"I grow board of this chatter." Izakdor said. "We should begin the assault soon. I already know what we should do in preparation."
Taking his curiosity for the just veneration of a Champion of the Old Way, the marauder let him, stretching her arm to give the creature a better view of the magnificience of her gift. It caused her to smile with a profane sense of satisfaction. Slowly, she nodded at his words. Yes, it did feel good to spill blood with it - much better than any man-designed sword that would not allow her to feel the warmth of life escaping, flowing over it. "Who dies, deserves. Who recieves, deserves. You try, and you might recieve. A gift. Of your own."
She laughed softly at the question. "Of course. There is both an armory and a forge. Use them as you see fit." She replied with a nod in Isaac's direction as well. She smiled slightly beneath her helm. "Alright then Orghast. I'm intrigued. I'll allow you to lead this one... But remember, their blood is my currency, not yours. Abuse my generosity and you shall be the first to know my wrath." She paused. "There are several dreadclaws available for use if you so desire. I'll be watching from here. Put on a good show for me, will you?"
"Mistress." Izakdor began. "I would like to make a request. It is the purpose of my priesthood to convert the Unenlightened to the worship of the Dark Gods. Before we begin the slaughter, I must be allowed to transmit my sermons over the enemy's vox channels. They will succumb."
"Oh I received all gifts I could dream of.... I saw Daemons exterminate everyone I knew. I escaped barely with my life, after experiencing near death a multitude of times and even feasted on the flesh of my fallen kin to survive, drank their blood as water was not to be found in the Immaterium. And then once I was actually found, it had been enslavers which I have slain until enough chains were upon me. Ohhhh but the best part.... Was the seasoning in the Arenas... Everyday, fighting to the death. And once I was ready for greater as my destiny wanted it... I got to join the ranks of Mistress Erythea... That. That is a gift all by itself." He grinned and let go of the blade very slowly, almost as if feeling upset as it's presence was disconnected from him. "Now... Let us reap the souls of the filthy Mon'keigh that dare to defy our mistress, shall we?" Hamadias lowered his head courteously, one behavior he definitely did pick up in service of Erythea.
Malrak rose from his kneeling once he heard she had put the nurglite with the two mouths in command of the mission. He frowned that his mistress has put such a repulsive being in charge of a matter that he felt would require a more disciplined approach but regardless her words were final. As he rose he turned to the strange mutant with the gas tanks that knelt besides him. "Want to be in the same dreadclaw? I could always use someone that can watch my back inside that accursed station." Malrak also heard the worlds of the stange Undivided priest the fool actually wanted to turn some of the guardsmen over to the dark gods though it was admirable they would almost certainly not turn. Perhaps the survivors could be convinced but not before we show them our superiority.
"Well then.... most unexpected that but so be it. Come my kin in Chaos we have work- " Eyes bulged out a moment around inflamed flesh, bloody mucus frothing up from his throat a moment while second mouth took over. " to dooooo. " Turning away Orghast pays little mind to her warning as it is a familiar one that he has faced many a time before from various lords. As throat slowly drains of disturbed liquids he glances back at the party. "Roles. Jobs, what do you lot do? " There was an almost nostalgic, wistful sigh to follow as he brought up a vox-bead and tuned in to speak with the Bridge. " I require trajectories, targets of interests, a lay out of this place. " Cutting himself off swiftly to avoid a clog up maggot host marches for the bridge where he might find all he needs to coordinate before departure. Letting bead drop from his misshapen face he grins. "Once you've told me of your use... go to the Hangar and await orders. " Hearing the missionary plead for vox permissions made Orghast give a wheezy chuckle that unsettled his buzzing carry-ons, a cloud of hairy black bodies momentarily hazing around him until settling once more when his body did not convulse with the effort of laughter. "Unless the mistress says otherwise, I shall allow it. To the Bridge, there we will give you voice. "
Erythea waved her hand. "Blood is demanded. We do not have the time to wait for such sermons before they attempt to relay our position and reinforcements arrive. Kill them swiftly." With that final word she leaned back against her throne, and smiled. "Bring a skull back for me as well..."
"Oooohhhh an Angel of Death! Haven't killed one of your kind in a loooong time.... Wore a weird sword on his shoulder... Green he was.... Mhhh.... A fallen he was called by Erythea... Truly fallen he has after I was done with him." The Hammerhead chuckled, now approaching the Nurglite who stank worse than a thousand corpse pile. And he knew, after all that was his beginner's job until he reached the ranks of personal guard of the Mistress in the Kaela Angur. "I can scout. I can infiltrate. I can kill." He presented his hand and caused a few tiny lightning bolts when he tapped his finger tips together. "I can shock all and anything. My harpoon gun can work as grappling hook to scale walls or mountains. Or lethal with harpoons, pierce enemies, stop them dead in the track - quite literally." He chuckled as he remembered the one Fiend-bat he killed once, having shot it in a wing and pinned it to the wall. As it tried to get off, it ripped it's own wing off, fell on the floor and got one, powerful stomp to the head to kill it. "I am a talent of many fields... Utilize me as you wish, for I am Erythea's tool, and thus - I am yours, Lord Orghast. Oh where are my manners.... The name is Hamadias." He knelt before the Nurglite to show his devotion and loyalty.
"Rise, rise. " With a snip of power klaw Orghast bade the xenos to stand with a genuine smile that stretched his face until flesh soaked with disease started to tear. "We waste time, speak as we march. " Making a sound as if he were preparing to spit up a fist sized ball of snot he cleared his throat ready to speak again. Smaller mortals would not fair too grandly in a Dreadclaw, cruel things that they were even to the Legions.
