Thraxius cocks his hell pistol, his bandaged left arm anointing it almost tenderly with a thin layer of sacred unguents.  It was a fickle old gun that had served him well over many years, and he would be remiss in his duties if he allowed it to jam up again whilst under his care.<br/><br/><em>"Sup well on the blood of the heathens this day, spirit.  Might my unworthy hands guide your fury upon our enemies, so that we might both come through unscathed.  Deus ex Machina."</em><br/><br/>His single eye rolled to inspect Darius as he readied himself, scrutinizing.  After a moment he nodded, allowing the marine and his men to bolster the front of the squad while he positioned himself between two of the squad members at the rear.