[spoiler]No worries about the delay. I've had a few of my own.[/spoiler] Rathiks snarls in rage as his attacker escapes. He lowers the smoldering scorch cannon from his shoulder and looks around at the damage. The bodies of Eliksni litter the chamber, all in various stages of ruin. His own Devils move about the hold, the butts of shrapnel launchers held tightly to their shoulders as they check the mutilated forms of their enemies and comrades. Not many still live, and those that do won't survive for long. The weapons of the Fallen are brutally efficient. The invaders that will only take up valuable ether to die in the midst of questioning are dispatched with shock daggers, their heads yanked back and the blades pulled roughly across their throats. Their bodies are immediately pillaged. Those that were healthy enough to live but could not escape and were left behind in the raging confusion of combat ( not to mention active Vandal obfuscation kits and a mountain of smoke ) are brought to kneel before Rathiks. The Elder Captain glowers down at them with his three good eyes. As the adrenaline leaves his body, it starts to ache. Places where shock rifles bit through his shields and armor spill a dark, almost violate-colored liquid. The once fine burnished metal is cracked and his flesh burnt. Rathiks lets a hostile hiss escape from between his teeth as he looks upon those that caused him pain. "Name yourselves, your House, and he who abandoned you to me," the Devil demands.