The main parade ground of Bastion, the homeworld of the Helldivers, was a vast expanse paved with bluish stone, designed for mass deployments. Today, it hosted a unique spectacle. On one side stood the impeccable ranks of the Helldivers, their customized powered armor bearing the marks of a hundred battles. On the other, a newer, more compact but equally impressive formation: the Black Hammers.
These Votann warriors, chosen from the best of the Ur-Khasis League, wore heavy armor of matte black, streaked with faintly glowing golden runes. In their metal-gauntleted hands, they held massive war hammers, forged from an unknown black alloy, weapons that seemed as suited to smashing blast doors as they were to pulverizing skulls. Their presence emanated an unyielding solidity, that of the mountain itself.
On a raised platform, two figures stood side by side. Julius Braveheart, in his midnight blue command armor, and Grimnyr Borrak, clad in his runic robes and ancestral armor. Their alliance, sealed by friendship and mutual interest, was about to take tangible form.
"Helldivers! Black Hammers!" Julius's voice, amplified, carried effortlessly across the square. "Today marks a new chapter! Our two peoples are uniting their strength. The Kin's knowledge will fortify our empire. Our will shall protect their fortresses."
The Grimnyr spoke, his deep voice a contrast to Julius's. "Kin and Humans! We have forged a pact in steel and truth! Where the League sets foot to extract the riches of the earth, we will build impregnable bastions. And these bastions will be defended side-by-side by our hammers and your plasma!"
A roar of approval rose from both groups. The synergy was evident. The Helldivers, fast, versatile, masters of mobile warfare. The Black Hammers, slow but indestructible, an iron anchor against which enemy assaults would break.
But the collaboration did not end there. In the mess halls and recreation areas, one could see Todd clones sharing a meal or a mug of heavy Kin beer with Hearthkyn warriors. The stoic, disciplined Todds found a resonance in the reserved yet direct nature of the Votann. There were no grand speeches, but respectful nods, exchanges on weapon maintenance, or simply a shared, comfortable silence between soldiers who understood the value of duty.
A Sergeant Todd and a Hearthkyn, sitting side-by-side on a bench, watched a mixed unit train.
"Your lads, they hold the line well," remarked the Todd, his voice neutral.
The Hearthkyn grunted, a positive sound. "Solid. Like good rock. Your lads, they strike fast. Good."
That was all. It was enough.
The alliance was not just a treaty between leaders. It was taking root in the mud of the trenches and the metal of the barracks. The Helldivers gained unshakable brothers-in-arms. The Votann gained partners who extended their reach and secured their holdings. And Julius watched his empire consolidate, brick by brick, forging not just a war machine, but a true civilization, united by mutual respect and a common enemy: the chaos of an indifferent galaxy.