As the gathered Astartes announced their names, their titles and their chapters, the anonymous Astartes known as Sorrow couldn't help but feel a pang of loss. He had already been announced and there was precious little for him left to say -- how he would love to able to speak of his Chapter with the same pride as these men! Sorrow's eyes, hidden behind the featureless visage of his Mark VII helmet, fell on Draskal Corbite and the clenching of his augmented fist at the mention of the Red Corsairs. [i]Such is the fate of traitors,[/i] Sorrow thought to himself. 

The rest of the introductions were more or less as expected. Seeing a Sanguinary Priest of the Flesh Tearers here was an interesting surprise, but other than that, Sorrow wasn't in the least surprised to hear the repeated calls to be reunited with their armor and weapons. Any Marine feels naked without their gear and Sorrow took a second to appreciate the armored plate already shrouding his form. Standing in line with his fellows, Sorrow still felt the need to express at least [i]some[/i] form of acknowledgement. 

"Hail, brothers," was the greeting he settled on, and held his closed fist to his chest. Sorrow's voice was remarkably quiet, barely above a hushed whisper, but still managed to make itself clearly audible in the dark chamber. "It is an honor to serve with you all." He made no mention of his Chapter or the lack of its heraldry on his pauldron and, after a second's hesitation, dropped his fist to his side and stood at attention, making it clear he was done talking.