Margonal follows after Rick. She shoots the people that he miss and smiles as she pats his carpace as he eats "You are a amazing creature... I see you are someone I can trust in a way"
The call of battle was unbearable by this point, Torch was running out of patience at an alarming rate and this weapon didn't do anything to aid that. Something about Malgoth's offer was... Tempting though, after alll there was still a chance that it impressed even its Pyromaniac needs. Tightening its hands around the grip, the now re-energized Torch boosted towards the nearest Guardsman, scraping the teeth against the ground along the entire way. Once the Power Armoured figure was close enough to see clearly the Guardsman's fear through the visor, the weapon was raised from the floor at an impressive speed, seeking to cleave the unlucky soul in half.
As it swung, the weapon whirred to life, becoming wreathed in azure warpfire - the heat seemed to be minimal, but it was clearly sufficient to instantly cauterise the open ends of the newly-bisected Guardsman.
Rick felt a little bashful, receiving such praise. He also very much enjoyed the pats, beginning to be accustomed to such levels of physical familiarity. In fact, he wanted it all the time from now on. In a generally uncharacteristic display of presumptuousness, Rick rolls (huehuehuehuehue) underneath Margonal, sliding her onto his back, his Warp Field enveloping her, as he leaps over the barricade, crushing several guardsmen immediately as he hit the ground. Several more were trampled as Rick struggled to gain its bearings, planting his talons firmly into the dirt. The closest humans fled before him, attempting to seek shelter behind a wall of human bodies. Those further back fired in an ordered retreat, their commissars succeeding in organizing an ordered retreat. Suddenly, the pressure on Rick's barrier began to reach intolerable levels (hundreds of lascarbines had begun firing at him at this point). Confused and a little afraid, Rick lashed out at everything around him, his monomolecular talons slicing through armor, flesh and bone with terrifying force. Some of the guardsmen retreating lose their lunch as they watch their friends get torn apart, the smell of dead flesh and blood overwhelming their senses.
"Oh f**k the hell yes..." Torch didn't even wait to admire what Malgoth was capable of before dashing straight towards the largest concentration of Guardsmen with the weapon in hand. Adrenaline was already rushing through the Pyromancer's system, setting opponents ablaze up close was so much more rewarding and this beautiful tool of carnage was the perfect excuse to do so. For now, it was lost in the closest thing it had felt to bliss in a long while. Charging through and picking off single Guardsmen, before launching to the next one, leaving behind an already burning corpse. There would be no laughing or dramatic flare this time, Torch's mind was completely filled with the desire to burn, burn them all! It was only a good thing the Tyranid was soaking up attention...
