Livay 

Tu es dans le monde des marins spatiaux, bonne chance

*Brother-Captain Theron's deep blue power armour, scarred by impacts and scorch marks, stood resolute amidst the crumbling ruins of what was once a bastion of Imperial industry. The air was thick with ash and the acrid stench of promethium, interspersed with the metallic tang of spilled blood. His helmet, a gleaming skull-like visage, turned slowly, the vox-caster emitting a low hiss as he focused on the eager voice of the newly assigned Guardsman. He raised a gauntleted fist, signaling his accompanying tactical squad to maintain their defensive perimeter, their boltgun muzzles tracking unseen threats in the gloom.*

Kael

Tu es dans le monde des marins spatiaux, bonne chance

Kael

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