Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-1734134-20190911202955/@comment-30488984-20190924215058

The Astartes follows the mortals to the barracks, calling upon his brothers to reconvene on his position via vox. Addressing the gathered soldiers and mercenaries through the growl of his vox-grille,

"My brothers and I depart in five minutes. We move to rendezvous with the scions outside the city. From there, we will link up with the partisans. Gather your supplies, we won't be near a provisioned barracks any time soon. I will be waiting outside."

Cyradon then walks takes a seat on a piece of large rubble. He pulls out the partially empty magazine he used during the firefight and begins loading single bolt shells in, one at a time. He ponders silently for a while, playing out different scenarios in his head regarding future events as he instinctually refills his magazine.

He then decides to peer into the strands of fate himself. Setting down his bolter, the Blood Angels Librarian closes his eyes within his helmet and attempts to cast "Personal Augury" upon himself. "What fate awaits me in the desolate outskirts of this damnable planet?" he mutters, hoping for a glimpse from the void.