[Open - rank restrictions] "The Fox Hole" - Mess and Rec Room

Anywhere within the IG perimeter
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Commissar Cat
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Postby Commissar Cat » Mon Oct 09, 2017 8:38 pm

Unlike the officers mess, the Fox Hole has sprung up out of necessity and perseverance amongst the enlisted.
One and a half floor building, with three intact brick walls and some original roof, the rest of the building has been created from corrugated panels, tarp, pieces of tent and supply palettes. Steps lead to a small amount of the second floor intact, dedicated to storage.
It's waterproof and warm, which is the best that can be hoped for.
A functional door and hand painted sign mark the building out as an NCO bar and rec room.

Mismatched furniture and lighting give the building interior a very eccentric appearance, but so long as it's dry, and a refuge from the tired but watchful eyes of Commissars and command, nobody seems to mind.

A slightly ramshackle pool table has been secured, though the balls vary in both age and quality, as do the cues. It's reputedly kept level, but does suffer from vibrations and gradual shift as heavy vehicles or particularly leaden boots pass by the thin walls.

Next to the door is also the customary dart board, shreds of paper marking where a pict has been hastily torn down from the surface. A chalkboard next to it keeps score, although occasionally used for other purposes.

The first priority though, is the bar. It is mostly constructed from salvaged palettes, pieces of door, and in some places, nailed down, flattened ration tins. The surface is smooth and well worn, though sporting a few haphazardly arranged holes towards one end.
Local help is understandably less than forthcoming, so usually the bar is manned by any off-duty Cadian Whiteshield. The perk of doing so is the occasional free sample, and getting to dispose of any mistakenly poured drinks.

The bar stock changes from week to week, variety usually depending on what has been traded in recently, or what has been brewed in the barracks.
Food is mostly dry rations or snacks from local traders, nothing to write home about, but the salt distracts from the quality of the alcohol.

*** ***

- NCO and Enlisted Guardsmen ONLY:
Troopers, Privates, Corporals, Sergeants, and all ranks below Lieutenant.

- NO:
Lieutenants, Captains, Commissariat, Commanders, or non Astra Militarum personnel.
You have your own topic: viewtopic.php?f=6&t=32
No crash inspections. No raids.

Exceptions by prior clearance only. For example, Candlemass and New Year's Eve tend to mean an open door for any friendly face.

- You are encouraged to build on the setting, add furniture and available items. Salvage salvage salvage! ;D

- Please do not provide a permanent bartender, as then player inaction stalls the entire topic. :) Use generic staff.
Last edited by Commissar Cat on Sun Nov 05, 2017 6:53 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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MaskedAndDangerous
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Postby MaskedAndDangerous » Mon Oct 09, 2017 9:40 pm

Trooper Diego "Dizzy" Ziegler, Arkenian 33rd



Dizzy tossed a dart at the board. Nice release, easy shot. The dart spiraled. It didn't land quite where he wanted it to, but it was a good shot. He paused a second to grab a glass of water.

Alcohol and him never ended well.

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CyGamer
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Postby CyGamer » Mon Oct 09, 2017 11:12 pm

"frakking mess out there..." Odril muttered, half way through his 3 drink. He'd been assigned to patrol and things just had not gone well. First thing the Chimera blew out, so they had to hump it across the patrol site, which was covered in 2 feet of mud. Then the spot were they were suppose to change shifts was blasted by some stray artillery a day ago, and to top it off the other group hadn't even left the base. The ensuing paper work had left him in a sour mood, and now he was drowning the day in a few brews.

"Always is sir." Krast said from across the bar, playing a game of Solitary as he nursed his own drink, "It's like that old saying, 'Wars a mess, and we're the janitors.'"

"Thats not old you started saying that a month ago!" Odril grumbled.

"I...well...its still good." Krast scowled and took a drink. He thought it was as good as any other saying.

Who says the future has to be grimdark? Matt Ward that's who.

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ClearlyInvsible
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Postby ClearlyInvsible » Mon Oct 09, 2017 11:36 pm

Fatima sat at a table all her lonesome, her Las-rifle lying deconstructed infront of her next to a tall tin of Re-caf. Her words tossed towards both Cadians as they chattered amongst themselves. Her headscarf had been removed, hanging off of her belt as she fiddled with the pieces of her magnifying scope. Out of all the pieces that needed to be serviced, it was always the optic that caused her the most trouble.

"It's like that old saying, 'Wars a mess, and we're the janitors.'"

That phrase punctured her ears rather effectively, pausing her work as she glanced over towards Krast. Once the two terminated their short banter, the Tallarn finally fired her own quip.

"Is it normal for Cadians to philophsize like they're members of the Ecclesiarchy?" She'd question, setting the scope down next to the rest of her weapon. "Or do they only do so when bored?"

Corporal Fatima al-Nasr

Nevaraon
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Postby Nevaraon » Tue Oct 10, 2017 12:48 am

The door slammed open letting in a cold breeze from outside, and in stepped Sir Creedanfall "Croaker" Vervusius. His normally smiling face instead was very serious. He stood with in the doorway, leaving the door open behind him, wearing his traditional off duty uniform of a black and red tabard with the eye of Katavar seeming to gaze at everyone who looked at it. He slowly took stock of the room, before speaking aloud to the room.

"Cousins........I doth have very disturbing news..." he began gravely. "I hath recently come from a patrol wherein we discovered a group of rebels whom we doth put to route. However I discovered in their lair....some highly questionable and rather Taboo substances." Those who had spent any sort of time with the Katavarian knight could see his eyes start to twinkle with subdued mirth. "As loyal subjects of the emperor, I thought it best if I invited you to help me dispose of these taboo substances." He reached behind him and dragged in a large case full of locally made alcohol. Croaker's smile was wide as he stepped fully into to room and headed to the bar to deposit the crate.

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Hobbsy
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Postby Hobbsy » Tue Oct 10, 2017 6:41 am

Paxton Moroz awoke to the sound of the door slamming open, his eyes flickering open as he saw the lopsided view from where his head rested. A man in a uniform which was unfamiliar to the Valhallan spoke something about needed a hand with drinking taboo? He struggled to make sense of it all. With a groan the large man hosted himself up from the table in the corner of the room he had fallen asleep on, made from half a door and from a chunk of a wood dingy. Sitting once more upright, his mind cleared enough to see that the strangers 'taboo' was in fact more alcohol for the bar. Not so long ago he would jump at the opportunity to enjoy a new drink whilst getting to know someone he hadn't meet before, but now, now he just stayed in the corner where he sat.

Surveying the rest of the room, he noted the changes since he had drifted off: two Cadians, is that a third one playing darts? And also another soldier in desert uniform. His eyes floated back to the table before him which, unlike the room, was pretty much the same as how he left it. One plain shot glass and two bottles of local Whiskey. The only change was that one of the bottles were now empty. For a moment he stared at the bottles. Ever since his lost, he hadn't been sleeping. Before he could sleep anywhere (his beard and dreadlocks made the perfect pillow), but now he struggled and his superiors in his regiment in true Valhallan style advised him that drinking would be the best option. The whiskey wasn't as good as Valhallan vodka, though its almost golden colour was tempting to the eyes.

'It is fine stuff..' the thought lingered in his mind for a moment, along with the fact that he was of duty for at least another day. And so, Paxton opened the second bottle, poured himself a shot and began to slowly make his way through the second dosage.
Last edited by Hobbsy on Tue Oct 10, 2017 3:10 pm, edited 1 time in total.
//

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CyGamer
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Postby CyGamer » Tue Oct 10, 2017 9:01 am


Who says the future has to be grimdark? Matt Ward that's who.

Guardsman Samantha Hawke
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Postby Guardsman Samantha Hawke » Tue Oct 10, 2017 9:30 pm

A roar of mixed triumph and outrage went up from the far corner where a small crowd of enlisted were gathered; some crouched, some standing, all eyes transfixed on something on the floor.

“Ha HAAA! Pay up, bitches! Pay up!” Came Samantha Hawke’s familiar voice soaring with exultation over the rabble of the group.

“Roll ‘em again, Hawke!” Demanded one of the men. “Double or nothing.”

“You that desperate for me to clean you out?” She chided the group. A chorus of jeers came as their reply.

There was a collective sharp intake of breath, and then a tense silence fell over the group, broken only by the tiniest of clatters as the dice bounced across the rough floor. Then came another uproar from the group, woops of victory from Sam, and the shuffling sound of Thrones and lhos changing hands.

“You should know never to bet against me!” Sam taunted the group, laughing viciously at their misfortune.

“Again, Hawke!”

“Hell, no! I'm done. Gimme my money!”

“She's cheating.”

“What?! Am not!”

“Then roll ‘em.”

“Frak you.”

“She’s scared.”

“. . . Gimme the damn dice.”

Silence again. None dared breathe. All leaned in to see the little plastic cubes tumble. Hawke ground the dice between her palms, and blew a long slow breath into her cupped hands. A quick flick of her wrist sent the dice flying. They skittered across the ground, bounced against the wall, up and back, hanging for a moment at their apex before falling back to roll across the floor again. The first die came to a rest: Six. Momentum still carried the second, though now it was merely sliding, it’s topmost face showing a Five. Sam’s victory seemed inevitable. . . until an edge of the little cube caught a divot in the floor causing it to tip. A second Six.

The other gamblers erupted in laughter and cheers, and Sam angrily tossed her previous winnings to the floor before stomping off in a huff. Crossing the room, she collapsed noisily into a chair next to Krast and rested her elbows on the table and head in her hands. She gave herself a moment to steam, then looked over at her fellow Cadian.

“Kraaast,” She began, giving him a pouty face and her biggest sad-puppy eyes “Can I bum a smoke? I just lost all mine.”
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MaskedAndDangerous
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Postby MaskedAndDangerous » Tue Oct 10, 2017 10:35 pm

Dizzy snickered from the sidelines, taking another sip from his water, before throwing another dart at the board.
Rolled 1. Quick +3. Total 4.

Bullseye.

He turned, arms up in triumph... and no one was watching. Darn.

"Fragg it. Does anyone want to play ?"

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CyGamer
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Postby CyGamer » Wed Oct 11, 2017 7:26 pm


Who says the future has to be grimdark? Matt Ward that's who.

Nevaraon
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Postby Nevaraon » Wed Oct 11, 2017 9:32 pm

Croaker came over, with a bottle and three glasses, and sat at the table with Krast and Hawke. He poured them all a drink, it was a strong clear liquid with a sweet overtone.

"So what are we playing cousins?" He asked the other two guardsmen

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Furbnus
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Postby Furbnus » Thu Oct 12, 2017 8:10 am

"No! NO! The door is to the LEFT you stupid thing! Agh! I AM NOT THE DOOR!" Holland enters The Fox Hole, a loading servitor at his heels holding a crate. "Alright bitches, the party has arrived! S-2b, crack that frakking crate open!" The servitor opens the crate, revealing multiple decks of cards, a heavily modified vox-unit, many-many packs of lho and an absolutely ridiculous amount of alcohol. Holland places the vox on the bar and tunes into Felix Hartman Vox-Talks, he takes a cord dangling from the side and connects it to an amp on the back of the servitor. "Alright everyone! Grab some lho and booze!" He starts passing out the decks of cards, winking at Hawke as he gives her a bottle of Valhallan Mead in addition to the cards.
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Hobbsy
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Postby Hobbsy » Thu Oct 12, 2017 3:46 pm

Looking forward to things quieting down after the game of dice had finished, Paxton was Less than amused when the corporal walked in with the laden servitor and started yelling. So much for a bit of quiet time to get some sleep. There was no point in leaving ether, he'd already opened the bottle of whiskey so he might as well finish it.

With a sigh he observed the man set up his vox and hand out booze and lho packets. Suddenly the Valhallan eyes widened as he spotted the familiar alcohol of his homeworld. The 52nd had been told that there was none left on base due to a stray artillery shell! Paxton move with surprising speed to the front of the quickly forming line, most people wisely choosing to step out of his way as one would step out of the way of a lumbering Leman Russ. With a one track mind he grabbed three bottles, thanked the quatermaster and made his way back to his table. Now it won't matter if the party was loud enough for the Emperor himself to hear, once he got a good amount of the Mead in him he would sleep soundly. Who knows, his mood was improving with this new development. He might even join in the party. A faint smile crested Paxton's face, though one would have to be looking closely to notice it under his thick beard and moustache. For the first time in a while he felt a little like himself again.
//

Guardsman Samantha Hawke
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Postby Guardsman Samantha Hawke » Thu Oct 12, 2017 5:27 pm

“Your cards. Your dice. I'll even roll up my sleeves if you want” Sam replied to Krast, beaming as she snatched the pack of smokes from the table. Her hands were a blur as they executed what was perhaps their most rehearsed ritual, and instantly Sam had a freshly lit lho happily lodged in the corner of her mouth.

She saw the wink Corporal Chekov sent her way and felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. She gave him a nervous forced smile in return and swiftly relocated, crouching low behind Croaker, peering over his shoulders which she gripped tightly.

“Krag! Krag!” She whispered loudly. “Look at that guy. His teeth are frakkin’ HUGE! Why are his teeth so big?”

Her arm shot over croaker’s shoulder, swiped one of the glasses he had poured, and she brought the sweet liquid to her lips, wide horrified eyes still locked on the indescribably distressing quartermaster.
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Johannes Wyss von Krieg
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Postby Johannes Wyss von Krieg » Thu Oct 12, 2017 6:03 pm

...This... is the wrong place to spend the very few moments of actual free time. But it is also the prime location for congergation of low ranked Guardsmen and as such, the optimal place to gather intel. Of course there were other alternatives but they were more familiar, this "Fox Hole" establishment was almost unknown.
At the end, Curiosity took over, and Curiosity eradicated the Felines.

An uncontrolled party can go wrong on so many levels, levels that the participants never actually thought of like possible Tau attack, or poisoning from overdosing on alcohol which lowers fighting capability not to mention the pure waste of resources thrown around with little to no reason.

Nobody saw how the fully battle ready Gas Huffer managed to enter the bar, perhaps from being too much engrossed in their own recreational activities and the Quartermaster taking the centre of the attention but also from the simple fact that Jägers are meant to be hidden until they reveal themselves.
Just like it did now by materializing from thin air at the free corner of the table on which sat Krag, Sam and Croaker.

"Requesting permission to join the game." The muffled voice behind the respirator announced.

/

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CyGamer
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Postby CyGamer » Thu Oct 12, 2017 8:42 pm


Who says the future has to be grimdark? Matt Ward that's who.

Nevaraon
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Postby Nevaraon » Fri Oct 13, 2017 1:51 am


blinddeadmcjones
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Postby blinddeadmcjones » Fri Oct 13, 2017 9:18 am

amidst all the commotion of games being played and conversations had one aloof figure was doing their level best to pretend it wasn't going on.
alone at the bar sat Marida, nursing a drink with one hand and resting her chin on the other, her unit had been assign to provide forward scout support for the cadian patrol led by Ordil, suffice to say she was in a similarly dour mood.

should've gone to the smoke pit. was all she kept thinking, it was much quieter down there and drew less attention, it also had less weather protection and an even more random selection of drinks on offer and she wasn't exactly in the mood to experiment too wildly with different types of booze this evening

just as she was about to finish off what remained in her glass, she was knocked forward by a careless elbow courtesy of...well she didn't know who had done it but the quartermaster -who was always trying too hard to be liked as far as she was concerned- was standing nearby along with a servitor so she assumed it was him, she didn't say anything though, instead she just stared at the pool of amber liquid that had splashed across the bar, her flak armour and her lap, the same amber liquid that was inhabiting her glass before she got knocked, her displeasure with chekov growing with each passing second.

definitely should've gone to the smoke pit. on that note she let out a sigh and began mentally reciting the litany of patience, a process she felt she would need to repeat often before this evening was done
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Furbnus
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Postby Furbnus » Fri Oct 13, 2017 10:43 am

Holland grabs himself a bottle of amasec, a glass, a dozen packs of lho and sits down at the table for Emperor's Hand, using the crate as a seat. With practiced efficiency he lights a stick and puts it in his mouth, pouring himself a glass after he's done. "I believe you mean the pot is at 4 packs of lho." He puts his own bet down. "Oh, why the frak not, I'll throw in that coupon for the joygirl house too." He smiles and rests his arms behind his head, taking in the sounds of deranged rambling and gunfire coming from the vox.
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Commissar Cat
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Postby Commissar Cat » Fri Oct 13, 2017 12:04 pm

"Y'ain't doing shit until you get those things out of here." a voice from the bar called out, an irritated looking Mordian pointed at the servitors, "Have some Throne-damned respect, we don't drink with corpses."

The usually friendly Ahde was staring at Holland with an unusually dark expression, "Buying friends won't work if you bring your own freakshow with you."

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