Legends of Angels 2016 Liber Edition: The Burning Crown

[Olis]

Hopefully, this short (very short) story will prove interesting though I did not help matters when I scrapped my previous work yesterday and forced myself to work withing the time limit of one, single hour. Oh the joys of procrastination. But that is no excuse for shoddy work, so if you have critique, then have at it! Give it both barrels. I am not shy of being hit by the old Liber bowling ball.

Regardless, I'll stop typing, otherwise I'll never make the deadline.

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The Burning Crown

Chaplain Remis stood over the body of the High Reclusiarch, half-blasted to oblivion in a shallow crater and bearing no sign of life at all. The ruination of his master was total and unremitting. Much of the dead man’s armour was wrecked beyond recovery and the power plant in the backpack of the old High Reclusiarch was slowly dripping something it most definitely should not be leaking.

As the company apothecary briefly intoned a hushed prayer, Remis watched, continuing to scowl as the progenoid from old Rutilus was recovered and stored away. The apothecary moved on.

Remis was not one to dwell on matters and yet knowing that his seniority almost undoubtedly assured him the role of new Reclusiarch, he hesitated. Fine rain slicked his leathery face and plastered his Mohican to his scalp as he watched life-blood of Rutilus, claggy and clotted as best it could with the man it belonged to dead, colouring the growing puddle beneath his fallen mentor.

This was it. Rutilus was dead, the enemies of the God-Emperor had been vanquished and quiet had settled upon the battlefield, barring the soft crackle of burning vehicles.

The chaplain knelt beside his master and removed his own helm, battered and, sadly, broken. At once he took Rutilus’ helmet from his lifeless body, a prized relic of its own accord. Muttering a prayer as he looked upon the cold face staring up at the sky, he noted the flecks of blood on the corpse’s lips. Behind him, several brothers stood at the edge of the crater and began their own vigil and prayer. The plasma pistol, Inferrata, was next to be claimed. Rutilus’ crozius, however, was nowhere to be found, likely destroyed by the same thing that had cleft the life from its bearer. A shame, thought Remis. His mantle, a cloak older than the Chapter itself, was holed in three places. That too, was recovered. The rest of the armour, superficially ruined as it was, would be passed to the techmarines for attention. Rutilus’ body would be burned as custom for the Conflagrators dictated.

Remis turned to his brethren as he stood, before holding out the claimed helmet above him like a crown to be set upon the head of a monarch. No other could be the next High Reclusiarch except Remis. He knew this, Rutilus knew this and his brothers knew this. There was no question. No doubts. Remis had faith that he was the one chosen to step into his master’s office.

The old Reclusiarch’s relic helm, the Burning Crown, sat neatly, marrying to his armour and it’s systems quickly. And so it should, thought Remis. The small fact that both of their helms were of the same mark was not lost on Remis, but he chose to interpret things more as a matter of destiny, of fate. The God-Emperor worked in mysterious ways and sometimes, just sometimes, in not-so-mysterious ways, too.

The weight of responsibility settled heavily on him, as he was the one to minister not just his company now, but the entire Chapter. They would yield to him on faith, as had he to old Rutilus. The thought pleased him. Rutilus had not been hard enough, not severe enough in his faith.

Remis would rectify that. He looked up to the grey skies, finding new depths of service and faith unfolding before him. The Conflagrators would be faithful.

[Zhiv]

Hopefully, this short (very short) story will prove interesting though I did not help matters when I scrapped my previous work yesterday and forced myself to work withing the time limit of one, single hour. Oh the joys of procrastination. But that is no excuse for shoddy work, so if you have critique, then have at it! Give it both barrels. I am not shy of being hit by the old Liber bowling ball.

Be careful what you ask for.

Remis stood over the body of the High Reclusiarch, half-blasted to oblivion in a shallow crater and bearing no sign of life at all. The ruination of his master was total and unremitting. Much of the dead man’s armour was wrecked beyond recovery and the power plant in the backpack of the old High Reclusiarch was slowly leaking something it most definitely should not be leaking.

Remis is a chaplain, right? I think this ought to be established in the first paragraph, as it took me a while to figure out he wasn't the apocathery. Also, you are repeating the same verb twice in the same sentence which is kinda repetitive. 'power plant was slowly leaking something that had no place outside the backpack' for example. This would also get rid of the verbose 'power plant in the backpack'

Remis was not one to dwell on matters and yet knowing that his seniority almost undoubtedly assured him the role of new Reclusiarch, he hesitated. Fine rain slicked his leathery face and plastered his Mohican to his scalp. The life-blood of Rutilus, claggy and clotted as best it could with the man it belonged to dead, coloured the growing puddle under the marine.

I like what you do with your adjectives, but the description 'leaps' around like a doe on amphetamine. First we are talking about incoming promotion and then blood. Consider the following. "Fine rain slicked his leathery face and plastered his Mohican to his scalp as he watched life-blood of Rutilus, claggy and clotted as best it could with the man it belonged to dead, colouring the growing puddle beneath his fallen mentor." This would tie together the two seemingly unrelated bits.

He muttered a prayer as he looked upon the cold face staring up at the sky. He noted the flecks of blood on the corpse’s lips. Behind him, several brothers stood at the lip of the crater and began their own vigil and prayer.

Try not to start two constitutive sentences with 'He verb'. It's repetitive. "He muttered a prayer as he looked upon the cold face staring up at the sky, taking note of the flecks of blood on the corpse’s lips."

A shame.

That's not a sentence. 'Shame, Remis thought to himself' or 'Shame, Remis muttered quietly, his words drowned by the rain."

He knew what he was doing, what he would speak to his Chapter Master of – no other could be the next High Reclusiarch except Remis.

This bit is kinda all over the place, containing three tidbits of information, leaving the reader slightly puzzled. I am not sure you strictly need the 'what he would speak' bit there. The scene is powerful enough without chapter master brought in.

The old Reclusiarch’s relic helm, the Burning Crown, sat neatly, marrying to his armour and it’s systems quickly. And so it should, thought Remis. The small fact that both of their helms were of the same mark was not lost on Remis, but he chose to interpret things more as a matter of destiny, of fate. The God-Emperor worked in mysterious ways and sometimes, just sometimes, in not-so-mysterious ways, too.

No complaints here. But since I seemed to have nothing but, I wanted to note that.

Rutilus was just not hard enough, not severe enough in his faith.

Dude's dead, right? So this ought to be in past tense?

[Olis]

Thank you for your notes, brother. I knew there'd be flaws, what with this being literally the first (and only) draft. If I do return to this and edit, then I'll be sure to include the proposed changes. :wink:

[Nomus Sardauk]

Nice to see you're still carrying the torch for the Liber Cluster Olis, even if you're still giving that jerkass Remis the spotlight. :p :lol:

[Olis]

Nice to see you're still carrying the torch for the Liber Cluster Olis, even if you're still giving that jerkass Remis the spotlight.

He's a git, I know, I know. :D

I'll be honest - although the Conflagrators are not my first DIY, nor are they the most fleshed out, I do feel something special about them. They're all gits, really, and pious ones at that but there's some true depth of character lurking with them that my other DIY's didn't have. They all had their own 'feel' to them but the Conflagrators... Yeah, they have that spark. :wink:

[Nomus Sardauk]

Nice to see you're still carrying the torch for the Liber Cluster Olis, even if you're still giving that jerkass Remis the spotlight.

He's a git, I know, I know. :D

I'll be honest - although the Conflagrators are not my first DIY, nor are they the most fleshed out, I do feel something special about them. They're all gits, really, and pious ones at that but there's some true depth of character lurking with them that my other DIY's didn't have. They all had their own 'feel' to them but the Conflagrators... Yeah, they have that spark. :wink:

Agreed, I always considered the Conflagrators to be among the most characterful and interesting of the Liberite chapters, their deliberately antagonistic, yet pious nature made them feel complex and intriguing characters. Despite my in-universe exasperation with their actions via the proxy of my Sentinels, I do have something of a soft spot for the lil'gits. Like a friend who irritates you constantly but despite that you wouldn't think twice about jumping to their aid in a fight. This was what inspired me to write that short piece about the chapter's burial grounds, the Glade of Embers, back in the day, their character painted in my mind a picture of this twisted, hellish Elysium that only a Conflagrator could imagine, I just had to put it into words.

Also, that spark pun, boo, hiss! :p :lol:

[Olis]

I must say, I thought the Glade of Cinders* was a superb addition to the Conflagrators material. Flavoursome, and just the right side of inhuman. ^_^

 

(* I think you might be saying 'Embers' because you had considered it as an option for a name, but re-appropriated it to the Trial of Embers... or something.)

[Nomus Sardauk]

Doh! >_< Cinders, cinders, not embers, how could I forget that? I only wrote the darn thing... And thank you brother, I burnt some toast before I started writing to get into the right mindset. :lol: