Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

What does it take to survive in the snow?

This is not a definitive question.

If a person is hungry, his stomach and intestines seem to be cut into thin pieces by the thorny cold wind, and the only thing left in his dull mind is the desire for food to melt on his tongue.

If he eats a mouthful of food, he will also remember that he is thirsty, and the dry sharp blade will be like a dwarf who chisels his heart and lungs, so the only sound he can make is the thirsty swallowing.

Oh, and then put a thick fur coat on this person, or give him a warm beast skin, put a warm fire next to his curled body, and then use a tent - or more simply, use the eternal ice and snow of Invert to build a small house with snow bricks and ice bottom, and use the temperature to melt the last obstacle of frozen thinking.

At this time, ask this person what it takes to survive in the snow, and he will finally be able to pick up enough reason to answer shakily.

A spear, he might say. Or more practically, an axe? A hammer with a stone tied to the top of a stick? In the ice and snow, you also need to find a way to make yourself safe in order to survive. Right.

Then comes hunting. Kill some animals with weapons, take their fur, bones, flesh and blood. Fill your stomach and blood vessels, and be satisfied with and guard the caves in the wind and snow.

Fall asleep, fall from darkness into deeper darkness. Wake up in the half-eternal night of Inwit, wander in the snowfield until you meet your tribe. Belong to it, and entrust a turbulent heart.

What else is needed to survive in the ice and snow?

Respect me for my strength, the Inwit people who first created the duel field said, with weapons on the shoulders of their companions, or respect me for the joy that our duel performance will bring to the camp, friends. I will be satisfied.

"In the history of Inwit, it took very little time for the killing nature of duels to evolve into performance nature," Rogal Dorn took his sword from the stone wall. "Today, every settlement and ice cave has several dueling arenas, and tribes, communities, and groups have the custom of promoting the exchange of skills and feelings through friendly competitions." His residence is more like a fortress for loners than a palace for the ruler, located on the ever-bright half of Inwit. The cold sunlight fell through the window panes onto the large stone table, and was reflected by the smooth marble floor with a white light close to gold. The armor of Inwit natives is as practical as the planet itself, made of brass and leather, with only golden eagle patterns painted on the toes and chest, and the back plate is decorated only with golden nails, just like Rogal Dorn himself who is currently wearing armor, scattering golden light sharply. "Are you ready?" Perturabo asked, propping his warhammer on the ground with one hand, and the black and yellow stripes on the armor corresponded to the stripes on the helmet visor. He doesn't often wear a helmet, although the main reason is that he doesn't often go to the battlefield. The audio filtering and visual enhancement system further enhance his perception ability that is far superior to that of mortals and even Astartes, and the carefully designed armor that seems as light as a second skin gives him psychological strength.

And the warhammer, this warhammer given by Morse, which he likes very much from the distribution of the center of gravity to the grip of the hammer handle. He has not yet named this hammer, perhaps today's battle will bring it a glorious name, such as Stonebreaker?

"Okay." Dorn put on the helmet, and through the three copper bars across his face, you can see his stone-like cold expression and pure light-colored eyes. "On the other side of the peak south of this fortress is a flat snow surface that no one dares to approach."

"Then let's go," Morse pressed down the round thick fur felt hat, turned down the fur-trimmed hat ears, and made a gesture to keep out the cold. He finally followed the local customs and conjured up a thick sweater and a windproof brown animal skin coat out of thin air. A string of animal bone arrowheads and small bone needles of unknown meaning hung on the edge of the coat.

The golden rune flashed by. The next moment, if someone still looked through the window pane of the stone fortress in the ice and snow, they could see three tiny figures walking in the narrow gap between the sky and the mountain on the snowy mountain, gradually crossing the ridge and going to the windward half.

In the process of crossing the ridge, Perturabo felt that his war hammer became lighter.

He was not sure whether the inscriptions floating on the surface of the hammer under the bright sunlight on the ice surface of Inwit were a normal phenomenon under Morse's carving skills, or some other special ability triggered by an unknown mechanism.

He skillfully calculated the hardness and smoothness of the local ice and snow surface, and included all the conditions of Inwit's light and air into the assessment of the battlefield, and practiced various scenes of the two fighting in his mind. Although he did not think that the armor of Inwit, which had no power, could defeat him, he should not be arrogant in everything.

Soon, Perturabo turned around and made an inviting gesture to Dorn. He felt that the light around him suddenly became a little brighter for no apparent reason. He wondered if it was due to the unique astronomical phenomenon of Witt.

Dorn's face hidden behind the grid seemed to begin to reflect bright light, and a rare surprise also emerged in his pair of light-colored eyes that were always calm. Despite this, the white-haired Primarch maintained his overall composure and gradually entered a posture of preparation for battle.

Mors sat on the ground, covering the lower half of his face with his folded hands.

Let's start the battle, Perturabo wanted to announce.

However, just as he opened his mouth and his vocal cords were about to vibrate, a warm touch suddenly surged from the part where the warhammer and the gauntlet were attached, all the way to his throat.

"We will fight with each other's weapons in the name of the Emperor." His words were modified by this irresistible energy, and then rumbled out, echoing in the clouds of the empty mountains. At the same time, golden light overflowed from the gaps in his armor, like lightning coming from the sky, making it impossible to look directly at it.

Perturabo immediately understood what was going on with Dorn's glowing face. In his irises, he saw a golden giant as bright as the Emperor's arrival. The eyes of the armor emitted shining light, and the hammer The phantom of thunder and lightning is wrapped around it.

No, this is not the effect I designed!

"This is not what the Emperor has prepared for me, nor is it what my heart desires.

The words came out of Perturabo's mouth uncontrollably, intensifying the chill in Perturabo's stomach.

He stared at Morse through his helmet and saw that the guy gave him an encouraging smile and gave him a "keep up the good work" gesture in Gutera's way.

"I can understand, my brother. You don't want to fight me." Dorn's reason defeated his confusion, and he tried hard to guess what the other party meant from Perturabo's sacred words, "You don't have to fight me." If you have reservations, please feel free to use your power.”

That's not what I meant, Donne!

Perturabo wanted to throw away the hammer with the runes on it shining brightly, but the thing seemed to be integrated with his gauntlet and he couldn't put it down at all. At the same time, more High Gothic words automatically popped out of his tongue.

His anxious heart was transformed into noble pity by the echoing sacred voice, and the tone sounded like the murmur of mercy from the saint.

If he had to use an adjective to describe this tone, Perturabo could only think of one word: Emperor.

"Rogal Dorn, I didn't mean that, and I didn't mean to say that." He found himself saying this, and Dorn frowned slightly incomprehensibly, and put his hand on the sword uncomfortably. The handle slides.

"What do you think, Perturabo?" Dorn asked, pitifully unaware of why he was wrong. "Did I understand it wrong again?"

It's not your fault this time. Perturabo wanted to say.

"You have no sin in my sight; your words and deeds are upright."

"Really?" Even Dorn was inevitably surprised by Perturabo's rare praise. A bright color flashed in his eyes, although from an objective point of view, it was Perturabo who was getting brighter and brighter. reflection of golden light. "You are a truly forgiving man, my brother."

He thought for a while: "Also, I have always misunderstood you. It turns out that you also like our father's golden style."

Don't slander me!

"You must not speak ill of me. I am not pleased with my Father's ways, and I have never imitated him. This is an accident, it is..."

He wanted to say it was Morse's fault, but only this half of the sentence was completely reversed.

"It is my friendship for you, because you have found favor in my eyes. You share my heart and share the Emperor's grace."

Dorn struggled to interpret: "Are you welcoming me back to the Empire? Thank you, Perturabo, I am with you."

Perturabo closed his eyes in pain, not wanting to see Morse laughing silently while huddled in his plush hat and thick fur.

He finally understood why Morse asked him not to use this hammer in front of the Seventh Legion - maybe it should be called the Holy Hammer, because this is the function Morse designed for it, and it is as inexplicable as the Emperor. Become holy.

He just gave Morse a chair that could travel two hundred miles an hour. Why was the thing Morse gave so unique in bringing people painful experiences?

It's better to start fighting directly. He must end this thing that seems extremely stupid now.

"We will compete before the glory of the Emperor. I am willing to reconcile with you because you are my brother and we are both sons of the Emperor."

"Okay." Dorn nodded solemnly, the golden light illuminated his entire helmet, and the smooth surface of the helmet almost reflected Perturabo's golden appearance at this moment. "Thank you, my brother."

After receiving Dorne's permission to engage in battle, Perturabo took a deep breath, raised his hammer and charged forward.

Before the war started, he imagined several ways to defeat Dorne to make the battle more overwhelming and oppressive, but now he just wanted to finish it.

"We must put an end to this foolishness as soon as possible, because it is not in line with the Emperor's will, nor is it our wisdom!"

The Lord of Iron roared loudly, his tone trembling, making Dorn even more guilty thinking that Perturabo's hidden kindness and tolerance made him unable to bear to fight.

In the conversation just now, Rogal Dorn didn't quite understand why his brother suddenly showed off his golden glory and spoke like an emperor, and how he could make his words so penetrating in the snow-capped mountains. Overlapping echoes spread out from the peak one after another.

He guessed for a while and felt that this unusual behavior was probably Perturabo's official welcome to join the expedition as the Emperor's son.

Perturabo's act of selflessly putting aside personal grudges deeply touched him, but instead of saying it directly, he used indirect methods to let him understand. Could it be that this brother was embarrassed to speak out?

All kinds of thoughts passed by in an instant, and in an instant, Perturabo's golden armor crashed in front of him, and the giant hammer hit him head-on with unrivaled rolling wind and thunder. Several feet of ice melted, and the overturned layer of snow spread several meters away.

Rogal Dorn immediately defended with his sword, but even his original body could not resist Perturabo's first swing of the hammer. Terrifying golden light filled his field of vision, and in the next moment, the majestic force knocked him several meters away. He used all his reflexes to barely stabilize his posture.

There was a momentary lag in Perturabo's movements, which seemed to come from the hesitation of the primarch himself. In Rogal Dorn's view, this was part of Perturabo's mercy.

After all, apart from this explanation, it cannot be guessed that Perturabo himself is not used to the power he is using now.

"Be careful and guard yourself! For I am at war with you!" Perturabo's war cry amplified and echoed in the mountains. Dorn had heard the loose snow beginning to roll on some mountains, but at this time he had no time to care about anything else, as Perturabo's second attack followed.

He rolled on the spot and aimed at the gap behind the knees of Perturabo's armor to attack with his sword. A golden light spread from the war hammer and immediately swayed the blade of the sword, eliminating all the failed attack power. At the same time, the heavy hammer cracked the several-meter-thick ice layer, and the ice and snow used the precursor of fracture as its mournful cry.

Dorn tried to stand up when he could, but Perturabo was too fast to accomplish his goal.

As a planet lord, although he did not expect to surpass Perturabo in terms of combat skills or combat experience, he was influenced by a brother who loved building cities for mankind and mainly ordered warriors instead of personally participating in battles. Functionally defeated, Dorne was indeed a bit shocked.

The entire battle quickly turned into a one-sided show. After hesitating at the beginning, Perturabo took the initiative to accept the power given to him by Morse's war hammer, using his simple swings with speed and power far beyond expectations. Hammer into the fight.

His only idea was to end the battle quickly, and then lock this useful but evil hammer into the Iron Blood's storage room. The only thing he was still curious about was the conditions under which Dorn would admit defeat.

Blood quickly overflowed from the corners of Dorn's mouth and spilled onto the pure white snow. His armor was twisted and dented in many places, and some bones were definitely broken. This was not a fight to the death. Perturabo hoped that Dorn would know the limits of his injuries and call a stop at any time.

Sure enough, after another attack from the golden giant hammer, Dorn called out his name.

Although this move was expected, Perturabo actually felt faintly disappointed in his heart. He was actually looking forward to a scene where he actively stopped the hammer an inch away before smashing into an unyielding chest. Then he stretched out his hand and pulled up this extremely strong stone.

"Perturabo—"

"Rogal Dorn, this is what I say to you, and I forgive..."

"Avalanche." Dorn coughed out a mouthful of blood, lay on his back on the ice, and informed Perturabo in the calmest tone.

In an instant, with a rumbling sound like the earth was shattering, ice and snow rolled down, overwhelmingly rushing downwards, howling and roaring like the anger of the earth itself. Their massive battle unsurprisingly caused the snow to collapse.

Mors did not know when he appeared above Perturabo, and easily grabbed him with a power beyond human scientific understanding, preparing to lift him away from the range where he would be swallowed by ice and snow. The rising ice mist covered Dorn's body, leaving only a blurry golden afterimage.

Without even a moment's thought, Perturabo held out his hammer to Dorn as an extension of his arm: "Get it!"

After a moment that could be called an eternity, a heavy pull came from his right hand holding the hammer. Dorn accurately grasped the edge of his war hammer, and Morse led the two of them to fly high into the sky, waiting for this natural force to vent its last ray of power.

Perturabo found himself no longer glowing, and Dorn was hanging there motionless, silently clutching the side of his hammer with one hand. So he breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that the warhammer had finally ended its weird additional effects.

“Let all bitterness, wrath, wrath, clamor, slander, and all malice be put away from you,” Morse’s words were barely audible amid the loud noise of the avalanche. “But show kindness to yourselves. treat."

Then he amplified his voice, and his smile covered the roar of the snowy mountains: "Is my gift useful, Perturabo!"

"It works," Perturabo shouted back, "but I will never use it again!"