Again, Julius curses. The language is guttural, almost brutish. Not Chaos, but the chopping motion with his arm is primitive, and he suddenly snaps back tot eh fluting tongue again, the glow deeper blue, straining as he reaches to grasp the sword now blazing like a sapphire sun. His eyes strain closed from the radiance, and even his enhanced frame struggles to heft it, bracing it. The light condenses to a single point, which echoes outward in a coalesced beam of singular pure radiance.
Though no mortal man can see it, any with the gift of sensing of seeing the warp will see a beam as wide as the building he is in, encompassing a huge radius, flicker into life and then thin to a single line of power and rush back into the blade.
The ceremony complete, venerable Inquisitor slumps to the floor and collapses to his knees, sword in front of him, eyes closed, quivering in exhaustion.
__________________  "Men are haunted by the vastness of eternity. And so we ask ourselves: will our actions echo across the centuries? Will strangers hear our names long after we are gone, and wonder who we were, how bravely we fought, how fiercely we loved?" - Odyseeus (Troy - 2004) 
Black Saints Adeptus Astartes Chapter |