[@Over Illusion][@Yukitamas][@MeteorD] [h2][center][b]Emmerich Lisztmayer-AnschΓΌtz von Sabern, [i]Chosen of the Holy Grail[/i] At the [s]Church on the Hill[/s] 𝔉𝔒𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔫𝔀 π”Žπ”¦π”―π” π”₯𝔒 The 27th of August, 1939[/b][/center][/h2] [hr] The retreat from the crushing defeat went by without a hitch, even if the trek into the depths of the enemy's dressers and cellar brought some [i]worrisome surprises[/i] to the attention of the German expedition - But that was hours ago. Those more inclined to academic work were already labouring away to crack the enigmatic loot's secrets. Whilst the arrival to the occupied church did not transpire joyously, Emmerich could not deny the building's comforts. A minute displeasure rose within him, the officer recalling his express orders to remain diplomatic towards the Overseer. Unfortunately, his unviable lifeform of a subordinate could not contain his throbbing urges to do pagan things and instead proceeded to set in motion a tidal wave of events by assessing control over this house of worship. The results were clear; An upset third party and the loss of Rider. With a frown and forehead wrinkled, however, the lanky officer chose to temper his anger with patience. Bauer Herstelle might have been an eclectic man with fondnesses that rose brows, but his potential was impressive. In just under a day, the Worshiper of Wotan turned an innocent church into a "[i]Wirklich Deutsche Festung[/i]". Surely his fetishistic mannerism in regards to the swastika was troubling, but this was easy to bear once one considered the benefits he brought to the team. And so the officer sat again, this time in the private quarters of a priest instead of a hotel room, hunched over a mess of neatly-stacked documents. The trusty black briefcase lied half open against the desk, nothing but the soothing scratching of a pen disturbed the peaceful silence of the room. Fortunately the recent battle left him unscathed, but the night was growing old and his mood was under the weather after witnessing Sigurd's passing. Still, a stray thought cracked Emmerich's stony visage with a paternal chuckle. The set of small papers before him bore that iconic bold text, the topmost line proudly titling the document: "π•°π–“π–™π–‘π–†π–˜π–˜π–šπ–“π–Œπ–˜π–˜π–ˆπ–π–Šπ–Žπ–“" and, not so far to the left, "π•¬π–—π–‡π–Šπ–Žπ–™π–˜π–‘π–†π–Œπ–Šπ–—". The chuckle left a lingering smile in its wake and Emmerich could merely shake his head. [color=#8c8c8c]"[b][i]... It is almost as if I was writing permission slips. These Juden and Zigeuner are like children.[/i][/b]"[/color] Again he could not help a heartfelt chuckle, but at least he could hide his lips with the back of his right hand this time. His garments were once again modest - Nothing but his grey shirt rolled up to the forearm, field gray pants with suspenders and those lovely jackboots. The couple buttons undone at the collar spoke volumes of the man's comfort, revealing nothing but an inkling of tight skin underneath the neck. Even once he finally stood up from the papers did he only haphazardly throw on a coat, his field blouse to be exact. White piping, bottle-green collars and shoulderpads decorated the uniform that would usually be the basis of his combat gear. Now it proved to be nothing more than mere protection from the starry night's cold. Emmerich didn't even bother to button up the front, instead he opted to immediately stroll outside. The day's events had to be pondered upon, he decided while making his way through the building. Despite the sloppy appearance that would not be tolerated by any personnel of the Schutzstaffel, the officer walked with a soldierly gait still and a spine as straight as a telephone post. Some things just do not change, no matter what happens in life - As it was evident by the rifle that he slung over his shoulder during his trot. It took no more than a minute, but the lanky Emmerich managed to sneak outside to the front door of the ominous church. There, under the watchful gaze of the statue that stood before the building, the officer finally slid forth a pack of cigarettes from his coat sleeve. With a hand on his rifle's sling and another sticking the small roll of tobacco atop his lips, he somehow managed to light the thing - With a common match no less. After a drag and puff of white smoke, piercing eyes scanned the serene exterior of the repurposed house of worship. Surely a break could not hurt before taking the next task upon him? Moments later, Emmerich has finally dragged himself to do what he had in mind. A sigh and a cloud of smoke escaped him before suddenly... [color=#8c8c8c]"[b][i]POTZBLITZ, BAUER! DU VERDAMMTER SCHEIß FREIKΓ–RPERSCHWULE, WO BIST DU JEZTZ?[/i][/b]"[/color], came the booming query. Despite the rude nature of the call, the tone held no hostility. Merely it was loud and thunderous, awakening the Church. [color=#8c8c8c]"[b][i]Make yourself useful and get your head out of those motion pictures - Scour the place with your magicks, I'll join you in a minute.[/i][/b]"[/color], he announced as he shouted into the building before taking another drag of his cigarette. For just a moment more, he'd cherish the peaceful night and the stars above. Soon, he'd be buried again beneath his duties. [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/wiD2ByQ.png[/img][/center]