[IG/PDF: Open Social] Candlemass in Naris

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Commissar Cat
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Postby Commissar Cat » Thu Dec 27, 2018 6:10 pm

Lothar watched Aesteban with a neutral expression; he'd expected very little little different from the noble. War had changed many things, but the egos of men and women of the noble courts were as highly charged as ever.
Though he didn't understand the exact source of the Lieutenant's ire, Lothar could hazard a guess. Enough scorn had been pitched at the PDF by guard and civilian alike.
They were still blamed for the fall. They always would be, even though those who remained had not been in power at the time.

And then of course, was the imbalance in rank and responsibilities.
McKinnon realised with that for once, he had the 'better' hand of a situation, and it very likely rankled the high-flying lord. Along with retaining his freedom, Lothar had also become a prominent figure to the people of Naris.
Something he had never wanted, and now relished the role with all the enthusiasm of one recieving a cold wet towel around the shoulders.

But yet these feelings and his reluctance wouldn't have mattered to his peers in the past, and he suspected, didn't matter now to Aesteban.
The best choice of action when accidentally riling someone up, McKinnon had long since learned, was appeasement by allowing them to feel superior. The young noble had no reason to clash with DiMettrio, and with Holt now breathing down Lothar's own neck, he had every reason to keep the peace.

Smiling warmly with the sincerity of either a fool, or a man incapable of taking offense, the commandant gently took Tracy's offered hand, and bowing his head, raised her knuckles to to his lips. All the while maintaining eye contact with the young woman.
Considering that he was having to gaze past a few pressing temptations to do so, it was an impressive effort for a red-blooded young Narisian.

Rather than study her ink, Lothar took the moment to study Tracy's figure, though perhaps not with entirely the same appreciation others might.
Her form was not that of a retiring, work shy socialite. The toned muscles in her shoulders filled out the capelet more, and rather than a limp-wristed waif, he found himself holding the familiar hand of someone with a solid threat behind their build. Clever boy, Aesteban... Lothar felt the hairs on his neck raise, despite the pleasantries.

"Lord DiMettrio has certainly made an intelligent choice in his companionship." McKinnon met Tracy's gaze and winked, before releasing her hand, "A man of wise decisions and taste."

He straightened up, turning his attention back to Aesteban, his tone amiable as ever, "Though I am flattered by your... praise... Milord, my rise in position is a most recent development. I was simply a young officer when Naris fell. They barely allowed me any duties beyond the office itself."
Lothar held out a hand toward the ruins beyond, "It was largely my stubbornness and belief that Naris can be rebuilt, that caused me to be elected commandant."

He lowered the hand, "Those here beside me are the few guard who refused to take the gifts of the xeno or the Rogue Trader. Who did not allow those around us to fall victim to rioting and violence."
Lothar finally looked towards Aesteban's face, "And now we work here to clear the mess that was left to us by so-called superiors. That is something I'm sure you understand."

McKinnon examined the sky for a moment, resisting the urge to bait his guest, and lowering his voice so that it did not carry, "Unless that was Commissar Holt's decision to grant his wall a new window to our pleasant vista, it sounds as though we are beset by the same troubles."


(( Even with a penalty for his low viewing angle, Lothar has realised that up close, Tracy is neither Narisian nor noble, and likely military or mercenary. Even had he rolled higher, he does not have the background to place her tattoos or accent.
Rolled: -1, +3 Clever = 2 ))

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Postby Archer » Thu Dec 27, 2018 11:13 pm

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Postby NicklausOfKrieg » Fri Dec 28, 2018 9:35 am

Last edited by NicklausOfKrieg on Fri Dec 28, 2018 8:06 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Postby Commissar Cat » Fri Dec 28, 2018 9:56 am

Lothar glanced over his shoulder towards the canvas chapel, the sounds of enthusiastic but largely unskilled voices now loudly joining in chorus.
"Mhm..." he winced at the mangling of classical music, for a brief and honest moment, he actually looked less convinced than Aesteban about the delights of the evening.

Turning to face the courtyard commandant held out a gloved hand and gestured in turn, to the areas, "So, children's story telling. Medicae. Repair centre. Communal food court and service. Traditional Narisian Carol service..."
His other hand dipped inside his uniform, and without fully turning back to face her, Lothar passed a palm-sized metallic object to Tracy, "...Whiskey. Pretty much mandatory to surv- enjoy the benefits of this evening."

Lowering his hand, McKinnon's eyes had had returned to scanning the crowd habitually, his brain slotted back in the realms of his work for the night, "Fireworks at midnight if you stick it out... Anyone gives you any trouble, Cadians and Vostroyans are the main security tonight. Hats or helmets. And despite appearances there's an actual commissar performing in the kiddies tent."
With Lothar facing away from the pair, it was entirely plausible that his last comment had meant to reassure them of extra security, rather than quietly warn them away from that particular tent. Entirely possible.

"Merry Candlemass, to you both-" he turned to face the entrance once more, and his face paled significantly. While he wasn't certain, Lothar thought he had caught a glimpse of someone unfortunately familiar approaching in the streets beyond.
"-Ohshit." taking a half pace back, the commandant glanced around for an excuse, gatepost or person to conceal himself behind, it was his turn to almost visibly panic.


Captain Gaskell, having returned from retrieving a drink, and having found Ahde occupied, now wandered back to see how 'Saint Yarrick' was doing.
Hearing the plaintive wailing of a child, and noticing from a distance that the commissar was now significantly shorter and ginger, the Mordian leaned against a nearby support beam and drained his glass, before turning back around to leave.

He almost collided with Yorke, heading back towards the tent, plate of roasted potatoes in his one free hand, and waxed paper bag of something hot and evidently steaming gently, gripped in his teeth.

"Th' fuck are you playin' at? Who's Yarrick?" Gaskell hissed and yanked the commissar down to face height by the collar, before pointing Cat's head towards the scene.
"Why?" the captain didn't release his grip.
"Err afffed, iffeffed. Am errr effeffded..."
"Oh obviously." Gaz let go of his friend's collar, and sighed, "Of course. Why not."
In response Cat simply huffed through his nose, shrugging.
Gaskell pushed him from behind, "Go an bladdy-well sort it out."
"Nnnff..." Cat juggled his hard earned plate of potatoes and looked reproachfully at his captain, "Mn'ngry."

His appeal bounced off a practiced paternal stare for a few moments, until the commissar conceded and shuffled off towards the back of the tent once more.
Last edited by Commissar Cat on Fri Dec 28, 2018 1:00 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Postby Johannes Wyss von Krieg » Fri Dec 28, 2018 10:48 am

Kriegers, by their nature, are not ones to be demoralised; Whatever things they pass through on their homeworld guarantee as much.

Which makes her current situation ever the more pathetic: lacking all sense of awareness and gripped by terror, the Kriegerin sought to scamper and disappear from view just like all those years ago.
With slowly solidifying streams of warm salty water flowing from her eyes she frantically dug with her hands into a heap of snow, away from anyone's line of sight and Escape from the barrage of cold eyes threatning to surround her entirely, Truly a being that completed training on Krieg.

They were all judging her, everyone who mattered: the Drill Abbot for grades, the Mechanicus Genesmiths for physical deficiencies, the Black Priest for commitment to sacrifice and any other Krieger including of the 945th, who tolareted her so long as her 'episodes' were out of sight. The address by the Corporal was anything but feigned ignorance to one already particularly critical crysis. So She Snapped.

'This behaviour is erronous for Krieg Units. Correct it' a tiny disembodied voice whispered into her head but by now it was far too late to do anything of the sort save for the immediate and total takeover by the ingrained fail-safe programming which could not do so at the moment because this situation was not designated as 'Combat'. And the worst part? She wholeheartedly agreed with every single point, it was an irrefutable truth.

There in the hastly assembled snow bunker Erika curled into the smallest her physical body would allow and released her other side: the one that appears when she has no objective and stopped skipping in the proverbial happy meadows.


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Postby blinddeadmcjones » Fri Dec 28, 2018 10:50 am

"DiMettrioooooooooooooo~" called out a playful sounding voice from the gloom as a figure approached the entrance, as they came into view those present at the gate would've noticed that it was Lt Halvus, who was all smiles while in her officers dress uniform "sneaking off to this little get together, and you didn't invite me either. i'm hurt"

the Lt gave a pout but before she could continue with her exaggerated display of theatrics another pale skinned guardsman ran up "leftenant, you dropped these, you need to be more careful..sir" he complained as he cradled a camo cloak and a lascarbine in his arms. "oops" she replied sheepishly as she grabbed the cloak fastened it around her in a deft movement "can't take me anywhere, except back to apologise.."


while all this was happening another figure in a red robe walked past, anyone watching would've seen mechadentrites poking out from behind that appear to have been wrapped in tinsel, once they reached the middle of the courtyard the figure stopped to survey the area before making a B line towards the master of ordnance and two others "greetings all" she began by way of introduction upon reaching them "i hope i'm only fashionably late as they call it"


wiping his brow after finishing a another batch of cakes levi attention was drawn to Faeburns sudden departure from the kitchen, walking a short distance the corporal peeked out of the field kitchen and caught sight of the lieutenant approaching a pair of kriegers who were quite a distance away, one of which appeared to be in the fetal position.
knowing from past experience with the death korps that such unusual behavior never bodes well levi decided to investigate, grabbing a tray with all the treats he just spent baking to take with him just in case anyone asked questions and exiting the field kitchen

"fresh batch coming in" he announced to all present in the 'saint yarrick' tent as he made a stop along the way "get em' while they're hot"
Last edited by blinddeadmcjones on Fri Dec 28, 2018 11:38 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby SilverRuby » Fri Dec 28, 2018 1:04 pm

Saint Yarrick's Tent

Vayne stared at Hat for a moment, frozen where he was seated and stuttered a forced laugh, "Oh I assure you Miss, I am totally... Saint Yarrick..." He was about to accept her offer of aid when the whine of a child screeched from behind Hat.

... And it did take all his self control not to wince or make a face. Throne above did he not like small children- especially crying ones, and Cassius struggled not to let that come to his face. And for a moment, maybe he regretted his decision to help Cat. That unholy screeching.

Forcing a smile onto his face, he grabbed a bag of candy shaking it gently as though trying to tempt a hound with treats, "Oh, I assure you I know enough about my own exploits, ho ho- come little one, here is some candy, why don't we see some Candlemass cheer? Come, tell me what you'd like for Candlemass!" He motioned to appeal to the father to bring the wailing spawn closer to offer some candy as a distraction from disappointment.


At Aesteban's insistent pats, Waltz realized she was gripping him, perhaps, a little too hard, and she forced herself to unhinge her grasp from his arm, apologetically smoothing over his sleeve where her grip was wrinkling his uniform. Lothar's scrutiny of her was really a bit nerve-wrenching.

As the Commandant handed her a small flask, she looked at it with a raised eyebrow, unable to resist having a bit of a drink to soothe her nerves- as well as it was polite, really... Really, to taste some of what was offered- Hellfire, she was suddenly curious what nobility kept in their flasks, "Oh, uh- Thank you, Ser... You're very kind."

Moving to gently unscrew the flask, Tracy poured a little sip into the cap and almost knocked it back in a rather un-ladylike manner- Catching herself in the last moment and sipped it before capping it and tucking it into her capelet. She cleared her throat with her fingers over her lips and a small chuckle, "Ah.. A wee dram now is it. Quite smooth... I'm sure I'll enjoy the evening much better, thank you."

Attempting to seize an opportunity to slip away before they had to make any further small-talk, Waltz rested her hand on DiMettrio's arm without gripping him this time. She nudged him gently, before pulling her caplet around herself tighter to pantomime feeling cold, giving Lothar a slightly shamed smile, "My Lord DiMettrio, it is quite chill outside, perhaps we should get something to drink to warm ourselves, or something to eat?"

At the very least, Tracy was trying to move them away from the Gatehouse, before another Lieutenant Halvus arrived, hailing Aesteban. Tracy turned away slightly, biting the inside of her cheek, frustrated at not being able to escape quicker... Perhaps it was Lothar's extensive tour of the facilities offered, or...

Looking aside from DiMettrio, Tracy noticed a Cadian girl staring at them, and she offered Tabitha a small smile, nodding her head toward the girl. She'd seen the other before when the former Chem-Dog had been tinkering about in the Motor Pool and annoying the Tech-priests, and remembered Tabitha taking vehicles out for patrols... There wasn't any reason she shouldn't act happy that it was Candlemass- it was always a wonderful time of year where people overlooked one's social status and everyone came together to celebrate. The incredible irony of fact that she was here on the arm of a Narisian nobleman wasn't lost on her, her, a hardened criminal.

The thought softened Waltz's nerves, as well as the idea of enjoying a Candlemass with new stature- it was nice not being voluntold to help, free to enjoy the event for once. A more natural smile lit her lips, relaxing a bit as the troopers at the gate didn't immediately point her out as a fake who wasn't allowed in to celebrate.

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Postby VoxPopuli » Fri Dec 28, 2018 3:05 pm

The child ceased weeping into her father's shirt quite so freely as Vayne spoke to her. She looked with startled, shining wet green eyes from Hat to 'Yarrick' with confusion plastered across her small face.
One of these adults was telling a fib. She looked up at her father for confirmation, and the patient older man carried the girl towards the commissar. He smiled tiredly, relieved that he may not end up sleeping outside the family tent tonight after all.
Placing his daughter down at 'Yarrick's' feet, he stage whispered, "You can tell him, Mati. It's okay."

The little girl had ceased her hiccuping tears, and gazed shyly at Cassius, before pulling up the end of her scarf and rubbing her eyes dry on the soft blue fabric. Then with a renewed intensity. Ignoring the offered sweets, Mati stared up for a few long seconds. She stayed analysing the blue eye and pale face visible beneath the hat as though they were the most important thing in the city at that moment.

Perhaps unexpectedly, and with only the clumping lack of grace attainable by a drunk or a toddler, Mati scrambled up onto Vayne's lap, before leaning against his torso, and clinging with gloved hands to the thick fabric of his large greatcoat when the young noble was too startled to support her himself.

Burying her drying face against his midriff, and pressing her form against the far bigger adult, she whispered her Candlemass wish, face buried beneath soft straw-blonde hair, eyes squeezed shut.
Standing and looking more than a little mortified, the father mouthed silently, rocking his arms to emphasise the words that the all-hearing Saint Yarrick would of course have understood; baby dollie.
"She... saw one in a shop window, once. It's all she ever talks about at Candlemass. For years now." he smiled apologetically, and a little wistfully; the clear bittersweetness of his child still being hopeful.

"And... Please, special colour for mummy. So she can smile more."
Furrowing his brow a moment, her father translated, "She means rouge. Lynn often speaks about missing it."
Having given her important message to the saint, Mati then untensed. She stayed leaning peacefully against Vayne, heavy and warm, her small fists still grasping the front of his jacket.
A real saint knew now. Maybe this year.

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Postby NicklausOfKrieg » Sat Dec 29, 2018 10:18 pm

@ Johannes Wyss von Krieg & LaxKnight

As Faeburn came to stand over Erika, the light of his torch briefly passed over her face, and though it was for a mere moment; it was all he needed to see. It was a look Faeburn had seen on more guardsmen than he'd like to remember; whether it was a greenhorn in a bombed-out hab-block, sprawled cowering on the rubble as Ork tanks rode past under a harsh shell-raining sky; or dark nights in a stinking biomass filled swamp, a sergeant praying a Lictor won't cut him in half, sobbing under the din of guttural clicking. It was abject, mindless terror; but why Erika, and on Candlemass no less? Faeburn would've been perplexed, but for now his sympathies took over.

"Golden-bloody-Throne... Look at you..." Faeburn gently muttered, shutting off his torch as to not startle her. He then got on his knees and slowly shuffled forwards, his hands out in a placating gesture.

Erika looked well past breaking point; fled from her wits. Something even a commissar would struggle to shake, or leave him with no other option...

As the realization set in, Faeburn snapped his head back to the Death Korps guardswoman who was following him, his face growing pale. He'd seen what Kriegers could do to each other; a 'coward' facing a firing line of his own squadmates, a 'coward' beat to death by his comrades.

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Postby LaxKnight » Sun Dec 30, 2018 3:56 am

@ Wherever Erika Ended Up

Verena’s plan of diverting the lieutenant didn’t work for he ran right past her, telling her to catch up. She reluctantly did so as she tried to plan other ways to get the lieutenant out of here. She easily caught up to him and watched as he reacted to the sad state her comrade was in. It was like watching someone trying to coax a beat dog to come out. Verena was trained to interact with non-Krieg so when he snapped to face her she had a general idea of what he was feeling or, more accurately, thinking about her.

Remaining the consummate professional, Verena clasped her hands behind the small of her back in a modified at ease.

“Sir, I recommend you give her some space,” she said assertively.


@ Mechanicus Tent Line

Glynda indeed was inspecting Dug but her purpose wasn’t anywhere as severe as a Commissar’s. While his clothes seemed in serviceable condition though worn and not suitable for the weather. While it might not seem like it, she was listening to him answer her question. She was surprised he didn’t feel very cold. Perhaps giants withstand cold better than normal people? Or maybe he was like all Guardsman and was acting tough.

Whatever the case, his finger jab grabbed her attention. He asked if she made her scarf. She looked down at it. It was a tightly knitted forest green scarf with snowflake patterns and alternating white and green fringes on the ends. She looked up to smile at him.

“Oh, yes I did,” she said as she looked back down in it, her fingers rubbing in the soft fabric as memories springing up, “I made this years ago. At the time I didn’t knit or sew professionally so it was just a hobby. It was a particularly cold winter and I used to help my husband feed and corral the cattle. I was tired of my nose always getting so cold so I made this scarf. I adore this fabric. So soft and warm. Really helps keep out the wind.”

She looked up at Dug then unravelled some of it so she could hold out a end to him. “Want to feel, dear?” she asked.


@ Archer

When Luca asked Casey how she heard about him she gave a devious smile.

“Oh yeah, Haley’s been talking a bit about the Terran on base,” before she could continue the smaller sister found the arms of her big sister slinking in front of her as if giving her a hug from behind and squeezing perhaps a little too tight.

“Like how it’s such an honor for the people on big ol’ Terra bother sending anyone to come here on humble Valmaria,” she gave a smile that said ‘please don’t probe further’, “Don’t worry, we can hide you from those two overlords. Use my powers of invisibility to hide you.”

She gave a little chuckle to lighten the mood.


@ Yarrick's place

The little voice surprised Hat and when she turned to see who it was she was horrified to find it was a little girl. She didn’t need the father’s glare to feel some shame. She should have been more careful! When fake Yarrick offered some goodies to the girl, Hat thought it best to put some distance from them to be less distracting. However, she could help but watch as the imposter interacted with the girl. She saw that the girl wanted a dollie and Hat’s eyes lit up as if she remembered something.

Making sure no one was looking, Hat turned away and dropped her ever present bag to open it. She reached in and unearthed a little dollie. It was a little dirty and it was wearing some clothes that were some kind of red. She found it while she was investigating some ruins on a mission and, exercising her battlefield rights, took it in hopes of maybe bartering it for something. Perhaps there might be a better use of it. Perhaps she might be able to use it to right a wrong.

Hat stuffed it in a disposable bag that was in hers and put in some lhos and lho cigars to help mask it. Hefting her bag back on her shoulders, she made a brief plan before taking action. She walked across the scene, behind the father, and ‘accidently’ bumping roughly into him. Doing so she dropped her little bag before quickly scurrying out of the scene behind a tent, not stopping if he called out to her.

Was it the right dollie? Hat didn’t know but it was a dollie and it was something.
Apparently, I made too many characters. Here they are:

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Postby Fates End » Tue Jan 01, 2019 3:08 am

"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.

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Postby Archer » Tue Jan 01, 2019 3:38 am

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Postby VoxPopuli » Wed Jan 02, 2019 6:42 pm

As the carols concluded, some stayed by the chapel to listen to the sermon, some ventured inside to contemplate and light a candle.
Others drifted away, lost in their own thoughts.

Sounds from the kitchens heralded the coming of something quite special, Candlemass cake, sauces and steaming puddings. A small procession of ratlings and guard brought forth the desserts and laid them out on further heated serving trolleys in the dining area.
The strong scent of fruits, rum and sauces mixed with gluwein in the night air to create a festive mist.

Lights weaving on the roof of the barracks indicated that an impromptu mortar team was getting ready for the midnight display.

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Postby CyGamer » Wed Jan 02, 2019 10:46 pm

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

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