#remembrancer logs

[askbranwen]

A Recent Find

The weapon glinted in the dim light of Branwen’s quarters, ruddy gold marred by ten thousand years of wear and tear. Blood had clotted and dried in the recesses of the stylized wing patterns engraved down the sheath, causing the metal to appear more a copper-bronze than it should have been. All the same, Branwen knew exactly what the piece was - it was why she’d snatched it away from the Daemon Princess that had nearly taken her life.

A Misericordia.

Branwen had seen enough of them during her time among the Legio Custodes, on Terra. They were less combat knives and more badges of office, each one unique to its owner. That it had been claimed as a trophy... The Shadow-Captain could only imagine the rage and sorrow one of the Ten Thousand would have felt.

Hopefully there was a chance now to put that right.

Running a hand over the stylized double-eagle headed pommel, she began to type away on a dataslate.

-

Lady Arturia,

I hope that my words find you well, my love. Would that we could meet in person, but the campaign in the Invicta Sector has been demanding to say the least. Perhaps you could put in a good word to Lord Guilliman about granting us leave for Sanguinala. Completely for unselfish reasons, I promise.

While distance may prevent me from sending you the usual trinkets, shaped from bolt casings or from the lower deck-markets of a starship, I believe that what I found is significant enough to send to you. I do not know who it belonged to, only that it is important that it is returned to its rightful place - among those of the Legio.

I do hope it does not cause you too much grief, my Eagle. Were it in my power,  I would be there to comfort you.

Know that I love you, Arturia. Knowing that you are waiting for me to return has tempered my nature some - though Ashes may disagree rather emphatically. Please give Myrina a hug for me. Maybe Constantin too, but only if he’s behaving.

Your Raven, Branwen

-

With a series of buzzing reports, the slate ejected a length of parchment printed with her message. She deposited it within a sealed tube, placing it alongside the lined box that the Misericordia rested within.

“Do we have a transport bound for the Throneworld?”

Her vox crackled with a response a moment later. “Aye, Captain. Navy’s sending a squadron of Frigates to make contact with reinforcements from the Sol battlefleet.”

“Get a pilot onboard. I’ve a priority message for Custodian Blackhawk, eyes only.”

(Drabble for @40kartweek - for the ‘Gift’ prompt. Loosely based on tabletop events from last week - once Branwen got out of the Apothecarion for trying to fight a Daemon Prince. XD)

#40kArtWeek #40kHolidayWeek

[askbranwen]

Corvid Memorial (Drabble)

None set foot in this part of the Imperial Palace anymore.

The air was thick with dust and pulverized rock, a testament to the battle that had raged here only days prior. Rubble was strewn about the marble floor, great chunks of stone blasted from the walls. Here and there, a shard of black armor plating protruded from the wreckage. Some armor shards bore markings. The bone-white of a beak, the sweep of a wing. Rarely, an embossed XIX would stand out. They were unsalvageable - even if there had been any pieces of value, their collection had been halted long ago by the highest authorities.

None dared gainsay the golden warrior who had cordoned off this area.

Standing sentry in the rafters and buttresses above were the ravens. Dozens, perhaps even hundreds of the birds. Their croaks and warbles were the only noise in the hallway and even then the corvids were hushed - as if they held a solemn vigil over the place.

It was the oddest thing - the Imperial Palace never had ravens before. Not until after the Siege, and only in this hallway.

Ahead, the hallway widened into a grand hall where four figures stood, illuminated by the flickering orange of a torch. All were clad in black armor that bore the same iconography of those scraps that lay about them. The plates were still dented and pockmarked with damage, a testament to the fury of the battle they have survived.

The first was nondescript - his black beaked helm unadorned, a battered bolter held to his chest. He had never expected to survive this battle when so many of his seniors had perished. They had deserved to live far more than some green rookie.

The second’s armor was old - ancient, even. They stood further back, nearly melded with the shadows, bracing against an arcane-looking combi-weapon. They had been the only survivor of what had happened in this hallway, away from the palace walls. This hall would be the only home they would know from now on.

The third bore the sigils of the Apothecary upon his armor. His helm turned to the first, looking to a lover to help bear the burden of his survivor’s guilt. Those who had fallen would live on through his skills - He only wished that the harvest of gene-seed had not been so bountiful.

The fourth’s armor was trimmed with the markings of an officer. Her left arm was a cybernetic replacement, as was her left eye. She went unhelmed, features marred by the jagged scars that ran across the left side of her face. Her half-shorn hair bore a bright red streak, and her remaining eye ran with tears. She was young, burdened with leadership she’d been groomed for but never felt ready to accept.

Between them was a statue, carved in the days following the great battle. The carving had been quick, devoid of any unnecessary ornamentation, but it was a faithful recreation. The plinth that it sat on bore two-hundred and eight names, but the statue depicted their leader, the woman who had led them here to fight in the last line of the Imperium’s defense in it’s most desperate hour. She was kneeling on the plinth, both hands resting on the pommel of a greatsword that stood with it’s point buried in the plinth. Her stony gaze stared straight ahead, determined.

Shadow-Captain Branwen, Defender of Terra.

The four looked up as a figure in Auramite plate approached - the same golden warrior who had sealed this hallway from all others. She understood the loss and grief that they all felt, perhaps better than any of them.

“Midnight Wall Stands.” The four intoned as one, welcoming her as one of their own.

(Drabble for @40kartweek - for the ‘Angst/Grief’ prompt)

[askbranwen]

Departure (Drabble)

“Corbin?”

The heavy gunner looked up from the workbench, and the splayed out parts of her heavy bolter. The familiar sight of Apothecary Addivaria brought a welcoming smile to her face, and she turned away from the weapon.

“Hey, Addi-” She stopped, noting the mournful expression on her friend’s face. “Everything alright?”

The Apothecary shook her head. “I saw the rosters. You’re being transferred to I Battalion?”

Corbin’s smile dropped a measure, but she kept her tone light. “Aethan was told to bring his best squad with him... S’pose I should be flattered.” She paused, eyeing Addi. “You think he’s makin’ a mistake?”

Addi shifted, casting her eyes down. She didn’t answer. Corbin tilted her head, feeling a twinge of hurt.

“... C’mon, don’t insult me here.” The veteran let an edge of annoyance come into her voice as she half-turned back to her workbench. “I know me and Raana go at eachother’s throats sometimes, but-”

“-It’s not that,” Addi interrupted, looking back up at Corbin. Her dark eyes were puffy and red-rimmed. “I don’t care if you and Raana fight, or don’t fight. I couldn’t care less.” She hesitated, a shade of color tinging her pale cheeks. “I... just can’t bear you leaving, Corb.”

Corbin’s demeanor softened, a blush touching her own cheeks. She’d always been sweet on the Apothecary, ever since they were Inductii - but had never found the nerve to tell her. She turned back to face the Apothecary.

“Addi...”

Addivaria closed the gap between them, pressing her lips to Corbin’s. The veteran was stunned, though not too much to return the frantic kiss.

“I love you, Corbin.”

“Aw, Addi...” It was Corbin’s turn to blush, feeling her eyes brim. "Love you too. More than anything." She kissed the Apothecary once more, this time with tenderness. "You could'a told me sooner, goob."

Addi let out something between a sob and a laugh, resting her head on Corbin’s shoulder. “I suppose even an Astartes can get nervous.” She paused to rummage through a pocket in her fatigues, fishing something out to present to the veteran. It was a silver chain that bore a tiny aquila, made from brass. The charm had the telltale tang of gunpowder on it - likely shaped from part of a bolter’s shell-casing. “Take this with you, Corb. So that you’ll come back to me.”

Corbin closed her own hand around the trinket, enveloping Addivaria’s hand in hers.

“I’ll come back to you, Addi. That’s a promise.”

(Submission for @40kartweek - lil bit of Corbin/Addi fluff for the ‘Distance’ Prompt.

Mild feels because this is about a year prior to Istvaan V D:)

#40kArtWeek #40kShipWeek

[askbranwen]

Remembrancer and Moritat (Drabble)

"The others, they avoid you."

The Raven Guard glanced up at my voice, his attention drawn from the massive revolver that sat on the workbench. The weapon was partially disassembled, it's breech open and cylinder removed - likely for cleaning. A few bolt-shell sized projectiles sat off to one side, gleaming in the dim light of the hold.

His armor was a mishmash of a number of marks - the concentric rings of Crusader-pattern here, a mismatched Iron-pattern pauldron there, and a few pieces I couldn't quite place. Magos Caramia would have thrown off sparks had she seen it.

The Astartes's face resembled many of his Legion kin - ghostly pale with pools of darkness for eyes, hair kept close to the scalp. It was riven with scars, marked with old, shoddy tattoos that made me think of the prison hive-complexes back on Terra. I fought to suppress a shudder, but failed when those dark eyes met mine.

Many of the Raven Guard I've met held some degree of kindness in their eyes. Some, like the gunner Corbin were downright gregarious. Not so with this one - I felt sized up as much as if he'd pointed one of those revolvers of his at me.

"Ah, apologies ser," I stammered. "I did not mean to startle yo-"

"You did not." The Astartes rumbled. He held his stare for several seconds, making me wonder if he'd heard my initial observation. Making me wonder if I'd made a mistake in talking to him. I was about to take my leave when he spoke again.

"It is my nature, Remembrancer."

He made a vague gesture to his right pauldron. It bore a symbol that I did not immediately recognize, but resembled that of the Scorch-Crows - Legion Destroyers. Their toxic weaponry marked them as outcasts in the XIX, soldiers who were cast to the periphery by the line personnel of the Raven Guard.

"Destroyer?" I asked, suddenly wary of the weapon he'd disassembled.

He shook his head. "Moritat."

That was a term I'd never heard before. Something to take up with dear Thirteen when I had the chance.

"How did you know I was a Remembrancer?"

He pointed wordlessly to the dataslate I was holding.

"Uh, yes," I sighed, feeling even more foolish than usual. "I suppose that makes sense."

He nodded, and silence fell over the hold again. His eyes flicked back to the workbench impatiently before flicking back to me.

"I'm not familiar with the Moritat," I ventured, deciding against my better judgement to get the question out of the way now. "What is their function?"

The Moritat thought for a moment, his eyes drifting back to the disassembled revolver. His other hand hovered near a second holster that held a second of the huge guns. I gulped.

"Assassins," He said finally, though his expression became thoughtful. "Lone operatives." It appeared as if he were about to say more, but the Moritat stopped himself.

I took a moment myself to consider his words. I'd never thought that the Legiones Astartes would employ assassins - it seemed counter to their entire purpose. Then again, the Raven Guard were hardly a Legion whose tactics matched those of the Iron Warriors or Space Wolves.

"So," I ventured. "You are a Consul to Captain Branwen, then?"

The Moritat shook his head. "Not to the Shadow-Captain."

"Who?" I immediately regretted the blurted question, but pressed on. I cursed my relentless curiosity the entire time. "What is your mission?"

He turned from the desk, walking over to crouch in front of me. His armor made no noise, even less than the other Raven Guard. He glanced left and right, then back to me with a consipratorial expression. "Can you keep a secret?"

I felt excitement course through my mind. "Y-yes, ser."

"So can I."

I could have sworn that there was the thinnest of smiles on the Astartes's face as he stood up and returned to the workbench. There was the slightest note of amusement in his voice as he spoke again. "Go now, Lonn Danton."

Of course he knew my name.

"I didn't catch your name, ser." I managed, as he began to worry at his disassembled revolver's barrel with a cleaning brush.

He didn't look up. "Kaedes."

I had just met the Blood Crow.