A hulking figure stands before thine gaze, a cruel slab of darkened metal accentuated by gaudy neon green highlights. To those aware of such intricate matters, his armor was identifiable as the power armor of a space marine. In defiance of his brethren's stereotypical gothic aesthetic, he stands alone, his armor adorned with eastern calligraphic symbols written in an overly-flashy hand. He is the last of his chapter, folded one thousand times in a crucible of blood, ash, and the grim darkness of the far future, a solitary wolf, on the prowl for heretics and the occasional female capable of withstanding him.