[IG/PDF: Open Social] Candlemass in Naris

Anywhere within the IG perimeter
VoxPopuli
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Postby VoxPopuli » Fri Dec 07, 2018 11:07 pm

I heard the bells on this cold day;
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat:
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head:
“There is no peace on earth,” I said,
“For hate is strong and mocks the song,
Of peace on earth, good will to men.”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“He is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The dark shall fail, the light prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men.”

Till, ringing, singing, on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime,
Of peace on earth, good will to men.


*~*~*

Cathedral bells had not rung in Naris central since war had shattered the city. There were even some young enough to have never known their voices.

As early evening gathered, across the camps, across the city, and across even the guard barracks, a deep sound called out. Neither the bark of artillery, nor the crack of gunfire, but the sonorous, warm play of gothic bell chimes.
And the city held its breath, as though wondering if it had been mistaken.

But the pealing didn't stop. Imprecise and impromptu, but bright, unending. Rather than a harsh warning, they played familiar sequences that called for Narisians to gather.
Calling folk to attend Candlemass.
Slowly, quite tentatively, the people ventured out.
Drawing closer to the end of the camp that contained the PDF barracks, alongside the singing bells, other hand-held bell ringers could be heard lining the streets. Men and women holding improvised lanterns or torches, and joyously inviting anyone who could hear them to attend.

The source of the church bells was an impromptu scaffold build, set on the roof of the PDF barracks. As the most intact building, and largest courtyard, it had made sense to open their doors further to celebrate and invite all who could make it.
Candles, sourced in their dozens, now lined the walls and courtyard. Painted signs by the gates invited all to come and eat and pray.
The placement also meant nobody in the nearby hospital, from trooper to civilian, could feel excluded.

*

At the gate stood Commandant Lothar McKinnon, giving the impression of a much-frayed piece of rope, as he attempted to keep a finger on security, greet any newcomers, smooth the slight fractiousness between the Guard and the PDF, and remember to breathe.

Amidst the thick of it, overseeing the bell-ringing and initial construction was the Imperial preacher Nathaniel Abasque, who had even sought out elder refugees to remember the traditional chimes and hymns of Naris. He and the other clergy had been granted an area at the side of the main festivities for an impromptu chapel, for Candlemass without mass, was nothing but a gaudy excuse to eat, greet, and over-indulge.

Towards the other end of the courtyard, away from the loudest of the throng, Techpriest Ollie headed up a well-lit tent where enginseers huddled, attempting to appear somehow less imposing through Application of Festive Decor, and offering free engineering and repair service to any and all civilians.
At present they were patiently listening as an old gentleman explained how his small two-seater car, "Bessie", could only ever be convinced to start through copious praise.

Nearby, Sister Mari Valentine ran an experienced eye over her even smaller drop-in clinic. This tent offered refugees a chance to receive quick and simple medical advice that was in short supply from the often overtaxed Narisian field medics.
From broken fingers to children's coughs, there was a thin but steady trickle of natives who appreciated the chance to put their minds at ease.

But the central event, of course, was the food, and the unusual crowd who served it. Spilling out from the barracks, into the courtyard, tables and seating was laid out for all comers. The scent of festive cooking, spiced wines and hot fruits hung thick in the air, along with background shouting. Savin and her crew having set up a makeshift kitchen in the old building, the layout cramped, but the facilities up to scratch. The towering stone dough oven and chimney had been a particular source of excitement for the ratling's head chef.

For this year, it had been ordered that the Imperial Guard give back to the population who served them the year prior, for the first few hours at least.
And so, hands scrubbed to the elbows, beards and long hair tucked into nets and scarves, many COs and troopers of the guard, now stood behind the service counters, handing out generous portions of hot food and greetings to the slightly bemused refugees.

A mixture of NCOs were given the duty of table service, and hospitality. Those not currently taking their shifts were welcome to eat, mingle... and of course, torment those currently on duty.
Last edited by VoxPopuli on Sat Dec 08, 2018 6:53 am, edited 2 times in total.

VoxPopuli
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Postby VoxPopuli » Fri Dec 07, 2018 11:18 pm

((Welcome to Candlemass Social 2018.

Them rules:
- You are encouraged to write NPC civilians, extras and staff!
- No fighting. If you start accidental conflict, you will be asked to make a short scene topic outside of this one, or resolve it in PM.
- Your character must take a shift serving somewhere, but you do not need to start the topic doing so!
- Shifts are: Food service, hospitality, security (only non-krieg troopers, though officers may oversee), or any of the three areas mentioned in the OP.
- Topic will wrap up in early January.

In terms of timing, this is a floating thread, because Wall and Loose Ends have not concluded, just assume there is basic goodwill between PDF and IG following On the Road Again. When in doubt, don't try to think too much about continuity.

There will also be a topic for players to sum up their characters' year, and a seasonal guard duty topic for those on the naughty list.))
Last edited by VoxPopuli on Sat Dec 08, 2018 6:53 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Hobbsy
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Postby Hobbsy » Sat Dec 08, 2018 5:46 am

As the bell rang throughout the land, James Foster work hard to get the ringing just right. Although he hadn't grown-up in Naris, he had been around long enough and had become rather a custom to the Bella in his line of work. It would seem though that he had grown tired of the mistakes of the original bell ringer and took it upon himself to get the rings right. Now crouching in a way only an old my could, Foster slaved at the impromptu bell set up. Although Candlemas is a time of joy, the old undertaker still looked as grump as ever. He in fact wanted to go see the engineers. He had someone he really wanted fix and this could well be his only opportunity! Though for now, he worked to get the rings in order.

+_+_+_+_+_+_+

At the door of the makeshift Chapel, Confessor Von Smit geeted all those entering to attend mass. Decked out in his best white vestments and the iconic point hat which the kids thought looked funny, he did his best totnot make his smile 'friendly' as to not to put anyone off entering.

+_+_+_+_+_+_+

In the thick of the festivities, Paxton's booming laugh can be heard over the noise as he severed whoever he could at the tables. With a black bag over his beard and another over his dreads, he was an easy target for jokes and remarks. But he relished the banter and gave back were he could as he worked.

But among the joy and merriment, there is one sight that terrified the guardsmen to the core. At the punch bowl, with a silly cone like hat strapped to his head, Douglas De Grotto severed the drinks. But what was most unnerving is that he actually looked happy!?!. The man who would rip a man apart for looking at him wrong, was actually smiling and making pleasant conversation with whoever dared to came near. As off putting as it was, it was surely nothing short of a Candlemas miracle.

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Johannes Wyss von Krieg
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Postby Johannes Wyss von Krieg » Sat Dec 08, 2018 6:57 am

Was there any point in attempting to try again? Can the gnawing pain of the festivity's mere mention be healed? Only one way to discover and that was by confronting it directly.

A hand rested upon her shoulder. A confused hand, one which never truly understood or adapted to the role it was currently performing, it gave a few light pats in a somewhat comforting manner and retracted back, not fully knowing what else to do. She wanted to take hold of hit, to keep it close for just a bit longer but the situation was not that severe. "Unit Eight... you... didn't sufficiently evaluate Candlemass previously... you need to repeat attempt-" "Understood." He was circumventing the attack around the shrubbery again and it pained him how he couldn't understand or express it enough to be direct on such matters, Erika didn't want him to suffer for it. Unit One could be described as sufficient or excellent in many things: a Soldier, an Officer, a Planner, a Thinker even an adequate communicator with non-Kriegers or a Carpenter but never as anything close to a good Parental Figure, despite the agony of the revelation it brings upon him he never stopped trying.
Maybe this is all good Parental Figures are about?

"I... Affirmative unit Eight... Make preparations for Candlemass leave, Rendezvous with this Unit at Central Krieg Compound Gate."

*~*~*~*

The two Gloomy Figures moved through the snow which responded with uncharacteristic silence as opposed to the usual crunching beneath one's feet, was it not for the clear visual clues of their origin one might think those were ghosts from the past travelling the planes of existence. There are many things to learn from the environment and the ones to inhabit it, Death Worlders know as much, so observation of walking patterns of the Sober Valhallan, however rare, bring interesting insight over the methods ingrained into their motor functions to lessen the sound emanating from stepping on snow beneath their feet and as any good soldiers, the 9453/554th Company adapted as well.

They were coming closer.

As the two Units arrived at the Gate, both removed their Respirators with a hiss of unpressurising warm air which froze as it changed places with the previously isolated system, creating a brief display of glinting lights reflecting from minuscule frozen vapours formerly belonging to warm air now frozen solid.
"Salutations" The tall and pale man called to Commandant McKinnon and raised a hand in greeting, a smile on his face, not wide by any means but for it to come from Hauptmann #9453/1-101 is more than sufficient. "Merry Candlemass" he called now from the inside of the courtyard, gliding through the passage. He gave a reassuring tap on a shoulder of the Unit next to him and set her free.

*~*~*~*

It was... Cold... Bright and Unnerving, Erika walked through the courtyard with trepidation concerned about looking to her sides and keeping a steady breath, like a rabbit in an open and barren field she did not know what was happening and felt truly vulnerable without any idea what to do. The subtle Shaking of her hands was not from the Cold. Maintain Calmness, He is not here, experience the Present not the Past.

*~*~*~*

"Good Evening herr DeGrotto" A voice was heard from the direction of the Barracks, #1-101 was walking towards the man causally carrying a huge metal container with a sealed lid, droplets of warm water suggesting of its heat "Is this spot in use?" he pointed at an adjacent table with his foot and then unloaded the container with a solid *thudd* of weight. #1-101 detached a serving ladle from the main structure as well as a small sign written ++Gluwein - Mulled Wine++ over it. "What manner of devilry caused your mouth to turn upside down if you don't mind my inquiry?" #1-101 turned his head to the oddly happy Artillery Officer.
Last edited by Johannes Wyss von Krieg on Sun Dec 09, 2018 2:11 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Commissar Cat
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Postby Commissar Cat » Sun Dec 09, 2018 3:56 am

"You're not really Yarrick. That's not even a real Bale Eye. And it's on the wrong side." a young, cynical voice piped up.
"You are mistaken child, of course I am-"
"I bet it can't even fire razor beams or nuthin'."
"Is that a challenge?"

"No! Absolutely not!" Captain Gaskell's sudden admonishment cut across the debate, "Saint Yarrick only fires his Bale Eye when people have been very bad. He doesn't need to fire it today."
"My ma says I'm awful wicked some times..." the boy sounded quite hopeful.

Near to the makeshift chapel, another small tent stood, the back filled with small sacks, and the front decorated festively, the ground covered with spare fabric and rugging, room for far less formal seating.

"Your ma probably isn't talking about planetary-level genocidal destruction." 'Yarrick' sounded sympathetic to the child's plight. He glanced up at Gaskell from his seated position, expression quizzical beneath the prosthetic, "Perhaps Saint Yarrick could fire his bolt pistol though? Over the wall?"
There was a chorus of excited agreement from the front row of children.

"N-no!" Captain Gaskell blanched and placed a hand on 'Yarrick's' shoulder, digging his fingers in, unseen by the children, "Saint Yarrick is here to tell exciting stories so that the children of Naris are entertained. And the parents of Naris may attend to their own needs, like dinner and relaxation." the grip tightened on the word parents, so much that the commissar shifted uncomfortably.

It seemed that a certain Commissar had been assigned special duty, either by merit of his easy going nature, or because perhaps Holt had not entirely forgiven his dissent during the recent incursion.

As his own bionic arm was still in the workshop queue for a full repair (he suspected as punishment), the commissar was unable to serve food or assist in table service.
And so 'Yarrick' had his shoulder strapped into a plated, comically impractical approximation of a Power Klaw, an afternoon's light work for the bemused mechanicus workshop ("but why do you want such a hideous thing if it has no function?").
Occasionally the pincers snapped and flexed, much to the amusement of the seated children. For the wearer, it was heavy and rather warm.

"Saint Yarrick wants whiskey." came a mutter from under the hat.
"When he finishes his story."

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TheRedauthar
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Postby TheRedauthar » Sun Dec 09, 2018 11:43 pm

Cade Lohgan shivered as he stood holding the stack of pamphlets, desperately hoping against all hope that he would not sneeze. It became quickly apparent that Cade was ill suited for any task that involved him moving or lifting things. Frankly he was strictly banned from the kitchen as someone knew immediately that letting Lohgan near the food would end in disaster of apocalyptic kind. Having him clean was the next best choice, but someone else worried he might trip up some VIP Quests or Spill mop water across the floors, possibly just cause a ruckus swinging the mop around.

No it became quite apparent the only task Cade was qualified for was handing out pamphlets. Mere thank you cards with a list of events and stations the quests could visit. The young trooper felt he wasn't that much of a danger to the celebration, but the officers agreed the best use of him was keeping him out of the way.

So now he stood near the gate handing out pamphlets to any who requested, and say "Thank You kind guests for visiting" to everyone who came through. Most importantly though, he had to not sneeze and drop, spill, or otherwise soil the pamphlets.

"Thank You kind quests for visiting," he sniffed as he handed a mother and child one of the pamphlets, "Saint Yarrick is telling stories to all the youngsters if you wish to visit."

"Ooh! Can we mommy! Can we please!" the little boy asked.

The mother sighed, "I suppose so, after all you don't get to meet a Saint every day."

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Postby Riveris » Mon Dec 10, 2018 1:33 am

The Sargent had a warm grin on his face as he was taking the order of a few of the adult civilians in his zone of service. Taking careful note of the few kids speaking there own orders at the table as well. This was a big day. He was even dressed up in his own opinion his hair was clean, a fresh bandages over his eye, and he even cleaned his carapace of most of the dust on it and kept his helm neatly buckled on his hip. He even was not smoking at this very moment.

He looked around the cathedral for a moment as he saw the crowds merge and mingle the smell of food in the heavy in the air. He did wonder were the pyre would be set in all this space. as well as the cooking fires. But there was no ceilings set to disperse the heat and warmth evenly. He missed last candlemass a year before hiding out in the sewers just before being able to reconnect to the guard at the time.

But now was not the time for that. Now was the time for a bit of fun. Putting his fist over the middle of his chest and a gentle bow "Right away my lady." he said with a wink to the mother of the family as she finished her order and rushed off to grab that tables food.

~~~~~~

Dug was working currently walking the inside of the wall. He was tasked with security. He was keeping his auto cannon low and hand off the trigger. just like the officers told him to do. "Dust masks off today boys. cant be scare'n the kids and good folk" they said to him. If they said so he would do it. He would adjust his shoulder a moment to get slightly more comfortable as his pack was a bit off. He had "cuzion wilfreds" stubber and his pack nice and safe to snugged up neatly in his own pack. He was walking his patrol around the gate. Giving a cheerful wave every now and then to the nice people.

His own footfalls heavy and loud in the snow. This was not like the cold ash back home. This was not like the perma frost in the lower tunnels either. It was wet and heavy and he didnt like the fact there was always a cloud in front of him when he breathed. it made him think that a water valve broke. and was spraying onto the hot pipes around it. But if he was good he would be getting some bonus meat and some warm beer when he was done so that made things all worth it in the end.

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Tabitha Maru
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Postby Tabitha Maru » Mon Dec 10, 2018 2:23 pm

"Happy candlemass!"

Tabitha smiled brightly at the civilians entering the area as they passed her by and headed onwards to find out whether the rumours that Saint Yarrick himself would actually be in attendance. Thus far people's reactions had been mixed. Some had greeted her back with smiles. Some had just walked past her, hurrying along to their destination of choice. And some had shot her angry glances, annoyed that she was in full combat gear with her weapon slung over her shoulder (albeit with some festive garlands on her helmet, an idea of her's that the lieutenant had okayed) and thus reminded them of the war outside the compound.

She was security tonight, and every now and then spent a thought wondering what she had done wrong to be landed with that duty on candlemass, and she was here at the gate to ensure no troublemaker could trouble the weary people. She was neither the largest nor the most intimidating of soldiers, but that was apparently precisely why she was ideal for being the guard here at the gate.

She supposed she could be worse off. She had a brazier keeping her warm and there was the promise of warm food and drink once duty was done. There were even some naris citizens that had thanked her for being here, which was a somewhat overwhelming feeling.
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Hobbsy
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Postby Hobbsy » Tue Dec 11, 2018 12:26 am

Johannes Wyss von Krieg wrote:"Good Evening herr DeGrotto" A voice was heard from the direction of the Barracks, #1-101 was walking towards the man causally carrying a huge metal container with a sealed lid, droplets of warm water suggesting of its heat "Is this spot in use?" he pointed at an adjacent table with his foot and then unloaded the container with a solid *thudd* of weight. #1-101 detached a serving ladle from the main structure as well as a small sign written ++Gluwein - Mulled Wine++ over it. "What manner of devilry caused your mouth to turn upside down if you don't mind my inquiry?" #1-101 turned his head to the oddly happy Artillery Officer.

"A good evening to you as well Herr Wyss. That spot is indeed vacant." Dr Grotto replied in a very uncharacteristic cheerful and informal way. Though there are obvious hints of how unnatural this is for the master of ordinance. "No forms of devilry, and especially not heresy! I will confess that this time of the year has the only pleasant memories for me on this planet. Therefore I thought I would forgo my usual busy affairs in my office and enjoy a hint of merriment. Maybe even share a little, though no one seems to want any punch!". The old man chuckled at his attempt at a joke, this was indeed a Candlemas miracle.

Though De Grotto personal hoped for a repeat of those nice memories. That would be a nice present for him.

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Johannes Wyss von Krieg
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Postby Johannes Wyss von Krieg » Wed Dec 12, 2018 3:28 pm

"Consider yourself Lucky then" The Hauptmann took one of the empty cups available and passed it over to DeGrotto "You also have a conversation partner, however dull he might be..." The Krieger gave a reassuring soft smile and continued "At least until one certain Metasurgeon shows herself, then it would be your turn to take from my stock; I heard alcohol raises morale by dampening survival instincts, it would be an interesting observation to see with my own eyes" His smile widened. Now THAT was scary.

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CyGamer
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Postby CyGamer » Thu Dec 13, 2018 2:35 am

Back inside the kitchen, a whirl of activity swept through the building. Steam and smoke lay in the air in a hazy manner, making parts of the kitchen uncomfortably hot even in this weather. The sound of hissing meat, clattering pans, chopping knives filled the air as chefs yelled orders and request back and forth. Feet were stepped on, fingers burnt and cut, shirts ruined as the staff got the final preparations ready for the candle mass dinner. And moving through it all was a short and angry man, who acted like this was an active war zone.

“No no no, these onions are burnt not sautéed! Do you know the difference?! Go back, put the heat on high, put a oil in the pan and keep stirring them or they will burn! Go you Groxshit!” Sargent Dramer yelled to a nervous chef. The grizzled veteran looked strange in the kitchen; fatigues tucked into well polished boots, but a plain sweater hidden behind a bright red and green apron, looked even stranger with the sour look on his face. Ordril was the last person one might expect to be in the kitchen, but he had signed on voluntarily, happily even. The man had a way around the kitchen, and saw it as just another firefight he had to lead his men through. Sure, their weapons were pots and pan against hams and potatoes, but a kitchen was still a battle zone.

“Why in the Eye itself did you put that much salt here?! Add more water and put in more potatoe, and pray they balances out.” He said tasting a soup before sending it back. He shook his head and sighed, was going to be a long night.
*~*~*~

Out in the mechanicus tent, an exasperated but smiling(as much as his bionics could express) Chirigus handled another broken toy. Dressed in his red mechanicus robes, but with large white fur on the trim, and bells hanging along his mechadendrites gave him a rather festive appearance. Especially with his two servoskulls, one covered in thistle and holly and the other in blinking lights and more bells, whirred over his head, letting out little tunes of classical candlemass music.

“And there we are. Done. Now, remember, even machines have feelings, and they don’t like it when you drop them. If it stops again, remember-“ he said handing a simple windup toy, resembling a tiny Punisher tank, to a smaller boy with freckles and bright eyes. The boy in turn tried to remember what he’d been told.

“Take a candle, and lit it on the floor. Then put my Punisher by it and as the machine spirit to work.” The boy said, looking to see if he had remembered it all right.

“Very good. You have a very bright mind young one. Perhaps you would like to join the Mechanicum when you are older?” Chirigus said with a slight hint of amusement in his voice.

“No thanks, I wouldn’t like being made of metal.” The boy then turned and ran off to show his fixed toy to his friends, leaving Alexander standing in a huff.

++Little brat.++ He mumbled in binaric. Looking back to the line of civilians in need.”Ahem, next please.”
Last edited by CyGamer on Fri Dec 14, 2018 8:57 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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NicklausOfKrieg
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Postby NicklausOfKrieg » Fri Dec 14, 2018 4:25 pm

Making their way amongst the throng of civilians shuffling through the snow into the barrack's archway, the soldiers of the 89th Vendoland came in relative force; a platoon's worth of guardsmen towing a field kitchen and ration canisters, with about enough supplies for just less than a company. At the fore were Leftenant Faeburn and his Junior Commissar Yakova Kroenen.

"Happy Candlemass, Commandant!" Faeburn happily greeted, eagerly shaking the weary man's hand. "I'll send some of my lads your way once we've set everything up inside." He added waltzing past the archway, disappearing into the bustling courtyard, Only then had McKinnon noticed a fresh pack of lho sticks on the palm of his hand that the Leftenant had shook.

"Apologies, Commandant. It may be Candlemass, but that's no excuse to take security lightly" The young, sharply dressed commissar interjected with a sigh. Despite this though, the rest of the guardsmen were already following their Leftenant's lead, filing into the courtyard with their haul.

"Junior Commissar Yakova Kroenen, First Platoon, Third Company, 89th Vendoland Infantry Regiment" She introduced herself; producing not only her own identification booklet for the Commandant's inspection, but also a full unit roster, just with a field kitchen and foodstuffs listed alongside the typical lasguns or assorted heavy weapons (The platoon would cycle between food service and security detail after all).

+++++

"Right, lads! Set it up over here!" Faeburn hollered motioning to a corner next just before all the serving tables, near where a burning oil drum conveniently stood. Hopefully the presence of the field kitchen would alleviate some of the foot-traffic going inside or at least keep the civilians fed while they waited. Once the field kitchen had been carted over and the soup carriers had set down their canisters, they were ready to serve up their gruel, hardtack, and dried meat; lho sticks and sweet rations were also on offer for adults and children respectively.
Last edited by NicklausOfKrieg on Sun Dec 16, 2018 5:21 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Hobbsy
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Postby Hobbsy » Fri Dec 14, 2018 6:04 pm

Johannes Wyss von Krieg wrote:"Consider yourself Lucky then" The Hauptmann took one of the empty cups available and passed it over to DeGrotto "You also have a conversation partner, however dull he might be..." The Krieger gave a reassuring soft smile and continued "At least until one certain Metasurgeon shows herself, then it would be your turn to take from my stock; I heard alcohol raises morale by dampening survival instincts, it would be an interesting observation to see with my own eyes" His smile widened. Now THAT was scary.

"No need to fear Hauptmann, I'm a pretty dull man my..". Dr Grotto paused and look to the Kregen officer to his side as he registered the comment about a certain metasurgeon. As If on Que, Wesley popped up behind its' master with a familiar decorative mistletoe dangling beneath it. "Ah, having any luck Wesley?" De Grotto quickly inquired, turning to face the servoskull. Wesley replied with a few happy 'pings' of it's music roller. "Well back you go then. Still plenty of merriment to make." The officer dismissed Wesley who drifted off back into the crowds.

Turning back to the offered cup, Douglas filled it with the content of the punch bowl he was manning. "Be careful with this one though, I wasn't the one to brew it so I can't confirm how potent it may be."

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LaxKnight
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Postby LaxKnight » Fri Dec 14, 2018 8:38 pm

A figure people likely glimpsed but very few bothered to know approached the gate. Her blue robes and the symbol on her chest told the guard that she was part of the Administratum. In tow was a older woman dressed in embroidered green dress who was carrying a decent sized contraption along with a little girl wearing a red dress. All wore beautifully made scarves to help deal with the cold.

“Mom, I told you I can carry it,” Haley said to her mother.

“I’m not that old, sweetie. I got this,” the older woman replied leaned close to whisper, “You’ll have your hands full looking after Casey.”

“Mommy! Mommy! It’s Saint Yarrick!” the little girl exclaimed, “Can we go see him?”

“Of course, sweetie. Haley will take you,” her mother said.

Casey cheered while Haley groaned. They kept the pamphlet dealers at bay for Haley came equipped with one she requisitioned when she helped print one and gave polite but curt thanks to those who greeted them before moving inside the base. Haley gave her mom the pamphlet.

“They are giving free repairs over there,” Haley said, pointing out the line to her mother, “We’ll be over here until you’re done.”

“Make sure to keep an eye on Casey. Hopefully this won’t take to long,” Mom said as she went to go stand in line to the Mechanicus tent while Haley and her little sister went to listen to ‘Yarrick’. It was obvious to Haley who this really was but she kept quiet. Unlike many of the older people around the ‘Saint’, Haley listened with mild interest. She did enjoy a good story.

“So Yarrick, what are the Hives on Armageddon like?” she asked.

*~*~*~*

Around the same time a familiar Chem Dog happily beamed at a civilian as she put some ham slices their plate in the serving line.

“Merry Candlemass!” Hat called before she moved to serve the next person. Being a penal legionnaire, it wasn’t a surprise that at least one ended up in the serving line ‘voluntold’ to do it. Hat made sure to make her stuff extra clean for this and because of this, along with being the only one to have her own hairnet, landed her this job. The hair net only slightly clashed with the wreath she wore around her head like a crown. It was so fresh that berries could be seen in it.

“Merry Candlemass!” she repeated with joy as she served the next in line.
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Warsmith Wolf
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Postby Warsmith Wolf » Mon Dec 17, 2018 5:17 am

*~*~*~*
VoxPopuli wrote:Amidst the thick of it, overseeing the bell-ringing and initial construction was the Imperial preacher Nathaniel Abasque, who had even sought out elder refugees to remember the traditional chimes and hymns of Naris. He and the other clergy had been granted an area at the side of the main festivities for an impromptu chapel, for Candlemass without mass, was nothing but a gaudy excuse to eat, greet, and over-indulge.
"And sayeth the first Saint, 'Toll the great bell Once, and venerate all that once was'. For the lessons of the past shall ever be there to teach us."

Beaming like a spotlight wired to a hotshot charge pack, Missionary Abasque was no man to lead from behind. Arms firmly gripped around the thick rope of a bell, the man heaved in time to his proclamations, the resounding chime of the bell echoing throughout the ad-hoc chapel.

"And sayeth the second Saint, 'Toll the great bell Twice, and reflect on all that you now have'. For the Emperor hath granted you these things in His Beneficence, for which he asks only your faith."

The "chapel" was, in fact, a demure assembly of pews and a cobbled-together altar underneath a plasteel rebar frame covered in a tarpaulin to keep the snow out, but an Imperial Aquila hung over its entrance nonetheless (cheerfully blessed on the spot by the Missionary himself). Right now the altar lay unmanned, for the resident preacher was currently manning the bells, though young and old alike littered the pews, a Guardswoman with festive antlers taped to her helmet flitting about between those who needed assistance (Guardsman Melchiott from the Messenger Corps, good lass, always dependable).

"And lastly the third Saint sayeth, 'Toll the great bell Thrice, and look towards thy future'. For the Light of the Emperor shall shine onwards evermore, and it be thy duty to carry His Lantern."

The missionary had attached himself to the older members of the congregation like glue, happily exchanging knowledge of many Imperial traditions and hymnals - many variants unique to Valmaria that Nathaniel had studiously jotted down in his notes. There was even a techpriest in attendance, the collar of his robes fitted with thermal furs, though he had seemed somewhat 'out of it' - outside of his admittedly incredibly helpful aid in erecting the Mini-Chapel, he had contented himself to linger at the entrance, quietly drifting off into soft binharic blurts and technolingic murmurs as Nathniel gave one last great heave on the bells.

"Glory to the God-Emperor, all ye brothers and sisters! Let the light of the faithful bring His Warmth to all!"

"...~@~:>:_-^-_[]~#~';:;*-*...". A quiet burble of machine code. "task_exec:acknowledge. Waaaaarm..."

*~*~*~*
Ferrum honore veniat.
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Furbnus
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Postby Furbnus » Mon Dec 17, 2018 3:29 pm

"Look, I was told yesterday morning that I would require supplying enough food to feed an unspecified number of civilians, enough toys, games, and other knick-knacks for an unspecified number of their children and enough patience and energy to deal with all of that. So I suggest you get out of my way so I can do my job before you have about 40 hours of pent-up anger unleashed in an instant." Holland says to the Private that lacked the sense to stay out of the Quartermaster's way when he has a task. Wriggly the Servo-skull takes this moment to buzz around the trooper, getting uncomfortably close behind his head so the man can feel the assortment of cables and mechadendrites hanging below it graze his shoulder. Looking into Holland's cold, dead eyes he steps aside and stutters "Y-yes sir... the kitchen is right over there..." Holland barges past him and makes his way to the kitchen, a servitor following closely behind him holding a large crate with the words "Fortheparty" scribbled onto it and opens the door. The heat and smells are a welcome respite from the cold outside and he orders the servitor to leave the crate just inside and says "Look alive lads! Batch #107-c ready for use! Ground grox, grox steak, dough, onions, potatoes, carrots, corn and peas! ETA on more fruit: 10 minutes!." Plucking a grape off a table as he leaves his makes way back into the cold and snaps for his servitor to follow before sending it back to the supply dump, getting ready to enjoy the festivities for himself a bit.

Upon arriving at the courtyard Holland grabs a cup of soup and begins to mingle the best he can, mutterings of "Merry Candlemas" spoken occasionally as he attempts to find a group he can include himself in. Failing this he ultimately decides to lair in a corner and eat, looking up sometimes to look for someone that might be able to tolerate him.

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Zeppo
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Postby Zeppo » Tue Dec 18, 2018 4:29 pm

Ema crushes her lho under the heel of her boot, taking a moment to appreciate the last puff of her last lho before her shift. She has washed her uniform for the occasion, the white greatcoat cleaner than for the parade. Today is a big day. She looks around the crowd arriving, a kind smile forming on her face. She loves Candlemass, she always loves it.

The bells ring. Her mother and her little sister together in the hab, the smell of food filling the small room.
The bells ring. The smile of Tania when she opens the small package near the heater.
The bells ring. She hugs Tania, telling to not cry. That was the day of her departure, in her hand a small box closed by a ribbon.
The bells ring. Ema opens her eyes, her fingers touching the chain around her neck.

Too much sad memories for a joyful day, she walks to the kitchen, wiping the forming tears. Candlemass has always this effect on her, back in Mordia it seems to be an oasis on a dark desert. The only day without rationing, the day where the hives carries the light of the Emperor to cast away the permanent night. The day where everything can append.
She grabs two jugs on of hot recaf and the other of tea, and start wandering around to refill any empty cup. She needs to find something to send home, to Tania. But first, she has a job to do.


*~*~*~*~*

“Merry candlemass boy! Did you want some gingerbread? Here, it’s delicious, it comes from my family farm. And take some for your parents.” The kid sends a mistrustful look to the shiny angel, take the pieces of cake with a hasty movement before running to hind behind his mother’s skirts.
Lucius greets the kid and his parents with the bright smile when getting up. “Enjoy the party!”, the tiny bells he attached to the wings of his armour tinkle. For the occasion he has customized his winged hussar armour, adding festive flourishes on it. Hoping that will help to make him look a bit less scary for the civilians, likewise he doesn’t take his grenade launcher with him, preferring only takes his side weapon and a few tear-gas grenades in case of rioting.
“Do you want some too, my lady?” he asks Tabitha as get back to his post on the side of the door, holding another piece of gingerbread for her.

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Warsmith Wolf
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Postby Warsmith Wolf » Tue Dec 18, 2018 8:37 pm

*~*~*~*
Furbnus wrote:"Look alive lads! Batch #107-c ready for use! Ground grox, grox steak, dough, onions, potatoes, carrots, corn and peas! ETA on more fruit: 10 minutes!." Plucking a grape off a table as he leaves his makes way back into the cold and snaps for his servitor to follow before sending it back to the supply dump, getting ready to enjoy the festivities for himself a bit.

Upon arriving at the courtyard Holland grabs a cup of soup and begins to mingle the best he can, mutterings of "Merry Candlemas" spoken occasionally as he attempts to find a group he can include himself in. Failing this he ultimately decides to lair in a corner and eat, looking up sometimes to look for someone that might be able to tolerate him.
“You know, I don’t think ‘e’s in the right spirit for this.”

’In the right spirit?’ The bloody hell are you on about, Jack?”

Two Unseen Sons manned the kitchen, dutifully stirring at the soup barrels – a CPL BLACKBURN and GDSMN FAIREY by their carapace’s ident tags. The sturdy one appeared to be somewhat confused by the proclamations of the lanky one.

“Well, what I mean is, Candlemass is a time for bein’ merry, ain’t it?” Guardsman Fairey tilted his head towards the irritable quartermaster as he spoke. “An’ ‘e don’t look merry to me.”

“He never looks merry, Jack, ‘e’s a miserable sod.” Corporal Blackburn’s hefty build and rugged carapace did not exactly match the net tied around his hair to keep the food clean. “Rod up his arse longer than a…” A pause. “It’s long, alright?”

“An’ a Merry Candlemass to you, ma’am.” Fairey had paused to do his nominal job and give out soup, before returning to his partner. “Well, be that it is as it may be, Candlemass is the Emperor’s ‘oliday, ain’t it? It ain’t proper, bein’ a moody old bastard on His Day.”

“Ain’t proper.” Blackburn rubbed his chin while stirring soup with the other, nodding sagely. “Words well spoken, my son.”

“An’ another thing – soup.”

“I don’t follow.”

“No, your soup.” Fairey pointed to the next person in line, patiently waiting for Blackburn to get a move on. “Your job, innit?”

“Oh.” A pause, then a return to his duty as Sanctioned Distributor Of The Soup. “’Allo, sunshine, what can I do you for?”

*~*~*~*
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Johannes Wyss von Krieg
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Postby Johannes Wyss von Krieg » Wed Dec 19, 2018 1:06 am

#1-101 regarded the strangely cheery automaton with an air of curiosity at the unknown, mistification at the observation and conclusions reached in his head and slight bemusement of some sort resulting from old Pavlovian conditioning to strive and apply knowladge in new and creative patterns. Nothing intensive: as it wan't in neither his tried and true mental detachment from all matters to steer the waters in the bowl of his mind nor in the behavioural instincts to show even that. What the onlooker may see is simply the cocking of one bushy eyebrow and longer eye contact with the machine than one outside the mechanicus would usually commit to.

He accepted the cup if course, with both hands and commented in what could be interpreted as either grim or capitalization on a humour troupe "Then my last word shall be: 'Spare it from the Rest of Humanity'" he downed the cup in one long go.
As if waiting for something to happen the Hauptmann raised his finger in a gesture to standby 1 moment at the end of which he resumed "May be Delayed Action or... Nothing at all. Strange how it may seem: The optimal application of passive paranoia, a state of being active by its very nature and its dosage, a compounded action. Is this one of the reasons for your temper, Herr DeGrotto? Constant recalibration for the designated 'sweet spot', a measure of optimal results, nexer in a fixed position to engage for long?"

Lesson of the Day: Never give Kriegers of the #9453th Company Punch or else they start getting psycho-analytical.

Archer
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Postby Archer » Wed Dec 19, 2018 8:38 am

Carolyne had been working late nights and early mornings to clear her paperwork in time for this, she excitedly dragged her aid and Luca to the festivities. The propaganda officer was excited by the whole thing, wanting to meet people and just enjoy an evening out and about like maybe even avoid being treat like the most annoying person on base. She was in uniform but minus her weaponry, she had little else to wear really, but she liked her uniform.

Abigail walked at her officer's side humming as she looked over things, more here for food and evening far away from musical equipment where could just enjoy the sound of other people for once. They had all been signed up for hospitality work, though Carolyne had never clarified what exactly it would be, she hoped it wasn't going to be a surprise musical perform. She preferred at least some warning before Carolyne roped her into these things.

---

Luca walked along behind the pair, he was in his dress uniform or as Carolyne had put it 'overdressed' for the festival. He liked the heavy black cloak, he also thought the gold and silver trim gave him a rather nice look though Abigail had laughed when he suggested it. He'd cut his hair as well walking along, he'd mostly come because he'd heard who Yarrick was and he had to see it. He had no clue what he would be doing later, Carolyne had she would handle it so he made him worry but it couldn't be that bad.

Luca smiled as neared Yarrick, Luca couldn't help but snicker as the ginger drew up nearby watching the commissar with an almost smug grin from the young Terran as he hung at the back of the crowd.


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