[sub]Collab between [@BCTheEntity], [@Hank], and [@Eldritch Puppy][/sub]

[center][i][hider=Thought For The Day]
Adamantium walls and plasteel bulkheads may seem formidable, but an unshakeable faith in the Immortal Emperor of Man can overcome any barriers.
[/hider][/i]

[b]≡][≡[/b][/center]

The initial portion of Aodh’s training went as expected. Assigned to Kill-Team Hallr, he and they were taken to the hypno-induction chambers to absorb knowledge of the alien that was hardly known to even the vaunted capabilities of the Astartes. He certainly would have said he knew a fair bit about the unknown, courtesy of the Indomitus Crusade- but if he hadn’t been fully on-board with Watch-Commander Kade’s sentiment that they didn’t know everything there was to know about the galaxy, he certainly was by the end of their first session.

Really, the taking on of knowledge wasn’t the issue for Aodh. Looking through Watch-Fortress archives was just a matter of enhancing one’s ability to debate strategy against a given foe, and hypno-therapy hardly required effort on their part at all beyond willingness to take on what was to be implanted. No, what he found himself grating against was the particular training he was put through by the Mentors Drill-Sergeant. Over and over, they were put into scenarios which he at least was entirely out of his depth for, often demanding stealth or guile or the like; and over and over Drill-Sergeant Odilon seemingly went out of his way to nitpick every detail of their attack plan, forcibly moulding them in some way or another; this latest test mission had left Aodh feeling no desire at all to claim the right to kill the leader, so many times had they already killed him. Worse still, when Aodh made an effort to pursue his usual modus operandi of debating a plan of attack before making it so, he was more often than not seen as undermining Hallr’s instruction, thus reprimanded and disregarded accordingly. What was the point of having so many minds present if they weren’t allowed to consider what to do?

Speaking of which, some other Kill-Team members seemed far more on-board with training than himself. The Black Sword, Brother Parion, was not unintelligent in that respect, and between sessions could be very friendly, albeit becoming rather the aggressive killer on the field proper. Brother Jonas, of the Raptors, seemed to have issues with the close-quarters nature of much of their training, but managed rather well with the stealth aspect, and despite his relative sense of fatalism Aodh managed to form some semblance of camaraderie with him. And the Blackshield, only going by Lucifuge and even so far as to refuse the appendation of “Brother”, simply followed orders, seeming keen enough to interact with the others of Kill-Team Hallr, but remaining utterly silent as to his own background, as one might expect once the concept of a Blackshield was explained properly. Aodh did his best to honour his desire to remain shrouded, ultimately.

And then there was Brother Yndrasil. Aodh, frankly, had trouble liking him - he could acknowledge that behind those bright blue eyes was an extreme intellect and constant assessment of everything, but he had come in apparently malnourished and only filled out in the month since. And unlike Lucifuge’s shrouded history or even Jonas’ grim pragmatism, it seemed like he simply refused to integrate socially, and that made figuring out who he was difficult. What was not difficult was seeing him work, so far as Aodh could tell, almost perfectly within the hyper-confining demands of Drill-Sergeant Hallr’s overwatch. This mission in particular had apparently seen little to no faults on Yndrasil’s part, and he had to admit... that was galling for him.

Not that Yndrasil noticed. He had been grateful for the training and the opportunity it presented to fully dedicate himself to something, and grabbed it firmly with both hands. All of his time had been dedicated to self-improvement, and that meant that there was no time left to dwell on the immense solitude he felt every time he was alone in his room, with nothing but the silent Brand for company. Another marine might have sought the company of his new battle-brothers, but that was not the way of the Void Stalkers. Besides, he considered most of them to be loud and brash, qualities that were abrasive to Yndrasil’s contemplative mind, and he kept to himself instead. Only the Raptor seemed agreeable to him, by virtue of his grim silence and pragmatic dedication to achieving results. Yndrasil understood that.

The sheer amount of information available in the databanks and the hypno-therapy sessions had been daunting at first, and Yndrasil had been a little taken aback to discover how little he knew about the Imperium at large, or even about some of its foes. For example, he had never even heard of the T’au species that they were facing in the current exercise. This only made sense given the location of their territory, but the feeling of being woefully unprepared had been deeply unpleasant for the Void Stalker. More confusing had been his lack of knowledge about the Primarchs, who appeared to be extremely important and played a large role in the consciousness of his brothers. He couldn’t help but wonder why he had never learned about them, or about their bloodied and tragic history, or why he didn’t know who [i]his[/i] progenitor Primarch had been, but answers were not forthcoming. Gorseval could not speak to him here, and the Deathwatch knew nothing about his Chapter. So, instead, Yndrasil had focused on the here and now. A month into their training he felt that he had caught up significantly, and that soothed his unease. 

While Yndrasil kept to himself and seldom spoke without being spoken to, it was clear that Jonas went out of his way to avoid interacting with Parion. The reason for it was obvious too; both of their chapters claimed to be successors to the Raven Guard, yet one of the proverbial apples seemed to have fallen quite far from the tree. Relations between Black Swords and the sons of Corax were cold at the best of times, almost every Raven Guard successor chapter refusing to acknowledge the Black Swords to be sharing their blood. In turn, they learned to keep their distance. Aodh and Lucifuge proved to be of good enough company at least, and Parion respected the latter's unwillingness to discuss his history.

The training, however, frustrated him to some extent. Stealth was not exactly his speciality, but this was not the issue. He understood that the training was meant to get him out of his comfort zone, so to speak, so that he may become a better tool for future missions. Seeing Yndrasil's expert marksmanship and talent to avoid being detected comforted him in his opinion on the matter. No, the problem lies elsewhere.

No matter how good of an imitation the holographic projections were, they could not be more than only that. Illusions. Moving, shooting training dummies. Fighting them proved to be... extremely unsatisfactory for Parion. His usual bloodthirst was teased by this mockery of a fight, without any way to satiate it. While maintaining high levels of aggression and exhibiting all of the martial prowess that could be expected of an Astartes, his ferocity was not half of what it should be in a real combat situation. The Black Sword had the distinct impression that a part of him was like a wild beast walking in circles in a cage while being prodded and poked at, growing more and more wrathful and impatient with no choice but to endure it.

Regardless, the Kill-Team was ready to begin again. The first task was the easiest - abseil down to the domed roof of the compound from above. Despite the length of the cliff face above, they had practiced it well enough that Aodh, at least, could make it down the full length and to the roof within fifteen seconds, easily half of what he’d been working at initially. And so he did, shaving off perhaps another tenth of a second in the process. Every second did count, too: too long on the cliff, and they’d be spotted and shot down before they even reached the roof. To that end, however, Aodh moved to one side of the roof, spotting a triad of sentries patrolling with one another. All three would need to go down at the same time.

He’d been told over and over again, maintain radio silence for maximum stealth, and a couple of times the failure to do so had cost them. This time, he made hand signals to gesture two of the group over, relaying the information before selecting his target, and aiming his bolt pistol at the holographic sentry’s head. When they were ready, then.