[OPEN] Chapel

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Warsmith Wolf
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Postby Warsmith Wolf » Tue Nov 07, 2017 7:02 pm

Past the main nave of the chapel and its pews sat the transept and the entrances to the two semitransepts on either side of the main aisle, just before the chancel. The semitransepts contained the entrances to the towering Gothic spire of the chapel - as with most Imperial cathedra - and the bell at its summit. Considering the altar as due North, a figure had quietly emerged from the western semitransept door, garbed in an emerald green robe and clutching a tome of some sort. Taking a seat as close to the semitransept door as possible, the diminutive clergyman gently opened their tome and began to... run their hands along its pages.

How odd.

The robed individual did not appear to actually look at the book, instead slowly tracing each word gently with their fingers as if their hands could read for them. Though it was hard to tell from the distance, the strange book didn't even appear to have words in a traditional sense - simply lots and lots of randomly placed dots. Was this the uncommon Brayl Gothic, the ancient written script that only those without sight could read? If so, how had the robed clergyman retrieved it - and descended from the spire's winding steps - unaided?

They say the God-Emperor works in mysterious ways.
Ferrum honore veniat.


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Postby Hobbsy » Tue Nov 07, 2017 10:52 pm

Last edited by Hobbsy on Wed Nov 08, 2017 4:23 am, edited 1 time in total.
//

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Postby Warsmith Wolf » Tue Nov 07, 2017 11:47 pm

Ferrum honore veniat.


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Postby Hobbsy » Sun Nov 12, 2017 10:18 pm

"It is a part my brother, but do not fear. Sister Ophelia here will simply ease the pain within your mind." Von Smit replied as he stood back up. "Although this is only a temporary solution, I hope it will help as I collect from the sacristy the items that I need. Will you please wait here with Sister Ophelia?". The confessor noted how nervous Ishmael was at the presence of the psyker. Von Smit had dealt with his far share of these gifted individuals over his time in the Inquisition and had come to see them as a true blessing of the Emperor to have around. But he also knew how others felt worried or even down right mistrusted them. Though one could not just make assumptions, carefully placed questions and statements would shine on the dark patches of the unknown.
//

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Warsmith Wolf
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Postby Warsmith Wolf » Tue Nov 14, 2017 9:37 pm

Ferrum honore veniat.


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Postby TheExpendableGuard » Fri Dec 22, 2017 11:37 pm

"Immortal God-Emperor, what have I done to earn so much of your ire?" Unteroffizer Johann Schultz asked as he knelt down towards the back of the chapel, clasping both hands tightly as the beleaguered sergeant tried to understand how he ended up living through each assault while the rest of his unit ended up as puddles of goo or red splotches along the inside of a building. "Is it more than enough you take my comrades but leave me alive? All I ask for is to simply keep the rest of my men alive, long enough to see home again. Please, all mighty and beneficent Emperor, grant my request." He said before reciting the Imperial Hymnal silently to himself.
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Drocol Ritter von Krieg
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Postby Drocol Ritter von Krieg » Tue Feb 13, 2018 11:20 pm

[Time skip]

Drocol Ritter, also known as #28-D-0715 the Defective.. Was sitting alone in the front, on a pew thinking hard.. He closes his eyes, concealing his royal blue iris' before taking off his Respirator and breathes in and out. Suddenly gasps and open his eyes, revealing his light blue eyes that haven't shone themselves since Candlemas.. He falls forward and lands on his hands and knees, desperately taking in the "fresh" air that swirled in this Church. He coughed and gagged in the stained presence of the Emperor for a minute before breathing normally. "Guh.. *Koff, koff!* Eugh.." He felt like vomiting, but did not.. As it would be pathetic for him to do so..

"Buh, by.. By the Thronevorl-world..." He thought he would never be himself again.. The long night was over, but only for tonight.. He looks up, looking up at Him as he knelt before Him.. Drocol touches his face, then runs his fingers through his warm black hair and rests his hands on his shoulders.. Slowly recovering from the transition..




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Postby Hobbsy » Wed Feb 14, 2018 5:53 am

Inside the confessional both, Von Smit had now been sitting for over an hour, wait for anyone who might have popped in for the designated time for reconciliation. It was typical, people would always want to confess at the most unlikely hours of the day or night, but when there is an arranged time for confession, no one comes. He was almost on the verge of drifting off to sleep when a sudden thump from outside startled him. Quickly stepping out and taking in the Chapel's interior, nothing seemed out of place. But it didn't take long before he heard the unusual noises from the front pews. Moving at a hastened, he soon broke into a run as he found the bent over form of the Krieger. Rushing to his side, Kibby immediately took his are to support and help the man up. "Dear brother! What has happened to you?" the confessor questioned, wide eyed with concern and surprise.
//

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Drocol Ritter von Krieg
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Postby Drocol Ritter von Krieg » Fri Feb 16, 2018 5:07 am

"C-confessor..?" The Krieger looks at Kibby as he helps him up, then grabs his robes neck piece. "B-BIN ICH DEFEKT!?" He adds another hand and grips onto it harshly. "Why do I persist AUF DAS LEBEN!?" Drocol lifts the short Confessor off his feet. His light blue eyes shook in visible rage and anger.. His teeth gritted as he glared up at the presumably scared Confessor. "W-WHAT'S the point ON even das Leben!?" He shook Kibby. "SAG MIR!?"




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Postby Hobbsy » Sat Feb 17, 2018 6:17 pm

When Drocol reached for his collar, Von Smit only realized the Krieger's intention when his grip fastened like a vice. And then there was the yelling. At first he was clam, he had already had a pistol aim at him by the same individual before after all. But as he tried to reply Drocol continued to shout hysterical, not giving him a chance to speak. Before he knew it, he was hoisted up into the air.Once again this wasn't a first for Kibby, but the previous experiences of this situation weren't pleasant memories for the poor Confessor. As he was shoved back and forth in mid air, he felt the desperate urge to call out for Inquisitor Flic's aid. But there was no more help now from his friend, so he would have to help himself. With wide eyes of shock and fright, Von Smit tired all the harder to get anything across to Drocol.

"Dro..Dr..Drocol! Bitte fallen lassen.. I mean.. bitte hör auf! I-Ich werde Ihnen sagen! Just.. b-bitte leg mich runter!"
//

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Warsmith Wolf
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Postby Warsmith Wolf » Mon Feb 19, 2018 6:53 pm

Shouting tends to carry quite far in the airy spaces of a chapel. Verbal, mostly, but then there are some who are attuned to finer things - the shouting of the mind, if one will. And no amount of bricks or mortar can muffle the latter, as a quill and ink suddenly clattering to the floor in a room in the chapel's spire will attest.

Adept Ophelia Melisandre had never liked being near soldiers from Krieg. Their thoughts tasted acrid, ash and cinder and chemical stink, equal parts cold iron and warm blood - and what made it even more unsettling was that they were all so very, very similar. She couldn't tell one from the other at a glance - physically or psychically - and the presence of more than one felt like such an unfeeling mass of hollow self-hatred that she couldn't bear to go near them for more than a few seconds. So to feel one from such distance, and to feel it panicking, filled the poor young woman with anxiety.

What on Terra could make one of them panic?

Despite her trepidations, the astropath tentatively reached out to the chapel floor below her. The familiar presence of the Confessor was there too, almost masked behind the cloying thoughts of the Krieger, and she tried to feel what he felt, to under-

[SHOCK/FEAR/HORROR]

Ophelia recoiled, equal parts her own fear and the Confessor's psyche bleeding over into hers, and for a moment she simply remained on her cot, shivering. Something was very, very wrong down there, and he needed help. The adept had a laspistol, yes, but she had never concerned herself with practising with the thing and frankly found the idea of using it abhorrent. Clutching her astropathic staff, Ophelia forced herself to leave her tiny quarters and begin her descent down the winding stairs of the Chapel.

Emerging out into the main space of the Chapel to find her only friend being throttled by a Krieger, the young adept assessed the situation with a professional attitude and calm outlook.

And by that I mean she screamed in horror and would probably have fallen over in shock if not for the staff she was clutching to.
Ferrum honore veniat.


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Drocol Ritter von Krieg
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Postby Drocol Ritter von Krieg » Thu Mar 22, 2018 7:07 pm

When the scream bounced off the walls and into his seemingly shattered mind. Drocol dropped the Confessor, making sure that his aide didn't fall onto his rear. Poor man might pop a hip. The Krieger then stood there in shock as he saw the frightened woman. Seeing the absolute horror etched on her face made the Krieger look at his hands. He feels like he's just committed bloody murder and when he surveys his hands.. He, and only he sees blood seep through his black groves. Fresh bright red blood began to drip off his hands and looks at the Confessor. He was fine.. But he looks back to his hands. Why was he bleeding? He then looks to the Young Adept again.

Obviously she's the cause of such thing to occur! KiLl tHe MuTaNt.. But all he does is drop to the ground.. Sitting, with hands on his face. He made no sounds, except for what sounded like a soft whimper. What is he..? A Son of Krieg..? Or he, himself a Mutant..?




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Postby Hobbsy » Sun Mar 25, 2018 5:51 am

By this point the Confessor was well shaken and quite disoriented by the whole ordeal, barely registering Melisandre's scream. The sudden release and not as rough as expected bump of returning to the ground quickly brought him back to his senses. Kibby couldn't remember if he had been mentally trained to regain his senses in this kind of situation or if his mind simply cleared with a foundation to stand on. "It's alright sister!" he called out to the invisibly disturbed psyker "We all have our moments, I'm okay. No harm no foul.". As he reassured her, the Confessor payed close attention to Astropath's body language. He knew she was stable enough not be be of any threat with her Emperor blessed gifts, but she was over sensitive because of then and would most likely need something to settle her nerves later.

For a moment, the Confessor sat on the ground as he turned his attention back to the soldier of Krieg now seated. He may have seemed to be to be trying to regain his breath on the floor, but in his head Von Smit mind was once more racing. He had just witnessed the outburst of one who many believe didn't have feelings, but he knew better. He had worked with them before and knew that underneath the mask was a man of flesh and blood like himself. A man who no matter how strong, no matter how void of emotion, will inevitably crack if exposed to the horrors of war without the proper treatment. And yet, Von Smit felt there something else was present. Maybe his long years with the Inquisition has made him overly suspicious, but there was one think he had learnt through those long years of service. Never discard it as normal...

The Confessor picked himself off the stone floor, reassured his octagonal glasses and walked over to Drocol. "I wasn't expecting that Drocol.". He spoke in his normal high pitched and heavily accented voice, as if nothing has happened. "Would you like to share with me what that was all about?"
//

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Drocol Ritter von Krieg
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Postby Drocol Ritter von Krieg » Sun Apr 15, 2018 8:16 pm

N-Nein..” He sniffled.. “N-nicht.. Nicht recht jetzt...” Drocol began to lay on the stone cold floor, his hands still covering his face. “Gut Tag, kalt boden..” He greets the cold floor, though tears were to be expected.. He got rid of the clear yet salty liquid rolling down his cheeks. The Son of Krieg sighs and takes in the cold air. The Confessor asks him about his outburst.. He groans and removes his shield and places them on his chest, feeling it rise and fall steadily. “Life..” Is all he said, turning his head to one side. Looking away from the confessor. “I know my kind doesn’t say that too often.. Usually, it’s just “In life Shame.” I know that, for my ancestors.. But I need to live for something else, not just for Him..” He points to the stained image of His excellency, the Emperor. “Call me a Heretic for all I care — a mutant no less. I should be burned at the stake right..?” He looks back to the Kibby with an crazed look that came with an maddening smile, before draining back to the simple dead look.

He sits up finally, throwing his hands in front of him then letting them fall onto his lap, looking down at them as if he was contemplating life. “Defective.. I am cursed yet gifted.” He looks back to the stained glass. “I’m not sure if he blessed me with these difficulties, or it was just a very unqiue accident..” He laughs loudly, then falls silent. “Maybe He’s punishing me for being too skeptical.. For not accepting a weakness, such as her.” His hand curls into a fist and punches the ground, while the other reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out a lamentated picture. “My, pale weakness..” His thumb strokes the photo, as he looks at it with sorrow. Finally, he looks back to Confessor von Smitt, looking him in the eye. “I’m broken Confessor... That is what all this was about..




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Postby Hobbsy » Tue Apr 17, 2018 5:11 am

The Confessor listened to the man on the floor before him, the stern look on his face staying throughout Drocol's reply. But as the man of Krieger finished, Von Smit's faced immediately softened and for once his smile was too creepy.

"No, your not a heretic, if you were I would have already prepared a fire." Kibby squeezed his eyes shut, realizing what he had just said. "What I mean is your actions and feelings are not because of heresy, just a broken spirit." Once more the Confessor returned to the floor, sitting beside Drocol as he steers into the same stain glass window.

"The good news is that broken things can be fixed, the problem is though, you need to know what's exactly broken if you wish to fix it. For example, the Cadians use the turn broken for when there formations are unable to fulfil their objectives. Or was it when their forces to pull back? Ether way, there are many ways one may find themselves broken. A man might suffer from a broken body which afflicts him, another may have a broken will after seeing more than any man should ever have to witness."

"Others.."The short man leaned over to peak at picture in the taller man's hand with a broader smile "..From a broke heart."
//

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Postby Hobbsy » Sat Nov 03, 2018 5:59 pm

((Time skip.))
The day the sky is bleak and overcast. It is quiet typical of the current season here on Valmaria. At the entrance of the Chapel there is a similarly typical sight. Confessor Von Smit stared around the surrounding area, his gaze moving towards any sort of movement. Although this is not an unusual occurrence, there is something different today. Whether it is the face that he is more actively keeping vigilance or the fact that instead of smiling his (rather unsettling) smile, his face is emotionless, something is definitely up today.

But to the Confessor, it was wanted to wait here. It was important to guide whoever came in reply to his message as quickly as possible. He jusjuniper hoped someone would be free to answer his vox message.
//

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Postby LaxKnight » Sat Nov 03, 2018 11:01 pm

Hospitaller Advance Mari Valentine went as soon as she got the word. The Sororitas serve the Ministorum. When the vox call went out by a Confessor seeking help for a medical problem, there was some mild surprise that he didn't call upon the Hospitallers directly. Perhaps speed was needed? Or maybe he wasn't aware of their presence? No matter; they will answer and Mari was just happy to finally be out of the Ward. She may not be heading to a battlefield but it was a start.

The blue carapaced Hospitaller swiftly walked to the Chapel. She didn't know what will be required from her besides some sort of checkup so she brought her Chirurgeon's tools mounted on her arm and a bag of a few tools and supplies. She never personally met the Confessor, her work forcing her to spend most of the time in the Ward, but seeing the smaller man with spectacles waiting outside the Chapel door bearing some holy yet sparse iconography there was no doubt he was Von Smit. When she reached him she gave him a small bow.

"Hospitaller Advance Marilyn Valentine responding to your call for aid, Confessor. You may simply refer to me as Hospitaller Valentine or Mari if you wish," she said, "What do you need assistance with?"
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Postby Riveris » Sun Nov 04, 2018 1:55 am

Wilfred walked towards the chapel a lit Iho in his mouth, A silver died candle in his left hand and in his right carried a glass case to hold the candle.In it was carved and colored. The pure black and crimson eyes of the imagery of Vulkan and the heardlry of the salamanders. An aquilla in a veil of holy flame above him. The lines dug into the glass where straight for the most part. little to no curve in the design along the outline of the micro mural. Ready for his prayers.

As he reached the doors of the chappel about to stubb out his Iho and save what remained for latter. Apon seeing the hospitaller and the confessor he felt his heart stutter for a moment forgetting to douse his Iho. He was not sure how to handle this situation. Dose he pass by with a "father and sister." dose he wait with a bowed head. dose he just go back to the bunks and forget that he saw anything. He had no cracking idea what to do. So he just waited. Putting the heels of his boots together and bowing his head down as he would wait for them to go into the chapel or call to him. Placing his candle into the glass but leaving it unlit.


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