"Don't worry. If anything happens, we'll take care of it together."
He gave a slient nod of appreciation for her concern, then watcher her enter the fray. In ways more than counting, she inspired him to be better. And better he would be.
Do not over do it, or we will need to put even more of you into the jar." He jests with a forced smile. A futile attempt to mask his concern. A nod punctuates his statement, as Kitharsis turns to the opened gate.
"Oh, ha-fucking-ha." Danyael winces a smirk toward his friend. He didn't laugh for fear of something embarrassing oozing out of his wound, and the day had been either agonizing or awkward or perhaps even a bit of both already. In the moment shared between the two, it was no doubt that they saw themselves as more than friends - they were kindred; brothers in arms.
He was handicapped, true. But he was far from defenseless. And very much still capable of putting up lethal defiance. Clenching the Yamato ceremoniously aimed down in both hands, he lowered his gaze a moment, calling forth from the depths of his core the capacity for protection. His body, still weak, quivered faintly before a tuft of wind rose from beneath him, lifting his cloak enough to allow view of a carapace form body armor
growing around his upper chassis to effectively shield his slow healing wound. With the act complete, his eyes opened and he dashed through the threshold, right into the fray of violence and insanity that raged around him. . He allowed himself into a quick draw sword stance, back leg bent, front leg extended and sword -hilt forward - pressed tightly against the waist. He stood still, waiting for the roiling chaos to reach striking distance, taking stock of friend and foe alike. He took in the muscle mass within every fibre of his being, communicating with each thread of flesh and bone in much the same likeness as a skilled spellbinder would muster the words to an incantation. With every counting second did he feel his muscles tighten and vibrate, then twitch bit by bit as they fed off of one another, gaining additional mass in tandem. His legs spread further, gathering the power together to a single focal point.
He had only seconds to gauge his opponents, as calling upon the wellspring at the moment was not a viable option. This attack was going to hurt him almost as much as it was going to hurt his enemies. But the collateral was the major concern. Ultramarines, Grey Knights, Blood Angels, Dark Angels and so many more. He knew of these chapters. He knew of them well. And if he knew them, as he'd hoped he'd known them, the gamble he was banking on should have incredible effect in one way or another. And so, in the loudest possible roar he could muster did he scream in the language of High Gothic that could only translate to
"All Chapters down! Incoming - danger close!", snapping them to attention at the exact moment he unleashed the yamato in a fast action slash with the speed of a camera shutter, hurling forth an arc-wave of sound and wind toward the throng of violence in front of him in a wide enough radius to make a noticeable shift. The arc wave waded into the throng at the split second the Imperial marines dove for cover. The wave seared over them and into the chaos marines, shattering through armor and cleaving apart the tender meat within, spraying the battlements and its survivors with gore and vitae. The closest Blood Angel shouted back a praise in High Gothic, but Danyael couldn't hear him, for the Nephilim Lord bent to his knee as his muscles went slack and he hit the ground.