<br/><br/><br/><br/>Wilkins could only utter a single word of prayer as he died as the axe had completely wrecked his organs.  Jones had only the vaguest awareness of what was happening, almost unfeeling as the Chaos Space Marine launched him into the wall and he lost consciousness at last.<br/><br/>"As you will, great one," Iago the cultist said.  Iago had only known life salvaging scrap in exchange for what little money so that he could eat.  There was no Emperor to him and the appearance of this demigod had proven it.  Iago had been among the first to follow Varo into war against the Emperor.  He was nothing before the might of his lord, the sorceress, or even the Ork, but he was useful to his lord's cause and that was enough.<br/><br/>"My brothers, activate the servitors! Gather all the weapons you can find! Be hasty!"<br/><br/>He looked to the fallen Arbite who had slammed against the wall.  The glassy eyed look meant he was either dead or catatonic.  Iago knew not nor did he care.  "For the Dark Gods!" He slit the Arbite's throat and splashed the blood all over himself, laughing hysterically.  He began his dedication, painting the eight pointed star of Chaos as well as many words promising death and destruction to any Imperial eyes.  In his wild abandon, he pulled out the entrails of the two dead Arbites and threw them about in a gross parody of celebration.  "We are finished, brother," one of his fellow cultists called out.  "Excellent," he said," notify our Lord at once." He took the empty autogun and auto pistol of the two eviscerated Arbites.  He would keep these as trophies if his Lord allowed him.