#Azorian women

[thinkingimages]

Traditional cloaks in Largo da Matriz square, Sao Miguel Island, Portugal © Steve Given

[mamaangiwine]

Bible Divination 08/13/23:

17 O God, You have taught me from my youth;

And to this day I declare Your wondrous works.

18 Now also when I am old and gray-headed

O God, do not forsake me,

Until I declare your strength to this generation.

Your power to everyone who is to come.

[a-40k-dad]

“Stay on your guard, Colonel,” Evjen told the young woman as the giant blast gate closed behind the last armored vehicle of their convoy. He continued, “we have now entered the Free Territories, also know as ‘The Wastes’”.

Evjen took a moment to consider the stark landscape through the narrow band of bulletproof glass. His mind wandered, trying to imagine the harshness of life out here. In principle, it was understood that the Freefolk were better off than the men, women and children striving to survive in the underhives around the planet, but he came to doubt that, and it had been a doubt that grew stronger with each trip through the outer domain of House Sarrokkæn. After sighing slowly, Evjen switched his attention back to his guest. His shoulders tensed as he noticed his hands had been clenching his knees while he was looking outside the window.

With a hint of solemnity he announced : “We have now become a high profile target for the next 250 kilometres”. Colonel Varstark remained perfectly calm as she sat in the seat in front of him. She had come to visit him at Praxcorp HQ, high in the spires of Hive7. Varstark had made a flamboyant entrance with a full wing of Valkyries. It had amused Evjen, who always had been appreciative of good showmanship. The colonel had been his guest ever since she arrived 6 days prior. The colonel spent time in Praxcorp’s tech archives, copying registeries, manuals, blueprints, basically trying to gather all the useful intel she could muster. Whenever he could spare the time, he would drop by her quarters, invite her to share a meal, or take some refreshments, during which he would answer her many questions.

Evjen could not recall the particular line of questioning that led them to The Wastes, but he remembered wanting to help the struggling outworlder navigate the intricacies of Azorian diplomatic protocols. Since House Sarrokkæn had left all her pleas unanswered, he also couldn’t resist showing off how easily he could have the big Black Gates of the Obsidian Keep open up for her. Evjen knew that vanity had a play in his course of actions and though he had learned to live with it, he had a hard time brushing off the tickling presence of guilt from his mind.

The guardswoman absently observed the landscape shifting from the more or less functional industrial grid maintenance highways to the barren realms of corroded stone and grey dirt. Surprised by the absence of reaction to his previous statement, Evjen scratched his chin. He realised soldiers of the Imperium probably didn’t care much for raiders, senior officers least of them. His eyes lingered on the Colonel’s facial scars. He noticed the fairness of her complexion under them. He snapped out of this examination when he met her green eyes coldly staring through him.

“Are you sure we couldn’t just fly there?” she asked in thinly veiled irritation.

Evjen shrugged “Unfortunately, if the Astra Militarum desire to achieve any kind of entente with the Knights of House Sarrokkæn, you’ll have to take the long way in” Evjen said. “To enter the Obsidian Keep from the low roads is a required display of humility.” he explained. “This is why they wouldn’t grant you an audience even when you agitated your mandate as Planetary Operations Commander.”

“I’ve seen whole worlds brought to heel for less of an obstruction to His Will” She retorted, nostrils flaring.

Evjen clicked his tongue “It’s not that simple, colonel,” he said, his face taking on the glow of inconvenience. “Don’t forget that we are technically on a world run by the Adeptus Mechanicus, though they only care about their industrial zones and leave the Hive Cities to their own devices,” the man frowned and squinted as he weighed the words still in his head. After a moment he warily enunciated : “as such, for better or worse, on this world, the Emperor of Mankind is not as revered, or feared, as he might be elsewhere”.

The colonel crossed her arms, her face shut like barracks well after lights out. “I know, mister Praxi” she snapped in disdain. “I’ve been stationed here long enough to understand that Azorians enjoy a level of leniency that I never thought possible”.

“Do you envy that?” Evjen asked.

Her eyes widened through vexation. Her breath, temporarily suspended. She swallowed the knot forming at the back of her throat and resumed her breathing. After a few long seconds, she muttered tentatively “Perhaps”. The armored truck rumbled over the accidented terrain, the muffled sound of the engine almost covering her excessively honest answer. “It might be a luxury I would be inclined to tolerate for civilians”. She said. “But from the members of a Knightly House, I expect no less than devotion”.

Evjen chuckled. “Soon enough you’ll realise that what they lack in orthodoxy, they make up for with their integrity and honourable conduct upon the fields of battle,” Evjen assured. “After all, Segmentum Command deemed House Sarrokkæn worthy enough for a deployment alongside the Lord Commander of the Imperium Himself”.

The Colonel could see through the self-reassuring bravado.

“I’m not the Inquisition, mister Praxi” she said with a soft smile. “I do not condemn those who simply seek to lead a life in peace”. The truck’s imposing wheels bounced on a few big rocks on the road. The passengers shifted their bodies to absorb the unexpected bump. Evjen smiled

“It’s Evjen. Please call me Evjen.” “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather keep things professional” she said. “It’s cultural, colonel Varstark ; last names are of little value on Azoria, unless it is Sarrokkæn, of course. But even among them, a given name holds more importance than the names marking lineage.” Evjen declared.

“So what, I’m expected to address them by their given names?” she asked, irritated.

“Yes,” Evjen chuckled. “preceded by the proper title, but yes.”

The colonel remained silent, arms crossed once more. She held her nose high, pointed towards the window pane. For a moment her face seemed to be the theatre of operations of a large battle between different emotional states : disdain, resentment and disgust seemed to vie for control, but when out of nowhere, reluctance appeared, Evjen felt surrender wasn’t far away.

“Kuh-rina” she sighed. “It is spelled K-R-I-N-A” she added, tight lipped.

With a joyful smirk, Evjen extended his hand across the gap between their two seats. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Krina” he laughed. She shook his hand without much conviction. She found the exchange awkward but if it had been the price to pay to open up a communications channel with House Sarrokkæn, she was willing to oblige. 

The Guard needed the support of the Knights in the coming battles.

[thinkingimages]

Monjas Azores, (vestuario, capas y capuchas ) siglo XIX

[mamaangiwine]

@imhappyinthehazeofadrunkenhour

I think I'll share this on my blog actually, but this is a drawing that was inspired by a specific Azorian folk practice. In the Azores there are many unique folk practices and, therefore, traditional practicioners who specialize in them. One such practicioner are the "mulher quem ler do livro" or, "the women who read from the book". These are women who specialize in a kind of bibliomancy using a unique book that one usually only find on the islands.

From what I understand, an outsider must be taken to a mulher for a reading and even then these offers may never actually materialize. Which makes sense- my mom and aunt can be kinda weird about Azorian practices, and if I've learned anything from speaking with older Azorians they're kinda cagey about that kinda thing (understandable, tbh, which is why I'm not gonna go into specifics here).

Getting through the door doesn't guarantee a reading either, though- if one goes to a mulher but doesn't believe in their capabilities, they might just be turned away. Which is honestly wise, and a boundary I've learned to set in my own practice by learning about them.

Mulher Quem ler do Livro- The Women Who Read From The Book.

[a-40k-dad]

More WIPs :

With these I went for simplicity but a little bit of narrative details that bring the trio to life, even though they are masked.

Azorian Operatives

After a year of campaigning on Azoria and no sign of the promised siege specialist reinforcement in sight, General Jarz T. Zorn, head of the joint operation on Azoria had no other alternative than to massively incorporate the loyalist forces of the UAC (Unified Azorian Command, the Azorian Planetary Defense Force) into his task force.

Luckily, the UAC’s training is of superior quality and Astra Militarum-specific doctrines and tactics excepted, the men and women of the UAC proved as worthy and dedicated as the average guardsmen under his command.

Providing crash courses in specific areas and equipment salvaged from the fallen of the past year, most of these men received special orders, making them de-facto guardsmen — at least, for the duration of the conflict — with the same opportunities for rank advancement and the same possibilities of being awarded (often post-humous) honours as any other Astra Militarum soldier.

The UAC were organised in platoons and companies usually within small regiments (that were called divisions, to avoid confusing them with properly enlisted guardsmen). Those regiments had slightly looser discipline enforcement and were widely constituted with the goal of filling a specialised role in the campaign, making the most out of the UAC’s knowledge of the planet’s terrain and expertise of dealing with its inhabitants.

The General knew, that in the absence of the promised endless flow of walking corpses of Korpsmen, the campaign could not be won in frontal assault. His only way of buying time for the long expected reinforcements to arrive was to use the UAC as a tool that would help conduct effective hit-and-run operations on the enemy, ultimately evening the odds of an otherwise doomed campaign.