actually knocked Tristan off his feet, leaving him at the mercy of the Warboss.
The Ork lifted its powerful weapon and prepared to smash it down into the recovering Tristan, only for Levente to tackle the Warboss and knock its attack away from its intended target and instead slam into the ground beside Tristan.
"Bertrand!"
Tristan began to climb back up, but as he did Levente continued to engage the Warboss head-on in close combat. It was to Levente's credit that his impressive physique allowed him to at all grapple with the Warboss, though as they struggled it became obvious that while they were similar in might it was the Warboss who ultimately possessed more. Bit by bit the Warboss forced Levente back until finally gaining the leverage to hurl him against the cavern wall, reaching for his brutal weapon to crush the now disorientated Levente only to be interrupted mid-action as Tristan hurled himself at the Warboss. Tristan had lowered his massive body to better collide with it and so managed to drive the Warboss back a step, but its superior might allowed it to brace the attack and retaliate with its Big Choppa...only to realize that its superior strength stopped working for some reason.
Looking down, the Warboss realized that Tristan had not only lowered his body into the Ork's large abdomen to strike it, but also to wrap his long arms around it and from his crouched position push upwards to lift it up into the air. The Xenos was incredibly heavy to Tristan, but through his grip and applied leverage he managed to neutralize the Ork for at least a moment since it could not properly attack while Tristan was so close and also depriving it of the ground to push off of. Tristan's left shoulder had proven useful in pressing the Ork up though the weight was straining him more and more each moment he held it. His body ached and blood continued to drip from his more recent wounds, but Tristan endured it all the same.
Unable to keep the Warboss in such a hold for long, Tristan all the same suffered through its wild flailing as its hands, arms, legs, and Big Choppa all struck him however they could. He had to grit his teeth and bear it for now as he used his remaining strength to lift the Ork even higher, then bent backwards while bending his knees to slam the Ork headfist down into the ground behind him. This effort had slowed down its rampage and kept it tied up even longer, but it quickly forced itself free once it was on the ground and kicked Tristan aside with a powerful swing of its leg. The Warboss swung its maul-like Choppa down at Tristan's skull but the final impact was diverted by Levente having hurled a broken shield to collide with the Ork's arm and weapon mid-swing. With the attack partially interrupted it instead collided with the space between Tristan's neck and shoulder, causing him to grunt in pain as the Warboss laughed at how interesting the fight had become for him.
Tristan swiped a leg out in retaliation at the Ork's own, something it saw coming and consequently jumped to avoid while also preparing a mighty swing downwards at Tristan's prone form...only for Tristan to reel his legs inwards and kick them outwards at the Warboss right as it came crashing down from its leap upwards. The impact slammed into the Ork's gut and knocked it through the air, though it remained upright and ready to land on its feet until Levente leapt forward and with another Ork's Choppa in hand bash it back even further.
Forced into a tumble, the Warboss rolled onto its feet some feet outside of the cavern's entrance, looking no worse for the wear despite all the strikes it had taken from each of the Neophytes. If anything it seemed to be enjoying their attempts to wound it, enjoying battle much like how Levente did but without any notions or honor or of fighting for anything but its own wicked desires.
Their situation appeared quite grim, but the Ork was stopped in his tracks as the noise of something falling behind it caught its attention as well as that of Tristan and Levente. All three looked to see that some mechanical device had appeared as if from nowhere, their eyes recognizing what it was right as it was announced.
"Locator beacon in position."
The voice was one which was familiar to only a single member of the twenty Neophytes, for even if that had heard it before it had never drawn their attention or lingered long in their minds. To them it was just the voice of another member of the Adeptus Astartes, but to Tristan it was someone he had sat across in countless Regicide games. It hurt to sit up and get a better look, but Tristan felt obliged to witness what was to come even as Levente began looking around to see who had spoken.
Like a phantom of the night the cameleoline masking Asier's presence faded away and revealed him standing atop the slope leading to the top of the cave's mouth. By the time his cloaking faded away twin bolts of midnight blue and searing white had fired from the specialized sniper rifle born of Xeno technology in his hands, their streaking energy ripping through the skulls of numerous incoming Orks as the paired shots repeated like an automatic weapon. Such was its firepower that little remained of their bodies even though their heads were the obvious targets, a weapon meant to tear apart heavy vehicles instead being used on Orks wearing the bare minimum of armor. Some power was sacrificed in its present firing mode to allow for more rapid firing, but what remained of it was enough to annihilate their entire beings.
Asier leapt down while still firing with one hand with his personal weapon The Lance continuing to carve a path through the Ork horde as his free hand reached for a Power Spear hidden beneath his cloak. As he landed his mighty form crushing an unsuspecting Ork beneath him with a spear thrust downward ending its life, all the while Asier continued to target the space around where he deployed his beacon to clear out whatever Greenskins might interfere. Mere moments had passed and already from the beacon's shining light figures had begun to appear before the Neophytes, the deployment rapid and routine as if it had been done a thousand times before.
With swiftness came a decrease in precision for deployment via teleportation, but the calculations of the Iron Warriors aboard the Eisernen and the presence of the beacon allowed for those arriving to only suffer a fall of about two feet before standing completely ready for battle. At the center of their formation was the hulking form of the Warsmith himself, the familiar sight of Castiel by his side, numerous Iron Warriors which Levente recognized as the members of Urkamus squad before them, and surrounding them all were the towering metal behemoths known best as the Iron Circle.
The Iron Warriors had returned, and to dare threaten their initiates was to invite retribution without mercy.
Not a moment passed before Jarn opened fire with his wrist-mounted guns, bolts spitting out rapidly and tearing through the Greenskin masses without issue given that the guns were meant to tear through Astartes armor and these targets possessed far less in the way of protection. His movements were precise and without waste, the veteran of the Great Crusade and the Horus Heresy rapidly calculating the exact target to focus upon next to maximize his damage output just as he had done for centuries beforehand. The Logos Secundus possessed integrated targeting systems that compensated for its lumbering speed, allowing Jarn to keep up with more agile foes to a reasonable degree and also ensuring that nearly every bolt which fired from his suit struck exactly where it ought to for maximum effect.
Beside him Castiel had begun to wade through the Orks closest to them, his personal blade Alondite carving through their thick hides as if they were naught but paper thanks to the weapon's expert craftsmanship upon Caliban. The shield held in his other hand found more use as a secondary weapon than as a defensive deterrent against the Orks for their weapons not only deflected off of his reinforced armor but their mad swings left them vulnerable to being bashed and cleaves by the shield's edges. Despite being a member of the 'Fallen' it was due to Jarn's graces that Castiel and his fellow Dark Angels had been granted a new lease on life, and that debt was one repaid by sincere loyalty which saw the former Knights of Caliban take up arms to protect the Warsmith.
With Alondite's form glowing brightly in the night's darkness Castiel truly looked to be a knight like those found in the stories Tristan grew up on, and the power coursing through the blade soon revealed itself capable of being unleashed as a weapon itself as Castiel cut through an Ork and in the same swing hurled the excess energy forward. The energy arced outwards and through numerous Orks nearby, severing limbs and bodies as it soon dissipated as fast as it had appeared. As it did this Castiel had resumed his slaughter of the Orks daring to draw near Jarn, his blade burying into the neck of a particularly large Nob which had started close to them yet only now reached their position thanks to the many Orks that had been in its way prior.
Urkamus tersely barked orders to his squad as they gunned Xenos down without hesitation or fear despite being outnumbered, one of their members being a tall Astartes not that much shorter than Jarn managing to counter-charge an Ork and gun it down before hurling its weapon into the open mouth of another and knocking it off its feet with sheer strength. Providing further security within the ruins of the fortress and battlefield were the Iron Circle machines brought by Jarn, alternating between bashing Greenskins aside and gunning them down with their heavy armaments. A Nob attempted to stab at one with its large blade only for the weapon to be turned away by the force field of the Iron Circle's shield, its effect being amplified by multiple of its brethren being deployed nearby it. With the Ork's attack deterred the machine bashed it with its shield and then stabbed down through it with their hammer's other end, then swinging it around to knock four other Orks off their feet in one swift movement.
All of this was to the delight of the Warboss, whose attention had long since been torn away from Tristan and Levente.
"Now dats more lahk it! Stand back boyz, da big humie iz mine!"
His proclamation announced his intention to the Warsmith, who turned to face him as the Ork ran advanced forward recklessly. With a single massive hand the Warboss swung its maul towards Jarn's head with vicious ferocity, though unfortunately for the Ork it never met its mark. Instead the Ork found itself bewildered by the Human's gauntlet now grabbing the hand wielding the maul, as well as by the mechanical arm from behind the Human which similarly intercepted the maul and was grabbing it by its shaft. Seeing that Jarn only possessed one such mechanical arm to use in such a manner, the Warboss quickly brought back its free arm to try and punch Jarn's helmet with as much force as its gargantuan body could muster.
Having predicted this course of action, Jarn caught the fist in the palm of his hand and clenched down on it, using the power afforded to him by the Logos Secundus to begin crushing the Greenskin's exposed flesh. Orks grew in size and strength as they engaged in battle after battle, and the size of this Warboss while significant still revealed it to be new to its role and that its strength could not match Jarn's own might afforded by his own stature and Astartes physiology. It was strong, but he was stronger, and so with that difference between them Jarn began to twist the beast's arm inch by inch as he used his servo-arm to wrench the maul from the Ork's opposite hand. The creature had lost some of its grip as its other hand was crushed further and further, distracted by the pain, and so Jarn continued to tighten his own hold as the Ork's blood began to spill from its now ruined fist.
The Warboss let out a howl of pain as Jarn twisted its arm such that it forced the Ork to one knee, though this cry of anguish was soon silenced as Jarn's other hand swung forward and connected with its neck like a sledgehammer. The blow was powerful enough for the neck to partially snap, the Greenskin's tough hide unable to fully protect itself from the gauntlets Perturabo once wielded to crush his enemies, and some of the neck's flesh ripped open from where it connected to its body.
This done, Jarn manipulated his own maul Eirlithriad from where it rested on his back so that it was now in his hands, discarding the crude weapon of the Warboss in the process in favor of one he had made himself. Twisting himself around for momentum and using his servo-arm to maintain a grip on the Ork's body, Jarn gripped Eirlithriad in both hands and smashed its head down upon the wound he made on the Ork's neck. In this one strike the Warboss had its massive head torn right from its body and hurled across the battlefield where its flight path only came to a stop when it rolled into the shins of a charging Ork, who tripped over it and died before they hit the ground thanks to a well-placed shot by Asier.
With the fight dying down where they stood the Neophytes were granted front row seats to witness the carnage now being carried out on their behalf, with Levente in particular near slack-jawed by how powerful Jarn had demonstrated himself to be. Tristan meanwhile was captivated by the sheer efficiency of movement and actions carried out by the strike force before them, trying to observe them and learn whatever he could from their actions so that he might improve his own combat capability.
From an outsider's perspective it would appear as if Jarn and Asier moved as one, for while typically two warriors fighting in such close proximity would naturally impede the other's movements and actions even to the point of bringing harm to their comrade, the movements of the Warsmith and his shadow displayed no such weakness. Where an Ork's Power Klaw might have slashed at Asier's standard Power Armor it instead met the reinforced hide of Jarn's Logos Secundus. In the same moment Asier would stab past Jarn with his spear to impale an Ork who had sought to slay the one responsible for the death of their leader in an attempt to display their own might, protecting Jarn's exposed back without a single moment of hesitation. Years and countless battles side by side had brought them to this point where they could move as one - back to back with an arsenal of weapons at their disposal - and so they left carnage wherever they turned.
When one turned the other shifted to match them. When Jarn swung Asier would drop below the arc of the Warsmith's maul. When Asier would fire Jarn would steer clear of the deadly firepower of The Lance. Jarn's servo-arm could stop a foe heading towards them as Jarn's attention was on gunning gown Orks elsewhere, the servo-arm setting up an easy stab for Asier to tear through the unfortunate Ork. All of the Iron Warriors who had arrived as reinforcements were tearing through the Ork horde like butter and displaying their long service in the defense of Mankind, but well above them all stood Jarn in sheer brutal efficiency and it was clear to the Neophytes why this man was their Warsmith. Less noticeable was how his shadow was able to keep step with him, Asier seeming on the surface to just be another common soldier and overlooked by Levente and the others as such in favor of Jarn, but Tristan's experience with Asier allowed him to more keenly observe him.
Power Spear met Big Choppa and its rapidly spinning metal teeth, then in the moment after the Ork's weapon was arcing harmlessly past where Asier had stood. Now twisting around the Ork the skilled warrior beheaded it as if in a graceful dance with a single movement of his weapon. Where Jarn was annihilating his foes with sheer power and superior armament, Asier was capable of achieving the same ends with precision. Each possessed the other quality as well with Asier's strikes demonstrating power to them and Jarn's unerring accuracy, with their capabilities keenly intertwined all the while disparate and complementing the other's own. The bodies piling at their feet were mounting higher and higher with each passing moment, only to be cleared away by the sweeping blows of Jarn or Lance fire of Asier to better allow them to continue their footwork without breaking stride.
As a united strike force the Iron Warriors slew the Orks by the dozens until eventually there were no more to kill, the battlefield falling into silence almost as quickly as it had erupted into Ork battle cries. Tristan had been wrong when he proclaimed to the Beastmen that the Neophytes were the Angels of Death, for in witnessing the Iron Warriors truly in action now he realized just how much he had yet to learn.
A/N: One may notice why this update took awhile, especially considering that a hurricane took out my power for awhile, but I hope you enjoyed it regardless and will let me know your thoughts below!
