"Titus?"
Lazuli ran his hand across the Dreadnoughts sarcophagus, the embossed skulls and gilded bones made grubby by air born greases and the ever present humidity. Even disconnected from his war harness Brother Titus was violence distilled in machine form; slab sided, mortuary grim and battle scarred.
"What is it?" The Dreadnoughts voice was
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edit: Wrong icon. THIS one.
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