[center][h3]Sword Brethren Tiberius[/h3][/center]
[hr]
[center]"O Emperor, in wrath rejoicing at bloody wars, fierce and untamed,
whose mighty power doth make the strongest walls from their foundations shake.
All-conquering Master of Mankind, be pleased with this war's tumultuous roar.
Delight in swords and fists red with alien blood, and the dire ruins of savage battle.
Rejoice in furious challenge, and avenging strife, whose works with woe embitter human life."[/center] 

Tiberius intoned the prayer as a daily invocation, aiding a sense of clarity to his faith, which in turn brought a sense of clarity to his mind. His Mark VII Power Armor swelled as he breathed in deeply, the armor grafted onto him acting as a second layer of protective skin, so in tune to his every movement. The previous master of the superb armor wasn't well documented in the archives, but by all accounts he was a decorate hero of the Imperium. Tiberius only hoped he could live up to that ideal. 

He lifted himself off the floor of his room, his powersword held firmly within his gauntleted fist, unactivated yet still as deadly as the Emperor's judgement. He sheathed the blade with a solemn slowness, and placed his helmet back on upon his head. He had felt the reverberations of the ship moments ago, and wherever they were, he wasn't to be caught off guard in his duties to the Chapter. They had already lost more than enough good Chapter members. They are by his side now, in glorious triumph. I can only hope I have the honor of such a position one day. 

A ping within his helm began to beep incessantly, and it took his enhanced mind only a fraction of a second before he realized he was being summoned to the deck for a matter of importance. He pressed his finger to his temple, and replied. "Affirmative. I am en route, honorable Chaplain." Within moments, he was stepping into the hallway and making his way toward the deck.