Editing Indrick Boreale (section)

==Brother-Captain Boreale's <strike>Bald</strike> Bad Day==
[[Image:Baldeale.jpg|thumb|right|SPESSSSS]]
Boreale made doubly sure his armor was perfectly polished. He checked his sword scabbard and pistol holster. He fitted his Purity Seals on and ensured that his breastplate decorations were positioned correctly. He held his helmet under his arms. As he turned from his massive planning table, he checked his reflection in one of his other suits of Power Armour. Tall, large, inspiring. Perfectly presented, every inch an Imperial Space Marine.

His hair was still very short, but Boreale had begun to accept that. Even after two hundred years, his hair (or lack thereof) bothered him. But it wasn’t the worst thing. That would be his speech.

He had been fighting his speech for years. He was an inspirational speaker, able to turn his formidable speech-composition skills to demagoguery or fiery rhetoric. He always wrote and delivered his own speeches, and he strongly believed in the importance of words as an element of leadership. But he always struggled with the same thing:

Pronunciation. A more obdurate enemy than any he had ever faced.

He mouthed the words of his speech to himself, very softly, as he looked into his reflection on the chestplate of a Power Armour suit.

“Space Marines, today is the day…” the words came out very softly, but they were correct. Perhaps today WOULD be the day? Perhaps today he would get it right, and deliver the greatest speech of his entire illustrious career? He continued to practice:
“today is the day we serve the…Empr-…Empera…Emperor. Tode-today…” He took a deep breath and started again:

“Today is the day we serve the Emperor by putting our lives, minds and souls in the line of duty in His name, and in service to the Imperium….”

He was doing well so far. Perhaps today would be the day indeed.

Confident with his initial success, Boreale straightened himself out to his full height of about nine feet. It had been only days since the attack on their Stronghold by the Sisters of Battle, where he had personally defeated Cannoness Agna in single combat. The woman had charged in towards him, full of righteous fury, and screaming a challenge. Meeting her with his own blade and screaming his own battle cry (it unfortunately came out as FOR THE EMPRA, in the heat of battle), Boreale had overwhelmed her with superior speed and strength, and she had fallen on her sword rather than let him strike the killing blow.

Regrettable that it came to fighting the Empe...Emperor’s servants as such, but necessary. Necessary for the survival of the Imperium and mankind, necessary to please the Emperor and the Unknown Primarch. Necessary. No, essential!

Boreale gritted his jaw, and corrected his sword one last time. It was time.

He stepped out onto the podium where hundreds of Blood Ravens stood assembled silently and unmoving, waiting for his words. He felt confidence fill him the likes of which he had never felt. Today would indeed be the day.

Boreale drew a deep breath.

“BROTHERS!”

…

“TODEH WE SERVE THE EMPRA!”

Some things just never changed.