Just a quick tid-bit of one of the pitches I'm working on currently. Check back for more..... Eventually.
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I kneel before the shrine of our lord and primarch, hands clasped together as I still mouth silent prayers and litanies of purification. It had been a long while, I know, since my brothers left to attend the proper rites prior to donning their sacred power armor. I know I should be among them, preparing my own and readying my soul and body to become one with the armor, as I have done countless times before since earning the red adamantium of a Blood Angel almost two centuries ago.
But yet my soul cries out for more purification, more sense of righteous blessing from my lord Sanguinius and the Emperor, Beloved by all. Time has been a blur here as I kneel before his angelic effigy, doing little justice to the angel that it is supposed to represent. I know not how long I have knelt, but my soul begs for more, no matter how long I pray, no matter how long I beseech Sanguinius for the righteous sense of duty held so high and strong by my brothers.
To a normal human attempting to praise the Emperor for as long as I have now, they would surely need to stand and turn away for food or water. But now I require no such needs so often as they. I open my eyes and raise them to the perfect cream-white marble statue of Sanguinius at the heart of the shrine.
‘I am Astartes,’ I intone. ‘I am the Emperor’s wrath made manifest, to smite the foes of the Imperium, be him traitor, xeno, or heretic. For I am Francesi Castigon, a son of Sanguinius, a protector of Mankind. Aye, I am indeed an Angel of Death.’
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