Contemplation and recuperation (Open)

[swordofdorn.livejournal.com]

Erhart kneels before the great statue of the god-emperor of mankind, lost in prayer, and contemplation. His armor is bare, stripped of all the paint and embellishment that is his right to wear as the Emperor's Champion, instead it is mostly gunmetal gray, with a few patches of gold showing through in places. His Crusader and Purity seals are nothing more than tattered scraps of parchment and wax, mostly burned away. His right pauldron is shattered, his left deeply groved, there are multiple puncture and burn marks on his plastron, and he bleeds. Oh yes, inside, there are many bruises, and he can feel at least one broken rib grate as he holds his humble pose before the image of the Master of Mankind, going through a Litany of Remembrance as he does so.

He stops, after finishing his devotions, and anoints himself with an ampule of holy water from a great marble bowl set in the Reclusiam, off to the right of the statue of Him on Earth. He turns, and stands, looking out over the city, watching the flashes of gunfire and the sounds of battle. He can do nothing, for now, too tired. While one of the catchphrases of the Eternal Crusade is no mercy, no respite, he can't bring himself to go out to fight again quite yet. Not like this. He can barely lift his sword. He needs.... rest.
And so he waits. For someone? Perhaps. Or perhaps just for a few moments of rest before returning to the war.