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Post by LaxKnight on Dec 14, 2023 14:01:59 GMT -5
The air was a bit chilly but alight with anticipation for the coming of Candlemass. The streets of Harvest were bustling more than usual both due to families gathering to celebrate and Guardsmen being pulled off the frontlines for a much-needed break. However, that did not mean anyone was idle. Imperial Guard High Command has decided to throw a party for their troops in Harvest and has charged Captain Senja Kassab of the Tallarn 165th Armored to head the “Candlemass Committee” to see it done. Within the last few weeks, the gregarious blue sashed Captain could be spotted communing with the heads of various regiments before groups were asked to volunteer, “volun-told”, or dragged in to help participate in setting up for the holiday. Not even their recently returned comrades were safe. Regardless they served with the promise of reward in some way by their respective regiments such as extra days off, extra rations, a commemorative coin, or simply satisfaction in doing a good service. It became the most disruptive within the last week as things reached a crescendo with the Canteen being moved around, an audition for acts in the recreation, and a large tree being driven in through the gates being the highlights. However, overall things appeared to go smoothly. The morning of Candlemass was chilly, but as usual on Haven’s Garden there was no snow. The muster brought good news though: the Candlemass was a go this evening and open to anyone allowed in the Inner District. While dress or formal wear was encouraged it wasn’t required. When people arrived at the Founder’s Club they’d see the door flanked by a pair of Mordians with two small pines topped by candles flanking them. Entering they’d find a much larger tree decorated with Aquilas, tinsel, regimental coins, and some other nicknacks topped by a candle. Candles seemed to line the walls wherever one went. If they went left to the Canteen they’d see that the middle has been cleared out so the place could fulfill its original purpose as a ball floor. There were still tables lining the walls for people going to the serving line to enjoy the wonderful food such as steak, rabbit, turkey, salads, apples, and other vegetables. There was also a window open for caterers to take out dishes and drinks for people to take. Any Guardsmen can get one free beer, but anything else or more still requires tokens or other forms of payment. Music would play from the stage like it always did, but there was the promise of more at some point during the festivities. If the atmosphere was too stiff in the Canteen the Recreation Center that was on the right when one entered the Founder’s Club was a much more relaxed place with a table where one could get food buffet style, many other tables for people to sit, and choir singing lightly playing over the speakers. Of course, all the other activities done at the Recreation Center were still available such as games of various types like cards. Currently, a small band of Cadians were at the Canteen playing something simple yet inviting. The crowd was small but growing as more people got off shift and word spread that anyone allowed in the Inner District was allowed to attend. There was thankfully next to no line for food or drink. ---- OOC:Feel free to drop in or out at your leisure. You can make yourself a part of staff, but it'd be helpful if you say what you're doing in the OOC thread. If you want to do an act or performance of some sort on stage let us know in the OOC thread. The link to the OOC thread is here. |
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quoth
Junior Member
Posts: 82
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Post by quoth on Dec 17, 2023 13:26:00 GMT -5
Savin Deveraux stands on a crate behind one of the buffet tables, ladle in hand and server uniform jacket over her fatigues. She’s been kicked out of the kitchens after badgering the cooks about how much spice to put in this dish or how long to bake that.
Banished to the serving area she waits for the next guest to bring a plate for her to fill.
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Post by hobbsy on Dec 21, 2023 23:15:46 GMT -5
In a private corner of the Recreation Center are seated two very distinctive individuals at their own table, watching the comings and goings of the evening as they shared a meal together.In addition to her standard mechanicus robes, Metasurgeon cheslock had adorned her hood with A tasteful reef of seasonal greenery. Her mechadendrites (at least those that are visible) also appear to be wrapped in slowly blinking lights of many colours.
De Grotto himself is deck im a dress uniform which would be up to the standards of the present Mordians. No additions. No alterations. Except for the recently added paper crown which adorned his own head from a recently cracked Candlemas cracker. A servo skull also hovers above the table with a clipping of mistletoe hanging from it.
Standing not far of from the table and placed as an obstacle for anyone who would attempt to approach the two in the corner stands a Cadian. A rather nevous Private Croft stood at ease in her standard dress with a sign hung around her neck stating: 'Please do not disturb. I am on punishment duty.'
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Post by theredauthar on Dec 24, 2023 0:50:18 GMT -5
First Lieutenant Talus pauses briefly to return the salute to the guards before stepping inside the Founders Club. Once inside however she rubs her hands together to warm her fingers back up. She isn’t sure if the world is colder or warmer than her homeworld, but in a weird way it kind of feels like both at the same time. Either way it was somehow uncomfortable.
Course it didn’t help any that her gloves were not really bad weather gloves, but rather a driver’s gloves but that was another story all together. She quickly removes the gloves and shoves them into her pocket, slides her skull tipped command rod under her arm like a swagger stick or fancy cane, and steps into the canteen.
If any of the Cadians already present, or any trooper of a lower rank for that matter, stands or salutes her, she’ll return the gesture and nod for them to return to the festivities.
She had hoped to arrive early to avoid the crowds, mostly to avoid the attention. She had seen a few familiar faces, ones she didn’t expect to see again, and it was only a matter of time before someone recognized Hera Donovan. If she had been smart she’d have signed up for guard duty to avoid this. But at the same time, she really didn’t want to miss out on the celebration.
“I’m not going to let myself get in the way of me enjoying myself,” she grumbles to herself as she grabs a plate and approaches the serving table. She’s briefly distracted by the familiar looking nose on that master of ordinance in the corner, that she nearly crashes into the serving table itself,not yet acknowledging the poor ratling server behind it.
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quoth
Junior Member
Posts: 82
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Post by quoth on Dec 24, 2023 10:27:46 GMT -5
”Faire attention, cher, you been hittin the punch bowl already?” Savin teases gently as Hera steadies herself. She ladles out a portion of mashed tubers onto the woman’s plate then glances around and adds in a conspiratorial whisper, “Now, I want you to know that my help in the kitchen was offered and denied. If you need any spices for this tragically bland fare, you come and find me, y’hear?”
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Post by theredauthar on Jan 2, 2024 0:24:14 GMT -5
Ayla lets out a small embarrassed laugh, “Sorry about that, it’s been that kind of…well actually it’s the first day in a while that hasn’t been a crazy day.”
She is about to ask more about the spices, tired of the flavor of “beige” and “beige-lite” when a quick realization enters her mind, “Wait…did you just say someone already spiked the punch bowl?”
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quoth
Junior Member
Posts: 82
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Post by quoth on Jan 2, 2024 11:57:12 GMT -5
Savin blinks and takes a moment to respond. “You mean the Candlemass punch wasn’t boozy already? What kinda party is this? First they wouldn’t let me fry- nevermind, cher, you good.”
She offers what is likely supposed to be an encouraging smile, but wheels are turning behind her eyes, and it’s a safe bet that the punchbowl will have a healthy dose of the ratling‘s homemade moonshine amasec added before long.
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Post by LaxKnight on Jan 11, 2024 22:17:44 GMT -5
There were a few more people trickling in, but the Founder's Club was hardly full. This made sense: shifts were starting to change, passdowns and briefings were being had, and the holiday encouraged certain officers to be especially long winded with speeches and warnings before dismissing their troops. It was a small blessing that Captain Senja Kassab was at the party instead, but nothing compared to the burden she had to bear in making this party happen. It was never easy putting very different groups together, even if it was for a common goal, but it wasn’t the first time she had to do so either. It was probably part of the reason why she was placed in charge of holding Candlemass. It was far from easy, and hopefully everyone’s efforts will bear some fruit tonight.
The Tallarn Captain would step out from a door into the Recreation Room. As the head of the Candlemass Committee and acting as the MC for the party, Senja had to unfortunately don her khaki dress uniform. A blue sash denoting her rank crossed her somewhat thin frame and a clean shemagh sat neatly on her shoulders so her straight black hair could be seen. Blue eyes looked around to take in the atmosphere briefly. It was fairly flat. She’d roll up her left sleeve a tad to check her chrono. Sergeant Eurydice was due to be up soon. Though at first glance seeing a native noble’s name come up on the audition list was a surprise, a little intelligence shows this was probably the best place for him to be. She was curious how the crowd will react to a clown.
Senja would slide her way to the threshold of the Canteen reconverted into a ballroom. She mentally prepared her first words of the night before allowing herself a small smile. Hopefully Aba Aba Mushira, the God Emperor, will bless this night.
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Post by hobbsy on Jan 17, 2024 2:47:19 GMT -5
Behind the stage and in a section off part of the Founder's Club Lochore Eurydice, currently presenting himself as General Incompetix, looked around while attempting to conceal his concern.
Dress in a shabby long coat, a hat larger than his head with wild grey hair attached to it, a fake and gloriously shaped mustache, a chest plate made from several cooking pots, self-awarded medals and pointy black boots which stuck out the bottom of his coat and made every step exaggerated. He was all ready to go on stage after the band.
Well, almost ready.
For his act, he needed a straight man. Someone who would read a fake report from the front which he could make silly remakes about in reply before going to the second part of his act. He looked around the backstage for anyone who he could rope in. Unfortunately, most people knew better that to linger next to a clown about to literally act up.
He could always grab someone out of the crowd, but what if the person was too shy or refused? It would be safer to have the victim before the show.
And so as the band reached the end of their song, he took one last look around for a suitable character for the job...
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Post by theredauthar on Jan 18, 2024 1:17:00 GMT -5
Note to self, stay away from the punch, Alya makes a mental note to herself. She’s not against the idea of those wanting to drink something stronger, but her past experiences with any sort of “Booze” had catastrophic effects. So best she avoids it.
“Thanks for the heads up,” Alya says aloud, “And if you have anything that can make these a little more spicy, I’d be interested in trying. I’m not experienced with spicy, but it couldn’t hurt to try.”
Behind the stage, Preacher Zayne Errol crumples up his speech into a small ball before chucking it into a nearby waste basket. Zayne had wanted to be involved, say some inspiring words, read some famous quotes, or anything he could to make this Candlemass a bit more special for the Troops. Unfortunately most of his offers to help had been largely ignored and his offered to give a speech had fallen on deaf ears.
The closest he got to any form of attention was when someone had shouted about the “Prop Preacher” left in the middle of the floor. The stagehand had wandered off before Zayne had a moment to prove he wasn’t a decorative prop, but alive.
He’s about to give up when his eyes catch an oddly dressed officer peeking out into the crowd. And they appear to be distressed about something or another. A nervous performer perhaps?
Maybe his speech wasn’t to be, but perhaps a word or two of encouragement could help one Trooper tonight.
Zayne approaches the Strangely Dressed officer and gently taps the “General” on the shoulder, “Excuse me, might I be of assistance?”
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quoth
Junior Member
Posts: 82
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Post by quoth on Jan 18, 2024 9:40:42 GMT -5
Note to self, stay away from the punch, Alya makes a mental note to herself. She’s not against the idea of those wanting to drink something stronger, but her past experiences with any sort of “Booze” had catastrophic effects. So best she avoids it. “Thanks for the heads up,” Alya says aloud, “And if you have anything that can make these a little more spicy, I’d be interested in trying. I’m not experienced with spicy, but it couldn’t hurt to try.” Mention of spices snaps Savin’s attention back from plotting her punchbowl caper, and she beams at Alya, “ C'est tout un sucre, cher, I take care of you. Won’t burn your tongue off, just give it enough kick for you to notice.” She rummages in her pockets and produces a tin of reddish powder, with which she sprinkles a measure onto the mashed tubers. “Mais, that’ll do ya. Ain’t Candlemas with boring food, I say. Have a good party, now, cher.” |
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Post by hobbsy on Jan 20, 2024 1:35:53 GMT -5
Zayne approaches the Strangely Dressed officer and gently taps the “General” on the shoulder, “Excuse me, might I be of assistance?” Lochore turned to face what was the answer to his unspoken prayers. Although the preacher was thin and unassuming, at this moment he was as glorious as the Emperor himself in the eyes of the clown. A preacher, a figure who stood out and blended in at the same time. Someone who people would naturally assume is to the point, yet funny by no part of their own. The perfect straight man! "Yes. Yes I think you can be of assistance!" General Incompidix replied, his voice raising in excitement as he spoke. Before the preach could react, the clown turned on him, frusted a few papers into his hands and delivered the quickest brief of his life. "Now. I need you to help me with my performance. Now all you have to do is come out on stage with me, I'll say a few words to the crowd, I'll prompt you to read a line off the paper and deliver a funny reply to each line you say. Then you can go back off stage while I harass the crowd. Any questions?" |
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Post by LaxKnight on Feb 4, 2024 3:17:27 GMT -5
As the Cadians were wrapping up their last long the Tallarn Captain would sneak along the side of the Canteen. She’d take the time to look out to the venue to search for the next at that was due to appear in a few moments. Sgt. Slapstick wasn’t hard to spot with his exaggerated uniform. Senja spotted him conversing with what looked to be a preacher. A frown crossed her face. She was aware what most of his act entailed, but last minute was not the time to find a straightman. Alas, the show must go on. Perhaps the announcement will speed things along.
The Cadians would finish their song before the Tallarn would take the stage and the microphone.
“That was the Sound Fortress. Give them a hand,” she’d wave to them as they left the stage.
There was scattered applause.
“Good evening everyone and welcome to the Candlemass Party!” she said, “I, Captain Kassab, will be your Master of Ceremony for this evening and we have a few acts scheduled for the night. Feel free to eat, drink, and leave at your leisure as long as you don’t make too much of a mess. Reminder that each Guardsman is allowed one free drink, assuming your regiment lets you. Now, to start off the night we’ll begin with a briefing from General Incompetix!”
She’d wave a hand to where Lochore was in the crowd. Hopefully he was ready.
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Post by hobbsy on Feb 7, 2024 16:43:28 GMT -5
"Now, to start off the night we’ll begin with a briefing from General Incompetix!” "Just come to the stage when I call you up and bring that list." Lochore whispered as he was introduced. And so the show began. General Inconpetix stood up, activating a spring tool within the uniform which made an exaggerated farting sound. After comically waving the imagined far away, the general placed a kazoo in his mouth and began to march in a manner so uncoordinated that it would make a Mordian weep. How he was able to walk in such a manner without falling, while playing a poor rendition of a marching tune on the kazoo on top of it all, is beyond astounding. To the relief of the Mordians, the marching gage ends as he reaches the stage and comes to an over-the-top half and present a shadow puppet spider. He the realized his mistake and reshaped it into an Aquila salute. "Alright alright, settle down and that's an order! Also I'll have a cigar and a waffle with that order." General Inconpetix started, giving a moment for the crowd to have their laughs before continuing. "Thank you for coming to my brief of the day this evening, I and the commissar I ordered to round you up are please you choose to attend this meeting! Now. First order of business is 'afix bayonets, followed by the daily report. Now unfortunately my usual adjutant is MIS, so commissars keep your bolters unclipped and ladies keep uniforms clipped up! Fortunately I have a member of the the Clergy instead of a Mordian here to take his place, so rest assured that both your souls and soles will be left relieved and in tack by the end of the night!". The general gestures to Zayne with a riding crop which shot out of his large sleeve and called "Padre! Please come and join me on stage if you please! And if you don't there's a commissar here in the front row who be happy to spend the rest of her evening with you!". |
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Post by theredauthar on Feb 7, 2024 17:14:33 GMT -5
“Oh dear,” Zayne whisper to himself. Between unclipped uniforms and potential angry commissars, this sounded like a very risqué comedy sketch. Of course, many guardmen like that kind of thing so if boosts morale, it was probably fine. It wasn't heretical, at least.
Zayne walks out towards “The General”, the papers in his hand. He’s extra careful to not trip over his robes and ruin the skit. Afterall, he was only supposed to read lines.
“You summoned me, General?” Zayne says, trying to not feel embarrassed about the ordeal. It's not the fear of the audience, but the fear of cracking a smile at the ludicrous uniform before him.
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