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The Master's Armory; Michael's Room
Topic Started: 16 Apr 2013, 10:49 (29 Views)
Michael
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Certified Angry Marine
As Michael followed the servant to his room, he had an odd sense of foreboding. Not-so-much one of warning, as though something bad would happen, but one that told him his room would be pulled from his ancient memory. One where his sacred bedroom would, no doubt, be made real in this heavily magical place. He didn't like that idea. Even if his room was his own, he didn't like the idea of having the innermost parts of his mind pierced to produce something like his own room. He prayed to the Emperor it would not be so...

When the servant opened the door, much to his pleasant surprise, the corridor opened up to, not the master bedroom of his humble abode, but a veritable armory. A room whose walls were filled with tomes, equipment, firearms, and melee weapons of almost every kind that were available in the grim-dark future. Toward the center-left of the room was a desk. A dark, wooden, carved and engraved desk with his personal seals and heraldry adorning the beautiful executives desk. Behind it, was a large bed that consisted of a basic metal frame and stilts--designed to hold the great weight of a Space Marine like himself.

Michael looked around the room, and a small smile crept across his face. "My office..." He said in a small, quiet voice. Recalling something, he started then he called out in an emotionless voice. "General voice check. Computer, identify user."

A deep robotic voice responded. "Voice check confirmed. User identified: Astartes Eternus. Emperor be with you, Lord Primarch."

Michael's smile grew wider. Being that the room was exactly like his office in the Master's Hall within his home world's fortress, he immediately walked toward what could only be described as a "cradle" within the wall. An enormous, armor-shaped imprint that was masterfully depressed within the wall.

Michael stepped into the imprint. And the sound of air rapidly being sucked in was heard. Michael's limbs became rigid and were locked into place. Again, the robotic voice was heard.

"User of 'Armor Cradle' identified. Task?"

"Begin battle check: Gamma," Michael responded. "We have work to do..."
Edited by Michael, 16 Apr 2013, 13:32.
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