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2 mos ago
Current I think it's about time I get back into forum RP.
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5 mos ago
12 mos ago
Happeh birfday to me~
12 mos ago
I don't even...
12 mos ago


I always knew, deep in my kokoro, that I was a big baka. I, of course, place the blame on kami-sama for not giving me a good senpai.

Most Recent Posts

I think one of the GMs needs to take the role of the UK; people are scared of the commitment lmao

I would, but I don't think WW1 would've ended in a stalemate if Germany conquered Britain. :P
@Dinh AaronMk Wait, what?

Wait, I'm super confused. Do I still alter my CS?

I think that was Aaron for "you fixed the dates, so I'm putting you on the map." AKA, you're in.


The Netherlands is up for grabs too, if you'd want to play them. I know Bee would appreciate a Netherlands player. lolol. Asuraaa would probably appreciate having another socialist in Europe, too.
Updated muh fancy map to include Chap.
Berlin, Germany
May 26th, 1960

Berlin. A beautiful city, especially once you can see it from the air. None of the common folk would even be able to begin to comprehend the beauty that those in the upper echelons get to experience. It is truly a gift bestowed by God to those who stand tall, validating their right to rule.

As the loud hum of the Royal Zeppelin Fischadler filled the night air of Berlin, people stopped what they were doing to stare in awe. The Royal Family rarely brought out the Fischadler, usually traveling by car, or one of their smaller, faster aircraft. So actually seeing it was usually a public spectacle that the local police department would have to be warned about before hand so they could properly deal with the crowds that tried to follow the zeppelin.

Meanwhile, inside of the gargantuan dirigible, the hum had become background noise to the sound of children laughing, screaming, and playing. Birthday decorations lined the walls, replacing the usual flags and tapestry's that would be present any other occasion. In the back-center of the room, in his personal armchair, sat Kaiser Wilhelm, watching the children with a smile. Around him, either on couches or portable chairs, sat his wife, children, and their spouses.

To his left, his beautiful wife, Kira Kirillovna, a Russian Grand Duchess who spent most of her life before marrying Wilhelm in exile in France. She sat with a soft smile as she watched the children, occasionally leaning over and saying something to the Kaiser that would manage to make him smile, every time. It was her special power. Nobody else could make him smile like she could.

Beside her sat her younger children, Heinrich and Katrina. Heinrich is a pale, gangly boy with curly hair cut short, but not short enough to keep him from having little spiraled flyaways all over his head. Usually, he would wear a hat, but since it was just family, he went without one. The expression on his face was one of unease. He always hated flying, but couldn't refuse the night's party. His nephew would be disappointed if he didn't come. So, instead, he sat down on a couch, away from the windows, started biting his nails, and tried his hardest to focus on anything but where he was.

Katrina, on the other hand, is the perfect mix of her parents. With her mother's looks, her father's stern face, and a height to dwarf all in her family but her second-oldest brother, her heritage was clear. Her hair done up as it always is, a high ponytail, with bangs curving around the left side of her face, giving her the proper look for her line of work in the chemical branch of the Deutsch Verfahrenstechnik. She always says that they're just working on harmless solutions, but when she whisper's to her father, he get's a look on his face that he only get's when listening to military advisers.

Meanwhile, to the Kaiser's left sat the more awkward pair. His first and second oldest, Princes Wilhelm and Friederich Wilhelm. The former sat directly beside his father, black hair slicked back, pale skin, and dark eyes making him look sickly. To make it worse, he wore a slimming white naval uniform, as he was also there to speak to his father on official business, making him look like the spectre of Death has shown up to a children's party. Every once in a while, he would speak to his parents and siblings, but never to Friederich, who was essentially his polar opposite. Both the tallest and largest-built member of his family, Friederich was essentially the prime example of the Ideal German Man. Biceps that might well be larger than both of his brother's waists, a strong jaw, hidden away behind a large blonde beard, with a large, slightly curled mustache to match. His hair, too, was slicked back, but not in the same way as his older brother's. Where his brother's head looked like the carapace of a beetle, Friederich's was done quickly, leaving it fairly unruly. He, in comparison, wore the black outfit of the German Army. Whenever he spoke, it could be heard across the blimp, even over the playing children.

“Karl! Klaus! Come over here!” shouted Friederich, beckoning a pair of children over. As they came running, Friederich smiled, and leaned in to hug them both, as they came slamming into him, laughing. Upon letting go and giving them a look, he couldn't help but laugh at how much his twin boys looked like him. In comparison, all of his brother's children looked more like their mother.

'Yet the rat is the heir to the throne?' Friederich caught himself thinking all too often. The thought always made him a little bit sick. His brother preferred much more unscrupulous ways of going about his business. He would always choose a knife in the back over a fist to the face. 'The only thing he's fit to rule is a gang.'

“Papa!” shouted Karl, snapping Friederich out of it. “Can we take Franz and Wilhelm, and go see the engine room? Please?”

“Please?” echoed Klaus. “Oh, and Timo, too!”

“As long as your grandfather doesn't have a problem with it, I don't see why not.” Friederich said, looking towards his Father, who was getting up out of his chair.

“I can take them, so you just relax, Freddy. I want to stretch my legs, anyways.” said the Kaiser with a smile, making his way over to the children. “Come along, now! Let's go see how this titan works, shall we?”

As he watched his father walk away with the children, Freddy's view was blocked by his wife, Johanna, her green eyes and brown hair, and bright smile making him forget what he was doing.

“I just love the way your father interacts with the children, Freddy.” she said, giving him a look only she could. “Say, since they're away, why don't we walk out onto the observation deck? I love looking at the city at night.”

Without a word, Freddy rose to his feet, wrapped his arm around his wife, and walked out of the room.

“Johanna.” He said once they were on the observation deck. “Tell me. Do you really think my brother will be a good ruler? Every time I look at our children, I can't help but worry about their future with him in charge.”

“Oh, love.” She said, placing her hands upon his cheeks. “I don't think you need to worry. I'm sure that, when it comes time, Wilhelm will do what he needs to do. Remember. He will also have advisors to whisper in his ears, telling him exactly why he shouldn't act the way you're worried he will.”

“Yes, but...” interjected Freddy. “What if he get's snakes, who do nothing but encourage him? You know as well as I do that many Germans feel the same way he does. They think, oh, we can't go to war! But we are Germans! We still must earn our honor, our glory, our rightful place to rule!” Sighing, he looked out over the city nightscape. “I just worry he will make things worse for our country. I worry that he will cause another civil war, and we might end up like the Russians.”

Without words, Johanna approached Friederich, and embraced him from behind, as best she could, and just sat there with him for a good, long while, until they heard footsteps coming from behind them, and turned to see who it was.

“Mama! Papa!” he heard before he saw his sons running at him and his wife. “It was so cool down there! There were big things turning, and that was making other things go and...” Klaus rambled, making Friederich smile, but sending him back to his worries once more.

'If my brother doesn't improve, I will do whatever it takes to secure your future's, Karl, Klaus. I'll make sure you grow up in a Germany that is great. I'll make sure you grow up in a Germany you can be proud of.'
???, Poland

The sound of mumbled voices and a car engine flooded the darkness of Feliks' mind, as he came to in the back of a pickup truck. Looking around through blurry eyes, he immediately recognized the shape of the Russian who had pulled him inside before...

'What happened, again?' he thought, trying to blink away the blur.

“Hey, he's coming to.” said the Russian in a low, somewhat distorted voice.

Suddenly, another face was peering over him, taking up the entirety of Feliks' field of view.

'A woman?' he thought, as he finally cleared his vision, and looked down at his hands, taking note of the fact they weren't bound.

“Feliks? You okay?” she asked in a familiar voice.

Feliks tried to speak, but only managed a low grumble himself and he took hold of his spinning head. Suddenly, a soft hand took him by the chin, and lifted his head.

“Hmm... You're still recovering a bit, but you should be fine.” she said with a smile. “If you need to puke, please do it over the side of the truck. We're all a bit cramped back here.”

Feliks nodded, right as it all came rushing into his mind. Thin brown hair under a baggy hat, big round glasses like his grandmother used to wear, more layers than should be necessary, and skin so pale it could blind you after having the smallest bit of light shone on it.

“Bianka..?” he asked, incredulously. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Krakow.”

“I was. Well, I still am. You will be soon, too. That's where we're headed. The Rotewache were still searching for you, it wasn't safe to keep you in Lublin. I swear, Germans don't eat enough greens, and it makes them all so angry...”

Ignoring the babbling at the end, Feliks finally took a look around him. They were, in fact, heading West, but why? How was Krakow, of all places, better than Lublin? Wouldn't it be one hundred times worse there, where they have to worry about the szkops AND pawie's? She also avoided the first half of his question.

“Bianka. You didn't answer. What were you doing in Lublin? I thought you said you were never coming back after what the szkops did to your grandfather.”

“Welllll, Fellliks.” she started, putting emphasis on the l's. “It wasn't really my call. All of the good stuff is being wiped out in Krakow, so I have to head elsewhere to get my fix.”

Feliks sighed.

“You're still doing drugs, Bianka? I thought you were going to stop!”

“Yeah, and you were gonna break things off with Kacper's gang, but that didn't happen, did it?”

Feliks opened his mouth to argue more, but quickly realized he had no comeback, and changed the subject.

“So, uh... Krakow. What's it like? We only really get stories in Lublin, and you never know how reliable those are.”

“Well, it's interesting.” Bianka said, twirling her hair around one of her fingers. “Contrary to popular belief, the pawie's are actually a lot worse than the Germans.”

Feliks cringed slightly when she called the Germans by their proper names, but let her continue.

“The Germans are fairly lax on their regulation, and only really go after the large gangs. IE, my supply getting fucked. They also go after rebels, of course, but most of them stay on the pawie's side.”

Feliks scratched his head. “But... Didn't you say the pawie's were worse than the szkops? Why would the rebels gather over there?”

Bianka took off her glasses, a sign Feliks knew all too well. She swallowed hard, and looked off the side of the truck as she answered.

“There's a lot more places to hide in Austrian-Krakow. They are a lot harsher on criminals. They also have much harsher terms for what defines a criminal. Because of that, there are a lot more... vacant, homes. I heard a story from a friend. She said that she watched as the pawie's rooted out a rebel cell. She said they butchered everyone right there on the roadside. Even children.”

Feliks sat there, shocked and disgusted, as Bianka was comforted by the giant Russian, who he only just now remembered was there, and very likely was the one behind the bump on the back of his head. After all, what reason would Bianka have to be behind it?

“Is alright.” the Russian said, handing Bianka a handkerchief, as he rubbed her back. “Your people. They are strong. You will free yourself from the Imperialists soon.”

Sniffling, Bianka smiled at the Russian. “Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Sergej. I just wish we could do more to help. Maybe if we ask Kaiser Wilhelm nicely, he'll speak out against the Austrians!”

“Ha!” Feliks basically shouted, making Bianka jump. “You really think that fat fuck cares about our people in the slightest? Yes, he may not be as bad as the Austrians, but at least they have the courtesy to be blunt about killing us off!”

“I don't know what you mean, Feliks.” Bianka said, staring daggers at him. “The Germans are so much nicer than the Austrians.”

“Yes! They are! That's the problem! Have you not noticed, Bianka? While the Austrians are making you focus on them, more and more szkops are moving in to Poland, taking over Polish businesses, forcing their workers to speak German. The pawie's are taking our peoples lives, but the szcops? They are killing our culture! They are trying to train us to be good little Germans! It's no different from what the Americans did to their Indians, like they taught us in school!”

Bianka just stared at Feliks, mouth agape. Did she really not realize this until now? Or were things really that different in Krakow?

“I'm sorry.” Feliks mumbled. “It's a hard pill to swallow, but you must realize. The Germans are not our friends. They are our hypnotists. They distract us with shiny things and kind words as they slowly erase our culture. I've heard that people speak more German than they do Polish in Warsaw, even. There's a reason all of us North of Krakow call them szkops. It's not that we're still bitter. It's that we see them for what they are. If you want to get along with the imperialists, then you might as well sign up for the Jäger's right now.”

Bianka still said nothing, but her Russian shifted, and Feliks suddenly remember how he came to be in the back of a pickup truck after walking into him in the alley.

“Fuck my big mouth.” he said, as Sergej's fist met with his face, and he was back to the inky blackness of his mind.
I finally get a day off today, so I can actually work on the posts I've had half-finished for a while now! *Opens tons of Polish info pages*
Posting it again because... We need more people. . - .…
A party? With Africans? Please, we have standards here ;o

Just have somebody tag along with Wolfgang. He can have an Austrian hunting buddy who just happened to be along for the event. Not an official diplomat, but a noble of Austria nonetheless. :P
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