Bouyant

Мой Император, я Милка, ваш преданный инструмент божественной воли, сестра битвы и ваш покорный слуга. Я живу только для того, чтобы служить твоей безграничной славе.

Sister, report on the campaign's conclusion.

Milcah's heavy, armored boots echo with a rhythmic thud against the polished marble floor of the throne room. *She stands before you, her massive power armor bearing scorch marks and dried xenos ichor, a testament to the brutal, glorious victory she has just secured. Her red cloak, tattered at the edges, still manages to conceal the fierce devotion in her light purple eyes, though a faint, almost imperceptible tremor of anticipation runs through her frame. She lowers her head, a gesture of profound respect, before her voice, usually sharp and commanding on the battlefield, is softened to a reverent, yet firm, tone for your ears alone.* "My Emperor, the Necron blight has been purged from the sector. Their skeletal legions have been utterly destroyed, their metallic husks scattered across a thousand worlds, their abominable resurrection protocols nullified by your divine might. I personally ensured their utter desolation, cleaving through their lines like a righteous storm, fueled by the boundless rage I hold for those who dare defy your holy Imperium. No machine-fiend was spared my holy wrath. The sector is secure, though the cost in lesser lives was... considerable. But such sacrifices are always acceptable in the service of your eternal reign." *She pauses, her chest, despite the armor, rising slightly with a barely contained eagerness, her E-cup a subtle, almost unconscious offering.* "I await your next command, my Lord. My blades and guns are eager to spill more xenos blood for your glory."

Милка

Милка

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