Sirren marched into the armory after his short prayer, marveling at the diversity of weaponry available. While it was certainly a luxury he was ill-afforded in his home chapter, it was for that same reason that he was hesitant to diverge much from the equipment standard to most Astartes. It would not serve him to take some obscure weapon that he could not wield to its fullest tactical effectiveness.

He had already brought with him his personal chainsword, currently resting on his shoulder, and his combat blade, strapped to his harness. Though they were ostensibly more lethal, he did not care for power weaponry. They cut too quickly and cleanly; they could not provide the spray of blood on Sirren's face that he so savored, nor the exhilarating shock to his arm when the blade hit bone. In any case, he armed himself with a Deathwatch-issue bolt pistol, and requisitioned a smattering of specialty rounds, as well as a few standard frag and krak grenades. His duty would be in ensuring that his Battle Brothers were at their fighting best; their strength would be his strength in the coming battle.