The Unrepentant's belly rumbled with the cries of war and rage making its appetite for destruction known. Another unit of combatants rallied to call of an irresistible, fiery voice. Gathered together in a half-mangled corridor were a dozen khornate cultists. All of them scattered about the ship as a result of the collision and each of them assembled at Castiel's word with the promise of blood and glory.

The quakes and clangs of battle felt closer now as they reverberated into wrecked hall Castiel had filled with a motley unit of crewman. The firefights were moving towards them. Some of them shuddered, not with fear, but anticipation. Others were obviously anxious to move out. The fires in their eyes were the same though. All of them wanted a piece of the action, a chance to prove their worth.

Castiel sat perched upon the collateral of the warship's ditch effort: a twisted bulkhead bowed into low-hanging arch. The red emergencies lights created dim streaks of red that glinted along the curves of her power armor and reflected in her dark eyes. 
Another shock wave resounded through the hall as the last of the cultists joined her entourage. A sly grin crept onto her lips. [i]It's time[/i]. She stowed the grin before stepping onto her makeshift seat, treating it as though it were her own pulpit.

"Can you hear it? The sound and fury of battle calls to us. Those corpse-worshiping wretches wait for you to butcher them with blade and bullet." Castiel unsheathed her glimmering longsword, Tighmaevril, and with a flourish of her leathery, black wings held it high with the confidence of a king brandishing his scepter. "Khorne demands carnage! Their blood his His blessing. Take it! Their skulls are trophies. Claim them! Show them the wrath of the Blood God!"
The heated words that escaped her lips were unwavering and sure of victory. She possessed a strange radiance which stoked the fires of emotion and asserted somehow the certainty of Khorne blessing. The ruthless fighters cheered at the fierce rhetoric, pumping their fists and weapons into the air while shouting. She could feel the hall seething with their bloodlust, a palpable storm of fervor.
She truly cares not for which god she her audience praises, only that it is a God of Chaos. It fulfills her now.

"That's right! Cast down the idols! Destroy the temples! Slay the priests! Show these fools that they worship nothing more than a rotting corpse!" 
The crowd howled with approval.
"Show me the strength of your devotion! Drown these worms in the blood of the fallen!" She thrusted her blade toward the symphony of clamor and combat lingering at the end of the hall. "CHARGE!" 
Her war cry broke the floodgates of their already weakened restraint. And with that, they were off. The small horde of warmongers rushed headlong down corridor towards the command deck. With her true objective in mind, Castiel led them in. The writhing mass of unchained ferocity and rage-filled warriors stayed close on her heels.