#...Upheaval of war firsthand - m:m threads

[fjalarspark]

Unscripted Sub-Plot

You watch as the storybook characters play out their scripted lives, day in and day out.  As though fettered, they stick to their routines; they fulfill their roles - or lack thereof. They do what must be done to keep the main beats of their storybook life going. But what happens if something new and different were to be introduced by an outside force? Will they continue on as if nothing happened? Or will they instead break? Perhaps you might be inclined to find out. [Grants Reason +1] Starter for @circumpolars

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                   It was all a strange endeavor, truly. This whole ordeal was...bewilderingly beyond anything he’d suffered or experienced before― he hadn’t much more to explain this predicament. Could this magic that had brought him here be of a similar nature to the one which somehow placed him in the presence of should-be-dead Lord Sigurd and redemption-seeking Arvis? Or perhaps it was the same magic? A scholar to the bone, Azelle couldn’t help the way his mind reeled and doubled back on itself; this was all too confusing, all something beyond him. Were she alive, could Fjalar herself, the mage of the Crusaders, begin to fathom this absurdity? 

                   Oh, it was all a headache, and Azelle was less than pleased at the throb in his skull from all of his pondering. It wore heavily upon him for reasons he couldn’t quite place, but whether or not he could place the reasons, he had to seat himself against the exterior wall of a rather bland shack of wood amidst the bustling villagers. Oh, Naga forbid he be responsible and bring a proper journal to jot down his questions so he didn’t have to struggle to keep them all in mind. 

                   A sigh left him, tired yet moreso frustrated than anything. This wasn’t the academy. This wasn’t even Grannvale... though the surrounding liveliness wasn’t too far off from the backwater villages of the kingdom before ill news had spread. Something was familiar― the feeling of the people whose lives were yet unaffected. He didn’t even seem to exist to their blank minds― eyes glossed over without so much as a single emotion. It was eerie, a little absurd, and certainly not where Azelle belonged. More than anything, he wished to have the company of someone he knew...even if he didn’t know them too well. Crusaders above, he’d even take Arvis right now. 

                  “Oh this is odd,” He mumbled, elbows bending idly over his knees, “Odd and weird and very, very stressful.” Each passerby ignored him, each one in a world of their own...Or perhaps he was in their world? Oh, what did it matter? He was lost and that was all he knew now. 

[castellankurze]

@templarhalo I couldn’t resist another thing based on your suggestions.

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The rumors had not been mistaken.  Her hair was white as snow; white as salt - not the product of dye or bleach, but rather the byproduct of the moment that had shaped the fortune of the entire Imperium.  It contrasted sharply with her dusky features, with the sleek ebony finish of her armor.   She approached with caution, but without fear, her ceramite boots crunching on the jagged beads of glass that lay upon the stone floor.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.  Even after untold thousands of years of terraforming procedures, the atmosphere of Venus was wretchedly volatile, churning with unrelenting thunderstorms.  It suited his mood well.  Wind blew through the open window frames, stirring the tattered threads of the sole banner that had survived the brutal bombardment, two of the four spokes of the Templar cross fluttering softly.

Sigenandus felt his hands tighten upon the pommel of the Sword of the High Marshal, its point grinding ever so slightly against the stone in response to the subtle motion.  She couldn’t possibly have heard it, but nevertheless she stopped a double arms’ length from him, eyes intent as if they might pierce the armor of his helm.

There was silence.  Even the roiling atmosphere seemed to hold its breath.

“I had the great fortune to set eyes upon this place, once,” the High Marshal finally said.  “I was then a man of the Sword Brethren of the chapter, and from the moment I first stepped through the gates I knew that I was stepping into history, into a grandeur of something so far beyond myself that even I for all my honors, could not picture the fullness of it.  A greatness held aloft by thousands of brothers before me, and thousands who would follow.”

She had the grace to turn her head from him, to look upon the destruction wrought by Vandire’s orbital bombardment.  To see it firsthand.

“Our loss is incalculable,” he said, his voice grave.  “So much more than stone and steel, men and materiel, trophies and testaments.”  He lifted his head, looking towards the open space where once the roof of the cathedral had come to a point above the great altar.  “The very being, the very memory of our chapter has been sundered.”

She turned her head to look upon him once more.  “Will you put your blade to my neck in vengeance for that atrocity?” she asked.  He tone was frank.

Sigenandus lowered his head once more.  “No,” he finally said.  “The head that most richly deserved taking has already been culled.”

“But you will resent me,” she said.

“That is my prerogative,” he replied.

She considered him for another moment and finally dared step closer, turning on her heel to face the remnants of the altar with him.  “I would not presume myself to understand the extent of your loss, High Marshal,” she said, her voice quiet and hard.  “Buildings can be remade, but you are correct; some things cannot be.”  He did not respond to this, and after a long moment she spoke once more.  “How long will you hold your vigil here?”

“Until I am certain,” was his reply.

For the first time, she seemed taken aback, and looked at him with an eyebrow raised.  “Certain?” she echoed.

“These chapter keeps were constructed in the days of Sigismund and Scharn; as much founding pillars of our chapter as the men themselves.  Now they are but husks, destroyed from orbit on the word of a madman for my chapter’s crime of insufficient loyalty.”  He paused, listening as yet another boom of thunder echoed in the distance.  “And I, I will be remembered as the High Marshal who declared crusade against the soil of Holy Terra itself in vengeance.”

“To excise the darkness from its soul,” she said.

He glanced her way, the rubied eyes of his helm glinting.  “A space marine knows no fear,” he said as he turned forward once more.  “The better that he might wield his certainty as a weapon in the service of the Emperor.  A space marine who cannot be certain in his own strength of conviction, one who cannot so much as bring his blade to bear against the foe, is no less a shell than this once-great keep, and for him to bear the name Astartes is to dishonor his kind and his chapter.”

Her eyes had narrowed.  “It’s not the political upheaval that bothers you, is it?” she asked sharply.  “You know that measures have been taken to ensure another Vandire never arises.  It’s not declaring war on Terra, either.  You knew what you had to do.”  She turned and faced him squarely, hands on her hips, her frame no less iron than his own.  “You’re shaken by the knowledge that you lost this keep, that you took the enormous step of going to war with Holy Terra itself, and yet even with all that righteous wrath your chapter failed to carry the walls of Ecclesiarchal Palace.”

She had struck a blade straight through both his hearts, and the High Marshal discovered that his hands had become so tight upon the pommel of his sword that the activation rune was flickering.

She stepped forward so that he had no excuse but to look upon her, eyes molten.  “You will stand here forever and a day, High Marshal, and you will not be certain,” she said.  “If there is one thing that these past years have taught me, it is that certainty is but a comfort in lieu of wisdom.  I was utterly certain of everything I knew.  My faith unshakable, my skill unquestioned, my position at Vandire’s hand inviolate.  And now?”  She shook her head, her snow-white hair rippling with the motion.  “Let that be your certainty, High Marshal Sigenandus.  Every action we take, even those in the name of the God-Emperor - perhaps especially those - is driven with our will to make right that which is wrong.  That does not mean we will succeed; perhaps we will fail much more than we do not.  It is not success alone that signifies our righteousness, it is perseverance.  Take the burdens that have been placed upon you, shoulder them, and step forth.”

Thunder boomed as if to underscore the emotion in her entreaty.  She watched him for a long moment, waiting for an answer, and finally began to turn away when, as if pulled forth from him by some external force, he finally said “I am still resentful, Lady Dominica.”

She paused, brow raised once more.

“You make it very difficult to turn blame against you, rather than admit weakness within oneself.”

The corner of her lips turned upwards and she tilted her head to one side in consideration.  “Hm.  I have had the incalculable blessing in my life to meet with the God-Emperor himself.  I did not think I would also have the good fortune to meet Sigismund, as well.”

He boots crunched on the broken shards once more as she departed, and once her back was safely turned Sigenandus lifted one armored hand to scratch a thumb against the grille of his helm, unaccustomed to the warmth of the flesh beneath.

[fjalarspark]

I Came, I Saw...I Cleaned

The Ethereal Party was a smashing success! That said, perhaps it was a bit too smashing… the reception hall and parts of the surrounding campus are looking worse for wear with how littered the ground is with broken decorations, spilled punch, and trampled cat-ear headbands. When only a few students stepped forward to volunteer their help, the administration decided to up their game and hand-pick a few “struggling” students to help out with the cleaning, hoping that the good deed will help them see the inherent value in performing good deeds. Whether those students take the lesson to heart, or even need the lesson at all, is another story…

Ball clean-up starter for @salvational

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                    It was mess― an atrocious, floundering mess remedied by very few. He couldn’t simply let the clean-up crew suffer the poor etiquette of the students and break their backs trying to clean up this whole messy ordeal; he’d walk away with a guilty conscience if he didn’t do anything! That simply wouldn’t do...but it wasn’t exactly like Azelle could do much on his own. He only hoped that he might be joined by another grateful enough soul to help remedy the mess they― the students― had all caused. 

                    Empty drinking glasses littered the expanse of the punch table, and Azelle figured it would be best to start there. So, he scooped up as many glasses as he could and deposited them in the passing dish bins, returning to the table to take in another armful and repeat the process until the punch table was cleared of all empty glasses. All the while, he hummed to himself, organizing his thoughts while he absentmindedly restored order to the table.

                    He’d met so many people...so many people he though he’d lost. From Lord Sigurd and Lady Ethlyn to Shannan― King Shannan― and little Seliph...not so little Seliph, but who he could only recall as little Seliph. Crusaders above, even Arvis had sought him out and greeted him, and something bitter blossomed in Azelle’s heart when he recalled how awkward he’d been around his elder brother. It was just Arvis! Belhalla-burning, Sigurd-slaying Arvis...Oh, he’d have to soon learn to move past that. After all, it sounded as if his elder brother was striving to make amends; maybe Azelle could do the same. 

                   “Oh, here!” He beckoned to one of the servants passing by with their dish bin, and he dumped his newly acquired punch glasses into the tub. Punch table handled, Azelle looked around; he knew many of the other students here were selected by the faculty to serve some sort of punishment― be it for too severe of drinking or other reasons, he didn’t know. He also didn’t desire to find out. No, he simply wanted to help the janitorial team and be on his way to his studies.