Another fell, he could tell as the senses he had spoke to him of the dying tide washing over them. Slowly, painfully, his cadre of Thunder Warriors pushed through the slog of bodies with care for they had learned the consequences of haste. One of the men had been set upon by an advancing horde when he rushed into a corridor in his haste for bloodshed. The man had been on the verge of a battle craze, seeking the next fight and the next slaughter. 

It was no true loss, not in the grand scheme, as the men with him served their purpose. They were crafted as tools of war, and they performed this duty admirably, it was the sole redeeming feature. A tool that serves its purpose well, was a tool well worth crafting after all, and yet tools all eventually broke and are destined to be replaced. Such was the way of life, fading and growing anew. The very concept spoke to the artist within him, and would perhaps lend itself to his next portrait, perhaps of the great deserts meeting the edge of burgeoning forests. 

Yet even as he contemplated his future works, the other parts of his mind were laser focused, even as his axe cleaved through another half dozen undead abominations. The foul taint of sorcery choked the air, that much was clear, and the foolishness of the Dynast-Kings was never more evident than now. [i]"You have sold yourselves, all for a tally of lives to be added to the conquest. A pitiful end to worms, struggling in the dirt never able to see the light that could grant them a whole new world. If you had simply looked beyond yourselves-"[/i] he spoke softly, his words not leaving the confines of his helmet. He would seek out his brothers, it was time to push forward and cut the head off the festering serpent.

He saw it, even now as far as he was from the center he could see it, the Square of Kempfar and the end goal for his Vanguard deployment. [b]"Men, proceed."[/b] he spoke to the remaining 4 Thunder Warriors his voice coming from the helmet with a cold tone of steel, as his squad of killers pushed down the road towards the square at a clipped pace. His Axe cleaved through the unliving obstacles that arose against him, while his Axe Barked loudly time to time to stop a sweltering horde from approaching. Devastating buildings and creating blockades for kill boxes. Yet as he drew closer, he saw the whirl of Gold and recognized a Brother for what it was, a welcome sight.

He saw the human troops, the Blacks as he recognized them, and felt pleased to see the more competent of the Guard here. He called out to his golden brother, giving a hail. [b]"Brother. Awaiting your Command."[/b] he spoke simply, nodding to him before turning to regard the Guard with measured respect. Taking his place, his Axe in hand he looked up at the Citadel. It would be grim tidings indeed, and yet he would press on. For his Emperor, For Humanity.