SLAVES OF DARKNESS
It was not long before Brechung rejoined the other members of Urkamus Squad, having cut down whatever foes he deemed necessary it would seem by the blood splattered across his armor. Similarly it was not long after this regrouping that Urkamus smashed his gun across the taller Brechung's face and upper torso in one swift movement, knocking his barbaric subordinate back and forcing him down onto the ground.
"This shall be your only warning: disobey orders again and I will put you down. I have no place for a rabid dog that goes off its leash."
Brechung's prior bloodlust was absent as he returned to his typical quietness, nodding once rather than retaliating.
"Understood."
"Prove it with your actions," Urkamus nearly spit as he walked past Brechung and made his way back to the others, "Our objective here is complete, so we have orders to return to the fleet immediately. A small force of Word Bearers have used their foul sorcery to board one of our vessels and they must be forced back."
What their purpose was for assaulting the far larger Iron Warrior warband, their origins, or anything else about them was left unsaid by Urkamus if he knew the answers to these things at all: all that mattered was that they had a new situation on their hands and that time was of the essence in reacting to it.
"What of the others?" Tristan asked, ignoring Brechung as the brute rose back to his feet since while Tristan would typically offer a fellow soldier a hand up he did not quite feel the aid was warranted here. What interested him more was that other Iron Warriors in the current engagement were already departing the battlefield to defend the fleet while others were noticeably remaining behind, splitting their number and possibly endangering their objectives in the siege.
It would seem that the Word Bearers had chosen the worst time for the Iron Warriors to react to their presence, but then again perhaps that was the point and why they felt bold enough to launch such an assault. While the Iron Warriors were busy ending a siege and deploying their full might to defeat the cities and forces in their way their vessels maintaining orbital support for them were open to board and perhaps conquer with a proper usage of their own force at hand. It was all speculative, but it made some degree of sense, though it still felt off given Tristan's studying of the history and operations of the Word Bearers during his training. They were using the powers of the Warp to their aid as was typical, but the Word Bearers were known for their overwhelming numbers: was this some scouting force that was pressing its luck and seeking glory, or was there a deeper meaning to it all? If they were but one part of a greater whole then where were the others, and how had they come into contact with the Iron Legion?
Tristan's mental pondering was interrupted near immediately by Urkamus' blunt response, "They have their own orders. Khyr's forces will remain here to finish the campaign while we deal with the enemies at our back."
While Urkamus squad unofficially fell under the direct command of the Warsmith himself as his personal squad it truly belonged to the Grand Battalion of Triarch Archimedes given his longstanding history with Urkamus. Archimedes served as an advisor to the Warsmith along with fellow Trident members Khyr and Didumoi Drakon, each of them providing their differing skillsets to discussions on how to best handle a given conflict. Of them Archimedes was known for his gifted mind concerning calculations and all matters related to mathematics, making him a gifted siege engineer whose talent for the tedium and minutiae of drawn out sieges was unparalleled by any in their ranks other than the Warsmith himself. His brilliant mind made him an invaluable member in the Dodekatheon as well, with various inventions to improve their war machine stemming from him, though he could often be found pondering his calculations even if he ought to have his mind elsewhere.
Khyr was a veteran of many battles just like Archimedes, but whereas Archimedes was most well known for his talents in prolonged sieges Khyr was the one called upon to help end them. With considerable combat skill that had seen him cut down more Astartes during the Horus Heresy than any member of the Iron Legion barring Asier, Khyr possessed a mind to match his physical capabilities and knew when to best exert pressure to break his foes in body and spirit. It was for this reason that Levente had been assigned to a squad under his command, as there the fledgling Astarte could best put his own skills to use while learning from those more experienced in the field.
The last member of the Trident, an institution mirrored by Jarn from Perturabo's own command structure, was Drakon whose presence was less noticeable and mostly felt on paper due to his Grand Battalion being the one which Jarn would personally oversee during battles. The Warsmith was no longer content with standing by as others took action like he once had been, and so unlike the Iron Warriors belonging to the Chaos aligned Falk he would personally lead them and not simply leave matters to his advisers to carry out. Drakon would assist him in administering his orders and served as a near shadow to Jarn in battle, having been chosen to lead one third of their forces specifically because his personality was one of deference to Jarn and he could almost always be found in agreement with him.
Each Grand Battalion possessed a thousand Astartes under their command with the remaining thousand stationed in various support roles within the fleet, though the true number of combat-ready soldiers was far less: through attrition many of their number had grown crippled and been worn down to the point that the only reason they still lived was their Astartes physiology, and it was of these that the most capable were employed in the Grand Battalions as operators of artillery, Techmarines, and such vital roles that did not require able bodies. Those unable to carry out even this degree of combat were not discarded given the Warsmith's oath of protection to each of them, and so they made themselves useful however they could with their talents with enduring loyalty and dedication. For each team ready for combat such as Urkamus Squad there were three others that were relegated to support roles, but this did little to deter the efforts of the Iron Legion: they always had use for Basilisk operators to unleash wrack and ruination upon their foes.
It was a facet of most Astartes legions that they possessed a near zealous obedience to their Primarch and his will, though as shown by the opening stages of the Horus Heresy this loyalty was not absolute. They may each be the sons of their respective Primarch, but each individual Astarte had unique qualities of their own that set them apart from their kin even if in becoming Astartes they grew to possess similar traits. This saw many of the traitor legions remain loyal and necessitate their purging by their treacherous brethren, though in the case of Jarn's forces who parted ways before Perturabo joined Horus they were spared such ignoble ends as faced by the sons of Mortarion, Angron, and Horus who were slain at Istvaan by their own kin.
Perhaps more than most the Iron Warriors were dutiful sons of Perturabo who considered his word as law, for while some scattered across garrisons throughout the galaxy would remain loyal such as Dantioch or the Iron Warriors slaughtered by the traitorous Alpha Legion member Skorr it was quite the exception and not the rule. Feeding into this was the bitterness of centuries leading up to the Horus Heresy which saw the spirit and bodies of the Iron Warriors ground down without relent, and it was through Perturabo that they were offered a form of salvation in laying waste to those who had used them. For many Iron Warriors there was little loyalty paid to their dark masters of Chaos, for to them Chaos was a tool to be used and it was Perturabo who they truly venerated and placed their faith within. Thousands of years and bitter rivalries had seen a schism in the forces of the Fourth, but if called upon all those who had stood alongside Perturabo at the Heresy would rejoin his side to wage war against their hated foes once again.
Those who had turned their backs on Perturabo however lacked their Primarch to worship, and so in this way Jarn had found a near fanatical loyalty within his Iron Legion from many of his men. They had nowhere to return, no home or refuge to be found, and so all they could do was move forward and it was through Jarn's strength and mind that they saw the path forward. Possessing a visage akin to their Primarch and carrying out the will that Perturabo and the Iron Warriors once sought helped him replace their Primarch in the eyes of his soldiers, as while lesser than Perturabo in nearly every way Jarn had remained firm in his goals and dedication. The persevering spirit of one born on Kimara had melded with the nigh unbreakable spirit of the Iron Warriors and had so created a man many found worthy of calling Warsmith.
Just as Perturabo possessed those who doubted him and did not follow him into damnation so too did Jarn, as in the days of the Horus Heresy out of necessity Jarn had joined forces with other wayward Iron Warriors who for one reason or another did not wish to join Perturabo nor the Imperium. Careful to not recruit any agents of Chaos or spies for the Imperium into his ranks as he had been, Jarn could not entirely pass over aid from Iron Warriors he did not particularly see eye to eye with if they met the general criteria and loyalties he sought.
A former Warsmith by the name of Constantine was one such individual, a native of Olympia whose underhanded nature was a reflection of many of those who hailed from the former Iron Warrior world. With him came a retinue of Iron Warriors into the Iron Legion that had all since perished through a combination of grueling assignments given to them by Jarn and through Constantine's own command which followed the typical Iron Warrior ethos of using lives like bullets. Their sacrifices had helped achieve various victories and objectives for the Iron Legion which was why they were brought into the fold to begin with, but the politics involved had seen Constantine placed into a high ranking position underneath Archimedes who in turn reported directly to Jarn.
While serving Khyr would perhaps benefit Constantine's style of command better Jarn placed the former Warsmith under the control of a more methodical and reserved officer to keep Constantine in check, wanting to both make certain that his own forces were not wasted and that Constantine would be deprived of the more rapid opportunities for advancement frontline command would often entail. Constantine was a snake that was currently tamed, someone who joined Jarn because he had been the best option at that moment contrasted with returing to an uncertain fate within the Imperium or fall to the corruption of Chaos, and so cautionary measures had to be taken to prevent such an individual from causing damage to them all. Jarn was too honest to simply have Constantine killed since he had made a sworn agreement to take him under his wing and protect him, but that only remained true so long as Constantine remained loyal which he presently was if begrudging of no longer being the one in control.
In much the same way as Constantine it was Levente who would prosper under the command of Khyr, but unlike Constantine the young Astarte had been assigned in such a capacity and thus would be among the many remaining on Forescien to complete the siege. Those belonging to Archimedes and Drakon would be returning to secure their fleet that was the only thing keeping them a step ahead of their many foes in this dreadful galaxy, so a glory-seeking Astarte might see garrisoning their ships as inferior to holding the honor of ending a siege and claiming the spoils of war. That by being recalled they were being denied the rewards they might be due after months of preparation, but such thoughts were lost upon Tristan and Urkamus: as Levente's opposite in so many ways Tristan lacked a deeper desire for glory and instead was wholly focused upon duty, while for Urkamus all that mattered was what he was bid to do whatever that might be.
In the end the Grand Battalions had been split up largely by personalities and dispositions, and so there was no disgruntlement to be found among those retreating from the siege of Forescien: they had their orders and so would see to it that they would be carried out. It might perhaps be an honor to repel the Word Bearers if not for the reports citing there being relatively few of them, but caution still was to be heeded and there was no telling if more of their ilk would appear from out of the Warp to reinforce their present number.
So often was it that Tristan was aboard the Eisernen that he scarcely could remember viewing it from outside the leviathan vessel nor any of its fellow Victory-class Battleships within the Iron Legion's fleet, for as was standard of Iron Warrior vessels of their era sensors took the place of windows into the void of space with armor and armaments in their place. Whereas other Legions might possess a poetic or spiritual desire to stare out into the expanse of space beyond the Iron Warriors had felt such things unimportant compared to efficiency and survival, rather having their lives saved by an additional layer of armor plating than having experienced a longing view of distant stars. Such romanticist actions could be taken after they had conquered those very stars and achieved the utopia they sought.
In this way Tristan found himself truly looking at the Eisernen for the first time as he stood in the cockpit of the Stormbird taking them back to their fleet. The vessel they were to board was the Ironclad Knight, another Victory class Battleship, but to reach it they would have to pass by their flagship first given their relative positioning. The Eisernen was not adorned with the more typical regalia Imperial vessels possessed that made them appear as if voidborn cathedral fortresses drifting through space, trading the near religious appearance of other such Battleships for one of pure functionality: in the place of heraldry was additional armor, where an emblem of an Imperial eagle might be instead possessed rows of defense turrets, and wherever possible the ship's hull was further reinforced with ablative armor that could be readily repaired or replaced as needed to better protect its inhabitants.
At over fourteen kilometers in length and five at its greatest width the Eisernen was notably larger than other Victory class Battleships of its ilk, something it shared with its owner compared to Jarn's own peers, and this size was not just in excess: it allowed for the Eisernen to mount far more weapons than a similar craft while not sacrificing anything but speed, being also far more enduring than other such craft. Its ability to turn was a natural sacrifice, but it was designed to eliminate its enemies before they could ever come close enough to abuse this vulnerability, as at sufficient range even a slow-turning craft such as it could keep up with the movements of other vessels.
The exterior possessed a dull and uniform coloration, being marked similarly to the armor of the Iron Warriors and lacking any effort to make it appear as if it was anything more. Its weapons spoke for them, not their appearance, and that philosophy was carried over to their vessels. Whereas the Tribune Victory class Battleship of the Imperial Fists used in the Battle of Phall had been compact and modified to hold an entirely different set of armaments the Eisernen was long and proudly carried an expanded armory of lances to whittle down anything it was pointed at. While simple in its design it was a work of art to Tristan whose own ascetic tastes were a preference towards the simple and mundane, caring about function over form almost in totality unlike the more artistry minded Emperor's Children.
As he observed it the Eisernen was in motion thanks to the fittingly named captain at its helm, Turner, whose family had long served the Jarns and were known for their expert piloting capabilities. Flight was something which intrigued Tristan, but given his inability to fit inside of most standard vehicle stations it was not something he had particular experience with outside of contemplating the mathematical side of such things. Following suit with the Eisernen's movements were those of its sister ships, reacting to the possibility of a larger Word Bearer force appearing to assist those already engaged aboard the Ironclad Knight.
Fifty Iron Warriors recalled for this assignment stood in the back of the Stormbird's massive form while towards the front Tristan stood with other members of Urkamus Squad awaiting their deployment, the members of their team having arrived first at this Stormbird and in essence forced to make room for those who came after them. Perhaps because of the Kimaran roots of some of Jarn's forces his Iron Warriors tended to be larger than average and so it created occasional issues when it came to transportation, though in this instance being made to stand by the pilots in the cockpit had afforded Tristan a look at his home of over half his life now that he otherwise would not have gotten.
Armor and gear was checked over by the Astartes silently awaiting their rapid deployment, reports having confirmed there to be no more than a few hundred Word Bearers present for the incoming Iron Warriors to root out. Perhaps it was overkill to deploy two Grand Companies against them, but Jarn was not going to allow those worshippers of Chaos to fight their way through one of his vessels and take control of it, not when he could deploy in force and kill them in one fell swoop. The ruination the Word Bearers had sewn within the Astartes Legions in the past was unacceptable here and so before their foul magics could inflict untold damage they were to be eliminated to the last.
With the Word Bearers were mortal servants of their own according to the reports of those engaged already on the Ironclad Knight, but they were trivial compared to the might of an actual Astarte. Unlike the mortal servants within the Iron Legion those belonging to Chaos were typically poorly trained and used solely as fodder by their dark masters, and so their rags and primitive firearms would not save them from the incoming wave of Perturabo's sons.
"I know your history with these cretins, but you will follow orders and do as told," Urkamus stated as he went over his own gear, not even paying a glance towards Tristan to let Bertrand know that he was specifically talking to him.
Tristan could intuit that Urkamus meant him though and so nodded as he readied his autocannon and a bolt pistol for when the former was at an ineffective range. Firing his autocannon down a hallway would certainly clear out the rabble in their way, and so Tristan did not mind that the heavy weapon would prove less useful once they closed in: so long as he could kill the enemy before they reached him and his squad members did their own roles this should be an easy engagement, Astartes or not. Beside him Grund was readying a boltgun for closer quarters firing while Brechung readied a lance he had acquired in place of his former gear during their deployment on Forescien. Lastly Helash was handing over ammunition to Tristan silently, any animosity he might have for his fellow Astarte quelled as they prepared for a far more dangerous battle than the one they had just redeployed from.
Whereas the Word Bearers had opened their way onto the Ironclad Knight with sorcery the returning Iron Warriors found entrance through a hangar that the ship's garrison had fought to hold while other sections were overrun, the Stormbirds sent to retrieve those tasked with exterminating vermin landing one after another right into a warzone as cultists of Chaos fought tooth and nail to disrupt the incoming reinforcements. Their autoguns and grenades made no impact upon the Stormbirds thanks to their thick armor and void shields working in tandem to deter nearly anything thrown at them, and so once the Stormbirds set down the battle commenced: Astartes rushed out of their transports and opened fire on those cultists desperately fighting past the garrison, blood splaying across the deck and hallways as the Iron Warriors secured the area.
By the time Tristan had disembarked the immediate threat had already been quelled, if these cultists could even be considered a threat. The heavy steps of fully armored Astartes thundered across the hangar as mortals cried out, their lives were snuffed out without consideration or mercy as the Iron Warriors leapt into action.
The Astartes around Tristan all moved about with purpose as if they inherently knew what to do while he simply followed behind Urkamus and the others, intent on learning from them and carrying out whatever was asked of him rather than think for himself. A moment thereafter they had already sprinted to reach a hallway which still was being secured now that the landing zone was, mortal servants descended from Kimaran warriors exchanging fire with the cultists who while more numerous than the Word Bearers still possessed less raw manpower than a Battleship capable of housing tens of thousands of soldiers. These mortal servants of Chaos were simply being used to divert attention away from their dark masters, and so even as they died in droves they were fulfilling their purpose.
Around them the dull metal lined the hallways crafted for the passage of Astartes, their sheen that of the iron its owners were known for and lacking in much the ascetic adornment other vessels might come to possess. It was made for pure functionality and efficiency, each section fortified as necessary and replaceable for when the time came that repairs were needed. With their acquisition of a shipyard more intensive repairs could be completed, but this allowed for the Jarn's forces to hastily fix sections of their vessels and mitigate any damage inflicted by their foes in an actual battle rather than after. Much like Jarn and the Iron Warriors themselves their Victory class battleships were made to unleash intense long range barrages while enduring any return fire that may come their way via their reinforced armor, and by having repairs simplified it meant that in battles of attrition their fleet could outlast a comparable force.
The lack of ceremony and elitism within Jarn's forces towards their loyal mortal servants meant that many of their number were trained in the basics required to repair parts of the ship they had been born and raised upon, for knowledge was power and with their limited manpower Jarn could not afford to squander what he did possess. Unlike the Mechanicus which hoarded knowledge or the Imperium which censured it Jarn made certain that his men possessed what they needed to succeed and benefit their overall goals, even seeing to it that the mortals within his fleet received proper combat training so that when the time came they would be ready for conflict.
The Iron Warriors had been known for throwing away the lives of those who served them and even the lives of their fellow Astartes if it meant victory, but when one could not afford to suffer losses it necessitated a change in one's methods. Attrition would naturally occur during prolonged conflict, but by making sure every loss netted them more than what was sacrificed it allowed for his relatively small fleet in the grand scheme of things to continue moving forward. Iron Warriors too crippled by wounds to continue battle were put to use in their forges, assigned tasks aboard their battleships which did not require combat readiness, and even used to teach other Astartes as well as mortal servants what they could to improve their usefulness. Other Astartes would entomb their fallen in the chassis of a Dreadnought to continue fighting, but Jarn's own distaste for and the lack of access to them saw that such methods were ignored.
Standing resolute were the displaced sons of Kimara still outwardly wore the uniforms of their homeworld, their heavy greatcoats replaced with similar garb that afforded their user protection from the void of space rather than the blizzards of Kimara. When combined with their helmets and other gear they could operate for a limited time even in a depressurized environment, their boots tailored so as to allow them to lock onto the hull of their ship if need be. In totality one might compare them to the ranks of the forlorn sons of Krieg in not just appearance but their grim demeanor, the only ascetic differences being those to allow void combat and the trading Death Korp's gasmasks for the faceless silver masks of Kimara. While Krieg manufactured much of its own gear the production facilities upon Kimara had contributed to its armory which helped the similarities be born, tying the two formerly renegade Imperial worlds together in more than just their status as onetime traitors.
Beside the Kimaran Kraken defenders stood another force of mortal servants, this being the Mithril Dragoons whose origins allegedly stemmed from Kimara but whose records were dubious compared to their Kraken counterparts. Clad in silver-blue armor akin to that of Kimara's natural resource or mixtures of blue and silver these soldiers were far fewer in number, but their performance was superb and indicative of stellar training and selective recruitment.
Their armor was modified and reinforced carapace variants of that worn by Palanite Enforcers on the Imperial world of Necromunda, a possible origin for many of their number given what little could be observed of them. Rumor told of an entire force of Palanites who disappeared one day without warning or trace, descending their precinct into anarchy given the absence of the peacekeepers and allowing the Imperial Fist recruitment world to become an even greater nest of criminals.
The nearby Astartes deployed from the Spear of Dorn outpost would see to putting down the resulting anarchy, but if the Mithril Dragoons were in fact those very same Palanites how they came into service of an Iron Warrior warband was puzzling. This then was further shrouded by the fact that the rumors for the secretive force not agreeing whether they were a part of Jarn's forces during the Horus Heresy or if they were a more recent addition. Wherever the truth lay, there was once such a force upon Kimara, so if it had simply been reinforced by them or if this group solely drew their name from it was hard to tell.
It was the first time Tristan had ever laid eyes upon them himself so few were their number compared to even the Astartes within the fleet, though it was hard to tell just how many of these quiet operatives existed with how they answered to Jarn directly and did not possess their own facilities and quarters like others. It was obvious they had to rest and coordinate from somewhere, but just where within the leviathan metal beasts was just another mystery surrounding them.
"Press them back!"
At Urkamus' command Tristan stepped into the hall and opened fire with his autocannon, the rags worn by the cultists providing no protection against the weapon's heavy shells as it tore through their tide and dispersed them. The ship's hallways could sustain fire from the cannon and so little caution was needed to be paid to what lay behind the crowd, and while those who were not ripped apart opened fire in return their bullets harmlessly deflected off of Tristan's Power Armor. This opening was seized by the other members of Urkamus Squad with Urkamus himself unleashing a burst of boltgun fire to slay those still firing, Grund doing the same while Helash gave covering fire for Brechung to dart down the hallway with inhuman speed and carve his way through what remained.
In mere moments thirty cultists had their lives stripped away, and while on Forescien Tristan had found some degree of tragedy in the lives he took there was not an ounce of regret to be found in him now. These Humans, if they could even be considered as such anymore with their allegiances and their bodies mutated by the Warp, uncannily resembled those who had brought the corruption and ruination of his homeworld. For how many days had he witnessed their barbarism as they killed each and every member of his village with sadistic glee, starving and suffering as he holed himself away awaiting his own demise?
The various Astartes teams had been assigned routes to clear out the entire vessel of any intruders, the Word Bearers aiming to reach the bridge to control the ship but having sent smaller teams to other sections of the ship that would prove useful to have under their control such as armories. The Ironclad Knight was like many Victory class Battleships on the inside and thus veterans of the Great Crusade and the Horus Heresy familiar with the schematics of one could easily navigate through the behemoth mazes within, something which these Word Bearers seemed capable of doing given their rapid deployment and breaching of numerous locked down areas thus far.
Urkamus Squad was assigned by Constantine to take a longer route to the bridge while Constantine's own unit was heading straight to it with support from some others, effectively sidelining Urkamus Squad without officially doing so. Even still Urkamus followed the orders given to him and relayed them to his team, intent on making absolutely certain that the hallways and regions assigned to his men were cleansed of any traitorous filth. To him the followers of Chaos were traitors to Humanity itself, and so they were to be treated as animals might be albeit intelligent ones at that: he made certain to set a steady pace so as to prevent any ambush given that his team was only a handful of Astartes and there was no telling how many Word Bearers they would come across.
Tristan fell in behind Brechung whose preference for melee combat had the large Astarte leading their pack, Urkamus in the center while Grund and Helash took up the rear. Silence reigned between them all as they swept one room after the next, finding for quite some time not a single trace of the intruders as they engaged in the same methodical surveillance as they had carried out on Forescien. If there were enemy Astartes to be found the five did not wish to announce themselves, and so all communication between them was carried out over their internal comms or physical gestures. Rather than cultists or Word Bearers they found various crew of the Ironclad Knight who had been defending their own specific regions and reported no sight of the enemy, though to be certain their rooms and workstations were thoroughly searched as well.
The lack of conflict was unnerving in its own way, as each corner might hold a foe waiting to cut them down or it might be devoid of anything at all: an increasing sense of tense anxiety arose the squad not out of fear but rather the simple knowledge that there were enemies to be fought, so where were they?
With the efficiency expected of Astartes they were nearing the bridge despite their constant searching and the longer route they had been assigned through dark hallways, it appearing that the Word Bearers managed to take out the power of this section either intentionally or unintentionally. This darkness helped shroud the lurking shadow of a Possessed Astarte who lunged out of a connecting hallway at Brechung right as they reached the intersection, but the Daemon-infused Astarte had chosen a poor target: they harmlessly crashed past where Brechung had moved out of the way, his Power Lance shining as in a single movement he had literally disarmed the vicious claws of the beast.
Half-mad thanks to its possession, the Word Bearer leapt back into action despite its lack of arms to try and retaliate for the damage inflicted to it: instead it found an autocannon levied straight at its head as it rose, and in the next moment its upper torso erupted as its piecemeal armor failed to protect the Daemon-Astarte from the resulting blast. Tristan's mind had blanked at the sight of the creature and he had killed it purely on instinct, his mind having rushed back to when he first saw such 'Beasts' in the past. More of its kind were now assaulting his team and so he continued to pelt the Possessed without wasting a single thought on what or how he was doing it, just firing again and again as the other members of Urkamus Squad began their counterattack.
"No mercy for the Slaves of Darkness!"
With that as their rallying cry Urkamus Squad opened fire into Astartes of all forms and shapes, their bodies horribly twisted and corrupted by the Daemons possessing them. Some had arms so large that not even Terminator armor would have properly contained them, while others yet had eyes sprouting out of random parts of their body or extra limbs to supplement those they already possessed. Whatever their deformity might be they were faster than even Levente and from the distance Grund was knocked aside when struck they possessed incredible strength as well, though they were not particularly more durable than the average Astartes: an autocannon worked on them just as fine, and so the one who had knocked Grund into a metal bulkhead found their gut removed in retaliation a moment thereafter by Tristan.
Their shrieks of pain and excitement were utterly inhuman and Tristan would readily admit to feeling unnerved by them if not for how his mind had gone blank as prior trauma flooded into him, the fight or flight instinct that saw him prepare to fight as a child now repaying the Word Bearers for that incident tenfold. His mind only snapped out of it when he realized that the group who assaulted them all of a sudden lay dead, having fallen right before their vicious daemonic weapons could be brought to bear. It was a close call, and Grund was injured, but they had survived thanks to Brechung's instant reaction and retaliation at the beginning cluing the others in on the situation.
Then out of the darkness swept another Word Bearer, this one standing as tall as Tristan and thrice as wide thanks to their heavy mutations, mutations which included a massive pair of wings that had allowed them to dart into the battle just as its brothers fell and collide into Brechung. Brechung was slammed with such force that he was forced halfway through a nearby wall, his armor chipping and breaking around where he had been struck thanks to the massive fist which collided with it.
Urkamus twisted from where he had been double-tapping the fallen Word Bearers and immediately opened fire on this Greater Possessed, noting the severe danger it posed immediately and refusing to allow it to exist a moment longer.
"Concentrate fire!"
Tristan did as told and opened fire alongside Grund and Helash to drive the creature away from Brechung, his autocannon round slamming into it and making the creature shift its footing but not otherwise seeming to bring it harm. Instead it appeared amused by the shot, twisting its jagged-toothed maw towards Tristan to let out a far more Human chuckle than what its companions had been able to emit.
The second autocannon shell smashing into its teeth was likely not as well received, but it was hard for Tristan to tell with how the Daemon's head twisted to one side as the impact slugged it like a fist to the jaw. Tristan had to prepare another set of ammunition to fire when he noticed Helash already helping finish that exact thing, the other rookie on the team revealing himself to be quite the team player if it meant victory: no snide comments, no infighting, just what was needed to be done to survive.
Once finished Helash found himself surprised to notice that Urkamus was busy both firing at the Daemon and barking into his communicator, apparently arguing with Constantine over their being called to reach the bridge immediately. A firefight had broken out there and Constantine sought the glory of commanding the force that put down the major Word Bearer threat, and to succeed before others could share the credit he was calling all of the squads under his command to rush forward and group up. There was some merit in the idea of rushing to stop the Word Bearers who were laying siege to the Battleship's bridge, as should the minions of Chaos succeed then they would have command over the ship's most important systems.
This being the case, it was still obvious to Urkamus why Constantine was making the tactical decision he was, and so it was with a growl that he ordered the others to fall back from the Daemon and head for the bridge. If it gave chase then they would fight it on the way, but if it stayed to finish off Brechung it would buy them the time they needed to reach the bridge and fulfill their redefined mission.
"Damnit, head to the bridge, that's an order!"
Grund followed right behind Urkamus without question, having lapsed into complete silence during the skirmish and ignored his broken arm to instead keep firing with his functional one. Helash paused before doing as told, shooting a glance back at where their gunfire had driven the Possessed back against a wall...all without seeming to have caused it any lasting harm. They were merely keeping it at bay for now and so it appeared to be a losing battle, one which he did not wish to needlessly perish in.
Brechung had torn himself out of the wall and stood again, seemingly no worse for the wear as he stabbed the Daemon-Astarte in the back and distracted it from the others. Perhaps he was trying to buy them time to retreat, perhaps he did it out of anger from having been put through a wall, but for whatever the reason within his mind he had landed the first true damaging blow against it. Bolter shells and even the autocannon shots had trouble damaging its somewhat ethereal form, but a calculated stab of a Power Lance right where mutated flesh could be seen between cracked armor did the job.
The Possessed twisted around to grab the Astarte who dared to actually harm its form, only for an autocannon shot to rip through the flesh Brechung had opened up: unlike the three others in their team Tristan had remained where he stood, using his newly reloaded autocannon to continue firing away at the Daemon. The damage now done slowed the beast and allowed for Brechung to reposition himself so he could hack away at its more vulnerable parts, twisting his spear around with the precision expected of a melee expert so that each revolution struck and hit another seemingly random yet actually calculated spot on the Possessed's body. It thrashed at him but it could not properly land a strike thanks to Brechung having targeted its joints which saw its movements grow further and further disorientated as it flailed around, all the while its foes continued to wear down its highly durable form with an unrelenting barrage.
Utterly concussed and brought to its knees, the Possessed was nearly defeated when bolter fire struck Brechung's armor and interrupted his coup de grace on it. The intersection they had been fighting in now had cultists and Word Bearers both flooding down one of the hallways, having apparently heard the commotion and howls and reacted accordingly. Brechung lurched to one side to put himself out of the line of fire by taking advantage of a hallway perpendicular to the one where enemy reinforcements had appeared, now standing across from where Tristan had been firing.
While he did so Tristan wasted no time in finishing off the Greater Possessed with an autocannon round to its softened skull, its hulking body crumbling over as allied gunfire collided with it and filled the hallway with bolter rounds and autogun bullets. Tristan dropped his autocannon at this point as the little ammunition he had left would not assist him with the Cultists that were rushing ahead and almost were upon them, instead drawing his bolt pistol to gun down two that lunged for him while Brechung cut down another three with one sweep of his lance. Their numbers were quite thin and existing injuries were apparent on the poorly protected servants, but still they charged forth with mindless zeal.
"Claim their skulls for Khorne!" shouted one of the Word Bearers, there appearing to be six of them in this group approaching behind their mortal fodder. Their bolters were not particularly threatening to Tristan's reinforced armor but still capable of tearing through an Astarte's flesh if given the opportunity, forcing Tristan to maintain his current position ducked around a corner as he took what shots he could at approaching cultists.
Despite their primitive nature the brutal assault weapons wielded by the cultists still could leave a bit of a mark on Tristan's armor once they made contact, and so as one cultist became three which became five which became ten Tristan found himself being pressed back under the volume of their wild swings. At nearly twice their height their strikes ere largely against his legs and lower abdomen, but in return for these attacks Tristan used his size to his advantage and swept them away with an arc of his arm followed by a drawn back kick of his leg that crushed the malnourished ribs of a cultist about to stab him. Even with this though they seemed to just be growing in number, as if the Word Bearers had called forth additional aid during their attack, and while Tristan did not know their origin it did not matter: for every one he could beat down another took its place, and they were already surrounding him. Astarte or not, these fools could tear him apart through sheer numbers as his armor grew more and more damaged.
As this occurred Brechung leapt out of his cover to tear apart those headed for him, nearly dancing through their corpses as his blade found each and every neck, heart, or head it was swung towards with a deadly flourish. This had the effect of lessening the nearby crowd that could have overrun Tristan, though it also left Brechung out in the open for the now closer Word Bearers to open fire at his exposed torso. Brechung braced himself for the impact, but it never came.
Instead Tristan stood before him having forced past the cultists to intercept the boltgun fire, his armor having torn and broken at parts where struck while his left arm bled from where a round had impacted it and shattered the armor and damaged the limb beneath. Gritting his teeth and powering through the pain, Tristan fired back with his pistol and struck the boltgun that had injured his arm, only to then receive another set of rounds in return that he had to brace himself for with his other arm to protect his more exposed flesh. Cultists were cut down by friendly gunfire as they continued their assault, though what remained of them did not last for long as Brechung stepped out from behind Tristan and killed them with a set of sweeping movements that saw his lance lash out as far as it could reach before he planted a foot, twisted, and hurled it straight through one of the Word Bearers.
The other five drew their own melee weapons in response to this, seeming to believe him disarmed and vulnerable now at what was now barely any distance at all, but what they did not expect was for Tristan to hurl the crumpled body of a cultist at them, then another, and another, disrupting their charge with both bodies and bullets from his bolt pistol while Brechung grabbed the first of them by the neck and slammed the Word Bearer face-first into a wall, snapping their neck in the process. Knowing that Tristan would have difficulty reloading his weapon with his wounded arm, Brechung took the now deceased Word Bearer's firearm and tossed the boltgun to Tristan who traded his pistol for it instantly so as to fire upon a Word Bearer approaching Brechung.
One advantage the Iron Warriors possessed over their foes was that Power Armor was harder to maintain for those in the Warp without access to the same facilities they once possessed in the material realm, and so it was common for Chaos aligned Astartes to possess incomplete or otherwise patchwork Power Armor that while functional was not optimal. Compared to mastercrafted gear like what Jarn gifted Tristan and it was no comparison at all, being more akin to the Carapace Armor of the Tempestus Scions than real Power Armor. This meant that while their shots would wound and strip away the armor of Tristan, those very same shots back at the Word Bearers was punching well into their flesh and penetrating their armor completely when a round found the right spot.
Brechung ripped his spear out of the Word Bearer he slew with it to slash into the back of a foe charging at Tristan to stop his gunfire, then moved out of the way so Tristan could then shoot one of the others who sought to impale Brechung through the breach on his armor. Both Word Bearers still stood, but their injuries inhibited them as they both turned upon Brechung who parried both of their Power Mauls with his lance before twisting it in a spiral and diverting their attacks so he could kick one of their legs from out under them. Brought to a kneel, the Word Bearer caught the Power Lance's blade to their throat and was beheaded in the very same movement.
Tristan meanwhile opened fire into the back of the other disorientated Word Bearer, ripping open his flesh and felling him just before running out of ammunition again and swapping to yet another tool in his arsenal: hurling dead cultists whose weight compared to his own was like lifting rocks, their bodies like ragdolls as they hurtled through the air to crash into the remaining two Word Bearers. One of them barreled through the dead to tackle Tristan off of his feet, knocking him down onto the ground where they began to savagely beat down with their Power Maul one swing after another without relent. Tristan could barely hold them back as he used his one good arm to grab the Word Bearer by the face and try and create distance, only for their beating to continue as Tristan felt the bones beneath his skin begin to break as his body bled from where his armor was being caved in.
In desperation Tristan reached out with his injured arm to grab for something which fell from one of his projectile cultists, soon finding a loaded autogun and twisting it to fire into the Word Bearer's gut. The bullets barely did anything, but as Tristan shoved the gun into a crack in their armor the Word Bearer was forced to react. They shifted to knock aside the weapon, but so too did Tristan move his body in this window of time: he might not be capable of beating this foe in typical melee combat, but he could try something else.
Gripping his arms around the Word Bearer in spite of the incredible pangs of abject agony his left arm released, Tristan hoisted himself and the Word Bearer upwards until he could slam the other Astarte's skull into the ceiling, something Tristan just barely stood beneath typically and so could readily force another into. This concussive blow startled the Word Bearer enough that Tristan was able to twist his body around and hurl him into a wall, at which point Tristan attempted to stomp down upon them only to instead stagger back as the Word Bearer fought back with a bolt pistol shot to Tristan's stomach. While it did not strike flesh it did still knock the wind out of the already wounded Tristan, who fell back and collapsed as the grievous injuries inflicted by the Word Bearer's maul made themselves known.
Now standing over Tristan with their pistol drawn, the Word Bearer aimed it down with vile glee...glee that was only evident for but a moment before Brechung's lance penetrated his abdomen and carved through the Word Bearer enough that it reached out towards and cut the man's wrist off. Bolt pistol and Word Bearer fell to the ground dead, joining the other one which Tristan's fellow member of Urkamus Squad had felled moments prior.
No Word Bearers or their cretin servants remained there or elsewhere aboard the Ironclad Knight, the last of their ilk having been put down by the bridge in part thanks to the efforts of Urkamus, Grund, and Helash along with Constantine's other subordinate units. The sudden silence was odd to the dizzied Tristan, who after some fumbling managed to drag himself back up onto his knees at least, soon finding as his vision cleared that Brechung was offering him a hand up.
"You risked your life to save someone you barely know. Why?"
Tristan accepted the hand granted to him even as Brechung's words sounded like criticism, content with his decision to stay and assist his fellow soldier. While typically Tristan would just do as told it had not felt right to do so in this instance and so he had not, though he was certain he would hear an earful about it later.
"Why do any of us do anything?" Tristan asked back as he fully stood, brushing pieces of the Word Bearer who perished over him off of his armor, "Because I felt like it was the correct course of action, the fundamental root of all our decisions."
While that was enough of an answer for Tristan he could sense that Brechung still questioned him, and so he continued to explain himself reluctantly to the member of their squad even more taciturn than himself. Lifting a hand, Tristan offered it to shake while using his other to nurse his wounded abdomen.
"We are Battle Brothers now, members of the Adeptus Astartes, and that fraternity means something. We are the defenders of Humanity, so it falls upon us to not only protect our mortal kin but also one another. It is when we forget that and pursue our selfish desires that conflict is born and tragedy follows."
This appeared to satiate Brechung's curiosity, as he gave a sole nod before accepting the hand offered him.
"The Warsmith has taught you well regarding philosophy, both of bloodshed and brotherhood. Many of our kin have lost sight of what we all strived towards, lost in the base violence necessary to enact the change we sought."
With that said Brechung let go before stepping past the corpses surrounding them so as to continue on towards the bridge, intent on grouping up with the others now that they were done here.
"Even still, there is much more for you to learn."
Of that Tristan had little doubt, as his victory here largely amounted to a degree of fortune by his approximation: if his foes had been fully armed and properly armored there was no realistic way he could have found success in such a scenario, and so he would not let this go to his head. Levente would no doubt do enough of that for the two of them given that he was a part of the group that remained to end the siege, and with his bold nature Levente likely pressed forward and was one of the ones to secure their objectives planetside.
Even so, with blood spilling from countless wounds and his bones aching all over, Tristan found himself content as he followed behind Brechung and passed by members of the Mithril Dragoons to reach the bridge.
He was alive, and for now that was enough.
A/N: I was going to post this yesterday but my internet died while I was putting on the final touches, so here it is now! I hope you enjoyed, and that you will leave me your thoughts in the comments below!
