Ah, unfortunate. He would not be interacting with the inquisitor any time soon. That... That did displease him, very much so. His job, the single job that he had been assigned, would not be able to be completed when he wished it to be completed. That was unfortunate, but for now, the sister would be an adequate travelling companion "Very well, Sister. It is, as always, an honour to serve alongside those who share my fervour in following the Emperor's wishes." He kept his tone neutral, and although he didn't fall into the squad, he made sure to walk besides them. He was not a sister, and he would never be a sister, but for now, Squad Victorine would be where he would make himself useful. Besides, he had certainly found himself with an interesting group of individuals. The mysteriously silent confessor, leaving his nose slightly irritated at the sweet perfumes wafted near him. He was much more use to smells not nearly as pleasant. The sister that had introduced herself as Alexandra, to which he curtly nodded, a if to show his appreciation for the gesture... Of course, the giant of the sister that had been standing next to him, and the Celestian. It wasn't long before a cutter landed down. Once again, he found his hood being blown back, and decided to leave it where it was. There was no point in pulling it back up constantly, if it was only going to fall back over. That was a distraction that he did not deem as necessary for him to spend time on. Boarding the ship, he fastened himself in, and settled in for takeoff. [hr] The ship had been breached. A young man had burst in, breathless, and then had dashed out again, leaving Marcus alone to process the information. That didn't take very long. He pressed a hand to the commsbead in his ear, allowing it to sort through the frequencies, and to that of the ship's vox system. Standing up from the position he had been kneeling, he walked over to where his carapace armour lay, the armour sitting over a short robe that allowed the maximum amount of movement, whilst using the bare minimum needed to cover his modesty, and for the armour to sit comfortably. His room was even more barren than any of the others, at his personal request- with the cot and alter having been removed. Instead, the bedding was directly against the floor, and the only reason the weapon rack had not been removed was because it was bolted to the floor of the ship. His request to remove the shrine was not, as some might think, from any heretical desire, but simply because he thought that private worship was a luxury he simply did not require. The ship had a room entirely for worship, why did he need another shrine in his room? Picking up his storm shield, he made sure it was strapped in securely, and then hefted his lance, and let the end of it crackle with power. He knew that it could cleave through armour, bone and anything else it was called to destroy. "A spiritu dominatus, Domine, libra nos, From the lighting and the tempest, Our Emperor, deliver us. From plague, temptation and war, Our Emperor, deliver us, From the scourge of the Kraken, Our Emperor, deliver us. From the blasphemy of the Fallen, Our Emperor, deliver us, From the begetting of daemons, Our Emperor, deliver us, From the curse of the mutant, Our Emperor, deliver us, A morte perpetua, Domine, libra nos. That thou wouldst bring them only death, That thou shouldst spare none, That thou shouldst pardon none We beseech thee, destroy them." He stepped out, having finished the prayer, and was suddenly faced with the raiders. "Sister." He said, hoping he had keyed in to the correct frequency. "Those boarding the ship have apparently breached close to my location. I will fight my way to you." As he spoke, he slammed forward with his shield, letting his training kick in. 'The lance,' he remembered Clemitus saying, 'Is not a weapon for whelps to be using. Keep your [i]distance[/i] with it. Keep your [i]focus[/i] on it. It is not a sword, where you can swing it about and still have effect. Precision! PRECISION, do you hear me?' He remembered the older man smacking him every time he lost focus on the end of the spear. he had learnt from that. With the raider on his feet, he was made aware that there were a number more raiders also near him. Right then. This would be a challenge. Rapidly backpedalling, he kept his shield up, the wall of force surrounding it crackling as it absorbed projectiles. The raider on his feet had rapidly gotten back onto his feet, and he was made suddenly aware that it was a xenos. Kroot. By the Emperor, he was not letting his body be defiled by [i]that[/i] creature. Another hymn, this one spoken at an even tone, as if he was simply discussing theology with a priest. "I tread the path of Righteousness. Though it be paved with broken glass, I will walk it barefoot; though it cross rivers of fire, I will pass over them; though it wanders wide, the light of the Emperor guides my step." He finished it, continuing to backpedal, and then added an additional line to the hymn. "And although it is filled with those who would stop me, I will cut through them." His spear darted out, and he was rewarded with a scream. Good. Let them be cautious. He really did hope he would have backup soon however. As proficient as he was in combat, odds so heavily stacked against him were not favourable. If he died before actually meeting the inquisitor... He would be a disgrace.