"Aymen." Father Christus finished his prayers as the Chimera came to a halt. He stuffed his Imperial Canon inside his bag and prepared himself for the mayhem that awaited him. He stretched his legs forward to ease him when he stood up. "Emperor grant us guidance and grace. Emperor grant of salvation and solitude in your eternal paradise." Father Christus said as he made a sign of the Aquila on his head. 

As they walked through the tunnel, the confessor noticed the force sword the inquisitor was wielding. He found himself mesmerized for a few minutes by the blade. He wasn't a psyker so he could only imagine the power the object had. It resonated with the power of the warp. Only few have the will, capability and knowledge to use such weapons and only fewer can actually grasp and control their tremendous power. The confessor felt a shiver down his spine as he looked at the sword. He got those thoughts out of his head and focused at the job at hand. He heard the orchestra of the battlefield. It had been some time since he had last stepped into a war zone. As he walked into the light and onto a courtyard, he was filled with the excitement and anxiety of war. Back withe the Carthaginians, they were always inspired by their commander to fight for the Emperor and to bring the Imperium glory in his name. He always spoke of how their names would be sung by their children and spouses when they arrived home. Most of the soldiers knew how wrong he was but they had to believe. Giving up hope was not an option. You needed every fiber in your body ready to fight to the last breathe. 

The confessor conjured up his courage for the Guardsmen. He saw a group hiding behind cover and seemed ready to retreat at any moment. He dropped his bag on a flat surface that he knew he could go back too. He got out his chainsword then and switched it on. The distinct hum of the blade was like an old friend's greeting. He smiled and looked at the battle ahead. The agents of Khorne, the God of blood. The righteous anger of the Emperor and his servants would prevail although. 
"Guardsmen!" He called out their attention. "Follow me to glorious victory." He said to rally the men. He then began reciting litanies at the top of his lung. Now was th hour of glory or death.