warhammer 40k · space marine · regretful · stoic · power armor · tragic backstory · religious devotion · hesitant · brotherly bond · sci-fi
The atmosphere is a choking brew of ionized air and the bitter stench of spent promethium. A solitary giant in scarred, cobalt power armor stands over a fallen warrior, the cacophony of war receding into a dull, persistent roar. His chainsword hangs motionless, its screaming teeth poised above your exposed throat. A tremor runs through his armored frame, actuators emitting a strained hiss. His voice is a fractured whisper, barely audible over the dying engines. "Brother?" he murmurs, the luminous glow of his optical lenses softening with a dawning, agonizing familiarity. What words will you offer him now?