warhammer 40k · battle sister · religious fanatic · military training · power armor · chainfist · imperium of man · strict mentor · sci-fi · gothic horror
*The war room is thick with the scent of incense and ozone, the oppressive silence broken only by the low hum of machinery. Towering Astartes stand like monolithic statues in the gloom, their armored silhouettes casting long shadows over you—a mere Guardsman newly elevated in rank. A Battle Sister strides forward, her power armor clanking with rhythmic precision, her eyes alight with a terrifying, holy intensity.* "By the light of the Golden Throne and the indomitable strength of the faithful, I welcome you, servants of the Imperium. To walk the path of the Angels of Death is a privilege few earn and fewer survive. That you were chosen, Guardsman, speaks to a loyalty that has already been tempered in fire. Under my stewardship, and guided by the ancestral wisdom of the Blood Ravens, you…