//------------------------------// // And Up She Rises // Story: My Iron Warriors: Ordinance is Magic // by Perturabo //------------------------------// It wasn’t a trench, but it felt like one. In fact, Zuko wished it were; he liked trenches. He’d spent half his bloody life down them. Trenches were…easy. Every footfall on the snow sent his boot deep into the ice sheets, the crunch eerily reminiscent of splintering bone. It wasn’t long before all of his lower legs had their silver plate covered in white, and the constant snowfall gave much of his top half the same effect. In the dull light, and with the stained white coating, he looked more like the Death Guard once had than an Iron Warrior. Only his eyes gaze him the appearance of being anything other than a twisted snowman come to life; glowing raw and red, their optical beams piercing the gloom. His old and battered suit of Power Armour was heated enough to make Zuko feel no discomfort from the punishing elements, but even so, he pulled the red cloak the Xenos had made him a little closer, taking care not to rip the edges. He may not have wanted it, but it did help warm him a little and keep his mind sufficiently focused. That, and if he took it with him there was no chance of his brothers finding it. As he trudged through the deep snow banks, Zuko took a moment to consider the seemingly insane physics and climate of the world they’d now spent the last two or so months on. Less than half a day’s march past, he’d been in the idyllic and temperate surroundings of Ponyville. They’d had a bloody forest on the outskirts, for damn’s sake. When he’d set off north he’d prepared a travel plan that would take him several weeks, not expecting to reach any serious impeding weather until he was on the far side of the mountains. That had been the plan, but of course, Equestria hadn’t been paying attention. Despite making sure to follow the train line that headed north, or at least keep it in view, no sooner had he set foot in the mountainous regions had everything taken a turn for the worst. The vegetation had died almost instantly, and had he not thought to bring some branches he’d found earlier along-just in case-there was a very real chance of being stranded without supplies of any kind. Even with his power armour senses and Marine physiology, it was hard to see more than a few feet in front of him, and he’d lost count of the amount of times his plasma pistol had almost become frozen in its holster. It was for that reason he’d chosen to keep his power fist on, and the crackling electrical field surrounding the talons turned any snow that hit it into fine droplets of steaming water. In a world where the Pegasi seemingly had virtually unlimited control over the weather, bar the Everfree, Zuko wondered why they bothered taking the time to produce these snowstorms at all. Scientifically speaking, he knew it had to be deposited somewhere. Just…not here, would be useful. It was colder than a Space Wolf’s smile here. He stopped, crouching and hoping the steadily increasing wind didn’t rip the cloak from his shoulders. The snow hat had already begun to coalesce on him made him almost invisible in the bleak wilderness. Slowly, he reached down and drew the serrated combat knife from his belt with his free hand, flipping it to hold it ready. Other than unsheathing his blade, he didn’t move. Something pattered on the snow. The sound of tiny little feet padded through the snow, the skittering of some multi-legged beast. The Iron Warrior didn’t turn, not wanting to make the first move, but silently he weighed up his options. Mordecai’s…revelation a few nights ago had changed the game, and forced Zuko to consider that maybe they weren’t as far from the Warp as he’d of liked. But from wolves made of wood to shape-shifting bug daemons, he wouldn’t put it past this insane planet to harbour a few eldritch abominations of its own. The Plasma Pistol might have been a better bet, but it was slow to fire and he didn’t want to attract any more of whatever it was that could be hidden in the snow. He closed his eyes, relaxing his muscles and letting his hypno-conditioned battle routines take over. An idea took hold. He tilted the knife gripped in his hand, angling it towards any light he could find. If he could reflect the sun off it he might be able to provoke it and launch a counter-attack, or at least get a better view of what it was from the blade’s polished steel. The knife glinted. He heard a sharp intake of breath, and steeled himself to face down a monster vomited from the hells. “Ohmigosh, you have a sword too? That’s so awesome!” For the first time since walking into the snowstorm, Zuko really froze. It wasn’t a monster. It was worse. “Oh no.” He muttered, and for a moment his stony demeanour cracked. “Not you.” --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Spike nearly fell over his own clawed feet as he sprinted towards the door, the frenetic knocking spurring him to quicken his pace. Blood gushing to his head with the exercise, he reached the door and flung it open, pausing only to catch his breath. Three Ponies stood in the doorway, each with an equally concerned expression. Apropos of nothing they dashed in, the closest to Spike stopping to look at him with large green eyes. They were determined and strong, bt the baby dragon thought he also saw an undercurrent of fear nestled deep within them. “Rainbow came an’ found me an’ Pinkie right away.” Applejack said, adjusting her trademark hat slightly. “She still here?” Spike nodded, forcing down the tears that were slowly welling up at the corner of his eyes and pointed at the green door just down the stairs that marked the entrance to Twilight’s study and laboratory. Applejack nodded grimly in thanks, before galloping to join her two friends. Rainbow was hammering on the door with a hoof, whilst Pinkie was desperately and fruitlessly trying the lock. Spike followed behind AJ, but he knew from experience it was locked. “Open up Twilight!” Rainbow shouted in, ceasing her knocking only a moment. It was voiced as a threat, but even though Spike didn’t know many of Twilight’s friends as well as he would like-especially Rarity-he knew when Rainbow was worried. The voice that called back seemingly didn’t. “No! Go away, leave me alone!” It was muffled by the door, but it didn’t sound at all like the Twilight Spike knew and loved. It was scratchy and discordant, halfway between hysteria and sobbing. It’d been much the same since he’d had brought Twily home from the Grand Galloping gala two days ago; or rather dragged her, as the unicorn seemed to be trapped in some state of shock. Almost as soon as they’d got back she’d locked herself away and refused to see anyone, even him. Twilight’s lone vigils were unsettling enough, but the near-total break down the Iron Warriors had unwittingly induced by their arrival had made Spike even more frightened for his surrogate sister’s mental health. Events over the next few days had forced his hand and made him call in her friends. “Oh please please please let us in Twilight!” Pinkie practically wailed, resting her forehead on the wooden door. “I promise I won’t be hyperactive or anything! I just want my bestest friend back!” Surprisingly, Spike found he believed her; her mane had certainly deflated somewhat. The last time he’d seen her like that it’d been scary. Now it was sad. No answer was immediately forthcoming, so the mares seemingly took matters into their own hands. Pinkie and Rainbow drew back, coming in line with AJ who’d positioned herself ready to buck the door. Her hind leg muscles were taught, as were those in Dashie’s wings as she tensed them in readiness. Spike couldn’t watch, trying his hardest to stop the tears. “You asked for it, Twi.” He heard Rainbow grumble. They moved as one, AJ lashing out with her toned back legs as Rainbow and Pinkie sprung forward. Locked as it was, the door never stood a chance, the combined weight of three adult ponies too much for it to bear. It was practically flung off its hinges, and they travelled with it, landing in a heap on…something. From the way it squirmed and screamed, Twilight had a pretty good idea what-or who-it was. He was about to rush to Twilight’s side when something unconscious made him stop. He looked around the room, taking a deep breath as his reptilian eyes widened. Despite the fact that it was for all intents and purposes a cellar, he’d always known Twilight’s lab to be well lit and almost inviting. Now it seemed all the light had been sucked out, save the dim glow of a few shimmering candles strewn hither and tither. The masses of industrial scientific equipment that had been crammed in when they’d been experimenting on the ‘Obliterator’ were gone, replaced by old, half rotten tables. A coat-stand that Twilight had somehow managed to drag in leaning on a far wall, as well as other more ‘arcane’ pieces of apparatus. Books of every shape and size were scattered all over the tables and the floor, some closed, some open and in the midst of study. Spike knew pretty much every book in the library and where to file it, but he’d never seen these before; they made him uncomfortable, some seeming to radiate a malicious intent from words that almost flowed over the pages. He wondered where she’d got them from. Nevertheless, what drew the young dragon’s attention the most was the symbols drew over the wall. Some were mathematical or standard magical procedure, yet there was one repeated sign that gave Spike pause. It was a flowing, almost fishlike shape, and despite the fact that they were drew with nothing more than black chalk the edges almost looked like they flickered and writhed with half-glimpsed flame. A circle that looked worryingly like an eye stared out, watching his every move and privy to his innermost secrets and desires. Spike suddenly felt very vulnerable. Applejack, Pinkie and Rainbow Dash didn’t seem to notice their unsettling confines. They focused on keeping their weight on the door, keeping the purple shape underneath pinned. Twilight stared angrily at him as he shuffled over to them, and the fury in her eyes broke the infant’s heart. “Twahlahgt, Sugacube, please calm down.” Applejack said in a measured, serious tone. “We’re here ta help.” “You can’t help.” The Unicorn spat back. The intrusion had seemingly left her manic. “You can’t help, no one can help. Just leave me alone.” “Tw-twily, do you even know what you’re saying?” Pinkie screamed, glistening tears streaming down her face. “We’re your friends, of course we can help!” She smiled, but it was clearly forced. “Friends won’t stop them. They don’t share them. Friends can’t stop them, we didn’t stop them, only I can stop them, but I have to know how!” Twilight’s voice rose from a mutter to a shout, spittle flying into AJ’s face. The Unicorn thrashed, but bizarrely hadn’t let off any magic yet. Perhaps she was simply too distraught. “Oh come on Egghead.” Rainbow Dash said, voice strained with the effort of holding her friend down. “Don’t make me agree with Pinkie here, are you listening to yourself?” She lowered her face, her stony glare scant centimetres from Twilight’s frenzied expression. “This doesn’t sound like the Pony the Princess trusted to write friendship reports.” The words seemed to penetrate her fevered mind, because the anger instantly drained from her eyes and she became Twilight again. The Unicorn’s body went limp as she rested her head back, eyes closed in an attempt to mask the sobbing that now came freely from her throat. Her friends responded in kind, relaxing and dragging the door off her. No sooner had they done it then Twilight sprang up, flinging both hooves around Applejack’s neck and drawing her in to a tight hug as she sobbed. AJ flinched warily, but soon loosened, returning the embrace. They all did, flinging forelegs and claws around the wounded Unicorn. “The…t-the Princess…” Twilight managed between sniffles. “She said they wouldn’t come…said…said she could deal with them. But she can’t, no one can…they just marched right into the bucking Gala, and nopony did anything!” she wailed, her sobs increasing in vigour. AJ patted her back tenderly. “It’s okay sugacube.” She said in an uncharacteristically gentle, almost maternal voice. “T’tell the truth, ah was scared too. As scared as ah I was when they first showed up, y’all remember?” Spike gripped Twilight tighter; he remembered. “But shoot, they didn’t really do nothin’. They might not be very nahce, but they have been well behaved.” “Yeah!” Rainbow Dash said optimistically. “Plus, that wizard guy going mad at Blueblood was pretty funny.” Pinkie nodded enthusiastically, with a real smile this time. “But what if they hadn’t?” Twilight asked through her tears, fixing her friends with puffy red eyes. “What if someone needed to stop them? They’ve got all the advantages. I thought…I just needed the knowledge. I need to know, I just really need to know girls. Because what…” her voice dropped to barely a frightened whisper. “…what if the Princess’ made the wrong decision?” The implications of Twilight thinking this were concerning, and AJ cuddled her tighter. “Now y’all know that’s rotten talk, hun.” The farm pony said soothingly. “Princess Celestia knows what she’s doin’. And even if she didn’t, ah promise we’ll all be hear ta help yah defend Ponyville.” Twilight’s eyes were practically pleading. “Pr-promise?” “Promise!” The Mares answered in unison. Twilight sighed, hugging her friends again and finally smiling. Finally she turned to look at Spike, smiling wearily. “Spike, could you fetch me something from the library?” she asked. “Something light, I’ve had enough excitement for one week.” His grin froze on his face, and suddenly Spike felt very pale. He turned to look at the floor, shifting slightly as he planned his words, well aware of four pairs of eyes on him. “But that’s the thing Twilight.” He began, looking up at them and pointing back into the library. They looked past him, squinting in confusion before finally seeing. “Half the books are gone.” -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Okay, what about Curze versus Lorgar?” Barbus rolled his eyes as the Iron Warrior’s voice came over the vox, and chose to focus more on his footwork. Blackened leaves and fallen twigs crunched underfoot as he and his two brothers picked his way along; remnants of the warband’s previous excursion here. It was certainly quieter in the Everfree than before. Perhaps the fire had killed most of the fauna, or they’d come to fear them. Barbus hoped for the latter. The trees had grown back at an astonishing rate, still cramped close around them, but there was evidence of flame everywhere they went. That made him happy; it felt like they’d actually made a mark on something. “First,” he voxed back grudgingly. “Don’t say those names out loud. Best not tempt fate. Second, discussing who would win in an X versus Y fight is idiotic if you’re only considering power levels in a vacuum.” “Fine.” His brother grunted. “Open arena, say approximately 150 metres diameter. No help, fight on foot, they can bring their armour and one weapon.” “Middle of the day?” “Yes.” “Then the Urizen.” “Okay,” the other marine grunted. “How about…Manus versus Mortarion.” “Manus. Father aside, he’s the only one as stubborn as the Death Lord was.” “Probably…Vulkan versus Alpharius?” Barbus actually considered this for a moment, taking care to maintain his footing as he picked his way over rocks and streams. Eventually, his silence seemed to unnerve the other Astartes. “Vulkan, right? It’s got to be.” Barbus shook his head. “Alpharius. You said they could bring one weapon. He’d bring a vortex grenade.” He moved swiftly to cut off any further discussion, put didn’t turn back or slow down. “I’m not waiting for you, Varvillon.” He heard the other Iron Warrior rise from his crouch. Varvillon had been bringing up the year, seeming to stop every minute to look at some new species of plant he’d found. Barbus wouldn’t have cared had the importance of speed not been stressed to him. “It’s interesting.” Varvillon said, his voice distorted by his bionic jaw. From the sound of it he was completely oblivious to the reprimand, or at least choosing to be. “We are for all intents and purposes cut off from our galaxy, yet many of these plants are reminiscent of those that once grew at home-except here they thrive in the forest, and not the mountains.” “Yeah, fascinating.” Barbus replied caustically. He was about to ask just why Varvillon had such a bizarre fascination with horticulture when they emerged into a clearing. Barbus blinked with his one good eye. He hadn’t even been paying attention. Here the fire damage was most evident, masses of black husks that were once trees expanding out from the centre. Barbus strolled over to a nearby branch that had fallen, crouching beside it. He considered taking one of the equine bones crushed underneath it, but thought it a bit too macabre. “What in the hells is that?” Varvillon asked, crouching besides Barbus. He shook his head. “You don’t want to know.” He muttered. No sooner had he finished his sentence than howls sliced through the air, aggressive and piercing. The Iron Warriors reacted instantly, moving to fight back to back at the centre of the clearing whilst drawing bolters. Barbus shook his head. “Blades.” He ordered. “He wants them intact…more or less.” With a grumble the other two put away their guns and drew their knives, holding them at the ready. Barbus grinned as the Timberwolves slunk out from the trees with glowing green eyes and slavering jaws, surrounding the three Astartes. “Showtime.” ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Had Pipsqueak been old enough to really comprehend it, he might have reasoned that the innocence of childhood was truly a wonderful thing. He had not had to fret or worry about the coming of the aliens, nor had the events of the gala or burning of the Everfree caused him any distress. Oh, he knew OF them of course-who didn’t-but they weren’t an immediate problem for him. He wasn’t old enough to comprehend this of course, so instead he focused on catching the butterfly he’d been chasing for the last ten minutes. The creature almost shimmered before him, pink wings catching the sun light and refracting it in a way that made him want to giggle. It fluttered away from him, darting through a crowd of grown-up Ponies and round a building. Pip followed eagerly. Soon, the butterfly led him further from town then he’d ever been before alone. It worried Pip subconsciously that he was here alone, but the need to catch this creature was overpowering to his infant mind. He stumbled onwards heedless, leaving the buildings behind him until he reached it. The borders of the Everfree forest. Fear finally overpowered wonder as the butterfly disappeared into the forests’ depths, and Pip realised it was time to go home. He turned and began to trot, before long breaking into a gallop. Even as he ran, a curious sound reached his ears from behind a cluster of rocks just out of view of the town; the sound of something heaving and grunting, and of fire. Now curiosity replaced fear, and in spite of all sense Pip crept over to have a look. His tiny lungs emitted a gasp as it came into view. Behind the rock was the largest pile of books he’d ever seen, even more than there were at the orphanage. They were thrown together uncaringly in a great heap, spines bent open and some pages torn. In front of the heap stood three giants, all with their backs to him. The bones hung from chains on their armour scared Pip, as did the yellow and black stripes, but they didn’t seem to have noticed. One of them was flipping through the books at an astonishing rate, whilst the other stood in front of a smaller pile with a strange gun. The last, with a long sword strapped at its belt, was crouched down like an animal. It was this one that was responsible for the heavy breathing, and he jittered and shook with nervous spams every few seconds. “Nothing.” The one with the book growled. “Again.” He tossed it roughly aside, landing it in the smaller heap. He snatched another from the largest pile, flicking through it rapidly. Pip wasn’t sure how he was actually reading it, but evidently he was. “What exactly are we looking for anyway?” “Maybe nothing.” The one with the gun grunted. “I think the Champion just wanted to come and let off some steam, right Rorke?” he jerked a finger over his shoulder, indicating at something behind him. Pip squinted to see what it was. The pale, decapitated corpses of several animals that had no doubt wandered out from the Everfree formed a third heap, blood pooling on the ground around them. It made Pip want to be sick. The one who crouched didn’t get up, but shook a little harder. His helmet rose from where it had been tucked into his chest, and seemed to stare at the armed giant. “Just get on with it.” The one with the gun shrugged, stepping back and aiming it at the pile on the ground. A huge gout of flame erupted from the gargoyle-mouthed nozzle, jetting out to envelop the pile of literature. In one fell swoop it was consumed, the other Iron Warrior moving to waft away the emergent smoke. Even at this distance the heat was intense, and Pip squealed in fear. He clamped a hoof over his mouth, but it was too late. The crouching one spun like lightning, two red eyes focusing on Pip. The colt gasped and tried to run, but the alien was fast, lurching to his feet and crossing the gap in seconds. Pip tried to run but it was fruitless, as the giants’ heavy boot slammed down onto his tail. Pip made to cry out, but a hand clamped over his mouth, stifling the scream. A hand clamped round his neck and lifted Pip into the air, hooves kicking a she spluttered for air. What he saw made him feel even more ill. The giant with the sword’s helmet was drenched in blood; it was dry, but red enough to assure some part of Pip’s brain it was relatively fresh. His gauntlets were similarly stained, and all in all he looked more red and brass than iron. Rorke studied the child for a moment. “He said we’re not to get any of you involved.” He said at last, almost regretfully. It didn’t calm the struggling Pip down, and nor did Rorke leaning in even closer. All Pipsqueak could see were blood red eyes. “Then again, Lorkhan isn’t here.” --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The IV Legion, Mordecai mused, were a funny old lot. During his time as an Astartes he’d fought with most, if not quite all, of the other original Legions, and therefore was pretty qualified to say that-with the possible exceptions of Angron’s World Eaters, or the Iron Hands, they were perhaps the most tactically inflexible of all the Legions. Father had complained that they had never been given the glories of other Legions, but when you went for raw strength above speed, stealth or anything else, it wasn’t difficult to see why they’d been assigned to siege and garrison duty. As it was, he abandoned all pretence of stealth as he made his way through the grounds of Canterlot castle. Night had long since fallen, shafts of moonlight rippling off his gleaming silver armour. He’d judged night to be the best time for this mission, but in truth is companion meant it probably wouldn’t have mattered. The Obliterator lumbered behind him, staring blankly and mutely forward. He was not much for conversation-Vortun always did the talking-but for once Mordecai was not dispensing with the pleasantries. He respected his brother’s strength, but muscle was what he needed above companionship right now. The sorcerer knew his run of luck wouldn’t last, and sure enough, no sooner had they reached the gates marking the public entrance to the castle’s sculpture gardens two brown, armoured Unicorns stepped out to block their progress. Last time he’d come this way, two days ago, there’d been no such guard, but he supposed the Gala meant security was more discreet. He kept his sword and axe at his side even as they lowered their spears, clasping his hands together in a gesture of civility. “Good evening, sirs.” He said chirpily. “Just popping out for a stroll in the gardens, what? Jolly nice night for it.” “No visitors at night.” One of them said bluntly, impressively not wavering in the hold on his spear. “Especially not your kind.” Mordecai made a pained expression that was utterly lost within the confines of his helmet, looking at the ground with a sigh. The Obliterator, predictably, said nothing. “Most unfortunate, old sport.” He said, almost apologetically. Before the guards even had time to raise their eyebrows he had flung both arms out to the side, fingers curling. The telekinetic force wrenched the two ponies off their hooves, their screams cut off by crushed necks and throats. They crumpled where they fell, and did not rise. Mordecai rubbed his wrists sympathetically, cricking his neck and forcing the smile from his face. The headaches had long since abated, and it felt good to be in communion with the Ruinous Powers and able to marshal his full strength again. He turned his neck to look at the Obliterator, fingertips still tingling. “If you please, dear brother.” With a grunt the blessed warrior lumbered forward, stooping down to easily grab both corpses and hold one in each hand. He plodded over to a nearby bush, stuffing both in without grace so they would just be invisible to a casual glance. It wouldn’t fool anyone for long, and was sloppier than Mordecai would have liked, but speed not style was the name of the game here. By the time the Princess or any of the others realised what was happening, he should almost be done. Once he was satisfied with their placement, Mordecai pressed on, the Obliterator following behind. Whether through luck or divine intervention they encountered no more guards, and before long had made it to the object of the sorcerer’s desire. ‘Discord’ was much like Mordecai remembered him, and the Psyker took a moment to appreciate his discovery. He had convinced Rarity to tell him the story behind the statue-a deception he almost regretted, but was ultimately necessary-and it had only reaffirmed what he had to do. He stepped forth, resting a gauntleted palm on the cracked marble. A strange resonance flowed within, pushing back out, and Mordecai found himself curiously invigorated by the energies. Clearing his throat he took a step back, looking up to meet the statue’s eyes. He had not noted the almost amused twinkle in them, combined with a malign intelligence. “Quickly, now.” He whispered as the Obliterator wrenched it from its plinth, resting it on a mutating shoulder. “Events move so very quickly, do they not?” ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Rarity was, above all, a socialite. She adored high class events and fancy soirees were simply divine, but at the end of the day there was nothing she enjoyed more than relaxing with her five best friends. Studious Twilight, brash Rainbow Dash, eternally cheerful Pinkie Pie and yes, even stubborn old Applejack. Yet of all of them it was sweet little Fluttershy she loved the most; the demure creature was Rarity’s most treasured companion, and it was with total honesty she admitted that the Pegasus was naturally more beautiful than she would ever be. It was small wonder she’d been chosen as a model. Still, visiting her home made the Unicorn gulp. Gone was the quaint cottage Fluttershy had lived in since Rarity had first met her. In its place stood a monstrous effigy of steel, all spiked battlements and demon-mouthed guns. Jagged things that were apparently called ‘Tank traps’ were aligned with deep trenches cut into the earth, and around the fortress was dug a deep moat. The great door was open, but the Unicorn had heard tales-of the giant helmeted skull carved onto it, leaving no doubt as to who had made it. Beside her, Fluttershy trembled slightly. She’d been living in the fortress for a while now, but ever since the Iron Warriors had announced more ‘renovations’ she’d been living at Carousel Boutique. It had been…difficult sometimes for Rarity to accommodate her, but she wasn’t about to leave her closest friend scared and alone, especially when the normally supportive Twilight had all but vanished. Rarity had tried to get some information out of Mordecai about what they’d done, but ever since the gala he’d been…preoccupied, almost. It made her uneasy, but at that moment she chose not to show it, instead choosing to be brave for Fluttershy. “Well it doesn’t look…too bad.” She ventured, smiling weakly. The yellow Pegasus didn’t buy it, trembling even harder. Placing a hoof on her back, Rarity took a deep breath, forcing down her own fear. Taking the initiative she stepped forward, trusting Fluttershy to follow. At first it was tentative, but the sound of hoofs padding behind her reassured rarity. Before long they’d negotiated the defences outside and made it onto the drawbridge. Ignoring the two colossal cannons that loomed from Fluttershy’s battlements, the two Ponies walked into the dark. Rarity was about to step inside proper when, to her surprise, an outstretched hoof stopped her. Fluttershy fixed her with a wide eyed gaze, slowly shaking her head. Tiptoeing over to a strange panel that extended from a metal wall, she placed a hoof squarely on the screen. Lights flashed, and before long a green glow had started bathed the two of them, mixed with an irritating beeping. It didn’t take long for Fluttershy to notice Rarity’s confused expression. “They’ve got some kind of system that controls the weapons.” She explained, quietly. “Only I or they can shut it off. If we’d gone inside we’d have been…well…shot…” Rarity blinked. “And they....they expect you to live here?” “Umm…they say it’s for my own protection.” came the shy response. “How does it work? Magic?” she asked. “No.” Fluttershy answered from another room. “I think they took bits of their ship to make. That’s what they’ve done with most of this.” Rarity grimaced, but knew that complaining wouldn’t help. Instead she proceeded inside, mouth dropping open as she looked around. Fluttershy hadn’t been lying-there really was no furniture, or at least very little. Besides guns and cold iron, there didn’t seem to be much of anything. “This is just awful!” she exclaimed. “How can they expect you to live like this? It’s so…so…drab!” No sooner had she said it, a thought struck her. “Although, I must admit it doesn’t sound too different to what you described before.” “It is a bit different.” Came the reply. Something in it made Rarity pause-the trepidation she was so used to from Fluttershy was gone, and replaced with…awe? Hurrying, she followed it to its source, to find Fluttershy staring in wonder at a part of the wall. Following her gaze, Rarity looked at what the Pegasus did, squinting slightly in bemusement. A flash of wood broke up the constant grey of the metal. The corners were jagged and angular, and the roof had been clad in steel, but it was very definitely a bird house. The more Rarity looked at it, the more she got the impression of a child’s drawing-it was as if whoever had made it knew what they were trying to achieve, but hadn’t quite understood why and had instinctively fallen back to what they knew; in this case, fortification apparently. But that made no sense, because the only one who could have built it in that case must have been… “What?” she tried. “I don’t…how did?...” She looked over at Fluttershy for answers. Her friend didn’t look back, eyes still fixed on the birdhouse. To Rarity’s surprise, she was smiling; in fact, the vaguest hint of a tear formed in the corner of her eye. “It’s…nice.” -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A thought struck him. “We had Titans once.” The only other occupant of what had once been the Command Bridge looked up at him with a singular lack of interest. Ever since arriving on this world, Vortun had not had much to do, and it was beginning to show. They’d already moved all flammable items out of range, but even so the Astartes were on high alert. “Ve did.” He confirmed, with the closest to a shrug he could manage. Lorkhan leaned back in his throne, resting his chin on a fist. The Mechatendrils snaking from his back hovered in front of him, snapping idly at the air. Ever since the attack by the Raven Guard so long ago he’d hated this place-it had been the place where Warsmith Kargarra had died and selfishly thrust him into this job, for once-and ever since the crash it was even worse. Most of the consoles and the hololithic table in the centre didn’t work, the lights were flickering at best, and in the crash his throne had been bent to a forty-five degree angle that forced him to sit in a lopsided manner. But it was secluded, and that’s what he needed right now. “Yes, we did.” The Warsmith said redundantly. “Legio Mortis, right?” “Dah.” “I remember. Dominus Ignis, the Reaver, and the Warhounds-“ “Lupus Rex, Lupus Ira and Lupus Nox. I know. Vat’s ze point of zis?” “Nothing really.” He admitted. “Just…what happened to them?” The Obliterator did what Lorkhan could only describe as an eye roll. “How should I know? Ze children of Magnus split ze ship in half when zay attacked, ze Titans are probably floating around in space with the rest of it.” “I guess you’re right.” Lorkhan admitted. He looked around with a sigh, tapping his fingers on his temple. His scar was hurting again, but he didn’t like taking his helmet off at the best of time. “Are any of them back yet, and just haven’t bothered to tell me.” Vortun shook his head as best they could. “Nein. Zuko’s still headed north, and getting ze vulves intact vill prove a challenge to a dummkopf like Barbus. Rorke is as Rorke does, but Mordecai does have the statue.” Lorkhan tensed at those last words, but only a fraction. The Obliterator still noticed. Vortun plodded over, eyeing him suspiciously. “You don’t like ze plan, do you?” “Of course I like the plan.” Lorkhan snapped. “It’s a good plan. I just don’t like not having a backup.” There was silent in the dark chamber for a moment as both super-humans considered this. “Ve could always vait.” Vortun said at last. Lorkhan shook his head. “No. We’re too far gone now…and isn’t that just the story of our lives?” he grumbled. Vortun took a step forward, somehow managing to fold his arms. “Ze game changed ven ve found out vat zey ver hiding, my lord.” He said sternly. Now it was Lorkhan’s turn to fix him with a look. “I know, I know.” There was a hint of melancholy in his voice now as Lorkhan made to get up. “I just don’t like Chaos out of nowhere.” He hopped down from the throne, grabbing his axe and making his way to one of the doors. “I’m going to the armoury.” He said bluntly, not looking at Vortun as he passed. “When any of the others get back, contact me immediately.” “Of course.” Vortun said. The Obliterator elected to hold his tongue until Lorkhan was nearly out the room. “It vas nice vat you did for Fluttershy, by ze vay.” Lorkhan’s gaze was dark as the doors closed between them, but the Warsmith too was silent.