No more boats

[monty]

[ooc]So yeah. Join up. No plot whatsoever, i just miss role playing xD

A steady slush had been dripping from the sky for the last three nights. It didn't fall like normal snow did, but rather just leaked from the clouds in thick sheets of gray. The ground was covered in inches of ice, which in turn was covered in inches of much. At first, the German army over looked this and tried to keep the workforce moving. They drove their trucks over wooden planks and sawdust, getting them stuck each time until slurpslurpslurp, they got stuck one by one. Then the mules were brought in, being whipped and shouted at and forced to haul the burdens from boat to shore to the army. Eventually, they too refused, and the fine layer of dirt and grime and mule waste and struggle was once again covered up by snow.

All was still. Sailors abandoned their boat in favor of the small village the Nazi soldiers hand torn from the hands of the bleeding Polish townsmen. No more boats, not even German ships, were coming into port. The weather was a tough winter bastard, and no man felt like fulfilling their duties. Even the officers and higher ups ignored protocol in favor of staying indoors, rationing what food was left and trying their hardest to keep their men happy.

As well as keeping the enemies out, and the surviving Pollocks from like...escaping the one or two barns they were packed into.

Gero plays one of those guards. He wears his normal attire, and is fitted with a very dandy coat. This coat had long since stopped retaining enough heat to keep him comfortable, and he was soaked through his skin to the bones. Around his mouth he had wrapped a thin gray scarf, an attempt to keep the frostbite off his face. The stormtrooper had his eyes squinted against the sleep, and each lash was sprinkled with light powder. He could not see more then three feet in front of him, but the night was surprisingly still. There was nothing out there to make noise.

He was not far from town, not that you could tell, but was posted in a little den that his superiors were confused into believing would be snug. He didn't feel like moving from the little shelter he had, wasn't sure if he could find his way back. A dim sense of fear began to rise from the back of his mind, making the gentle peeping noise a potentially life-threatening situation will spur, but he ignored it for the time being.

[⊕ Edzard Crimm]

It was a completely dismal evening and had the sun been out the reflection of it off of the snow alone would have been enough to blind a man. It seemed like an endless downpour off the awful stuff. Never could get rid of it. Edzard brushed his hands up and down each other mainly to try and create some warmth in them but to also keep the weight of the snow down to a minimum. He stepped off his line under the side of an old house and took his helmet off briefly only to return it to the top of his skull once brushing the mound of snow away from it. The tread in his boots had long since been packed full and were now just too slick to accomplish their main function, grip. As he stepped away from the building he slid a good bit and it was hardly unnoticed as much as he flailed about but it was better to look like a fool than to be soaked like one.

He walked down the street a piece toward a small hut like structure, As he came to it he pulled out his last cigarette and tried to light it but there was no use in trying. His lighter had become unusable long ago. Now he just had to hope he saw another soldier with a lit smoke so he could get a jump off from one of them.

[monty]

The strangest sensation was spreading from the tips of his fingers and down his spine. He was no longer shivering, but was feeling a peculiar warmth spread over his system. It was like a numb throb, pulsing dull heat through his veins and creating a foggy blur in his mentality. He knew this to be an early stage of hypothermia, positioned in this village long enough to see claim more then one foolish soldier.

So- enough was enough. This was a good enough excuse to be finished up for the night. The Nazi stormtrooper shouldered his rifle, hiding it under his coat so it looked like he had a deformed hump, and marched off....in the general direction he hoped the village was. He didn't bother too hard about being silent, despite how dangerous his situation was. He couldn't think properly anyway, for the cold, so for now he was using the logic that if Gero couldn't see them, they couldn't see him.
All he knew was that it was time to get home. And the cold winter lashed at his body with each grueling step away from the forest.

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

OOC: Hi, not quite sure where everyone is? Monty’s walking away from woodlands, Eddie’s in a hut down some street and I thought this was an Harbour/shipping yard RP.

IC:

The clicking of boots echoed down the harbour-side, followed by the wet splattering noise of the heels clunking into the melting puddles of ice. The wind-chill was unbelievable and Hauptsturmführer Wolfram couldn’t fix his long overcoat’s collar up enough against his neck, his pink nose and lips burrowing into the cavern of his warm itchy coat, whilst his gloved hands grappled onto what grip was left to a nearby boat’s rail. The boat wasn’t big, but big enough and harboured a few highly dignified officers within, keeping burley and warm in front of a stove and hot cup of coco; Buffoons.

Squinting through the haze of sleet that briskly blew by, the Hauptsturmführer wedged his wet boot up against the boat’s side, pulling himself up and over the rail. The bastards hadn’t even left out the ramp for him! Grumbling beneath his breath, he regained a posture, as not to slip on the wet deck and made his way downwards towards the cabin. He’d visited the boat earlier in the day, told to come back later. Even now, it didn’t seem as if the Hauptsturmführer was welcomed, more forgotten about. Approaching the cabin door, he peered in through the frosted panel of glass, before opening the door and looking in… No one in the wheel room… How strange?

Yanking it closed, he looked around dumb-found to where his superiors had gone. Obersturmbannführer, Dieter Egon and SS-Oberführer Fritz KÖRBL, both of which strictly demanded his return later - predominately being now, as if they were to brief him. Now they’d deserted, perhaps to find warmth and food, over retaining their posts in the harbour. Surprisingly, the nearby office block to the harbour had lost it’s heating and the last of the floating boats had a good stove with enough gas or wood to embark a fire. Then again, there was a town nearby. Perhaps the fools had gotten cosy with a old couple of polish idiots! Har! The thought made Rafael smirk, before his foot kicked a nearby empty crate, left strewn on the deck.

Making his way back, the Hauptsturmführer grunted beneath his breath, wet, cold and now he’d most likely get the blame for missing or failing to conduct appropriately to orders; something that wouldn’t be his fault. Grabbing onto the cold steel railing, he clambered his way back over and unfortunately felt his feet slip on the harbour side, making matters worse as he felt his body slump down against the wet mush with a ‘plump’. “ARGH! Dieses friggen Wetter und die Idioten verlassend den Hafen!”[/I] he spat out angrily, his temper shining through as he climbed to is feet, thumping the slush from his body quite rampantly, as if there were nothing else nearby to throttle but himself.

Walking back along the harbour, he continued to annoyingly mutter to himself, brushing his body down, before catching a glimpse of a glow through the mist of snow; perhaps a cigarette? “Entschuldigt mich, Kamerad?” he shouted out somewhat, not quite sure of who it was, but certainly knew someone was there.


Translations:[/b]

ARGH! Dieses friggen Wetter und die Idioten verlassend den Hafen!
~ ARGH! This friggen weather and those idiots abandoning the harbour!

Entschuldigt mich, Kamerad?
~ Excuse me, comrade?

[⊕ Edzard Crimm]

After many useless attempts his lighter finally struck true and with it's dying breath he lit his last smoke, I'm gonna have to try to find some more of these before too long he knew it was going to be a rough night and he was going to want another. He took his lighter and put it into his pocket as he took another drag of his smoke. Who was that, were they talking to me? He thought as he heard a familiar voice. Could that be him? Could that be the great Wolfram? Only one way to find out.

"Yes? Are you talking to me? Is that you sir?" He squinted his eyes against the wind as he spoke but it was of no use. He could barely see his own breath much less another man. He reached his hand out almost like a blind man would, only to return it to his face promptly to get the snow out of his eyes and nose. He reached out again, hoping to locate another SS soldier.

[monty]

[ooc] Well yeah. The ship yard is up next to a small village. This is just a puny puny ship year.

The frozen soldier let out a sigh of relief when his thick boot crunched on the paved walkway. Well- here was the harbor, at least. Gero wasn't too far off. Not too far off at all. He found a good marker, a thin orange ribbon holding strong in this bastard weather, and turned towards town. He put a hand over his eyes in shock, baring his teeth into the wind that bit extra vengeful in this direction.
What was it with this place. The wind blowing off of the small harbor was laden with small ice particles and slush, and he could hear faintly over the screaming the soft creaking of the trapped boats. Gero gave a soft snort and peered in between his fingers, and continued walking forward.

And almost bumped into a rather...dignified...no. Damn. It was his graceful and ever so significan Captain.
Gero chirped out a small salute.

[PuNk! ™]

Moderation Post:[/b]

I've closed this thread due to Inactivity, if you'd like it re-opened, just let me know
Otherwise; the following CP has been issued:

(It's low due to the fact no Enemy activity occurred)
PVT. Ansgar: 10CP

CPT. Wolfram: 8CP

SGT. Crimm: 5CP

~Danny[/color]