In the end they resorted to climbing out hand over hand, like great iron apes. Rorke and a few of the others were tasked with dragging their brother’s pulped remains into one pile-after scavenging all usable armour, of course-whilst a combination of Mordecai’s telekinesis and the two remaining Obliterator’s raw strength tore the lifeless Dreadnought shell asunder. They worked quickly and silently, Lorkhan adamant they were not leaving until it was done.
It was apparent to any who cared to look that Zuko wasn’t walking out of here. Having a Contemptor’s full weight pressed down on your legs tended to ruin anyone’s day, even for an Astartes. Rorke, ever the loyal and supportive brother, suggested they leave him there. Surprisingly Zuko himself agreed, arguing that it would slow them down to unacceptable levels. The idea was dismissed immediately by the Warsmith; they were already understrength. Instead Zuko was forced to cling on to the back of the silent Obliterator like a child, and the indignity of it clearly burned at him.
They retreated down the passageway they had come from, towards the drop pod’s remains. None of them had any sort of inclination to explore the other catacombs. There were enough hand-holds in the rock to make pulling their way free of the pit relatively simple, although for the Obliterators (particularly the one lugging Zuko) it was a squeeze. Eventually they had all emerged into the crisp morning light streaming into the castle’s foyer. Here, they could see it was just as decrepit as it had appeared at night, although the strange empty plinth in the centre of the room was made of a particularly pure white stone. Most made for the exit, with only Lorkhan staying behind momentarily. He ascended the stairs to where Zuko had found the first evidence of the loyalists, stooping to pick up the green ceramite plating. Before, the Salamander icon had seemed to glare mockingly at him. Now, it was nothing more than chipped paint.
He re-joined his brothers as they stepped over the great wooden doors that had been blown of their hinges, exiting the castle with all due haste. Bird song met them, although Lorkhan couldn’t determine the species. Xenos, most likely. A soft breeze lapped against his armour, cooling him through the battered war-plate as if it were a second skin. Mordecai unfastened his helmet, a genuinely pleasured smile crossing his face as the wind brushed it. The forest seemed slightly more inviting than it had in the dark, although it still bore the scars of the Chaos Marine’s presence in the form of wisps of smoke rising in the distance.
Lorkhan looked down at the rickety bridge, cocking his head sidewards.
“One Obliterator down.” He observed. “We’re going to have trouble getting back across.”
“Ve could jump for it.” Vortun grunted. Mordecai shook his head, still holding his helmet in the crook of his arm.
“I would scarcely advocate it, Vortun.” The sorcerer remarked. “One does not like to consider the price of failure, especially if your…additional bulk is factored into consideration.” Lorkhan turned the options over in his head, weighing up the possibility of just not returning. It wasn’t an option, of course. Celestia had promised to get them off this rock and back to Medrengard, and Lorkhan intended to make her keep it.
“Lord?” Zuko called out, still perched atop an Obliterator. The Warsmith ignored him, still deliberating internally.
“Lord?” Zuko’s repeated, more forcefully. Lorkhan gave him an over-the-shoulder glare, still not replying.
“Lorkhan, will you just…”
“WHAT?!” Lorkhan screamed, spinning on his heels to face his subordinate. A couple of the less attentive Iron Warriors flinched as if struck, but Zuko merely locked stares with the Warsmith. Lorkhan stayed tensed for a moment, before finally calming himself. Zuko wasn’t at fault here-the encounter with Nu’val bothered Lorkhan more than he cared to admit. “What is it, brother?”
Zuko didn’t say anything, but pointed to Lorkhan’s right. The Iron Warrior turned in confusion, unsure what the Champion was getting at. Just as he was about to demand Zuko be dumped into the canyon, he spotted it.
The castle stood, for the most part, on its own-connected to the majority of the forest by the rope-bridge they’d crossed earlier. However, Lorkhan now realised that more trees stood on firm bedrock to the left of the castle, forming a wide arc. They joined on to the rear of the fortification without the use of a bridge, and that rocky bedding continued round…
…Connecting back up with the remainder of the Everfree.
“Are you quite alright, sir?” Mordecai asked, concern creeping into his voice. Lorkhan had gone very quiet and still, staring at the pathway they could have taken instead of arsing about with the rope-bridge. Before the sorcerer could inquire again, the ancient Warsmith fell to his knees with a sound like a hammer striking an anvil. He was still silent. Two Marines stepped forward to help him back up, but Lorkhan brushed them off. He lifted his arms above his head, still lost in reverie, clenching the hands into fists.
“OH, COME ON!”
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The rest of the journey was taken in near complete silence, Lorkhan still smouldering at having missed the alternative pathway. The one exception was Varvillon, who was seemingly on the lookout for more of the strange blue plant he had spotted earlier. Finally locating a small cluster, the rest of the group were gracious enough to wait as his eccentricities came to the fore.
Varvillon removed his helmet-it was an object of envy for many within the company, being of the newer mark 7 design, ripped from the corpse of one of Dorn’s sons. Curiously the Marine had not adorned it with horns, or any of the fetishes common amongst the followers of the Dark Gods; when asked, he simply replied that it had never occurred to him to do so. Varvillon’s face was another oddity. For the most part it was organic, however his jaw was a surprisingly sophisticated bionic shaped like a wolf’s muzzle. The lower half of the Iron Warrior’s face had been torn away by a Space Wolf, some barbarian king with lightning claws. Varvillon had somehow survived the encounter, and-ever the poet-had requested the bionics to match. The feral, snarling motions they made when he spoke belied his nature as one of the softer-spoken of the warband.
He turned the helmet over in his hands, removing what seemed to be a miniature auspex from within. Lorkhan groaned inwardly at the thought that he constantly carried it around in there, yet wasn’t surprised. Fiddling with some buttons-the delicate task made difficult by his Power Armour-Varvillon placed the device in the middle of the plants. He snapped his helmet back on with a hiss of pressure, ignoring the looks of his brothers.
“I don’t suppose you intend to explain what that was all about?” Lorkhan asked, not hopeful. Varvillon had already pushed past him.
“Testing a hunch.”
The trip took most of the day-Space Marines moved fast, but the Everfree was large, and it seemed to…change of its own accord, seeking to keep the Iron Warriors trapped. By the time they managed to break free the moon had returned, and now he wasn’t surrounded by trees Lorkhan could get a good look at the surroundings. Acres of countryside stretched before him, with a small town and windmill visible not far off. Mountains ringed the area, and built into the side of one was a white city that Lorkhan could just about make off in the distance; although it was obscured by cloud, he recognised Canterlot, the Xenos’ capital. Credit where credit was due, the positioning of it meant that it would be difficult to assault with any typical army.
Fortunately, the Legio Astartes were not a typical army.
To the east stood the remnants of the Olympian Sun, still lying in the crash-site where all this had started. What was left of the cottage Zuko had destroyed also could be seen. It had not been rebuilt yet, most likely due to the intimidating presence of the Strike Cruiser. It was hard, to see the ship that had survived the Heresy and so much more humbled like this, and on such a world to boot; the fact that it still struck fear into Xenos hearts was some comfort.
Unsure how to contact Celestia directly, the Iron Warriors made for the village. It wasn’t a long walk-about twenty minutes-yet when they arrived it was effectively a ghost town. Nearly every window was without light, the streets empty. Whether they had spotted the Astartes approaching, or just didn’t have much of a night life, the Iron Warriors couldn’t say. They wandered through town aimlessly, trying to pick out any major landmarks. There were few-a needle-shaped structure that presumably formed the centre of local government, an opulent and multi-tiered carousel shaped structure with mannequins of the Xenos hung on the outside, and most curiously of all, a tree that had seemingly been hollowed out with a balcony constructed in its upper branches. All of them seemed dead.
Only one building showed signs of life. It was mostly pink, but the roof was a dark brown edged with fluffy white. Three large candles glowed atop it, perched on what seemed to be a large pink cake. Outside a sign hung down, that same cake printed on with “Sugarcube corner” scrawled below it. Lorkhan could have hurled. Unlike everywhere else though, here the lights were on, and the door left slightly ajar.
The group stopped outside it, some muttering entirely justified curses, as Lorkhan walked towards it. Rorke and Mordecai moved to follow him, but a look from the Warsmith stopped them.
“Stay here with the cripple.” He said, jerking a thumb towards Zuko, who climbed a little further up the Obliterator and spat ineffectually towards Lorkhan. “If this is a trap, I want you two ready to respond.” Both gave a nod, once not arguing. Motioning to the two closest Iron Warriors, Lorkhan lowered his head and squeezed into Sugarcube corner.
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“Pinkie, I really don’t think this is a good idea…” Twilight said, casting another nervous glance around her. The bakery had been cleared of nearly all furniture, only the essential remaining. Behind Twilight stood a couple of tables, laden with cake, a punch bowl and other assorted snacks. A banner hung on the wall above them, the words “Welcome back Iron Warriors!” daubed on hastily. At both ends of the sentence was Pinkie’s representation of the helmeted skull logo they seemed fond of; she hadn’t got a good look at it, and so despite her best efforts it was almost a parody of itself. Anyone else may have taken it in jest, but when the Iron Warriors were concerned, Twilight though such levity was dangerous.
Beside her Pinkie giggled, flashing Twilight a smile. The Element of Laughter wore a yellow and blue party hat, and was clutching something tightly to her chest-confetti, it seemed. She smiled again, this one much warmer.
“Oh Twiley, I know they were pretty scary when they first got here, but maybe Scootaloo was right! It can’t have been easy for them to find themselves stranded here, and if they’re gonna be stuck here I just wanna try and help everything cool off a bit. I know I can be their friends, if they just try!”
“That’s very admirable Pinkie, but I-“ Twilight was cut off by her friend’s face materialising centimetres from her own, shining blue eyes widened in a pleading expression.
“Please, Twilight! Oh, pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease Pinkie-promise you’ll give them a chance?” For a moment, Twilight was unsure what to say. Finally she sighed, running a hoof down her face.
“Alright, I Pinkie-promise. But for you, not for them.”
She was rewarded with the party pony’s hooves thrown around her in a warm embrace, somehow still keeping hold of the confetti. The smile had returned to Pinkie’s face immediately, and using her mouth she offered Twilight another party hat. The Unicorn reached out with her magic to take it, faking a smile of her own.
To Pinkie’s left, Derpy was sat with the same vapid grin on her face as usual, sporting a hat and kazoo. She had been the only other resident of Ponyville to attend; Spike was asleep, and the rest of the Ponies had been very clear where the Iron Warriors could shove it. Fluttershy-who was staying at Carousel Boutique whilst her home was in ruins, at Rarity’s insistence-had reacted harshest of all, practically slamming the door in Twilight and Pinkie’s face when they’d gone to invite her. Twilight herself remained convinced this was a bad idea, but she wasn’t going to leave Pinkie and Derpy alone with marauding aliens. So the three of them sat in the bakery, waiting for the invaders to return.
Finally, spiked silhouettes darkened the windows. Pinkie nudged Twilight excitedly. The door opened with surprising gentleness as Lorkhan entered. It was an effort for him to get through, but once he was inside Twilight was intrigued to notice he didn’t need to stoop as low to avoid the ceiling as she’d expected. Two other Iron Warriors entered, ones she didn’t recognise. No sooner were they inside then Pinkie let fly the confetti, Derpy blowing wildly on the Kazoo as the pink pony screamed “SURPRISE!”
The Iron Warriors didn’t react, and Twilight felt a tense feeling settle in her gut. Eventually, they began walking forward with deceptive slowness, refusing eye contact with any of the ponies. Each footfall reverberated heavily on the wooden floor. They pushed past Twilight and Pinkie to stare down at the food placed out for them, then up at the banner, then down at the food again.
“What is this?” Lorkhan finally said, voice surprisingly quiet and calm. The tension inside Twilight constricted more and more, and she found her eyes falling on every possible exit. Pinkie would not be defeated so easily, though.
“It’s a party…for you…to celebrate you coming back and stuff!”
She was still beaming as Derpy blew the kazoo again. The Iron Warriors still did not look at the three ponies, but Lorkhan gave each of his subordinates an almost imperceptible nod. Twilight began to edge back, tapping Pinkie’s hoof in an effort to get her to do the same as what was about to happen became apparent.
The blows crashed down onto the plates of food and the tables moments later. One of the Iron Warriors grabbed the cake and raised it over his head, roaring as he threw it on the ground. The plate shattered as it hit the floorboards, the cracking sound mixing with the splattered cake’s squelch. The horrible metal snake things attached to Lorkhan’s armour had ripped the banner from the wall, tearing it to shreds and dropping it at the Iron Warrior’s feet for him to stamp on. The third Iron Warrior grabbed either side of the punch bowl, Twilight rushing to hold Pinkie down as he hurled it right past her. It span through the air like a discus, covering the floor in slippery purple liquid and crashing through one of the bakery’s windows. The magic using Iron Warrior Twilight had seen earlier peered in from outside, waving at the Unicorn as if this was normal.
Confectionary was tossed aside and crushed into paste by the Iron Warrior’s relentless assault, driven by a cold fury. Twilight grabbed Pinkie, who was sobbing heavily and only managing weak protests, and began to pull her towards the door. It meant going through more Iron Warriors, but she had her magic. Squeezing her eyes shut, Twilight prayed for strength and a true aim.
Her eyes snapped open as the noise of violent release came to an abrupt halt. Turning round to look back at the scene of destruction, Twilight supressed a gasp as she saw Derpy sat in front of the three giants. They stared down at her, this unexpected development seemingly overpowering their baser urges. Slowly, Derpy brought a hoof up towards one of the unknown Iron Warriors, still smiling. On it rested a single, perfect, still steaming muffin. Twilight wasn’t sure where she’d got it, but that wasn’t important right now.
The Iron Warrior looked down at it, seemingly a complete loss of what to do. Tentatively he reached out to take it, gauntleted hand causing some to flake off as it wrapped around the muffin. Withdrawing it, the Iron Warrior held his gift gingerly with a mumble of “thanks”.
Twilight’s incomprehension distracted her, softening her grip and allowing Pinkie to break loose. Tears streaming down her face, the Element Bearer rushed towards Lorkhan, laying into the lower shins of his armour with ineffectual punches in an entirely unPinkie-like manner. The Iron Warrior looked at her contemptuously for a moment, before fastening a heavy iron gauntlet around her neck and lifting her from the ground. Pinkie’s legs kicked at air as she pawed weakly at the vice-like grip on her throat, coughing and spluttering.
Seeing her friend in danger was the last straw for Twilight. The fact that she knew Lorkhan could have crushed Pinkie instantly, and merely extended her suffering on a sadistic whim, only fuelled her anger further. Purple energy shot forth from her horn, striking the alien warlord. He stumbled slightly as one impacted his chest squarely, yet he did not relinquish his grip or take his eyes off Pinkie. By now the trapped pony’s struggles had grown weaker, and her eyes began to roll back. Twilight shot more and more bursts of magic, desperate panic setting in. The other two Iron Warriors advanced towards Twilight, although one still clutched the muffin awkwardly.
“ENOUGH.”
The voice was sufficiently authoritarian to stop even the Iron Warriors. Twilight instantly froze, turning towards the door with some trepidation. It was flung open as the sun’s avatar herself walked in.
“Drop her.” Celestia commanded sternly, gaze locked on Lorkhan. He didn’t comply immediately, but eventually relinquished his grip on Pinkie. She dropped to the ground with a thud, whimpering in pain and rubbing her throat. Twilight and Derpy galloped over, noticing her mane was completely straight now. Lorkhan and Celestia still glared at one another.
“What is the meaning of this?” She hissed, stamping a hoof on the ground. The Iron Warriors outside looked in expectantly, whilst Lorkhan folded his arms.
“That’s what I was asking.” He growled.
“She threw you a party,” Celestia said, motioning towards Pinkie. “to make you feel accepted. You responded with attempted murder.”
“You really don’t know us at all, do you?” Lorkhan replied, with a hint of smugness. A dark look settled in Celestia’s eyes, and once again Twilight found herself scared of her mentor. Then, with a deep breath, Celestia seemed to recover some composure. “I trust you have done as I asked?”
“We killed the biggest thing there was.”
“…Are you going to tell me what it was?”
“No.” Lorkhan practically spat the word, and the rational part of Twilight wondered what could have elicited such an emotive response. Celestia blinked in surprise at his tone, her face softening a little.
“We’ve done our part, now you do yours.” The Warsmith continued. Celestia’s face mellowed even further, becoming almost apologetic.
“I can’t-“
He was on her in seconds. Twilight squealed in fear as Lorkhan crossed the floor with astonishing speed and let a fist fly. It crashed into a shield of white energy, the same colour as the light that surrounded Celestia’s horn. Lorkhan pressed his helmet right up to the barrier, his words a venomous hiss.
“You lying bitch.”
“I am not.” The Princess replied evenly, showing no sign of strain. Twilight’s heart was pounding in her chest as she watched the exchange. “If you recall, my promise was to work with you to find a way home, not to get you there immediately. I still intend to do that.” Lorkhan glared at her a moment longer, before nodding and stepping back.
“This incident isn’t a mark in your favour, Lorkhan.” The Princess warned, dropping the magical shield. “But you have done a service for the realm, and as promised are granted a pardon. Equestria’s finest minds are already searching for ways to help you. You may come and go as you please-but you WILL make yourself useful to my subjects, and you will not threaten them. Am I clear, Iron Warrior?”
The three aliens scoffed derisively. “You can’t order Space Marines, Xenos.” The Warsmith said.
“No.” Celestia agreed. “But you can.” Lorkhan was quiet for a moment, no sarcastic remark forthcoming.
“I want our weapons back.” He grunted at length. “We won’t use them, if you insist. But I’m getting withdrawal symptoms.”
Celestia nodded. “They have already been delivered to your ship.” Lorkhan fell silent, seemingly searching Celestia’s face for answers. She didn’t respond, instead focusing on Twilight.
“Twilight, child, would you accompany our guests back to their craft and ensure they do nothing rash?” She asked, with a smile. For the first time the Iron Warriors looked at Twilight, red eyes glowing. She gulped.
“P-princess…I just…Pinkie…”
“She will be fine, Twilight. I will attend her.” Celestia’s tone was gentle, but final. Gulping again, Twilight nodded limply. With one last look back at Pinkie she trudged out of Sugarcube corner, three murderous aliens in tow. The other Iron Warriors stood outside, also watching the Unicorn. Their stance was almost universally hostile, but Lorkhan’s reappearance and rumbling command kept them at bay. They moved out towards the edge of Ponyville, surrounding Twilight. She kept her head down and moved quickly, stomach churning.
They stomped towards the crashed…thing in a short amount of time, though Twilight practically had to run to keep up. The one that had waved seemed the least aggressive, and so she stuck closest to him. Their size was the most shocking thing; he was easily twice her height. As they approached the crash, Twilight noticed that great trenches had been carved in the earth before it; the Iron Warriors strode across them easily, yet she had to jump. In the corner of her eye she spotted what remained of Fluttershy’s cottage. Sadness mixed with fear, and Twilight hoped that Fluttershy found residence away from these brutes.
Outside the colossal metal skeleton that had struck the ground was a mass of dishevelled looking creatures. Their skin was a grimy greyish-pink, and on the whole they reminded Twilight of lanky apes. They were taller than her, but smaller than the Iron Warriors, and all of them were dressed in rags and had an unkempt mass of hair on their heads. As the Iron Warriors approached they prostrated themselves, shaking fearfully. A couple of the smaller ones, presumable juveniles, stared at Twilight.
“Forgot we had these.” She heard Lorkhan chuckle. The Warsmith stepped up to one in particular, bidding it rise. As he did, Twilight saw he had the skull logo of the aliens cut into his chest. It looked painful.
“The weapons have been returned to us?” Lorkhan asked, dismissively. The shaking creature nodded, and Twilight observed he was making sure not to look at the Space Marine directly.
“Y-yes, my Lord.”
“And you at no point considered a heroic rescue of your gracious masters?” The Warsmith asked. The thin grotty creature paled further, and Twilight couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy.
“N-no, Lord…”
Lorkhan chuckled, turning to look at his brothers as if sharing a jest. Before Twilight could inquire, the Warsmith had spun and clamped his hands on the side of the unfortunate alien’s head. With a twist and a yank, he tore it clean away. Twilight couldn’t stop a squeal of fear leaving her lips as the body spasmed as jerked from side to side. Lorkhan tossed the head aside as if it were nothing as the front of his iron armour was coated in sickly red gore and spinal fluid. Neither Iron Warrior nor menial slave reacted, but Twilight wasn’t able to control herself. She vomited, hurling the contents of her stomach onto the ground. She gulped in fresh air, eyes watering as she tried to quell the sickened feeling spreading through her. Without warning, she threw up again, tears falling from her eyes and mixing with the bile. The Iron Warriors regarded her with what could only be amusement.
“What the HELL?!” She screamed at Lorkhan through gritted teeth, recovering some of her strength. The Warsmith shrugged. “He was useless to us. There’s no room for useless things.”
“But…but you can’t just KILL it…him…whatever!” She yelped, feeling an involuntary surge of magical energy run through her. It took conscious willpower to stop herself using it.
“Why not?” Lorkhan asked, sounding genuinely puzzled. “We own them.” He turned, stepping towards the ship’s torn-open belly, the Iron Warriors falling in behind him. Twilight followed a moment later, violent thoughts raging through her skull.
The inside of the craft was gloomier than she’d even imagined, yet the Marines moved through it with practiced ease. They knew every turn and room, some slapping the walls almost affectionately. Twilight began to feel sick again, pressure building inside her head. The corruption she had detected around the aliens was magnified here, the air choked with menace. She wanted to turn and run back home, curling up into bed and pretending this wasn’t happening. But the Princess had given her a task, and she’d see it done…even if it was utterly terrifying.
Finally, the mass reached a large chamber where the walls were rife with stands bearing devilish weapons of every stripe.The word ‘Armorium’ was carved above the door. A great cheer went up from the Iron Warriors, even the larger ones who Twilight had observed were weapons. They spread out in a disorganised rabble, each dashing to recover their lost property. Lorkhan took up stubby gun and huge double-handed axe, running an armoured finger down the green-tinted blade. The sorcerer caressed a long black sword as if it were a child; orange runes were carved on its blade, glowing with a sinister light as he drew near. The wizard turned as if to pick up a gun like Lorkhan’s, but stopped. Reaching onto a desk he grasped the handle of an axe that was at least as long as Twilight, although shorter than the Warsmith’s, and gave it a few test swings. Seemingly pleased with his acquisition, he sheathed it alongside the sword.
Most of the Iron Warriors selected enlarged versions of Lorkhan’s gun, pulling the safety back and slotting fresh magazines into place, although a few chose more esoteric weapons that glowed with red light. One of the leaders had gone for a bronze-hilted sword; on the crosspiece was carved a staring eye, the pupil slitted and unblinking. Another, forced to cling onto one of the larger creature’s backs, made a grab for a comically oversized fist with black and yellow talons. Twilight recognised him as the one who had nearly killed Shining Armour. Her temper rose with another magical surge; she didn’t know what they’d fought, but if it’d stopped him walking Twilight was okay with it. The Iron Warriors were to a man elated, seemingly forgetting Twilight was there. Spotting her chance, she slowly began to back out of the room. It would have worked had one of the menial slaves not blocked the entrance.
“M-my Lords?” it ventured, ignoring the Pony that had just walked into it. The Marines stopped their celebrations, glaring at him. “T-there’s something else…” With that, he disappeared down a corridor. The Iron Warriors followed him at haste, nearly trampling Twilight underfoot. She dived out the way and followed them, having to gallop to keep up. She found them huddled round the door at another open chamber, seemingly in a state of shock. She had to push through the forest of armoured legs to get a good look. No sooner had she done so a great cheer went up, this one even more ferocious than the first.
In the centre of the room stood what Twilight could only describe as a metal box with tracks. It was the same colour as their armour, save some black indents and yellow and black stripes on what she presumed were the exhaust pipe coverings. Spikes and chains were hung all around it, many of them with lien skulls attached. On one side of the beast, at what she presumed was the front, ‘IV’ had been scrawled in what Twilight hoped was red paint. Walking onwards, and avoiding the rushing Iron Warriors who moved to run their hands down the construct, she found ‘XIII’ painted in the same place on the opposite side. On the rear ‘Rorke was here’ was written, the ‘paint’ running down in sickly rivers. She backed away from the stocky thing, not wanting to risk its wrath.
“It’s a Rhino.” A polite voice said. The sorcerer came to stand beside Twilight, before kneeling down so as to be only slightly taller than her. Baubles and censors clattered on his armour. “The numerals on the side correspond to company designation. Fourth Legion, Thirteenth Company, you see?”
Twilight didn’t see. Furthermore, it didn’t look like any of the Rhinos she’d ever read about. She said as much.
“I’m…afraid I don’t follow, my dear.” The sorcerer said quizzically. “The Rhino is the premier troop transport of the Legio Astartes, a tank responsible for ferrying our troops across the battlefield to their objectives. We thought all our fighting vehicles destroyed in the crash and subsequent conflagrations.”
“Wait,” twilight said, mind reeling. “So…it’s a tank?” That was even harder to believe. Equestria’s military was limited at best, and whilst they did possess a few tanks they were ugly, steam powered contraptions prone to blowing up. The only other Tank she knew of was Rainbow’s pet tortoise.
“If you don’t mind my saying, I would wager that she is a lot more advanced than anything your people have yet constructed.” The Iron Warrior said, sounding genuine enough. He chuckled. “To think, the old girl survived. We should have expected no less.”
“’She’?” Twilight asked, angry at not understanding anything of what he was saying. “Are you saying this thing’s…alive?”
“Not in a manner you would be familiar with.” The sorcerer explained, his voice that of a patient teacher dealing with a slow pupil. “All vehicles and artefacts of technology are imbued with a Machine Spirit, which the Mechanicum claim is a portion of their Machine God. More advanced technology possesses a more prominent Machine Spirit, yet all have some degree of awareness.” He paused, allowing Twilight to take in what he had just said. She didn’t want to admit she’d understood nothing. “They are not sentient as you or I would see it, at least not in the humble Rhino. Traditionally the Iron Warriors Legion does not name its vehicles, as some of our brothers are wont to do. After all they are to be expended in the war, and ultimately are nothing more hardware and metal bound together. Yet, this particular Rhino has served us resolutely since the inception of our brotherhood at the dawn of the Crusade. Despite the efforts of many uncivilised individuals to take her out of commission, every time it returns ready and eager to fight. It has been pivotal to many our missions and wars, yet more than that she is a survivor, like us. And thus we have given her the ultimate reward for any Iron Warrior war engine; an identity.”
“So…so this thing has a name?” Twilight ventured, wondering whether she wanted to know it.
“Oh yes.” The sorcerer replied, standing back up to his full height. His tone contained no small amount of pride. “We call her The Growler.”