[@Hipster] 

Patrick nodded to the small ratling, "Scopes" he thought short ratling referred to himself as. His head was still swimming from the blow, hopefully there was a medic that was still alive here that could give him something for it. Sure he did have something he could administer himself, but strangling the one who just saved his life to death is not what anyone might consider polite. He herd the krump of a grenade going off outside. He thought it odd, considering that the gunfire had stopped. Now that he thought of it, why did the fighting stop, last he remembered the enemy were bearing down on them with a goddamned baneblade.

Pain surged though his head, cutting off his train of thought. He unsteadily ambled forward, using the wall for support. The base floor of the building they were in had a few imperials. They seemed to be planetary pdf mostly. That didn't seem good, most planetary pdf were fairly green, not well versed in combat doctrine execution. To add to that they looked pretty young, and quite afraid. The fear was good though, thought the commisariate may disagree. The fear kept you on your toes, alert, and when you finally overcame what it was you feared in the first place, that fear became courage.

"Anyways lets get to it. Before we run out of cultists to kill," said the ratling beside him. It made Patrick chuckle, the sound distorted and awkward from behind his rebreather. [color=00a651]"You know bud, all the stories I heard made you ratlings out to be cowards. But you, nah, you ain't half bad bud,"[/color] Patrick said. The blood coming from the gash on his head was beginning to slow down by now, though hadn't completely stopped. It had matted a fair amount of his hair, and run down the right side of his face. He and Scope began for the stairway, [color=00a651]"If you don't mind me asking, just who were you talking to? Sad to say, they don't like us run of the mill legionnaires having vox access."[/color]