The ritual complete, Ramiel stepped back from his work, and moved on to the next task. He felt somewhat drained from harnessing the powers of the Warp, but nothing that couldn't be alleviated with sustenance... As he finished his meal of Praetorian slaves, he noticed that Lord Sharr called upon the other Chosen of the Legion, including the Nurgle Techpriest and a Slaaneshi mutant. He approached as beckoned, and there, the Lord of the 3rd Host revealed a map of the area which they were assaulting. This would aid them greatly in their mission. Ramiel bowed his head in thanks to the Lord, before moving to one of the drop pods. Ten minutes later, he re-emerged, jump-pack strapped to his back. As he strode to the awaiting Raptors, whose own jets purred in preparation, he eyed each one of them as he passed along. Though they were helmed, he could feel their hunger for battle, their rage barely checked by restraint. At last, he raised his hands up to them, palms facing them, and began chanting. Through the daemonic words of blessings, he felt a swirl of clouds engulf them all. It was a haze of warp energy, tinged pink and bright blue. All the warriors of the skies felt its touch, and felt lighter, faster, more agile in their movements. To them, the rest of the world trudged along in slow motion, and they were demi-gods of speed. And in the midst of this blessing, the mark of the Dark Prince formed on Ramiel's half-ruined forehead. Flesh re-knitted, and his face was made whole once more. At last, with the incantation of speed completed, Ramiel raised his head and smiled. "Now, my brothers," he growled in delight, "...we fly". At the command, the twelve gathered Raptors let loose with their jump packs, and sky-rocketed to the heavens. Onwards, they screamed to their destination, the Nobel houses of Rorke Primaris...
(OOC: yeah, I am mostly waiting for others to become ready... A little ironic though... Sharr sonders where WE are...)
OOC: I'm ready. Richard will be accompanying Forfoz in the attack at the Manufactorum so I'm waiting for him.
(OOC: I am still waiting for your characters reaction to Forfozs work on the tank Raverad... I atleast HOPE he would react)
OOC: Oh yes, sorry about that. IC: Richard smiled as Forfoz bestowed Nurgle's blessings on the Leman Russ tank. Even though such dedication was that of the rival of the noble's patron god, Richard greatly admired the fanatic spirit in the techpriest. He felt the daemon within him react in disgust. The other cultists were utterly shocked and terrified as Forfoz cackled. Richard looked down upon them with indifference. Their faith and spirits seemed crushed by the awesome capabilities of their masters. He agreed with Forfoz's thoughts on the weakness of flesh without metal but he also believed in the strength of zeal. Without strong faith, weak spirits can be broken easily. That must have been the case for the majority of the rabble; desperate for a way out of the Imperium and turning to the Dark Gods with relatively passionate commitment. However, individuals like Richard have not pleaded for help alone; rather he desired something more. Ambition fueled his spirit and made it strong. And that is what separated him from the other cultists. No wonder they are fodder. He remembers Tirana; she was different from the cultists. She may be no astartes but she has served more to the host than just dying. He thought of the same for him; he will not be like the other cultists. He had a greater purpose, a greater part to play in this war. As he thought these things, Richard's smile widened almost to an impossible. He turned back to the Taurox that he stood in front of. Half a dozen cultists were tending to the vehicle before standing paralyzed at the sight of Forfoz's work. Richard sighed as he walked towards the left door of the vehicle. Next to the door was a symbol of the Imperial Aquila. Forfoz had ordered for the marks to be removed but the cultists had become more than useless. It looked like he had to do something about this one. Richard stared at his right hand for a moment. Perhaps it was time to see if his powers were still strong within him. The noble stretched his arm towards the Aquila and had begun to channel warp energy. His mind strained as his long unused powers came into being. Telekine forces suddenly loosened the symbol form the armour plating. He did not intend to remove it. Instead, he bent the Aquila into a twisted and indistinguishable form. Then, with a final force of effort, he reshaped the metal into the shape of an eight point star. The whole time, his body felt increasingly numb yet he still stood. Only in the end did he stumble, leaning against the hull of the vehicle. "Stonger," he whispered while trying to breath. Richard wiped a little blood form his nose. "It must... become... stronger." The noble looked up at the cultist next to him, who was staring at him with a jaw dropping gaze. "You," Richard spoke to him. "You and your lot will accompany me if we get to use this vehicle." The cultist simply nodded.
Forfoz sighes... he pats the corrupted tank like it was a dear pet. "It almost makes my dark soul soft... to see something so beautiful." He climbs ontop of the tank and jumps into the vechile. He sits down at the controls and long cables attatches themselves to the machine and Forfoz leans back in something that almost reasembles pleasure. "ahh, the feeling of a corrupt machine." He uses the tanks sensors to connect to his vision. He looks at the cultists, most of them have (though crudely) managed to remove the imperial isignias. He smiles and aktivates the vox to Lord sharr "my lord, this is Forfoz reporting from the garage. We are soon done with preparing the veichles... we are awaiting your command."
