Izakdor looked at the Feral World mutant and smiled. She would most likely be ready and willing to further his aims. He had seen a prophecy of this Warband's future greatness, he was here to mold that greatness to a proper image. "So, Mistress," He said, turning to the Eldar. "When will the assault begin?"
"Misssstresss. " It was gluttonous gut maw that spoke now, words drawn out with a hiss as if it was letting a rancid breath roll out at the same time. "Allow me to take the vanguard. " Now Orghast spoke from upper mouth as a good deal of phlegm had begun to trickle from torn corners of his stomach. "I shall introduce those aboard to the glory of Chaos, they shall submit. " As if on command his flies weren't buzzing quite so obnoxiously, only the odd twitch of blurring wings giving any hint those black clusters clinging to his exposed flesh through damaged ceramite were actually alive. " If nothing else....I can use their corpses to breed for us-- " hiccuping rather suddenly as if his breathing had been choked off stomach mouth shifted. " an army. "
A grunt came from Issac as the sword found itself cut through one the side of his arm causing crystal and a mix of blood to coat the blade already it began clotting with no worry of death only comparable to a paper cut enough to make him bleed for her but not enough to hinder him in combat. "I shall obey.... By what means shall we use to reach the station and what type of entry point would you like us to use to get in. I can use my Las-cutter to make us a new entrance if needed." Issac said looking to Erythea. He already began planning out in his mind how he would capture the station and possibly use a multitude of ways to breach its security systems.
Silently, Izakdor looked over the warriors yet again. His gaze set on Malrak. The two of them were quite alike, yet Izakdor knew that for all his cunning, Malrak was a fool. To think the Great Scheme was solely the work of a single God.... no. Certainly, Tzeentch would be the primary architect, and was most likely the most powerful of the Gods, but the TRUE Great Scheme was a work of the entire Warp. The Great Work of Chaos Undivided. He would play his part, as they all would.
In his mind, Izakdor imagined himself reciting the Litanies of Madness to the occupants of the research center. Bending them to his will and forcing them to conform to the Word of Lorgar. Currently, he was a Priest without followers. But he would need followers if his vision was to come to pass.
"I like you. Straight forward, to the point. You would make such an excellent gladiator in the dark arenas. It will be a pleasure to see your style of combat. And if it is as cruel and brutal as I can imagine in my mind right now..." He licked his mouth with his much wider tongue in comparison to humans, walking up to the foreign creature, being right in front of the face of Dyrhildr, moving his head slightly to the right and left like a snake. "My name is Hamadias, just in case you shall call for me in combat." He flashed his teeth again. Perhaps he was just really proud of his oral hygiene? OOC: I am totally going Kit Fisto for Hamadias with the whole teeth-thing. Spoiler: Visual Aid
Nehelith smiled at the thought of the slaughter ahead, he started to hear screams in his head, but that only made him smile more. "We shall decimate everything Mistress...." Saying this as he walked out from the crowed his voice almost unintelligible through his gas mask "You may only say a word and I will kill in your name..." He knelt down at the bottom of the steps next to Malrak. He coughed once more and inhaled another calming drug, the only thing going through his rotting mind was the screaming.
Strange how Eldar are serving the powers of Chaos. Izakdor thought. I wonder if they think the other Gods will save them from the Youngest.
Dyrhildr stopped to acknowledge this alien creature, and listened to him, even though she made no effort to hide her displeasure or impatience. Her black eyes followed his tongue, as if her instincts told her it was a weapon of some design - she did not really know why, but it felt dangerous. "The War-Scythe. It is who I am. Dyrhildr. That is my name. It was earned. In battle. Just like my weapon." She raised the large blade that had replaced her right arm, and flexed the twitching mass to move it, close it shut like half a scissor collapsing onto itself. "We can fight. If you desire. Prove. Your worth. Show. Your skill. Earn. A name proper."
"I only fight, to kill. And the Mistress decides who lives and who dies here. But I shall show you, why and how I survived the Dark Arenas of Comorragh out there... And the daemons that lurk the warp that ripped all my kin apart!" He laughed. "Oh how they died. Whining, begging and being skinned alive! You should have seen the terror they caused... Oh yes... That fear, the strength I got." He chuckled, putting his hand on the blade of Dyrhidr and stroking over it, feeling it. "Mhhhh a very well crafted blade indeed. It must grant you quite a sense of.... Power... Feeling it snap someone in the waste in half, yes? ... I can only imagine... Too bad I am more of a... Mhhhh what is the gothic word.... Harpoon? Yes... Harpoon person." He grinned, analyzing the blade as his head apparently followed his hand. At one point he was so close to it, one could think he was going to lick it, though that was not his intention.
