Peltops strode into the armorium. At the horrific sight of the chaplain he was checked in his fury, and gulped his wrathful question. "You killed a Lord Commissar?"
"They were the first to fire on us."
Peltops crooked an eyebrow in miscomprehension. "How could communications have broken down so gravely?" He looked down at the deck. The amount of gore Goldi had tracked in was incredible. The chaplain was streaked from sabaton to skull-mask in machine oil and human blood, the nauseating fear-stench causing the librarian's hair to prickle. He noticed the meltabomb brackets on Goldi's belt were vacant - a dreadful battle indeed...
Goldi gave an electric snort. "There was no breakdown." He unclasped a blood-streaked pauldron and slammed it massively to the armorium table. "I killed the Commissar. I struck him down with my Emperor's holy crozius. Would that it should cleave me in two if I were wrong." Their eyes both dropped to the table, where the gilded, eagle-topped stave rested steaming, dripping singed blood.
Goldi shook his head. "This was no changeling army. They had an Atlas... Sentinels... a siege cannon! Their men, their simple, feeble men were steeled to stand against Marines!! A sheer act of suicide! This was a test of our mettle prior to eradicating us!!!" Goldi vibrated with rage and then tore off his other pauldron, sailing it across the chamber where it clashed into a standing rack of show armor.
"WE ARE BRANDED HERETICS!!" he roared.