Not Just Another Sunday

Who: Amie, August, Henrik, Desrosiers, Kraller, Ebner, Wolff
What: Mysterious persons papered the town with anti-Nazi propaganda. What now?

Coordinates : 13 5

A fine example of a French town. There is little sign of war here, the buildings are all in good condition - very good condition in fact, as most of them have been newly built. The last war was not kind on this area, after all. It all looks peaceful, at least on the surface.

It is currently dawn.

Sub-Rooms :


Cemetary <C> L'Eglise de Saint Boniface <SB>
West <W> East <E>
South <S> North <N>

Amie arrives from the East.

Auguste strolls along the streets, his hands deep in his pockets and a scowl on his face as he surveys the area. His eyes linger on the cemetary for a long moment, and as he turns away he puts his back to it, rather morosely.

Early morning, not long after sunrise, just late enough that people are beginning to wake and move about for the day. Father Desrosiers, a priest at L'Eglise de Saint Boniface, putters out of the church, blinking in the daylight. And he has a lot to blink at. A wall running along the cemetery has been papered with leaflets. Papers of the paper "Defense de la France," a clandestine newspaper, though it's little more than a two-sided newsletter. Still, there are a good dozen of them tacked up there, describing the plight of northern miners under the German whip and urging resolve against the foreign, fascist oppressors. A heart-felt attempt at home-made propaganda.

Sans basket today, Amie is dressed in her Sunday best, a pretty red dress, a white belt, sleeve cuffs and buttons and a pretty white hat as she moves towards the church. She must get out before the business at the bakery gets under way. Slowing slightly as she sees the wall in front of the church, the girls head tilts slightly to the right.

Henrik's 'sunday best' rather closely resembles the worn out shirt, stone-dust streaked trousers and unpolished boots of every other day. The stern faced foreigner finds himself noticing the same paper-littered cemetary fence as the others. Unhurried footfalls draw the big man closer to the curios, blue eyes narrowing in study.

Auguste moves along the wall at a casual pace. He seems to watch Father Desrosiers as he strolls along. His shoulders are even again now that the wall is between him and the cemetary, and his eyes occasionally flit to the papers posted on the wall, though his gaunt features remain as though he is completely unaware of what they proclaim.

"Good morning," Desrosiers says to Auguste, pleasantly enough. He eyes the papers with some unease but not real surprise. "Well, well. We've had visitors last night, it seems." Such clandestine pamphlets and newsletters have become more common over the past year, as its become clear the Germans don't plan to leave France. And do plan to ring everything they can out of its people and resources for the war effort.

Stepping forward, Amie leans forward to read one of the notices before she lifts her head, and inclines a nod to Derosiers. "Father," she murmurs quietly with a faint smile, before her gaze slips back to the posters. "It does, indeed, Father. If only it weren't necessary."

Auguste nods his head slightly, "Good morning, sir." He turns back to the papers, and with the action eye's Amie as she speaks.

Henrik gives only a short sidelong glance at the priest saying nothing before his thick, calloused fingers take hold of one of the papers, pulling it loose with a short, sharp tug. The paper is drawn closer and the big man reads as best he can with narrowed eyes and a habitual frown. "Hrm," he grunts colorlessly.

Desrosiers tuts at Amie. "The word spreads in its own way, my child. So it has always been." He takes a paper from the wall, folds it, and tucks it into the folds of his robe. That done, he moves away from the wall. "I hope to see you in services this morning." That's said particularly firmly to Auguste and Henrik, and neither look like they've had enough of the word of God.

Auguste raises an eyebrow at Father Desrosiers and looks up at the Church. He glances to Henrik then back to the papers. He reads one carefully, but leaves it in place. No need to take them from others.

Amie wisely leaves the pamphlet on the wall, and she casts a brief smile towards Henrik and Auguste for a moment. "I would do as the Father suggests. He's the sort of man who's good side you want to be on." she points out quietly before once again starting forward, following Desrosiers path.

Auguste narrows his eyes curiously at Amie's words and watches her walk away with his tongue pushing one of his cheeks outwards as he thinks.

Henrik grunts flatly without looking at the priest's offer, idly turning the paper in hand over and glancing at the back, before muttering colorlessly, "I'm on the good side of no priests." Shaking his head, and crumbling up the paper in hand, he lets it fall to the ground, before glancing past the papered fence at the gravestones beyond, and turning away.

Auguste with an almost angry shrug Auguste begins following Amie and Desrosiers, his gaunt features locked in a deep frown. His hands are balled into fists inside his pockets, and his arms are extended as far as they go.

Kraller has arrived.
Kraller arrives from the East.
Ebner has arrived.
Ebner arrives from the East.
Wolff has arrived.
Wolff arrives from the East.

The last year has been good to Kraller. He's gained a promotion, an Obersturmfuhrer now, become a favorite of command and has settled into enforcing German rule in Arras with businesslike efficiency. Usually, his manner is polite, if firm, with the locals. Today, however, he can't hide his displeasure as he marches toward the wall near the church. He sees the newsletters. And has a couple more clenched in his fist, so the wall obviously was not the only one papered.

Auguste continues to follow along behind Amie, shrinking into himself as his shoulders come closer together. He however continues moving as if unaware of the three new arrivals.

Desrosiers pretends he does not see the approaching Germans, puttering into the church. Albeit slowly. He is an old, slightly arthritic priest, so his top speed is putter.

Henrik takes the first of a few unhurried steps away from the cemetary fence as the inevitable nazi patrol arrives on the scene. The foreigner's face is set into its typical frown, as he regards the trio of germans evenly.

Amie glances towards the german patrol, before she steps up, a little closer to the aging priest, likely the same one that baptized her and gave her her first communion. "How has your week been, Father?" the young woman asks, keeping her voice light as if it were just any other day.

"Stop!" Kraller barks, raising an arm toward the priest. And those trailing him, while he's at it. It's an all-inclusive 'halt' gesture. To Wolff he snaps, "Get those down!" A gesture toward the papers on the wall. That task delegated, he marches straight toward the priest, Amie and Auguste. An eye shifts toward Henrik as well, though. In case the Swede has any thoughts of sneaking off.

Wolff marches in behind Kraller, rifle no longer shouldered but carried at rest instead. Silently counting on, two, three, four civilians. A crisp nod, and sharply voiced, "Jawohl, Obersturmfuhrer!" He steps quickly toward the fence and tears down the papers, one at a time.

Auguste manuevers to stand closer to the priest, though his movements make it apparent he is in fact stopping. He turns to face the approaching soldier, and waits patiently and silently.

Closing her eyes while her back is still to the germans, Amie takes a deep, steadying breath before she turns around to face Kraller. "Oui, Monsieur?" she inquires politely, adjusting her position to be ever so slightly in front of the priest, as if interceeding herself between the Krauts and the priest.

Henrik doesn't shrink from Kraller's stare, nor does he move away as Wolff marches past to start gathering up the crude newsletters. One hand is raised to idly itch at the side of his jaw as he watches the goins-on.

Kraller fixes his attention on the priest and the two with him, once he's sure Henrik isn't going to leave. "I hope you are all aware that taking part in sedition against the German state, and our allies in Vichy France, is a serious crime that, if you are fortunate, would only mean being locked in prison. Now, who distributed this…trash?" He holds up the crumpled fliers in his fist.

"Of course, sir," Desrosiers answers, meekly enough. "It is most distressing. Now, if you will excuse me, I must prepare for services. They will be starting soon."

Auguste stares straight into Kraller's eyes for a long silent moment. It's not apparent if he was trying to be brave or thinking, but when he finishes staring he says quietly, "I do know, sir. Just arrived here. Same with the Priest, the girl, and the mannerless man." The last identifier has a wave to indicate who he speaks about, as well as a tilt of his head to Henrik.

"I'm afraid we can't be of any help, sir," Amie answers quietly in french. "We have only just arrived moments ago to attend the morning service." the bakers daughter explains simply. She casts a sidelong glance to Auguste, nodding in agreement.

Kraller is speaking French as well, of course. Fluently, if with a heavy accent. "I am quite certain you did, Frauline. All the same, one cannot be too careful. Are you not frightened, my dear, that there may be traitors amongst you? Be still. If you are doing nothing wrong, you have nothing to worry about." He actually manages to sound concerned for her welfare, before turning to Ebner. "Search them," he orders tersely in German. The order includes Amie, Auguste and the priest.

Ebner states loud and clearly as the priest starts to turn away, "You've got no permission to leave!" he barks at Desrosiers. Alas, it is in german. Nodding once to Kraller, he steps forward, submachine gun carried easily in one hand as he starts forward, instructing Auguste sharply, "Hold your arms out." Again, in german.

Henrik half snorts under his breath, grim expression curling with something near dry humor for a moment as Auguste aptly refers to him as 'mannerless'. Otherwise remaining silent, he simply waits his turn.

Tilting her head slightly to the side, Amie eyes Kraller for a moment before she nods slightly. "Mais oui, it worries me that there are traiters amongst us." She doesn't specify just who she views as the traitors, which must mean it's the french who stand against the Germans, right? Right. Her gaze follows Ebner as he moves, a gentle frown forming on her face as she watches him, confused.

Auguste swallows audibly and raises an eyebrow. He turns to Ebner as the man speaks, then starts visibly as the weapon comes into view. He raises both his hands instinctively, not understanding German all that well.

Whether the priest speaks German is unclear. He understands being yelled at, though. He halts, looking more annoyed than nervous. Though he doesn't hold his arms out. Perhaps its the language barrier. Perhaps.

Shouting and brandished automatic firearms truly are a universal language. Ebner stalks up to Auguste, whose clothing makes a search quick and simple. A short pat down and turning inside-out of his pockets reveals, "Nothing." Moving on quickly to Amie, "You- arms out!" The MP40 shifts targets.

Wolff finishes pulling down the papers, leaving nothing more than a few bare, torn corners of sedition clinging, textless, to the fence. Gloved hands holding the crushed fistfull of papers, he crams them into a coat pocket, and steadies the rifle in both hands, as he returns to his place, a step behind and to the side of Kraller.

Blinking at Ebner's demand, Amie's lips press together as she flushes pink at the indignity. Stiffening, her arms extend from her sides and she narrows her eyes, mildly glaring at the soldier who is causing it.

Henrik watches the ongoing scene with lukewarm interest, at most. Narrow blue regard passing in turn over each of the detained frenchfolk, and then the germans.

Auguste quietly stuffs his pockets back into place and watches Ebner move on to Amie, his eyes narrowed now.

Desrosiers eyes Amie and Auguste with concern, before putting his own arms out. Best not anger the man with the gun. That's the sort of foolishness God doesn't protect against.

Kraller stands, just watching at the Frenchies are searched. He even manages to look put-upon disappointed in them. As if they'd brought this on themselves. Such unpleasant things, they make we nice Germans do.

Ebner in none too delicate with the proper little french lady in her red dress, as he begins by drawing off her hat, looking briefly beneath it, before setting it hamhanded back on the young woman's head. Some muttered comment under his breath as the soldier looks over the dress for any pockets, before taking Amie's small handbag and opening it. A paper list is tugged out and frowned at. Damned inability to read french! He looks away, and the priest's turn waits a moment as Ebner brings the list to Kraller for inspection..

Amie actually yelps slightly as her hat is pulled off, pulling at her hair thanks to the hat pin holding it in place, and thoroughly mussing her hair. That hurt! And the glare she gives to the German proves that she's only just holding back from saying something vicious to him to put him in his place. The nerve! Reaching up to take her hat down after it's slapped bac onto her head, she watches as the soldier moves back to Kraller.

Auguste simply shakes his head as Amie is driven to yelp from Ebner's rough search of her. He watches the man walk back to Kraller, his hollow face lit up with curiosity at the sheet in his hand.

Kraller takes the list from Ebner, reading it over with narrowed eyes, before handing it back to Amie. He does not appear to care about her shopping list. "Go about your business, Frauline," he says. If he's at all sorry for her rough treatment he gives no sign of it. To Ebner, he nods, a 'get on with it' sort of gesture.

Amie snatches her list back from Kraller with just enough restraint to actually bite her tongue. Well, mostly. "Madamoiselle," she corrects him stiffly, before she stuffs the list back into her clutch before she hooks it under her arm and attempts to repair the damage done to her hair without a mirror.

Ebner gets back to work promptly after thrusting the shopping list back into Amie's hands. The priest comes next. As the old fellow's arms are already held out, he spares the curt words of german as the ecclesiastical robe gets searched. Many folds in the garment, but in a few moments, the SS man finds something that doesnt hang quite right. Rouch fingers latch onto a folded paper and pull it out, crumpling the sheet a bit in the process. Scowling at the sight of it, he half turns back to Kraller and holds it up for sight: one of the seditious papers.

Desrosiers stiffens when the paper is found, betraying some nervousness for the first time. "I was only reading it, sirs. I've done nothing wrong. Please, I must see to the church-goers."

Swallowing, Amie quickly adds in, "We saw him pull it down moments before you arrived. He'd just been saying how unnecessary they were, how inappropriate." She remains at Desrosiers side, a hand reaching out to lay kindly against the old man's arm.

Kraller sighs when the paper is found, shaking his head. Amie is ignored. "Your sermon will have to wait, I am afraid, Father. The distributors of this incitement to treachery must be found.

Schutze Wolff, escort the Father to the police station for questioning. Oberschutze…" He nods to Ebner. "Search him as well." His nod is jerked toward Henrik.

Auguste watches Ebner get to work and eyes the paper he produces, and speaks up as soon as Kraller finishes, "Sir, I can explain. Auguste continues speaking quickly, "The Father was simply taking it down to clean up the area. He had asked me to do the same, but I wanted to walk him inside first… He must have been startled when you came up."

"Jawohl, Obersturmfuhrer," Wolff replies, stepping toward the priest, with his rifle raised, muzzle toward the sky. "Step away from the priest, fraulein. Herr," he speaks to Amie and Auguste in turn, thier pleas answered neutrally. "This way," he motions crisply to Desrosiers, "Now."

Kraller listens to Auguste, though he does not seem swayed by that. "Do not make this more difficult than it needs to be, young man. Be about your business. If the good Father is truly as innocent as you claim, he can answer our questions without any trouble."

"Father…" Amie looks to Desrosiers as she is instructed away from him. Her fingers tighten on his arm for a brief moment before she pulls her hand back. Looking concerned, she never the less steps back, clutching her clutch to her chest. Apropos name for hte bag, no?

Henrik takes his turn under Ebner's ministrations with stoicism to match his prior silence. Arms held out as he eyes the SS thug with the MP40. The ongoing drama between well intentioned civilians, and nazi officer causes no change to his stonefaced demeanor.

"It is all right, my children," Desrosiers says, puttering in the direction he's motioned in. "Do give my apologies to the congregation. I will be back with them soon, I have no doubt."

Auguste narrows his eyes further as he looks over Wolff, then glances to the other soldiers and takes a step back from Desrosiers.

"Oui, Father," Amie answerse quietly, though she remains firmly rooted to where she is as she watches the village priest being escorted away

Ebner stalks up to Henrik with a scowl. Henrik is big, and Ebner doesn't like that. Silently hoping for an excuse to make an example of the swede, he roughly turns inside-out the trouser pockets, finding only a few deutschmarks and the folded identification papers in the breast pocket, before looking back to Kraller with a shake of his head.

Kraller nods to Ebner. Job well done. "Come," he says to the Oberschutze. "I think we've got the last of them but I want to make another sweep of the town, to make certain every seditious letter has been taken down." With that, he gets to marching off.

Wolff walks along with the priest toward the (thankfully) nearby police station. He doesnt waste time prodding with a bayonet to make an old man walk faster, simply keeping his manner formal, and his attentions vigilant as the priest is marched off.

Desrosiers putters off the police station. It's a good thing Wolff isn't prodding him, as the old man's top speed isn't much above a tortoise. He has little chance of making a break for it, though.

Ebner doesnt even give a backward look at the civilians as he falls into step along with Kraller, off to make the world safe for fascism, submachine gun slung at his side once again.

Desrosiers has left.
Desrosiers heads off South.
Auguste watches the Germans and the priest walk away, a frown on his face, and his eyes shooting daggers at their backs.

Wolff has left.
Wolff heads off South.

Amie looks torn between breaking into tears as she watches the priest being herded away and absolute fury. Her own treatement is one thing but an innocent priest? Even a non-innocent priest? It's terrible! Back stiff, she turns and heedless of her hair, she steps into the church to let the congregation know.

Henrik tucks his pockets back in, tucking the ID papers again into his shirt pocket, as his eyes shift with a slow turn of the head from germans to the locals. He watches the anger- the righteous indignation so clear on the faces of Amie and Auguste with a curious half-frown on his face.

Auguste stands in the street a few moments longer than Amie, still staring at where the Germans march off to. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head, again checking his pockets before pushing his hands deep into them and moving after Amie into the Church.

"The more things change.." Henrik rumbles under his breath, turning his narrowed blue eyes over the tall doors, walls and windows of the church, a far off look coloring his flat expression. "The more they stay the same." A shake of his head as the swede turns away and gets on with his day.

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