Artefacts from The Past [Armin/Open]

[☠ Kyle Steinbeck]

Exhibition:[/b] Artefacts from the past.
Time:[/b] 1745hrs
Location:[/b] Underground Storage Facility; Nuremberg.
Weather Outside:[/b] Treacherous downpour and wind.

Open spots:
This is open to Dan/Armin, but 1 other person may join at most. So 3 members Max, no more!


The Kubel-Wagen’s worn break pads squeaked, as the vehicle pulled up outside a grand building in one of the many streets of Nuremberg’s passionate society. Around every corner, the buildings spanned from miniature structures, that seemingly looked like a eloquent model that would’ve been made to decorate a mantle-piece, from the more grand buildings, that had the neck craning backwards and the jaw gaping open from the sheer height. Those were the buildings that had SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck suffering with vertigo from just admiring them, but they were also the buildings that played a fundamental role in their Fatherland’s upbringing. Their forefather’s foundations and ironically, they seemed the only tough enough buildings around - the only ones that would still be standing if a air raid was to occur.

Paying little attention to the chauffer of the Kubbel Wagen, Kyle admiringly stared out of the window to the building he was brought too; The building classified with a secret vault, that only the SS knew about. Putting on his black leather gloves, Kyle reached over for his officer’s cap upon the passenger seat beside him and put it on; Picking up his leather jacket alongside where the hat had been laid, neatly folded, he unravelled it and threw it about his shoulders awkwardly inside the vehicle, obviously not wanting to get wet if he could help it. “Danke Fahrer” he said politely, the moment he opened the door to haul himself from out of the back of the vehicle, only to reach back in and grab at his briefcase, before shutting the door heavy handed.

Pulling at his collar, he rushed along the wet street, holding at the small opening upon his jacket at the neck roughly, trying to prevent any water from slipping in. Letting out a breath the moment he made it to the doorway of the grand building, he nodded to the guards standing either side of the door, passing cautious looks to the man who’d quickly approached; But they could see he was an officer in full dress, hurrying out of the rain, rather than charging the building like a mad Slavic rebel, all alone. Moving in through the golden rimmed door, his feet clacked against the marble ground and a few eyes cascaded his way. It was extremely quiet.

Approaching the front desk, the SS-Obersturmführer smiled briefly at the young woman and lifted his black briefcase to plant atop of the reception stand before him. “Gutenabend, bin ich hier im Namen der SS-Ahnenerbe, alias des Forschungs- und Lehrgemeinschaft DAS Ahnenerbe” he spoke politely again, breaking a brief smile as the young woman pulled a open look as if she knew what he was talking about. “OH- selbstverständlich, kann ich irgendeinen Kennzeichnung Sir bitte sehen” she asked softly, reaching out over the desk as SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck produced a small enclosed piece of carded identification papers. The young woman opened it immediately and read the details, to then close it and leave on the desk in front of her as she reached over to a telephone wired up across the desk from her seat. “Wurdest du magst einen Sitz SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck bitte nehmen, ich lässt jemand unten kommen, dich sofort zu beachten” she said gently, whilst cradling the bulky telephone piece against her face, awaiting someone to answer at the other end.

Kyle nodded and slipped down his black briefcase from off the reception stand, casually turning to face a small row of chairs set up alongside a coffee table. Approaching them, he placed his briefcase down onto one of the chairs and began to take off his wet coat, shaking it out some in the process, making himself busy for the small wait…


Translations:[/b]

Danke Fahrer
- Thank you Driver

Gutenabend, bin ich hier im Namen der SS-Ahnenerbe, alias des Forschungs- und Lehrgemeinschaft DAS Ahnenerbe
- Good evening, I am here on behalf of the SS-Ahnenerbe, also known as the Research and Teaching Community of the Ancestral Heritage.

OH- selbstverständlich, kann ich irgendeinen Kennzeichnung Sir bitte sehen.
- Oh of course, may I see some identification please Sir.

Wurdest du magst einen Sitz SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck bitte nehmen, ich lässt jemand unten kommen, dich sofort zu beachten.
- Would you like to take a seat please SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck, I'll have someone come down to attend to you immediately.

[∬: Armin Fuchs]

The small black vehicle glided smoothly down the rain-soaked streets of the Bavarian town of Nuremburg. The rain was pounding down on the small car, helped on by the driving winds, which sent it down at an angle. SS-Sturmscharführer Armin Fuchs stared blankly out the window at the wet, yet still magnificent buildings that they were passing by. The whole city really was a wonder of architecture, with graceful archways and bold carvings cut into the sides of buildings. Only in the Fatherland could such magnificent buildings have been built. Now, if only the weather was as nice as the buildings, Armin noted with a small smirk to himself. His smile faded as he listened to the rain pounding on the thin roof of the vehicle. He wanted to be out of this vehicle, even if it meant walking to his destination in the rain. That irritating sound was really giving him a headache.

As if sensing his displeasure the driver took that moment to look around slightly, “Wir werden bald ankommen“ We will be arriving shortly) he uttered out cautiously. He had been looking around as he said this and when he turned to face the road again he found himself in the path of a truck carrying military supplies. The car swerved to the side with a hoot of its horn and a loud curse from Armin. Why hadn’t he just gotten a military kubelwagen and chauffeur instead of getting himself his own transport!? The driver muttered a small apology and Armin didn’t say anything back to him. He looked out the rear window of the car and saw to his amusement, the contents of the truck covering the street. People were already coming over and spiriting away some of the equipment and it would without a doubt, never be seen again.

The car pulled up outside his destination with a spray of water from a puddle. A disgruntled pedestrian hurried away from the scene, soaked from head to toe. Armin got out of his transport and closed the door with a kick of his boot. Not bothering to cover his face with his coat he walked the few paces to the door and calmly stepped inside. The posh reception room inside was relatively empty. He walked over to the receptionist and grunted out his details. “Armin Fuchs, Waffen SS,“ he said plainly while pulling out a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and handing it to the woman. The receptionist glanced at the note and replied with a rehearsed. “Ja nicht ZU. Würde er Warten da drüben für ein paar Minuten bedenken“?” (Yes, OK. Would you mind waiting over there for a few minutes?)she said this last bit with a gesture at a seated figure in the corner.

Armin walked over and took a seat opposite the other man. This must be the officer from the Ahnenerbe-SS that he had been instructed to meet here. Well, he should better make sure incase the receptionist had made a mistake – which he wouldn’t have put past her. ” Obersturmführer Steinbeck?” He said cautiously.

[☠ Kyle Steinbeck]

The SS-Obersturmführer took a seat shortly after he’d shook out his wet coat, laying it cross the wooden chair’s backrest beside him near enough after. Sighing gently, he folded his legs and leant back into the chair, waiting quietly for word of someone being called down to deal with him; The young woman abruptly returned to work however, once she’d dropped the phone back down onto it’s receiver, shuffling some papers about from behind the desk. “Must get extremely boring working here” Kyle thought to himself, from his secluded position neatly tucked away in the corner of the grand hall.

Leaning over, he picked up his briefcase and laid it across his lap, with the back leaning against his folded leg. Clapping open the small silver clippers, he pulled it open and moved some papers about inside the briefcase, shifting envelops, stray papers and what seemed to be case folders; Hardly filled with anything. Pinching at what he was searching for, he pulled out a small silver case, no bigger than the length of his thumb and width of a manly finger. Unscrewing the tin cap, he grinned to himself and leant in against the silver case, smelling the Apricot scented dry tobacco. Dabbing his index finger in, he withdrew it to his left nostril and sniffed hard at the dry essence, before a quick lick succumbed to his finger to dab back in again, before holding it beneath his adjacent nostril to sniff again.

Rubbing his nostrils, he felt his eyes water gently to the feeling of the dry tobacco making it’s way down the back of his throat. Screwing the lid back on, he dropped the Gawith Apricot brand of Snuff back into his briefcase and continued to rub at his nose gently, trying to get rid of the particles of the stuff still left up his nose. Soon enough, another patron entered the building and SS-Obersturmführer closed his briefcase, locking the clippers back into place for security.

The was noticeably from the Waffen-SS, purely by the way he carried himself, more than anything else. Bold as brass, hard as nails; An old English saying he’d picked up from an expedition out in Tibet briefly before the war started, with his group being accompanied by some British researchers and Officers alike. It seemed as if the war had broken the little peace they’d made, as such incidents of meeting up with British Researchers would entail an untimely death. The senior NCO soon came walking over and took seat across from him, making the SS-Obersturmführer feel a little uncomfortable with someone sitting facing him. Placing his briefcase back upon the chair beside himself, he looked off towards the reception, making his eyes busy, before someone announced his title and sir-name.

Momentarily, Kyle glanced back and forth to the SS-Sturmscharführer, not quite knowing if he was talking to him, but more surprised that he knew who he was, completely unsuspecting it. “Ja bin ich SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck - du bist?” he asked cautiously in return, trying to fathom out whether he’d met the man before or not, but the face looked far from familiar. Then the Receptionist distracted him, as she stood up from behind the desk and caught his attention with the brief waving of his identification in her hand. “Dein Kennzeichnung Sir” she said aloud. Kyle nodded to her and looked back towards the Waffen-SS soldier, awaiting an answer of some kind to whom he may be.



Translations:[/b]

Ja bin ich SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck - du bist?
- Yes I am SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck - you are?

Dein Kennzeichnung Sir
- Your identification Sir.

[∬: Armin Fuchs]

Armin watched Steinbeck’s reaction to Armin’s use of his name and title. It seemed he was shocked that his name was known by some random stranger who had walked up to him. For a few seconds the lieutenant looked around blankly, as if not believing that it was Armin who had spoken to him. Armin was just as shocked that Steinbeck didn’t know who he was. He had been told to meet up with a researcher that went by the name of Kyle Steinbeck and he had been told Steinbeck was from the SS-Ahnenerbe and that he knew that Armin would be meeting him. Maybe the message to Steinbeck hadn’t gotten through. Maybe it hadn’t arrived yet. Armin would have to enquire about it once he got back.

After a few seconds the man acknowledged who he was and asked Armin who he was. He sounded slightly nervous, or cautious. ‘Yep’ Armin confirmed; ‘He doesn’t have a clue who I am!’ He sighed out loud. Then realising that he might upset the researcher he added in. "Traurig, seufzte nicht ich an Ihnen, Herr, “ (Sorry, I was not sighing at you, sir) He said and added in the sir to be polite. It would never do to upset the man who he might be working with. ” Ich bin SS-Sturmscharführer Armin Fuchs, ein representitive vom Waffen-SS. Ich werde überrascht, dass Sie keine Kenntnis von mir haben. Ich wurde erzählt, dass eine Nachricht zu Ihnen geschickt wurde, aber apperently es ist nie angekommen“ ( I am SS-Sturmscharführer Armin Fuchs, a representitive of the Waffen-SS. I am surprised that you have no knowledge of me. I was told that a message was sent to you, but apperently it never arrived.) he uttered with a curious expression on his face. ” But never mind about that; it will be sorted out later." He said with a semblance of a smile on his face.

The black great-coat he was wearing was damp from his short journey from the car to the building and it was uncomfortable. He slipped himself out of it and threw it unceremoniously onto the seat next to him. The holster on his hip which held his prized luger pistol was now clearly visible. It was always wise to carry a weapon around with you wherever you went. Slavic rebel attacks had become more frequent after the recent attack in Munich. There was a rumour going around the SS barracks’ that their commander, Wolfram had been in Munich at the time of the attack and he had been the target the rebels attempted to kill. It was also said that his son had been shot by the rebels there and that now he was driven on by a driving rage and he would kill anyone who came in his path. However, Armin doubted that this was true. Wolfram was after all only a major, even if he was in the SS and there were much juicier targets that the rebels could have gone for.

Armin studied the man carefully in front of him; trying to figure out his character. He didn’t seem to be a very outspoken or bold person, more of the quiet, intelligent type. He wasn’t the type of person Armin would usually get along with, but there was something about him that was… different.

[☠ Kyle Steinbeck]

Sniffing a little, he looked at the senior SS-NCO before him and pulled a curious look, with his head tilting ever so slightly, with the narrow stare; A typical reflection that displayed an eagerness in wanting to know whom the man may be. It was far from likely a Waffen-SS soldier of the ranks knew of his work, most of it was classified information and the rest of his work was far from interesting to the Waffen-SS, they were the men who played with their Panzers, took to the field and devised new methods in euthanizing the opposed races of the Aryan descents - So how did this man know him!? Kyle was far from a war mongrel or a decorated man at that.

The SS-Sturmscharführer sighed and immediately, Kyle pursed his lips together, feeling insulted by the rudeness, as if the man was sighing at him for not knowing who he was? Unfortunately, SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck hadn’t a clue to whom he may be. Was he meant to know? An apology briefly broke the air and Kyle relaxed a little, listening intently to the Waffen-SS Soldier’s next choice of words carefully. “Ah…” Kyle Steinbeck merely slipped out, now understanding to how he knew his name. He felt a little disheartened though, it always nice to meet someone who knew his work - a rarity in his case.

Watching the male remove his long coat, he noticed the sidearm and stiffly smirked, it was nice to know the Waffen-SS representative was armed, but it was also dulling to know this man knew far more about him, than he knew of him; That made Kyle feel awkward. “Nicht empfing ich keinen Brief oder Wort. Sturmscharführer” the officer replied gently, unfolding his leg to drag himself forwards upon the seat, leaning his elbows against the ridged ends of his kneecaps. “Sturmscharführer, kann ich dich anrufen Armin? Ich kam heute nicht in irgendeine Bestätigung dieses Seins eine formale Sitzung her. Ich möchte Sachen an der Mühelosigkeit halten. Du kannst mich anrufen Kyle, Kyle Steinbeck” he said with a gesture that stated; Let’s keep things friendly and off record…

The SS-Obersturmführer was going to offer a handshake from across his chair, when someone’s feet clapping against the shiny wet surface of marbled floor approached them. “SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck, Sturmscharführer Fuchs - wurdest du Follow-me bitte”[/I] a particularly tall, skinny man implied to the two SS-Men sitting there; He was dressed in a grey suit, that added years to his face and dulled any complexion the man resembled. He wore a spectacle in his left eye and his hair was far similar to Heinrich Himmler’s with the combed over look, yet, he was hardly middle aged. SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck nodded to the man, before looking to the hardened soldier in front of him. “Was du im Begriff Armin zeugen bist, sollten deinem Atem nie eine andere Seele überlassen. Sie sind bewertete Schätze des Vaterlands, ihr Aufenthaltsort müssen nur freigegeben zu uns wenige bleiben. Mich verstehen?” Kyle said firmly, perhaps for the first time since he’d been in front of the Waffen-SS male, had looked so serious about anything.

With that, he stood slowly and watched as the suited man beckoned them on to follow him towards two double doors at the end of the hall. Kyle looked to the soldier briefly and followed the suited man…

OOC: You can mod the walk to the “Underground Vault”. =)


Translations:[/b]

Nicht empfing ich keinen Brief oder Wort. Sturmscharführer.
- No, I received no letter or word. Sturmscharführer.

Sturmscharführer, kann ich dich anrufen Armin? Ich kam heute nicht in irgendeine Bestätigung dieses Seins eine formale Sitzung her. Ich möchte Sachen an der Mühelosigkeit halten. Du kannst mich anrufen Kyle, Kyle Steinbeck.
- Sturmscharführer, may I call you Armin? I didn't come here today in any acknowledgment of this being a formal meeting. I'd like to keep things at ease. You can call me Kyle, Kyle Steinbeck.

SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck, Sturmscharführer Fuchs - wurdest du Follow-me bitte.
- SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck, Sturmscharführer Fuchs - would you follow me please.

Was du im Begriff Armin zeugen bist, sollten deinem Atem nie eine andere Seele überlassen. Sie sind bewertete Schätze des Vaterlands, ihr Aufenthaltsort müssen nur freigegeben zu uns wenige bleiben. Mich verstehen?
- What you are about to witness Armin, should never leave your breath to another soul. They are valued treasures of the Fatherland, their whereabouts must remain disclosed to us few only. Understand me?

[∬: Armin Fuchs]

Armin let a small frown crease his pale face. Those idiot messengers can’t even get one single message to go through. And they had days as well! He let the frown leave his face quickly lest the archaeologist sitting in front of him think that it was targeted at him. ” Nein, ich habe nichts dagegen. Rufen Sie mich an, was dir gefällt, solange es nicht beleidigend ... Kyle.” ( No, I do not mind. Call me whatever you like as long as it isn't insulting... Kyle.) He smiled friendlily, seeing Kyle’s casual gesture. His body unknowingly relaxed; settling back into the chair more comfortably and what had been somewhat strained nerves relaxing. It was nice to know in a conversation with a superior that something you say can’t be used to demote you later on.

It seemed the lieutenant was just about lifting himself forward off the chair for some reason when a pair of black, polished and shining boots clicked themselves over to pair of soldiers. Well, it was really one soldier and one archaeologist. Kyle didn’t have the look of a soldier on him. He was too... clean and the way he carried himself was different from fighting men. Soldiers always walked ever so slightly bowed down and they looked as if they were ready to dive to the ground the moment a shell came whistling by over their heads or the sharp sounds of a machine-gun cut through the air. No, this man did not appear to be a soldier. Well, you never know. He could be just a capable leader as Wolfram or any other SS commander. Appearance told you a lot of things about someone, but they could be misleading.

The boots stopped and the owner, a tall, suited man started talking, telling them to follow him. Armin had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing at the man’s appearance. There was nothing really wrong with the suit; it looked expensive and was probably tailored specifically for the man. But his hair was just combed back flat onto the top of his head. It wasn’t a very comical look normally, but this many was starting to bald and there were small bald patches all over his head, which revealed the grey scalp underneath. Armin tried not to even think about the monocle. Armin raised an eyebrow at the speech given to him by Steinburg. He knew he had been sent here on something of great importance, but this sounded like more than he had been told at the start. He hadn’t really been told anything; only that he should be here at half past 5 on this date and he was to meet a Kyle Steinburg. This sounded much more serious than the pillaged art pieces and priceless furniture from the conquered European countries. ” Ja, ich verstehe, Kyle.” (Yes I understand, Kyle) he said worriedly; not knowing what he had put himself up for.

With a swish of his finger the grey suited man started walking towards a large pair of mahogany doors and Armin stepped up from his seat hurriedly and started following him, not bothering to pick up his coat. He walked quickly up to Kyle and started to walk just behind him. The doors opened at a light touch from the grey suited man and they were lead down a nicely decorated hallway. Pictures painted by famous artists hung on the walls here and there, but Armin had no interest in art and just ignored them. They were lead through another door into a less extravagant corridor which they proceeded to walk down. Armin frowned to himself, thinking that this was some sort of trick. He had expected to go through a door straight away that would bring them to the room, but this walk down long, gloomy corridors made it seem like some sort of trick. Down a flight of stairs they walked, which brought them below ground level. Plain white walls with peeling paint were what greeted them down here and there was no furniture of any kind. It was, however, well lit with light bulbs hanging overhead every few steps.

They stopped in front of a heavy looking door – heavy because it appeared to be mad out of metal – with two submachine-gun toting guards standing outside. Armin looked at the two men he had come here with and waited for one of them to do something.

OOC: If I have done something you don’t approve of in the journey there then just prompt me and I will edit it.

[☠ Kyle Steinbeck]

The clacking of all three men’s feet against the cold surface of the marble floor was magnificent! The noise echoed throughout for all to hear, bouncing from off all the grand walls that held the building’s structure together. The light patter of rain faintly heard from all around, as the downpour trickled and thumped against the panelled glass and wood ledges - The atmosphere was soothing, until the Himmler look-alike lead himself and the Waffen-SS representative through one of the many doors littering each and every wall from the grand hall they was situated in.

The echoing from the men’s clapping jackboots and shoes soon seized, as SS-Obersturmführer Steinbeck took notice of the elegant flooring laid beneath their feet. It was a long patterned rug that cascaded along the corridor’s floor they were roaming down, paintings and light fixtures fixated to either wall by their sides. Silently, Kyle observed the elegance of the narrow walkway and couldn’t help but make a comment towards the suited man upfront; “Es ist eine Schande, die keine von diesen aus Deutschland entstehen” the SS-Obersturmführer said with a smug look towards the suited male who glanced back with a smirk, not quite knowing what to say in response to the officer’s comment.

After leaving the warmth of the corridor, littered with French paintings and Indian woven rug/s, his feet battled against the staircase, before quite abruptly noticing the cold feeling of their new surroundings. Having to look back briefly, as if to make sure he hadn’t come through a time warp, he continued onwards alongside the Waffen-SS representative and tightened his grip upon the suitcase within his grasp. The atmosphere was dormant and dreary, it seemed as if the trio had gone through a palace corridor and come out inside a concrete bunker somewhere on the battle-front.

Soon enough a large cast iron vault door stood before them and two guards remained rigid either side. “Öffnen Sie die Wölbungtür” the suited male spoke out unto’ the guards, who clicked their heels together and in a well rehearsed fashion, twisted upon their heels and marched formally either side of the door, where both men grappled with a turnstile to begin twisting. After three rotations, a large clunk emitted from within the iron door and the guard lingering to the left of the door yanked back a hand-lever to release the remaining bolt heads inside the door to completely unlock. Struggling to pull it open alone, the second guard soon shuffled up beside the first one and with less of a struggle, managed to pull the door open about six foot, before both men let go. Moving out from behind the door, they hurried into a stood position in front of the vault door and clicked their boots together with a firm “Heer!” with both guards raising their arm in a generic salute to the officer and fatherland.

Nodding to the guards, Kyle saluted back half casually, more concerned with holding his briefcase, as he followed the suited male leading the way into the vault. Looking to the Waffen-SS NCO briefly, Kyle grinned like a naughty school-boy, apprehensive of what laid ahead. The suited male lead them down a long staircase that was behind the vault door, taking them deeper below ground, before they faced two wooden-doors. Sighing, Kyle was slowly growing impatient as he observed the suited male jingle out a bunch of keys and unlock the double doors, eventually pushing them open to step in.

Following quickly, as if patience had gotten the better of him, his eyes widened in astonishment the moment he faced the large warehouse complex before them - all built underground. Several large storage shelves ran down the massive room, with wooden crates and ornaments cascading each of the shelves. Some were preserved with a dust sheet, whilst others were laid in the open gathering dust. Glancing to the Waffen-SS NCO again, he soon faced the suited male who smirked at the two men to speak. “Nach was Sie suchen, ist am Ende dieses Raumes. Folgen Sie Insel zwei zur Rückseite. Ich werde hier, bis Sie bereit sind zu gehen, jemand muß an der Tür ständig bleiben warten”[/I] Kyle nodded and without a word, began to walk towards isle two, as if he couldn’t wait any longer…

OOC: You can control the movement to the back of the warehouse, looking at all the artefacts along the way. Strike up a conversation if you like. =P


Translations:[/b]

Es ist eine Schande, die keine von diesen aus Deutschland entstehen.
- It's a shame none of these originate from Germany.

Öffnen Sie die Wölbungtür.
- Open the vault door.

Nach was Sie suchen, ist am Ende dieses Raumes. Folgen Sie Insel zwei zur Rückseite. Ich werde hier, bis Sie bereit sind zu gehen, jemand muß an der Tür ständig bleiben warten.
- What you are looking for, is at the end of this room. Follow isle two to the back. I will be waiting here until you are ready to leave, someone must remain at the door at all times.

[∬: Armin Fuchs]

OOC: Seriously sorry about the delay, boss.

The somewhat chilling words “Öffnen Sie die Wölbungtür” came out of the suited mans mouth. The two soldiers guarding the door began opening the door as if it were a synchronized dance. Armin smirked to himself as they clicked their heels, turned around and starting pulling at a large shiny wheel beside the door. One of the guards gave a grunt as he struggled to twist the wheel. ” Steif ist es?” Armin smirked, making no attempt to help the men. One of them looked up and glared at him. The door clicked loudly as the turnstile came to its end. Next came a lever to finish unlocking the door and then there was the hard part; actually opening the door. First one man struggled with it alone and then the other came over, aware of Armins mocking grin behind him. At this Armin turned to the suited man: ” Sie müssen weniger auf ihrem synchronisierten Tanzen und mehr auf ihren Türenöffnungsfähigkeiten konzentrieren” He observed wryly, with a serious face.

Kyle seemed very excited by all of it, or so Armin guessed from the grin on his face. They stepped into a blank room with grey walls, Armin muttering a quiet sentence to the guards as he walked past: ”Zeigen Sie vor!” Armin looked around, confused. Was this what they were supposed to be seeing!? Where was all the treasure that he had imagined would be here? They couldn’t have been brought here for absolutely nothing could they? Armin looked behind him to exchange a look with the two men, only to see them disappearing down a staircase behind the door. He hurried on embarrassedly; hoping nobody had noticed.

The staircase spiraled downwards for what were probably a few stories before ending with a pair of double-doors. Armin sighed, making promises to himself that he would have the man shot if he had to come all the way down here for nothing. He grunted for the man to hurry up as he fumbled around for some keys. The doors were pushed open to reveal a cavernous room filled to the top with plunder. Crates with Nazi swastika’s stamped on them were everywhere and a lot of items were left open to the air as well. The suited man informed them he wouldn’t be accompanying them into the room. Armin responded with a ”gut and stepped further into the room nearly before the man had finished talking. Even Armin, who usually had no interest at all in old artifacts, was even getting excited now; Kyle was probably ecstatic.

He walked along slowly towards isle 2 until he was out of sight of the man at the door and then he stopped to examine some of the items on either side. An item on a shelf to his left caught his eye and he slowly walked over. A knife, lay bare on the shelf, coated with a layer of dust. A huge ruby was encrusted in the in the hilt and gold threads lay like spiderwebs across the stone hilt. ” Vergleichen Sie dies zu meinem Bajonett,” He said with a laugh as he held it up to try and catch some light on it. He placed It carefully back on it’s shelf, exactly in the imprint it left in the dust. ” Geplündert von allen Ecken von der Welt” He murmured happily to himself as he continued walking down the aisle.



Steif ist es? – Heavy, is it?
Sie müssen weniger auf ihrem synchronisierten Tanzen und mehr auf ihren Türenöffnungsfähigkeiten konzentrieren - They need to concentrate less on their synchronized dancing and more on their door opening skills
Zeigen Sie vor – Show offs!
Vergleichen Sie dies zu meinem Bajonett – Compare this to my bayonet.
Geplündert von allen Ecken von der Welt – Plundered from all corners of the world

[☠ Kyle Steinbeck]

OOC: No problemo, Dan-O!

Obersturmführer Steinbeck hurried along, the clapping of his shoes echoing from all around them, a mental remark being made upon Kyle’s thoughts as he continued onwards. The noise was comforting, but eerie to say the least, as their bodied souls were the only living things to be lurking within such an Aladdin’s Cave; At least they’d happily know if someone tried to creep up on them, it was hardly easy to try and dull the noise of their clapping feet, against such hardened and shiny floor, home unto’ their dear Fatherland’s treasury. Perhaps one in dozens of vaults that secretly littered their homeland.

Briefly stopping, he looked back for the Waffen-SS representative that mentioned something from behind him, standing against one of the many shelves littering such artefacts from the old ages of the past. Licking his lips, he watched the man handle the scabbard and knife, encrusted with jewels and entwinements of gold so freely; Kyle was just thankful it was soon set back down upon the shelf after a thorough inspection, as Kyle’s loose hand secretly withdrew from his Lugar’s holster - any looting made was a formidable offence to the Fatherland, a penalty of death by all means, as the treasure littering each and every surface, as their humble Führer’s.

“Gekommen, hat dieser Platz viel mehr, zum anzubieten” Obersturmführer Steinbeck said in a morbid tone, dragging back his tunic sleeve to look at his silver wrist watch, noting the time to himself, before he turned to walk again. His brown briefcase swung by his side idly and his eyes lisped from item to item, crate to crate that they passed. Numbers embellished upon all the crates in their thousands, these items weren’t just the odd one or two taken from those handsome grand homes, but among the thousandths of items taken in the name of their Fatherland. Even small tags loosely hanging from those items un-boxed had numerical values ranging into the thousands, this vault they wandered was certainly not the first or the last of the many vaults home to these invaluable items stocking the shelves.

Suddenly, Kyle came to an abrupt halt as something caught his eye. Raising an eyebrow, he approached slowly and almost cautiously, his eyes wandering over a few wet footprints on the floor in front of them. “Sturmscharführer…” he said in a worried tone, looking for the male to approach him, before pointing to the ground ahead of them. “Abdrücke… Es könnte eine falsche Warnung sein, aber, haben Sie Ihren seitlichen bereiten Arm” he ordered wearily, giving the fellow SS man a look that suggested they may not be alone after all; Kyle’s own hand unclipped the holster to his Lugar silently, just to be on the safe side.

Continuing down the long aisle ahead, Kyle’s eyes drifted more knowledgably from between obstacles now, his body keeping in line with the middle of the aisle, as to not be squandered by any lurking peoples or falling objects… Soon enough, the end of the Aisle was in sight and Kyle raised his brief-case slowly to hold with both hands, unclipping one of the catches as his eyes set upon the grand artefact he was sent here to inspect and collaborate data for; “Veit Stoss Altar, ist es wirklich hier, ich glaubt nicht meinen eigenen Augen” Kyle said to himself, amazed with the magnificent paintings draped from the wall and leant against the crates harbouring the rest of the altar.

There wasn’t much to see, but the few paintings left out, were alone enough to prove that the rest of the fifteenth century altar was there. The Germans were not foolish enough to break this magnificent piece of history up, it was an artefact that had to be kept together. Glancing to his solemn companion who most probably didn’t know what it was or why it was worth so much hassle, he undid the adjacent catch to his briefcase and set it upon a nearby crate to his left. Opening his briefcase, he pulled out some small tools, placing them down individually along the crate’s edge. A pair of tweezers, magnifying glass, small plastic bags no bigger than the palm and some other minor pieces of equipment…

“Ich weiß nicht, warum Sie hier gesendet wurden, aber, wenn Sie nützlich sein möchten, würde ich groß eine jener Kisten schätzen, die geöffnet sind--” but Kyle didn’t finish his sentence, as something down the third aisle dropped to the floor, causing a loud clattering noise. Freezing in his place, his eyes stared at the Waffen-SS NCO and warily began to shift a hand to his hip.




Translations:[/b]

Gekommen, hat dieser Platz viel mehr, zum anzubieten
- Come, this place has much more to offer

Abdrücke… Es könnte eine falsche Warnung sein, aber, haben Sie Ihren seitlichen bereiten Arm.
- Footprints... It could be a false alarm, but, have your side arm ready.

Veit Stoss Altar, ist es wirklich hier, ich glaubt nicht meinen eigenen Augen.
- Veit Stoss Altar, it is actually here, I do not believe my own eyes.

Ich weiß nicht, warum Sie hier gesendet wurden, aber, wenn Sie nützlich sein möchten, würde ich groß eine jener Kisten schätzen, die geöffnet sind--
- I don't know why you were sent here, but if you wish to be useful, I would greatly appreciate one of those crates being open--

[∬: Armin Fuchs]

OOC: Oh... ah... hoo... .... .... .... ....... ............... .................... .................................. .................................... .......................................................... Feck.

Armin nodded contently to Steinbeck as he drifted down the aisle, occasionally stopped to peer at anything that looked somewhat interesting. He was no archaeologist, but this room filled him with a childish level of degree. He stopped and squinted at a label on one particularly large box (Actually, it was more like a crate). ITEM FE8 18960 was printed boldly. His eyes widened as he realised just how much artefacts were being ‘acquired’ from all over the continent. The scavengers and looters were certainly doing their jobs well.

Most items were neatly hidden away in labelled boxes, but a few ‘less important’ items lay freely open to the dust, perhaps they had been forgotten? Armin’s eyes passed over a long line of jewel-encrusted jewellery with just a couple of battered tags hanging off them. They were worth more than Armin earned in five months, but they were regarded trivially here; looking as if they lay where they had been tossed. ”Pah” Armin muttered quietly. The soldiers, the workhorses of the Fatherland who had achieved so much, would never see any of this wealth. He had utmost respect for the Führer, but this made him angry. He considered sparking a conversion about it with Steinbeck, but quickly decided against it. He had no idea if the man would share his sentiments, or just shoot him on the spot for his ideas.

Armin was jerked out of his mental ramblings by a few hissed words from the Lieutenant. He looked down at his feet to see a set of footprints firmly imprinted in the dust. His heart thumped loudly and he spun in a quick circle, his eyes searching the gloomy cavern. These footsteps hadn’t even started to get covered by the dust. They were fresh. Armin’s search failed to return any results; he was in between two huge storage shelves, so his vision was somewhat limited. Armin’s hand went to his holster, where he cautiously clicked off the safety of his pistol. Steinbeck was right, it might just be a false alarm. But then again, it might not be. The Slav resistance had been getting loud lately and god knows what they were going to try next.

The two continued onwards. Armin stopped paying attention to the treasures he was surrounded by and searched for any sign of the owner of the footprints. His eyes flickered across his face and his head turned from side to side. Abruptly they reached their destination and Armin matched the look of awe on Steinbeck’s face with a confused expression on their own. This was it? A collection of grubby paintings and a statue or two?! ”Uh... what... is it?” he asked, somewhat rudely. Some kind of altar apparently, but what was so special about it. Steinbeck had just started directed Armin to open a couple of crates when a loud crash caused Armin to spin around, whipping out his pistol as he went.

Armin put a finger to his lips, trying to stop Steinbeck from saying anything. He inched up closer to the Scientist. ”Challenge him, distract him.” Armin was without a doubt now; somebody was in the room with them. This room hadn’t been disturbed for weeks and they hadn’t even walked down aisle 3. There was no reason for anything to fall now of all times. Armin inched slowly to the side, his pistol raised in front of his face. He moved slowly, but quietly down an aisle, peering through gaps in the shelving; trying to see who was in the room with them. He hoped Steinbeck hadn’t been insulted at his lack of respect to superiors and was just doing as Armin bade him. This might not turn out well for him if Steinbeck was one of those traditional Prussian officers. Armin came to a stop at a gap between two crates. Was that a shadow a few aisles ahead?

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Moderation Post:

The following CP has been issued:

Steinbeck - let's see here number of posts (4) multiplied by number of years this thread spanned (2) equals eight (8) plus one (1) for punctuality...sounds good to me - 9CP

Fuchs - same as above (but he beat you out on the timely manner thingy ) - 10CP

-JT