Tyr Kvanus

Iron Father Tyr Kvanus is an ancient Astartes wrapped in enigmatic mystery. Known to only to a few, he is a forgotten shade of the past all but forgotten by his chapter and legion.

[ferrum-defectus]

It wasn't orders that brought me here, rather the whispers of the forgotten wanting to be found again.

Tyr Kvanus, m37.788

[akhenaten-imhotep]

In the desolate places

[ferrum-defectus]

“Yes. it is possible that infection might occur.“ Tyr spoke, voicing the apothecary’s gravest of fears. Yet there was more to this chilling reality. “Yet it will not be from the humans we encounter. The station itself is filled with spores that, when subjected to the cold die off. The cold has contained much of the station and will continue to do so. It will be colder inside than it is outside. However, contraction of infection will cause mutation within minutes, mental degeneration within seconds as proved by previous evidence uncovered from a outlying Mechanicus outpost in the mountains.“

The Iron Father fell silent after that nice and happy string of words as his gaze fell upon a panel that hung just next to the entry hatch. He activated the cogitator and refrained from using a data-spike with the machine, preferring to interface with a haptic display that was made for hands like his own. It was strange that he would do so, but few others would question his method, though as he did so his own mind slid into a higher state of alertness. The many servo-arms attached to his back unfolded, revealing seven of them with various functions while he worked. His true left hand had reached for his boltgun as he typed in a final command before he reached for the power-axe that he carried with him.

+Your assurances are useless here.+ He almost chided the techmarine for whatever notion of arrogance that had been spoken. There was no containment here for it had already spread elsewhere. +You cannot catch what has happened here, you cannot slow the wear of time. Your words are commendable, but deeds, not words, is the way of Astartes.+ He turned towards her as the heavy door begun to open. +There is no containment here, only a world swallowed by the echoes of humanity.+

There was a meaning within his words that very few would honestly understand and without prior knowledge, what he hinted at would more than likely be ignored. As the door begun to open, silence greeted them once more and already the Iron Hand begun to step into the entry point and already he detected contaminants floating in the air. He established a stream of inload/exload data with his current visitors, sharing the same massive influx of information that he experienced. Though, this was but a fraction of it, as they did not have the appropriate implants to be tethered into his network completely. However, those fascinated with technology would be dumbfounded at the expansiveness of it. It was... profound. The code-language was not of subtle beauty but of something that could have been from the golden age itself.

They would understand it completely, as if it was a language they had been born with. A language of code that contained the very basic lexicon of high and low gothic but even then... even those who couldn’t read or speak it would know it. They could feel his binetic consciousness and their own armor spirits would bring up the request for a data tether, to link all of them together.

He raised his weapon and already his servo-arms shifted once more, acting as natural limbs. He turned away from the tunnel and pulled at a cogitator which came out from the wall, he activated the machine and pulled up a local interface. “I will close the door behind us, we will need to re-establish power before disengaging localized containment. Currently the station is on low to minimum power. I will not require help, however, your techmarine shall expedite the process several hours.”

[akhenaten-imhotep]

In the desolate places

[ferrum-defectus]

The biting cold did little to bother or irritate the Iron Hand as he continued to stare at the expanse of arctic white that stretched before him. Even as the wind battered at his weathered and scarred face, he could not deny the welcoming nature he found with the frigid cold. In a way, it reminded him of home, a place which seemed so distant of a memory. Though, what was home to the Iron Hand? Was it within the hull of an armored machine? Was it distant Terra? Or perhaps was it the surface of Medusa. This was a question that he could not entirely answer immediately, if only for the mere fact that such an answer would require earnest thought.

Though, instead of pondering upon this, something else had demanded his attention as he acquired a faint auspex return. Shortly after the return came, the Chapter Master had spoken her words and in turn, he listened to them in full. The exposed Iron Father’s face was arguably the most unreadable thing ever to exist, if only for the fact it was like attempting to claim that a stone was sad when it was just a stone. Regardless, the Iron Father attempted to enhance his scanner and in turn boosted the frequency of everyone’s equipment. A fact which he was certain that they would appreciate.

“Humans survived.“ He stated coldly. “However, questioning them proved to be useless. Their minds were gone, taken by whatever passed through this Hive.“

He did not need to speak of what they did with the survivors, it was common protocol to eliminate such stragglers if only to contain whatever lingered here. The Astartes themselves were versed on such containment, if only to prevent outbreak of any considerable measure. It was better to keep what happened here contained to just here. The Iron Father soon approached the entry doors to the research station and plugged a dataspike into the console, only to fall silent. He communed with the machine spirit with a speed that would have made even fellow techmarines envious. Moments after, there was a heavy click and gears begun to turn.

+I have communed with the machine-spirit.+ He canted at their Techmarine. +It is intact.+ A pause. +But this is questionable.+

A servo-skull idly floated out of the structure they came from and cast a hololithic projection that simply displayed machine-code. A few seconds passed and machine-code disappeared, translating into a visual input that they were capable of understanding appropriately. The hololithic display streamed a list of dead and containment breaches, followed by a list of unaccounted personnel. Much of those listed were known associates of Inquisitors within system and finally came the stamp of the Ordo Xenos. There were several logs that detailed the deterioration of the facility as well, a few of them had been decrypted quite heavily.

“Good news.“ He stated a moment later. “I am capable of opening the door, the question is, do you wish to proceed?“

[ferrum-defectus]

The Falling Sky

[ferrum-defectus]

The towering Iron Hand studied the fearful creature that shuddered in his tightening grip and it seemed that the creature resonated with its frozen brethren. As if it was a beacon for the consciousness of other frozen creatures, causing an eye born of second sight to unfurl like a flower spawned from the Immaterium itself. Its emotion was pure and warped reality around it, but where Tyr stood, nothing changed. He was a hole in which all the creature’s panic filled assaults would touch and simply die out, the Iron Hand was immune to its touch and the very reality warping abilities that it possessed. It was clear now that this Iron Father had secrets of his own, hidden deep within his body. Before, they wouldn’t have felt or seen it, but now? Now it was as plain as day. The Immaterium did not touch him.

“I have never possessed the mutation to feel through the detestable tides of the Immaterium.“ He answered Evren. His voice was cold and filled with contempt, but not for her or her Jackals nor did it seem to be for this creature. “Within me are the secrets of techno-archana which I have uncovered and re-created. A legacy buried beneath a forgotten world rests within me, never to be reclaimed or rediscovered. Consumed out of necessity.“

A secret revealed, a brief pact of trust given to the Inquisitor and her ‘companions’ that could would easily be taken away should she prove unworthy of it. Regardless, the black pits that served as the creature’s eyes turned towards Evren and it spoke, begging to be let go and released. It spoke of how his hands were frigid and devoid of warmth, of life. It called him a clockwork monstrosity. Then, its voice grew silent for a moment before finally it released a psychic scream that tore at the gantry he stood upon. Such as its lot in life, Tyr ripped the creature’s head from its shoulders in a single gesture, spilling oil like blood onto his armor as he cast the body aside which ignited, setting the substance ablaze in a flash.

For a moment, the Iron Hand was set ablaze in a tremendous flash of fire that could have mirrored the work of promethium. “These creatures spawn and decay in the black filth they are contained within. Promethium does not work efficiently enough here and so a new source of fuel, I had originally questioned the reasoning behind this sanctioned use of such fuel.. however, I see its application within the region and judge it to be a sound decision.”

“Evren, I too have faced evil in places untouched, but I have also fought against the traitors that struck against my gene-father just as many within the Legiones Astartes.“ He spoke, his voice solemn with a touch of mechanical tone to it. “If you have faced these secrets and are here, then they do not matter any longer. What I am here for is an Imperial facility which the cultists are currently seeking as this is a research section of this hive city. We must recover what is here and ensure that it is not lost.“

His words were callous, but objective. His sinister red lenses fixed on her and her companions and he studied them all in full detail, taking in their subtleties for what they were worth. The moments of silence seemed to happen quite often when it was with this towering Astartes that had led them into a place few have ever been. It was true, signs of the Omnissiah were everywhere here and the cogitator consoles still thrummed with power. This was something that many would have seen in a sanctioned research station and often were the experiments performed by the children of the Omnissiah monstrous in nature. It was clear that such individuals had conducted their experiments here, fabricating a self replenishing fuel source for the entire hive. It was then that something had changed with the Iron Hand’s demeanor, his servo arms had dropped the tube and shifted towards the entrance.

“I will cover your advance, Inquisitor.“ He stated coldly, as he reached for his bolt-rifle, aiming it down range from where the entrance had remained. “Then I will close this chamber and we will have to work through it. Exload data has concluded that the enemy is currently converging here with significant numbers. My calculus suggests that we reunite with my Clave, higher up in the Hive city.“

[ferrum-defectus]

The Falling Sky

[ferrum-defectus]

The Iron Hand had continued to step forward despite Evren’s words. It seemed as though he cared little for what could even rest beyond what her second sight could see. Tyr had knowledge that stretched beyond her understanding in this particular matter and his own suspicions would either be proven correct or incorrect. There was no moment of hesitation or a change in his own behavior as he continued to approach, his heavy steps striding silently across the ground as the gentle hiss of his servo arms unfurling sounded out. The room’s temperature had already begun to drop as a rush of frigid, arctic air seemed to brush against them in a gentle rush. Already ice was forming from the scant moisture that rested on the surface of his black ceramite, adding ghostly white accents to his pitch-black appearance.

The purr of his armor had not changed from its steady rate, but it was clear that the towering Astartes was expecting violence to unfold in the near future. A spotlight located on his power pack snapped to life, casting illumination to a chamber of cryogenic pods. The floor that started in the newly opened room was rusted over and worn, the scent of stale blood grew stronger the closer one would get. Tyr cared little for the stench, casting his own personal reservations aside in exchange for the purposeful drive he always had. His red lenses begun to shift through the array of visual scans that he was conducting, releasing several servo-skulls into the area.

“What was here is gone.“ He spoke, his voice cutting into the silence. “What you feel is an echo.“

He continued to step forward until he came before one of the cryogenic pods. Tyr paused for a fraction of a second before one of his servo arms pierced through the gantry he stood upon, tearing at the locking systems beneath. Two other servo arms then latched onto the pod and lifted it up with little difficulty, He then pierced his true hands into the pod, shattering glass, causing black sludge to spill out. The change in scent was almost immediate as the smell was something far worse than it was before, it was industrial and it stank of rot, of putrefaction. His right hand then grabbed onto something unseen as the black sludge still poured from the shattered holes. He tore it out, setting the pod aside and examined the black mass he held.

It was coated in a layer of soft mold and black eyes were staring at him as he held the creature. Soon, Evren would feel a psychic presence flare to an immense degree and the origin point was the creature that Tyr held. There was a rush of profound fear that flooded into the room, taking root where it could, Evren would feel this creature’s fear as it woke from stasis. It was... tangible, almost like a sea of sand that pooled around them, yet it was clear that the Iron Father was immune to its presence. It was attempting to speak to the towering monstrosity that now held it. The Iron Hand then gripped its skull, turning its head to the side.

“It is trying to speak to me, I think.“ He said with a cold and dismissive tone. “It does not understand why I cannot hear it, but I do.“

“It will scream in a few moments. I have been encountering these creatures within this hive for several years now and they have been harvested by a magos biologis of previous millennia. They are here, produced like cattle and rendered into a black substance used for fuel.“ He commented coldly. “It is... efficient in a manner, but without vision. Is it trying to speak to me?“

He then took a moment and looked back towards Evren and her companions. “There are many secrets here, Inquisitor and not all of them will be pleasing to learn. This system is a strange place to encounter and there are many forgotten layers that speak of things far more ancient than the Imperium. I have spent a great deal of time in this region of space before the formation of the circatrix maledictum , in the Isles and the lost sub-sectors.” He paused. “We are both seekers of truth, but new perspective will allow a more efficient process to be born. Normally I have my Librarian with me. Can you speak to it?”

[akhenaten-imhotep]

In the desolate places

[ferrum-defectus]

It was always one thing to hear about it from members of the Astra Millitarum or read about the callousness of Iron Hands in reports, but to see it in person? It was always a jarring moment for those who finally interacted with either members of the Iron Hands Chapter or Medusans. They were unique among the Imperium and often they were the first to cast of bonds in place of loyalty for the whole rather than the few. Their harsh world bred men and women of iron, individuals ready to lay down their lives without a second thought and such was passed onto the tenth legion. The legacy of Ferrus Manus was something that had etched into them on a genetic scale, deepening this callous nature that orientated around the mere fact that the ends justified the means.

Even so, Tyr’s own callous nature was thanks not to his inheritance from the world he called home but his own experiences. His mind was shut off from others, impossible to read and his soul was a faint but vastly ancient presence. For those born with the second sight, it was as if they were staring at a man who saw the darkest horrors of the galaxy and walked out unscathed, like the machine that was bonded to him. His red lenses simply stared forward as he listened to their response and already he begun to lead them through the structure they had entered. Their companionship was shared to one another while he himself kept his thoughts and feelings silenced and buried beneath machine code and inhibition.

What burned beneath was something far more dangerous than anything on this planet, the rage of an Iron Hand unbound and unchecked was something to behold. It shook the foundations of the ground they tread upon when it was released and such was buried beneath Tyr’s surface ten fold. Despite his disregard for the dead and the forgotten, he cared about their sacrifice as it had led to this moment in time. Because they had died, he had arrived at a place which held answers to questions he had asked into the darkness. What happened here, it would be undone by either their hand or by the hands of others that would come afterwards.

“There is little to share about the structure I am taking you towards.“ He spoke earnestly, his voice deep and heavy in the silence that had followed. It cut through the air like the striking of a hammer against an anvil. “Much of the information that remains was preserved by the sacrifice of those who now lay underfoot“

“Mortals are weak and fragile, but they have proved useful in this endeavor.“ His words would be misconstrued as callous commentary. “The Flesh is weak.“

So I must make it strong. Came the thought, leaving it unspoken for it was not something meant for their ears. Instead it was a phrase that he and his clave had adhered to for centuries now and such as it was, it offered only distant comfort for a soul ten thousand years in the making. It wasn’t long before he led them out into the cold and as the cold air rushed in, he reached for his helmet, causing the seals to hiss angrily. As the locks were disengaged, he held the ancient helmet while the remaining flesh of his head was bombarded with the cold. The right half of his head was mechanical, wrought from advanced cybernetics that tied into armor that seemed impossible to take apart. The left was the ravaged remainder of his face. It was scarred by battle, an single brown eye that held the weariness which came with his age stared out into the sea of white.

“It is ahead.“ He commented. “I wanted to see it with my flesh eye before we entered.“

[ofhotheads-blog]

Send my muse “👀 + a question” and they’ll have to answer with 100% honesty.

No deleting questions, either!

[1234512345232w345-deactivated20]

Shattered Legion by Neil Roberts.

[ferrum-defectus]

The Falling Sky

[ferrum-defectus]

As Evren approached the terminal, she would see a mixture of code-language and readable statements spill across the darkened screen of the terminal. It strolled through personal logs and research reports, items that were of little use for information unless the context was known in full. Context that the Iron Father probably had in his possession but he had already made it clear that his trust was difficult to gain and very easily lost. Yet as Evren approached him, she would take notice of the augmentations to his armor, for even by techmarine standards, this was... advanced. There were tubes and cables that snaked in and out of the armor, several ports for mechandendrites and the hum of his armor held a heavy purr. For most mortals, it was bothersome to stand too close to him after a time, causing their teeth to hurt.

Yet still, his bulk was impressive, if not seemingly excessive. He stood taller than most Astartes, comparable to the Death Guard when they still walked among untainted and unchanged by the taint of Nurgle. In fact, his bulk was comparable to that of the Custodian Guard. Then there were the trace amounts of ancient pieces of armor, designs of ceramite construction that were long since forgotten. His armor was an amalgamation of past patterns and more modern. However, from his belt hung symbols of the Imperium, ancient symbols and forgotten icons. Honors from other Legions and on the side of his paudron was the Xth Legion, there was even the symbol for the legiones Astartes.

“Your explanation is cogent with information we have already gathered in the past week.“ He answered coldly, ignoring the other comments for the time being. “The vessel disappearances were initially expected to be the work of xenos-breed drukhari raiders, but this theory is cast aside. Raiders have been plaguing the city. We have fought them on several occasions.“ A pause. “We deemed the threat inconsequential.“

“This is not the work of a flesh-mutation cult.“ He answered simply as he unplugged his dataspike and the massive door engraved with the cog mechanicum begun to open. “This is the work of a mutagen or possibly something which has nothing to do with the Immaterial itself. This is our current theory, discussions among the Librarian and Apothecary are daily, but the Calculus is undergoing change as you and I are speaking.“

The door continued to open, yielding a horrible scent that was often found to be on victims of severe necrotic infection. It was the scent of rotting flesh and blood, but for those who possessed the gift of second sight, there was a presence within the next room. It was an oppressive thing that was far too alien to truly understand. The Iron Hand turned away and tore the Cogitator out of the rooted location, severing its connection and he pulsed a surge of electrical energy frying the internal circuitry before he let it fall to the ground.

“We are Astartes Inquisitor Evren, it is our duty to defend the Emperor’s domain and reclaim lost territory to ensure humanity’s continued survival. Information is required to sustain this empire in which He had intended to build in the years of the Great Crusade.“ He then paused and turned his attention towards her. “If we do not, then the tragedies which befell my brothers and my Gene-father at Istvaan would happen again. We are Iron Hands and it is the legacy of Ferrus Manus that we must live up to.“

“The Calculus must be maintained and if it requires me to play archeologist amid the most ancient and forgotten places in this galaxy, then that is what I must do.“

[akhenaten-imhotep]

In the desolate places

[ferrum-defectus]

+I know this.+ He canted back, his response offered in a string of deep digital tones, but the next part of his answer was spoken. His voice filling the halls that he led them through. “Rudimentary spirits are often broken by what is encountered here, though I have suspicions that it is the fault which lies in minds most inquisitive. There is no use in comforting these spirits, as lamentable as it is, it is without importance.”

His words, by those who understood the cult mechanicum, were profoundly callous and utterly befitting of those belonging to his chapter. Despite their unity with the machine itself and the profound number of mechanical augmentations that the Iron Hands endured, they were regarded as cold and often far more calculating. Some of Imperial forces had even spoken them as cruel in their actions, expecting that which far exceeds their mortal allies. Despite his words and how harshly they were spoken, it was clear that his mind was fixated on the objective at hand. It was here that the Iron Hands strength came into shape as they would weather indignity if it meant that they could accomplish their goal. The Iron Father did weep for these spirits and found their state lamentable, but their ‘states’ were of little consequence to the threat that this hive had represented.

So, he continued to walk despite the vast change of their surroundings as frozen bodies of guardsmen were littered about. They seemed to have been cut apart by blades equal to that of a powered sword, but the carnage here was profound in a sense. It mirrored the vicious actions to those of the beasts from beyond the galaxy, the Tyranid xenos-breed, but instead of being consumed they were simply left to their ruin. Tyr did not care to step over them, his heavy boots shattering frozen skin and muscle underfoot while he trudged through. It wasn’t long before they came to a door and he plugged a dataspike into a newly fabricated cogitator input. It wasn’t long before the door opened, revealing another Iron Hand that stood as a silent sentinel. His red lenses simply glared at the group without voicing any thoughts at all.

The Iron Hand turned his gaze towards the Iron Father and it was as if there was a wordless conversation taking place. The Iron Hand then spoke, his voice just as harsh as Tyr’s. “Consider it done.”

“I have sent my clave on a separate task than ours. There is still much to be done.“ He said again, with short form. Giving them enough information to understand his words while he continued to lead them into the larger chamber.

It was here that the scent of discharged bolt rounds, blood and the acrid scent of plasma could be caught. A battle had been fought here by these Astartes and it was in here that a room of chaos war-plate astartes remained in ruin, cast aside like refuse among the dead. The towering Iron Father paid no regard to the corpses and offered no explanation, for there was little need to comment about the deeds of the insane. Once more, they were not relevant.

“We found a research station, it is a small distance from here, but it was hidden amid the Hive City.” He paused. “I assume you intend to accompany me as I gain access?“

[schwifty-rick-deactivated202503]

why do you follow my blog?

“Came for the _____. Stayed for the _____.”

[ferrum-defectus]

The Falling Sky

[ferrum-defectus]

As the lights illuminated the entire chamber, he had become completely visible to them all. He was unspeakably modified in the sense that there might have been little to no difference between himself and that of an Astartes dreadnought sarcophagi. His chapter brothers were away from him, but already he was receiving information from his Clade that they were close to their objectives and even as they exchanged information, he watched the Inquisitor with a careful stare as his boltrifle did not stray. He was poised like a statue wrought of iron hatred and ceramite and if he was to strike, it would be with brutality unmatched. Few could ever hope to match the sheer vitality and endurance exhibited by the Iron Hands, let alone one so augmented as he.

His seven servo-arms splayed as though threatening a potential predator and it was here that the extent of his augmentation was clear. Everything moved as though it was apart of him rather than just attached, the movement was fluid and natural, lacking the mechanical stature of most bionic augmented Astartes. His thumb had not left the trigger while his seventh servo arm activated a panel on his armor, releasing several mono-task servo-skulls. They were marked with various augmentations and it was obvious they were making scans of the area, in case of ambush tactics, but such would have been a fools errand.

In the silence that followed her explanation, his armor hummed with the snarling growl of an enraged predator. Already his armor whispered to him in code-language of possible outcomes and approach vectors. Yet despite all the time that passed, he had not yet moved as though rendered still as the very structures around them. It wasn’t until several tense moments later that he lowered his boltrifle and allowed it to attach itself onto his leg plating. The servo-arms retreated into their folded position and the Iron Father turned on his heel and returned to examining the terminal.

“I had advised the Arbites to secrecy.“ He spoke with a level, grim stained voice. “I have no reason to trust you, Inquisitor Evren Anubis.“

“What are you investigating exactly, Inquisitor?“ He asked, clearly stating that he would not turn her away. “Secrets breed mistrust like flies on corpses, I have been led here by the cultist leader that I interrogated only days before.“

[akhenaten-imhotep]

In the desolate places

[ferrum-defectus]

He was impassive, the red lenses of his helm seemed to cast an almost insidious glow amid the heavy snowfall. Everything around them was muted, distorted by the snow itself, a phenomenon that often came with planets that experienced heavy snowfall. He was a black mark against the sheer white backdrop that surrounded them and for what it was worth, it made him seem almost larger than he actually was and his apparent hulking size grew more and more apparent as he approached. His body was augmented in a manner that was seen as common to that of his chapter, but what was visible to them would strike them as strange. His bionics, what silver metal could be seen, seemed different.

The Techmarine would have taken note of this first. His armor was heavily modified as cables and added ceramite plating was grafted onto the Iron Father’s body. Then, the servo-harness on his back was larger than most, carrying various tools and from the distance, several mono-task servo-skulls arrived in short order. Gripping his power-axe from his waist, he slammed the pommel onto the rockcrete with considerable strength. He did not answer them immediately as he relayed information via their inload/exload noospheric link between himself and the clave.

“I have not heard of your Chapter.“ He spoke coldly, his voice heavy against the cold wind. It echoed across the landing pad. “Yet you speak truthfully. There is no one here and there hasn’t been for centuries.“

He pauses for a moment, turning his gaze in the direction of where she felt this hellish presence. His crimson lenses watching something… unseen to them. “Have you now?”

His words were short and blunt, befitting of those belonging to his chapter. At times, he could be thought of as aloof, but here and now? He was conscious of more things than most would have suspected. He was an Iron Father and a master of archeotechnology. “That does not surprise me, but keep your mind from wandering, I have fought enough Astartes on this world as it is.”

He then looked back towards them. “There is little that you will find here on the surface other than ghosts of a city that died in silence.”

[akhenaten-imhotep]

Kassandra had to refrain from whistling when he approached them. Her eyes went over his augmentics. The craftmanship was of supreme quality. She knew about the Iron Hands and their traditions, having worked previously with them.  She found it easy to empathize with them, since both chapters were similar in nature.  The techmarine really wanted to ask him if he had crafted his augmentics himself. 

Her own bionics were composed the alterations necesary for interfacing with machine spirits, the noospheric and binary cant implants, mechadendrites, hearts, lungs and limbs. Her servo-harness wasn’t a big as his, so she felt between envious and intimidated.  Just as the Iron Father, she bore an ax.  Behind her stood five combat servitors at her beck and call. 

Akhenaten sensed the techmarine’s fascination with Tyr. “You got a crush on him, yeah? What are you gonna do, flirt with him binaric cant?”, she telephatically teased. A sensation akin to blusing tomato red was the other woman’s response. “Shut up!” 

The chapter master then adressed the Iron Father using her physical voice. “Our homeworld is Fomalhaut VII, located in a remote region of the Koronus Expanse. So it isn’t surprising that you haven’t heard about us.” Her helmet obscured her facial expressions, but behind it she bit her lip. Anxiety poured from every pore. “I have. This thing is old and malignant. I don’t know if Theosophamy will work agaist it.”  Would it still be alive after she unleashed Holocaust agaisnt it? 

She nodded, indicating that she understood his warnings agaisnt letting her mind wander. “Something tells me that thing killed them all.” Akhenaten could feel her armour’s machine spirit getting restless, a product of the bonding ritual she underwent  when she joined the Khenetai so long ago.  She was no techmarine, so bonding with other machine spirits was beyond her. 

[ferrum-defectus]

Despite their antics and words, the Iron Father had not yet moved from where he now stood, rooted into the ground as if he was a mountain of ceramite and augmetics. He listened to the Chapter Master’s explanation of the reason as to why he hadn’t heard of their chapter and ultimately, he found that he cared little for their reasoning. There were many places within the Imperium that he had not yet traversed and the Imperium was an ever changing tide of territories held and lost. New chapters were founded and others simply died off, such was the way of the galaxy and he would not refute that, but his lingering curiosity had been satisfied by Chapter Master’s explanation.

It was when she spoke about her second sight that he had become interested for it was the same thing that their Librarian had spoken of upon arrival. In truth, he had answers for them, but his mind was mechanical and cold in nature, he held no intent of sharing everything with them. Not yet. He considered her words and how she spoke them instead, examining each phrase by the pitch of her voice, but he had nothing to go off of. His silence might have been taken as a moment of disrespect but in truth he was discussing everything they had said with the Clave. Their conversation going back and forth until finally he made a decision.

Finally, after several minutes of the Iron Father’s statuesque stance did he move. His heavy foot falls indicated the significant weight of his bulk and armor and he turned around, expecting them to follow him. “They disappeared.”

“What took them, is unknown.“ He adds to his simplistic explanation. “However there are echoes, perhaps that is what you feel with your... abilities.“

There was little emotion to be gleaned from him as his steps continued. His ceramite boots piercing the frozen snow, leaving a trail of foot prints that would disappear within the hour. He led them into the interior of the landing platform and they were in sudden darkness, his flesh eye already adjusting while he activated preysight. His occular implants continued to cycle through forms of ‘sight’ that he could utilize in the augmetic nature of his right eye.

“It is indeed an old place of significance.“ He speaks once more, his steps shaking the metal floor he walks upon. Everything is empty, as if everyone here just simply stopped existing. “There are signs of battle further ahead.“

[ferrum-defectus]

The Falling Sky

@thesilentinquisitor

The true darkness of the underhive was not something that hampered the Iron Father in any capacity and in fact, it was something that lent a certain advantage. His insidious red lenses peered through the darkness, illuminating his midnight black armor as several servo-arms had unfolded from his back while his true arms remained still. Currently, he tracked movement a small distance away and he had heard that mutants were a common sight in the underhive and as such, he avoided them as best he could. It was unfortunate that several of them had clashed against him, only to be torn apart and tossed aside like rag dolls. It wasn’t long before he had finally arrived at his destination.

The Arbites had detailed a warehouse which was connected to the upper levels of the Hive through an ancient entry point in the underhive. It had been here that he finally found what he was looking for. Instinctively, one of his mechadendrites slid from his plating and snaked around, illuminating various sectors while he pulled his Boltrifle free from his leg plating. His heavy, grinding footfalls were all that disturbed the air here aside from the distant chittering of abominations too terrible for the surface to acknowledge. His armor purred gently in the darkness while his Clave moved through the Underhive several levels above. They had been assigned to a purge and cleansing action while he explored further below and such a decision had ultimately been the deciding factor.

Before him was a great door of no small fabrication, adorned with a defaced sign of the Cog Mechanicus. The ill treatment of such ancient machinery did not sit well with him but he did not have the luxury of time wasted on restoring the spirit here. In almost complete darkness, he inserted a data-spike into a nearby console and begun communing with the machine. He listened just as he turned to examine his surroundings once more as a stream of inload/exload begun to process through his consciousness. He sifted through the data at speeds that would be impossible for most, filing nonessential data for dissemination at a later date. It wasn’t long before he accessed personal logs and finally he brought the section online.

There was a heavy click as power jolted through the heavy machinery, illuminating the room around him, causing Tyr’s gaze to fall upon a newcomer. They were not from here, he could smell them and see well enough to know that this was not someone from the underhive. Instinctively, his boltrifle was raised and he spoke, his voice heavy and deep with vox corruption.

“Name and purpose.“ He speaks. It is not a request. “I am Iron Father Tyr Kvanus of the Iron Hands Chapter, state your identity or be fired upon.“

[serpentsgrace]

@ferrum-defectus

Heldrin Goettner, one of the Head Medical Officers of the combined regiments of 101th Navlekopings Black Shields and the 23rd Grachenau Heavy Infantry sat in silence in the temporary office tent she resided. Sitting at her desk, filled to the brim with paperwork, a large mug half filled with recaf along with a canteen still somewhat filled with it. The scratching of her pen was the only sound along with the low hum of her recording servoskull hovering all around her. The feudal world born woman was deep in her paperwork, that she had for many hours in a recaf fueled haze. She only stopped her writing when she suddenly noticed that the low hum of her servoskull have become silent and seeing her torch had become obscured. By something very large that cast a shadow of the already hugely built woman. She looked up, her feudal world inspired guardsman armor has soft clanging sound as she sat up and straighten her back when she saw what was before her. A hulking space marine, one of the Emperor’s Angels of Death, stood before her. From the heavy augmentations she could only guess it was one of those called techmarines, just having her servoskull in his hand and observing it. Heldrin did wonder how in the world he managed to walk into her tent without her noticing, by just the mere size and probable weight that would make her look like a skinny mewling next to him. Which was unusual for her as she usually towered over most people, only a handful she knew that would even challenge her size, her husband included.

She shot a quick look towards her mug with recaf, writing down a mental note to cut back on it if it is dulling her senses before returning her look at the stranger. She put down her pen and interlocked her hands, resting them on the pile of paperwork before her.

“Is there anything I can assist you with, sire?” Her voice clear and a bit rougher than usual females, probably by her size. Her r’s rolling by a hint of dialect she possessed from her home world, but otherwise it was a very clear standard of low Gothic.

[ferrum-defectus]

She was confronted by what had to have been the largest example of an Astartes she had ever seen, barring those within tactical dreadnought armor or the dreadnoughts themselves. He was a bastion of ceramite plating and augmetics that let out a low, snarling hum almost impossible to hear in the background of constant artillery fire. His ‘face’ was a snarling war-mask that was typical of the Astartes with insidious red lenses that had affixed on her. His impassive posture was impossible to read as well, far more like a stone statue than something that was actually alive and breathing. She would, however, hear the gentle breath of the Astartes as a wheeze that spilled out gentle bursts of condensation.

“Iron Father.“ He answered her bluntly, his words falling short like the descent of a hammer against a bare anvil. His voice was deeper than most and touched by vox distortion. “I require your assistance in something. There is a body I want you to observe.“

His voice was steady, carrying a note of caution that was not often found. He spoke slow and precariously as if hoping that she might understand his need better. For all of its awkwardness, it did, however get the point across that it was not a request. He was telling her to look at a body and for reasons unknown and quite possibly known only to him. His head then turned towards the servo-skull that floated before returning his gaze to her as his servo arms instinctively unfolded and reached onto one of the panels of his armor, withdrawing a dataslate, offering it to the younger Millitarum officer.

“It contains information of a body dated three thousand years of age.“ He commented. “It should not be here. I ask if you wish to examine these remains.“

[ferrum-defectus]

Iron!Starters

Hit me up in either PMs for a starter Or ask for my Discord!

I’m open for business.

[akhenaten-imhotep]

In the desolate places

[ferrum-defectus]

He was impassive, the red lenses of his helm seemed to cast an almost insidious glow amid the heavy snowfall. Everything around them was muted, distorted by the snow itself, a phenomenon that often came with planets that experienced heavy snowfall. He was a black mark against the sheer white backdrop that surrounded them and for what it was worth, it made him seem almost larger than he actually was and his apparent hulking size grew more and more apparent as he approached. His body was augmented in a manner that was seen as common to that of his chapter, but what was visible to them would strike them as strange. His bionics, what silver metal could be seen, seemed different.

The Techmarine would have taken note of this first. His armor was heavily modified as cables and added ceramite plating was grafted onto the Iron Father’s body. Then, the servo-harness on his back was larger than most, carrying various tools and from the distance, several mono-task servo-skulls arrived in short order. Gripping his power-axe from his waist, he slammed the pommel onto the rockcrete with considerable strength. He did not answer them immediately as he relayed information via their inload/exload noospheric link between himself and the clave.

“I have not heard of your Chapter.“ He spoke coldly, his voice heavy against the cold wind. It echoed across the landing pad. “Yet you speak truthfully. There is no one here and there hasn’t been for centuries.“

He pauses for a moment, turning his gaze in the direction of where she felt this hellish presence. His crimson lenses watching something... unseen to them. “Have you now?”

His words were short and blunt, befitting of those belonging to his chapter. At times, he could be thought of as aloof, but here and now? He was conscious of more things than most would have suspected. He was an Iron Father and a master of archeotechnology. “That does not surprise me, but keep your mind from wandering, I have fought enough Astartes on this world as it is.”

He then looked back towards them. “There is little that you will find here on the surface other than ghosts of a city that died in silence.”