[OPEN] Chapel

Anywhere within the IG perimeter
User avatar
Drocol Ritter von Krieg
Posts: 483
Joined: Fri Jan 27, 2017 7:58 am
Location: Victoria, Australia
Contact:

Postby Drocol Ritter von Krieg » Tue Aug 22, 2017 8:39 am





Warrax
Posts: 39
Joined: Mon Jul 03, 2017 10:12 am

Postby Warrax » Tue Aug 22, 2017 10:20 am

The door to the chapel swung inward slowly, and for a long moment, a figure lingered in the doorway. A heartbeat passed and then the door finished its inward swing and admitted a new arrival. The figure was a tall man, broad of shoulder, his frame covered in the lean muscle borne of action. The man wore a desert warrior's uniform with straight-backed pride, as if the uniform were merely an outward expression of what burned brightly within his breast. Tan pants with brown camoflage patches covered his legs. He wore tawny-hued boots, a pair of lighter-tan knee pads and a BDU top in the same camoflage pattern as the pants. Wrapped around his neck, he wore a thin scarf with a mottled pattern of black and white splotches. Each of his thighs sported pouches of one sort or another, a bolt pistol holstered on the left and a knife on the right. On his chest, he wore a light-colored vest covered in pouches all across the front and back. Along the front, he stored a series of magazines for his bolt pistol, with other assorted gear clipped to the system of belts or zipped into the pouches. Just above the pouches, stenciled over his left breast rested the name "Sheppard." Belted at one hip, he wore a sword. Not a chainsword, but a classically-shaped weapon of melee. On his back, he bore a traveler's pack, and while he stood, he reached over with gloved hands to take a sip from the tube on his left shoulder connected to the water pack stored therein.

As he stepped off to the side in case anyone wished to enter on his heels, the man removed his helmet, tucking it and the cloth-sheated goggles on its front face beneath one arm as he looked around at the various accoutrements of faith plainly visible in the chapel. Reaching up with his free hand, the man removed sunglasses from his eyes and tucked them carefully into one of the pouches on his chest. The sides of his mouth curled up in a faint smile, an expression that gave off the impression of a man reassured. His sun-kissed skin, cheeks rough with stubble and still faintly slathered with grime, spoke not of a privileged officer, but of an enlisted man. And yet looking at the man, his bearing and countenance struck the casual observer as something more. Perhaps a more senior NCO? Certainly not a commissar, for he lacked the unique and particular garb of the Commissariat.

The smile broadened as he looked around and began walking forward. As he reached the pews, the man slipped the pack off of his shoulders and took a seat. He rested his backpack between his legs, helmet seated atop the pack. Leaning back in the pew, he settled his gaze upon the aquila, his beatific expression holding as he released himself to the rapture of the God-Emperor's dominion. Those close enough could see various patches on his uniform. Some were obscure enough that only a Guardsman could properly understand their meaning, but there were a number simple enough that any could piece together the most important information. The first of these was found on his shoulder epaulets, the distinctive railroad tracks of a captain denoting his status as a commissioned officer. The second, and perhaps the most important piece, was the Rosarius which hung from his neck. The device was simple, wrought from silver and hung upon a strong chain. He wore it with ease and pride, as if it had resided there for a long time. Never did he reach to it, never did he toy with it, though he bore it in a prominent location. It seemed, like the rest of his outfit, a natural extension of the man's self and not merely some outer accessory. It was this amulet which crafted the full image of the man: a Guardsman's uniform with an officer's rank, bearing a Rosarius about his neck. The new arrival was a chaplain from the Imperial Guard, a Ministorum priest trained as an emissary of faith to offer a balm to the souls of those sent to die en masse in the name of the Golden Throne, to serve all of humanity the galaxy over. Here was a confessor, a man who took charge of the health and well-being of the souls about him on the fields of battle. The last item of note was a simple patch on his right shoulder which read "778th Tallarn" in white text upon a stylized brown banner.

With his helmet and sunglasses removed, the weathered features of the man's face were thrown into relief. Scars popped up all over. A long one curled down the left end of his jaw; another split his right eyebrow in half. A third band of white flesh ran horizontally across the bridge of his nose. As he unwound the scarf from his neck and carefully stowed it in one of his chest pouches, he revealed a thicker scar, far angrier in appearance, which ran in a ragged line across his neck. The man was not, of course, a conventional officer, given over to organization and broad strategy. Chaplains, Ministorum priests sent to work with the Imperial Guard, to fight and die in the same mud, were not administrators. They were warriors, potent fighters who led from the front to inspire the men and women alongside whom they battled. For the moment content to rest upon the pew in silence, Sheppard let his gaze linger upon the aquila and ruminated.



Uniform Rosarius


[[ OOC: Aloha, long-winded opener... Anyway, hallo, peoples! ]]

[[ EDIT: Typos.... SMH ]]

User avatar
Commissar Cat
Posts: 2177
Joined: Mon Dec 26, 2016 9:53 pm
Location: Derbyshire, UK
Contact:

Postby Commissar Cat » Tue Aug 22, 2017 1:55 pm

Cat raised his head at the movement in the doorway, and nodded his greeting to the newcomer. He had no experience with Tallarn, but as a commissar he had read a little of their culture and work ethic. Not another Krieger, that's something different.

Before resting his head back down, Yorke spotted Private Hawke headed out the doorway, her face unreadable, rather than its usual trademark mask of confidence. Shortly followed by the young watchmaster. Cat raised an eyebrow, that was... Odd. The commissar silently stood up from his resting point, joints a little stiffer that he'd like to admit, from the hard seat.

(( Welcome! Everyone gotta enter somewhere, and this seems like a great fit))

Mordian Characters:
Others: / / /

User avatar
Johannes Wyss von Krieg
Posts: 2073
Joined: Mon Jan 09, 2017 11:32 am
Location: Ramat-Gan, Israel

Postby Johannes Wyss von Krieg » Tue Aug 22, 2017 2:42 pm

[[Greetings mate!]]

Small evening lights of many shops, passing locomotive, candles of the St. Rafał Kalinowski Cathedral and many others appeared like Tiny Stars shining in an ocean of movement in the Nowy Świat street were soon replaced by the lights of fires in an ocean of blood.

Green tides forming and endlessly blasting upon the hive's walls and plasma rounds punching right through them. Corpses lined up against walls after cleaning 'dissent to the Greater Good' and unending battle of 3 forces over what remained of Polskie, the decimation of the 3rd and the struggle of the remaining under the purple sky of the warp storm.
False promises of better future under the xenos, primal violence and unshakeable willpower mashed together to wipe out the scenic evening beauties of Nowy Świat. Tiny Star by Tiny Star.

He couldn't even recognise them after the shelling and their identification was established by what little biological matter remained on them that did not evaporate on the spot or collapsed under the rubble.
He could not remember them in any other way but this and because he does not want to remember them like this, he does not remember how they even looked like at all.

He saw his beloved's hand, and reached to grasp it, still warm, and pulled from under the rubble. But got only the hand.

The mind moved on its own and so did the fingers that cycled through the necklace, finally his eyes focused at the small object at its other end:

A silver ring.

Small streams of tears mixed with the blood leaking from his eyes.

/

Warrax
Posts: 39
Joined: Mon Jul 03, 2017 10:12 am

Postby Warrax » Tue Aug 22, 2017 4:33 pm

Movement in his peripheral vision caught Sheppard's eye and the Tallarn turned his head slowly, just enough to notice the commissar as the man turned his head in the priest's direction and nodded. Sheppard returned the gesture. Although frequently at odds with one another in terms of standard operating procedure, Sheppard preferring to motivate and inspire as a contrast to the heavy-handed methods employed by most commissars, the priest had a healthy dose of respect for the Commissariat. Graduates of the Schola who'd gone on to serve with the Tempestus Scions if but briefly, commissars knew a thing or two about war, and they weren't all gleeful at the prospect of executing men who had not yet developed the nerve to stand and deliver in the face of certain death. As the commissar stood, Sheppard raised an eyebrow, then glanced at the seat beside him on the pew by means of invitation. Perhaps it was mere courtesy, as the commissar seemed about to leave, but never the less, the priest extended it all the same.

Guardsman Samantha Hawke
Posts: 322
Joined: Tue Jul 25, 2017 8:12 pm

Postby Guardsman Samantha Hawke » Tue Aug 22, 2017 8:49 pm

Sam stood outside the doors of the chapel staring down at the unopened pack of high-grade lhos in her hand while her mind struggled to wrap itself around all the possible meanings of the confessor’s act of kindness. For the second time today, she was lost in thought when a voice beside her snapped her back to reality. Standing next to her was a tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed man. Where had he come from? And why was everyone sneaking up on her today?

The look on his face suggested he was waiting for a response, but she hadn’t been paying attention to what he said. She gave a nervous laugh and said “Yeah” noncommittally, before holding the lhos out to the stranger.

“Here.” She offered. “You want some smokes?”
Characters: ,

User avatar
Drocol Ritter von Krieg
Posts: 483
Joined: Fri Jan 27, 2017 7:58 am
Location: Victoria, Australia
Contact:

Postby Drocol Ritter von Krieg » Tue Aug 22, 2017 9:50 pm

The Watchmaster takes one lho. He inspects it. Then gave Samantha the eyebrow.

"You do know what these things do to your lungs.. Right?"

#28-D offers it back.




User avatar
Commissar Cat
Posts: 2177
Joined: Mon Dec 26, 2016 9:53 pm
Location: Derbyshire, UK
Contact:

Postby Commissar Cat » Tue Aug 22, 2017 11:26 pm


Mordian Characters:
Others: / / /

User avatar
Drocol Ritter von Krieg
Posts: 483
Joined: Fri Jan 27, 2017 7:58 am
Location: Victoria, Australia
Contact:

Postby Drocol Ritter von Krieg » Tue Aug 22, 2017 11:54 pm

The Watchmaster looks at his widening grin, then his wiggling eyebrows. I guess the rumours are true.. #28-D then shrugs off the leaning Commissar.

"I'm not in the same.. Alignment as you, Commissariat.. Besides. Would'nt your Aide be upset if he found another man in the Office?"

#28-D chuckles softly whilst hooking his Repirator to his belt. Then pats his shoulder.




User avatar
Commissar Cat
Posts: 2177
Joined: Mon Dec 26, 2016 9:53 pm
Location: Derbyshire, UK
Contact:

Postby Commissar Cat » Wed Aug 23, 2017 12:22 pm

Alignment..? Cat took a moment to realise how he'd been read. Oh God-Emperor, he thinks I'm serious- Yorke grasped his mistake in baiting the Krieger, and laughed at himself. This is how you get yourself a sensitivity training lecture, Ray...
He decided to roll with the teasing, if only to pull further attention away from the glum-looking Hawke. Cat slow-blinked, tilting his head, "Wait... You're telling me you do all this upkeep," he gestured to the immaculately groomed Krieger, "And it's for the benefit of... Non-commissars?" the commissar grinned again and wondered if Krieg had such words as dandy in their society. Probably not, he concluded.

Not grasping the heavy suggestion that Corporal Vayne may somehow object to a handsome guest for romantic reasons, Cat considered the question quite strange.
"Uhm, I suppose it would be inconsiderate of me to invite anyone back to the office... Corporal Vayne and I have an understanding that he doesn't bring his err..." Cat paused, trying to find a better word than the one that immediately sprang to mind, "...ladies of negotiable virtue... Back to base with him, after negotiations." he scratched an ear, chuckling.

Mordian Characters:
Others: / / /

Guardsman Samantha Hawke
Posts: 322
Joined: Tue Jul 25, 2017 8:12 pm

Postby Guardsman Samantha Hawke » Wed Aug 23, 2017 1:12 pm

Sam officially had no idea what was going on anymore. She used to have smokes; now she had chocolate. An astonishingly tall man greeted her, then a second pulled his attention away. And now the two of them were. . . flirting? Not that there was anything wrong with that; under normal circumstances she might have thought it was really hot. But after her talk with the confessor she lacked the wherewithal to make any sense of it.

“Excuse me,” she said weakly to no one in particular as she backed away, “I have a shrine to see to.”

[Thread Exit]
Characters: ,

User avatar
Commissar Cat
Posts: 2177
Joined: Mon Dec 26, 2016 9:53 pm
Location: Derbyshire, UK
Contact:

Postby Commissar Cat » Wed Aug 23, 2017 2:45 pm

Cat dropped the pantomime and opened the lho pack, flipping one to his mouth, "Whoops, looks like she's left. Sorry fella."
He lit the lho and at least was considerate enough to exhale the smoke far away from Drocol, a calm smile finding his lips. He placed a hand on Drocol's shoulder to prevent him from following Hawke, "Call me a pervert on open vox again, and I'll do more than ruin your casual conversations. Do we have an understanding?"

((Cat, trained conversational cock-blocker and street magician.))

Mordian Characters:
Others: / / /

User avatar
Johannes Wyss von Krieg
Posts: 2073
Joined: Mon Jan 09, 2017 11:32 am
Location: Ramat-Gan, Israel

Postby Johannes Wyss von Krieg » Wed Aug 23, 2017 4:24 pm

[[Cock-block who? Drocol? Does Erika needs to know something? ;) ]]

And after that: The world gone mad, vivid memories of underground networks, uprisings against the xenos, Drop Pods showering from the heavens and mountains of the deceased faithful being used as walls and blocks to barricade the Emperor's halls against waves upon waves of Heretics and traitors.

One world was not enough to contain the madness. Never enough.

The once serene peacefulness of the Polskie Hives -Now nothing more than burning cinders,
The Fertile fields of Melko, now irradiated and sickly, nothing more than barren soil.
And now Valmarya. Anouther Planet on the brink of falling to the Xenos and Traitors.
How many more rocks drifting in space must be purged from the Emperor's Enemies before the emptiness inside his own heart will be filled again with joy? How many litres of blood does one must bleed before his soul may rest a the Emperor's Side and finally reunite with his beloved?

He lined his eyes back at the Emperor to resume the staring contest.

Not enough, it seems.

The Door to the Chamber unlocked and the (now veiled) figure went back to its point of origin, scraping the heavy metal door on the floor before it was shut with an echo resonating through the Chapel.

[[Exit Thread]]

/

User avatar
Drocol Ritter von Krieg
Posts: 483
Joined: Fri Jan 27, 2017 7:58 am
Location: Victoria, Australia
Contact:

Postby Drocol Ritter von Krieg » Thu Aug 24, 2017 7:26 am





User avatar
Aishachan
Posts: 523
Joined: Tue Dec 27, 2016 10:03 pm

Postby Aishachan » Thu Aug 24, 2017 7:44 am

There were a number of things Makarov generally expected to be able to go to the chapel, talk to confessor von Smit or say hello to Shepard if he happened to be there, pray, contemplate her current situation or simply be in the presence of His divinity. Given the current time she expected to be able to do all this while surrounded by few if any people. Most of the time the chapel was busy when there were actual sermons going on, not between. So of course that wasn't true. She was caught by surprise when a curly, brown haired trooper came hustling past, looking distracted and fleeing from none other than commissar Yorke and a particularly healthy looking Krieg trooper who were in a very chilly conversation. (The Kreiger looked so normal he could pass for a regular person, at least from a glance over.)

She nodded to the woman as she passed, considering asking her if she was alright, but deciding against it. The trooper seemed like she was intent on leaving the area, and asking in front of other people seemed unnecessarily and overly concerned, possibly bothersome to her as well. Perhaps later, if the malaised look continued. Instead Makarov made her way to the other pair, catching something about perverts and voxs and not liking threats as the Krieger made to leave. Internally she sighed to herself. Those words shouldn't be coming out of a trooper, for a number of reasons- commissars didn't threaten they just started facts, a commissar should seem beyond a statment like like etc etc.

Externally she simply arched a brow, taking her hat off and tucking it under her arm. She had been taught it was rude to wear a hat in the house of the Emperor.

Coughing lightly, as the Krieger left she looked to Yorke "Did I interrupt something?"

Currently playing:
The earnest-est little commissar// But what would a Commissar do? // There's a form for (or on) that!

User avatar
Commissar Cat
Posts: 2177
Joined: Mon Dec 26, 2016 9:53 pm
Location: Derbyshire, UK
Contact:

Postby Commissar Cat » Thu Aug 24, 2017 12:57 pm


Mordian Characters:
Others: / / /

User avatar
Fates End
Posts: 504
Joined: Thu Mar 30, 2017 1:00 am
Location: Deepest Darkest Montana

Postby Fates End » Thu Aug 24, 2017 1:26 pm

Most of the others had left the building itself. Bringing about an even deeper silence to the chapel's inner workings. But it brought no comfort to Ash.

He exhaled sharply, as though struck by an invisible foe. This place wouldn't do. It was too ceremonial, and the dead deserved better than such.

The armored Watchmaster stood, staring at the pulpit with something bordering on contempt. And turned to go.

His eyes caught sight of the priest and his expression quickly grew impassive. The Mask of Krieg was as much a mentality as it was an actual gasmask. And it would be best not to show the Priest any sign of weakness.

He started for the door, moving with measured steps. Eyes locked on the wooden frame.
"In life, war. In death, peace. In life, shame. In death, atonement."

(Fates now has too many characters to link easily. Thus follow this handy link to my character thread and go wild.

User avatar
Aishachan
Posts: 523
Joined: Tue Dec 27, 2016 10:03 pm

Postby Aishachan » Thu Aug 24, 2017 9:22 pm

If Makarov heard the mutter she didn't let on. She watched, impassive, as Cat tapped at his temple and finished speaking to the Krieger. Smoothing her belt as she waited, she wondered why everyone was gathering at the steps of the chapel instead of inside.

"...Mmm. There has been a fair bit of vox traffic, so it would be good for everyone to get a reminder of proper protocol and usage." She agreed, "Though for the most part people have managed better than might be expected." At the question she shook her head. "I unfortunately missed coming this morning, and happened to be able to make it now. I didn't have anyone in mind, though it's never disquieting to run into one of the members of the faith." She smiled, heartened at the idea of the members of the church in general, apparently. "Yourself?"

Currently playing:
The earnest-est little commissar// But what would a Commissar do? // There's a form for (or on) that!

User avatar
Commissar Cat
Posts: 2177
Joined: Mon Dec 26, 2016 9:53 pm
Location: Derbyshire, UK
Contact:

Postby Commissar Cat » Thu Aug 24, 2017 11:27 pm

"I thought I might find... reflection." Cat looked back at the doors, and shook his head. He hadn't, "I don't think chapels are my scene. Too many people... Too much sound. And the confessor has left for the day, so I don't really know what I'm here for."
The commissar stared into the middle distance, his lho burning unattended in his hand, ash tail building.

Though Yorke had begun taking his medication properly, he still looked rather drawn, and dark around the eyes, as though something was weighing heavily. Standing in his civvies by the imperial building, still gently shedding lho ash, he looked a little out of place.

Mordian Characters:
Others: / / /

User avatar
Fates End
Posts: 504
Joined: Thu Mar 30, 2017 1:00 am
Location: Deepest Darkest Montana

Postby Fates End » Fri Aug 25, 2017 12:07 am

There was a creak of the door as Ash stepped out into the open air. And almost walked into the pair of commissars.

His gear and armor softly clinked and rustled as he came to a swift stop. Saluting the two officers sharply and coming to attention. "Apologies, Commissars. Didn't mean to interrupt."
"In life, war. In death, peace. In life, shame. In death, atonement."

(Fates now has too many characters to link easily. Thus follow this handy link to my character thread and go wild.


Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 2 guests