He stood in shocked disbelief. Every muscle held in absolute tension and he stared in motionless silence. Nathaniel had known Commander Dariel as long as he had been in service to the Imperium. He was the strongest, most dedicated figure he could think of. He'd had his concerns as of late, but he'd never thought that he'd become tainted. To see him fall was crippling, and as long as those two bioluminescent eyes stared at him, he was held rigid to the spot.

The sounds of battle erupted outside the room, but he didn't hear them. A sullen silence had fallen over the broken office; the ruptured buzzing, the ragged breaths, the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears. Nothing seemed to break the horrified trance with the twin glow. Not even the shouting of his name from the Second-Commander as Dariel drew closer to him.

It was only as the possessed was threateningly close that the shallow beeping of his personal alarm called him from his reverent stupor. The buzzing, shouts and heartbeat all intensified of lessened according to their place. The trance broken, all seemed to come back to itself; return to as close to normal under the circumstances as possible. Quickly Nathaniel stepped back, narrowly avoiding a vicious blow from the daemon host, this was not to be a battle of blows. Very calmly, Nathaniel lifted his wrist and with black tipped claw he pushed a button on the alarm, silencing it.

"Why the Hyperion?" Nathaniel asked the daemon host, if he wasn't to leave this room with his life, then he would leave it with answers.

The tainted Dariel grinned, teeth pointed into wicked tips. A thin line of spittle drooled from the corner of his mouth. "You know why," The voice was pitched high, excited. "She is here, she is close now. Irirll, so close. I can almost touch her. Take her." The daemon host ranted. He was running his hands together, shuffling forwards towards The Psyker. Who in return were backed away from his, circling around the room – keeping the daemon host slowly at bay. Nathaniel had noted that Keeva had started to work on getting the office door back open and working; in her hands several wires were being rearranged. It was just a matter of time before she worked their way free, time that he would have to buy.

Nathaniels brow knitted; "Irirll, what is this Irirll," The Psyker fumed, loosing valuable ground in the battle of words announcing his lack of knowledge. Untangling the delicate dance of words with his ire.

"You know," Dariel hissed. "You've always known, she is you, fuels you, guides you, enhances you. You, of all insignificant things! If she can do that for you. Just think what she can do for me!" The Dariel daemon raged.

It dawned on the Psyker then; as loathe as he was to admit it, the daemon was right. He let out a sigh, "The staff." The words seemed to perk Keeva's interest, which she carefully tried to hide.

"Locked within, always watching; influencing."

Nathaniel shook his head, he'd always looked after his valuable possession. Cleansed it, purified it. He knew without a shadow of doubt that his mind was his own; unlike that of Dariel, of Grim, he was not weak to the outside influences of the Immaterium. His loyalty was not under question! Fused fingers tightened on the staffs shaft. If a daemon wanted the staff, he was damned if he was going to just hand it over. Irirll needed to be destroyed. The determination set on his noble features. He flashed Keeva a glance who nodded towards him.

"You will not have her," The Psyker stated flatly to the daemon taken Dariel, and rather than continuing to back away from the wretch, he changed direction. Storming towards the office door, unabashed for the accusations that had been thrown at him. Keeva connected two of the wires and the door hissed open slowly. She nipped through the door quickly, while Nathaniel confidently strode through the entrance; not looking back to the vile foe that'd rendered him dumbstruck for the loss of the Commander.

Once the door closed behind them, Keeva shouted towards one the Veterans nearby to weld the door closed as quickly as possible. They obeyed her orders as soon as they heard them.

Outside in the corridor a battle was waging, the furies unleashed earlier had caught up to their prey and were waging havoc on any that got in their way. The Veteran Guardsmen were doing their level best at keeping the beasts at bay with concentrated las-gun fire and expert discipline. Keeva drew her pistol and joined the fray, making her way to Sergeant Crowe to relay further orders to him. Finally stepping up her game and taking charge of the situation; her doubts about the Psyker and his loyalties had come under question the first time she had seen his mutated arm and with every development she began to question further.

She struggled her way through the combat and hunkered down next to him, nestling against one the the piled sand-bags. Nathaniel joined her a moment later. "We have a larger target being shut in that office, Sergeant; I need half your men to about face and keep it engaged for as long as possible, the moment it gets free."

"Understood," Crowe complied, but looked towards his own superior officer for confirmation.

"Defer to her superiority Sergeant," The Psyker stated, relinquishing his own level of command over his men to the Second-Commander. His voice soft, uncertain. Clearly shaken. If there was even a chance that he was being manipulated by the staff, then he didn't desire to be in a position of power where he could be abused. For his own sakes, and for that of those underneath him.

Crowe started bellowing orders towards the men, separating them between las-gun volley. Obeying the Second-Commander before returning to his post, awaiting any further instructions.

"I need a long range Vox, if I can get work to the Leviticus I can make a report; get some back up." She explained to Crowe.

"Don't have anything like that sort of kit here," He started to explain.

"There was one in my quarters?" She returned.

"Too far," Nathaniel interjected.

"The closest?" Keeva asked him.

The Psyker bit his tongue, knowing the closest was actually in Dariels office, but seeing as there was a daemon host within it's walls... "Medical," he announced.

"Need to get past them, first." Crowe pointed with his thumb towards the Furious beasts, just as a pounding started from within the office doors; the metal warping outwards slightly with each smash.

"Suggestions?" Keeva asked calmly.

"I don't think we have enough fire-power here to take them out, not if you want some to stay behind and keep that occupied." Crowe stated, pointing in the other direction.

The order to keep the daemon host at bay had been a suicide order; but Nathaniel actually felt himself swell with pride as Keeva finally seemed to understand the duty of the Guardsman.

"May I?" He asked the Second-Commander about the Furies. "I.. will have to use my staff." He stated, knowing how strange that would sound after what they'd just heard and experienced. Keeva avoided his gaze as he stated as such. Curious. Without it though, there was no grounding, no source; he'd feel lost, unbalanced. He didn't want too, he had too.

She raised a brow towards him, but nodded her head. They had little choice.

He afforded her a small smile before standing. Walking between the two piles of sand-bags, taking note of how many of the beasties were attacking, flying in his direction, engaged with his guardsmen. All of them adding to a rapid minded calculation. His chains had been released and there was so much more than simple arched lightening in his arsenal now. It had been some weeks since he'd been ale to channel the full extent of his learned powers, but he still exuded that feeling of arrogant confidence.

Fuelled by the release from the Torpor, Nathaniel reached deeply into his power resources his mind set on the furies that he'd logged. His natural eyes closed; sight from beyond keeping watch on the beasts. Hands raised towards the foes, with one thought on his mind. A mental mantra repeated over and over, guiding the Psykers powerful biomantic skills. The heat around him rose, his own heart pounding once again; but that was nothing compared to the rush of blood surging through the minor daemons. His staff crackled with warp energy as the immatrium was manipulated around him. The daemon bodies twisted, wings contorted, clawed feet curls. Vile screaming hisses erupted from their gnarled beaks as neck craned; straining to see what was causing them so much pain. Several of the beasts turned to the Psyker – only to be taken by a single Las-Gun shot. One leapt towards the concentrating Psyker, managed to rake a clawed foot over his face, aiming for the easiest entrance to the brain that caused them so much agony. Blood poured down the side of his face over his eye, but did nothing to break the incantation. The Fury burst into flame, being the closes to the source of the power, followed by the others as they one by one burned alive from the insides.

As he came back to himself, Keeva clasped him on the back and complimented his good work before moving past him. Crowe was with her; and another of the veteran squad. A dark skinned man known as Frost. He'd painted a few markings on one of his shoulders – a poorly rendered mockery of the Ultramarine Chapter. His las-rifle was slung over his shoulder and he'd fallen in line behind his Sergeant and the Second-Commander. A moment after the spell had dissipated, the smell of burning daemon flesh in the air, Nathaniel opened his eyes. Instantly his mutated hand went to the vicious wound on his face. Clawed fingers removed covered in his own blood – the price of his arrogance. He blinked to keep the blood from his eyes. It stung, but as his two veterans followed the Keeva to the nearest long-range vox; as did the Psyker.