Myrna, a veteran of multiple engagements had just finished disassembling, cleaning then reassembling her multitudes of small pistols, many of which were highly stylized, etched, and gilded with silver holy patterns when the order came down. Stifling a small smile she mouthed a soundless prayer to the small shrine above the table she used to clean her implements of destruction before donning her customized Seraphim power-armor, the jets used to move her light frame were much smaller than that you would find on a space marine, mostly because she was smaller and all of her equipment weighed less than just one of their weapons. As soon as she got into the armor and powered it up, checking the various power conduits and armor plates were in proper position, a misplaced plate could cause a small reduction in mobility which would be deadly for the fragile Seraphim. Placing her various small arms at her hips, her flamer positioned on her right shoulder between two jets, and her powered sword, her most prized weapon, positioned on her left shoulder with the hilt standing just above her shoulder.<br/><br/>Her equipment she would need properly stowed on her armor, she flicked back a bit of her pale hair and made her way to the chapel, she preferred to pray in private, but it also felt good to bow along with her sisters, it was uplifting, unifying, proving they the Adeptas Sororitas were bound by more than just terms of service in times of war, but bonds of faith, a stronger shield and sharper sword that any wielded by their heathen foes.