SoMac Christmas Fete [OOC II, Closed]

[Kiu Ghesik]

>2 hours of heaven

bost be soon. like in a couple hours, i promise this time.

[Brettenwald]

aurelia.mp4

[Brettenwald]

>2 hours of heaven

bost be soon. like in a couple hours, i promise this time.

*opens box*

[Langenia]

>2 hours of heaven

I listened to a Vietnam War music playlist, that was cool, but this is awesome!

[Bogi Smerti]

I don't have a social life.

Anyways, here's the first part of the post.

February 21st, 1916

Worry.

No feeling was superior to worry that day. It seemed as if even the high command was paranoid. News was transmitted to them only days prior, stating that German troops were advancing into Verdun, and that the approximately seventy-five divisions both near and around the city are to remain on high alert. He hadn't been this paranoid since the start of the war. Verdun was his birthplace, after all.
For a while, it appeared as if the "attack" wasn't going to happen. And for a moment, everything appeared calm.

And then, they came.

He then saw a wave of 600 German soldiers charging towards the trenches. Not only that, but the sound of artillery going off in the distance made it outright impossible to venture into no man's land, as if it wasn't deadly enough. The trenches were being overran with Sturmtruppen, while the french troops charged at them, rifle in hand, ready to sacrifice themselves for the motherland. He then saw a german infantry soldier charging towards him, and so he picked up his rifle, and began charging towards him.

The two soldiers had fought each other for five minutes, trying to overpower the other with the butts of their rifles. Though in the end, 049 had come out on top, pushing the soldier to the ground, and shoving his bayonet into his stomach. And again, and again, until he laid there, dead. At first, he didn't feel anything abnormal, though after a few minutes, he felt sick. Sick at the fact that he had killed a man once again, that he took an innocent life, was to him, irredeemable. He hadn't killed anyone on the battlefield in 16 years, and such, he was uncomfortable with himself having killed a man in cold blood. He vomited on the ground, though he stopped when he felt that the rest of the troops had noticed him.

The thought of killing a man who has done no wrong to him was still something 049 had considered repulsive at best. The sheer thought of it was still fresh in his mind, even after decades, if not centuries, of combat experience.

This wasn't a one-time event, as this would occur for well over 200 days. Countless failed pushes, counter-attacks, and trench bombardments became frequent, if not monotonous. It was, evidently, tiring for the troops, and having to deal with near-endless stress had driven some of them insane. 200 days of endless bombardment, increasing casualties, and overall hopelessness had, in other words, led men to suicide.

Some would just, run into the enemy's bayonets, while others would suffocate themselves. The overwhelming majority of the casualties in the battle were as a result of suicide attempts having gone either terribly wrong or extremely successful.

"Wir sind verloren, With sind verloren"
Every night, he could hear chants, cries even, of tired, fatigued soldiers. It was becoming more and more gruesome by the day. More and more trenches were filled with the bodies of young, otherwise normal, men. Men with a family, parents, and a future ahead of them back at home, lay dead on the mud. As the days past, the weariness, the paranoia, and the mutinies, got worse. In the end, a group of 57 French and German troops congregated to plan out the assassination of both Phillipe Petain and Erich von Falkenhayn, and 049 was one of them.

OCTOBER 16TH, 1916
Verdun, France
10:45PM
"Alright comrades, here we are." 049 said, as he began welcoming the rest of the mutineers into the bunker.
"Now, what's the plan?" Asked a german soldier.
"The plan itself is rather simple. There are about 29 Frenchman and 28 Germans, one of us each go into their living quarters, place grenade with the safety pin still inside, lead them outsid-"
"Seems like a good plan, but how will we get the grenade in there? How will we lead them out? Most importantly, what will happen when the government finds out?" Asked a French soldier.
"Good question. The simplest answer to the first one is that they aren't in their quarters at the moment, meaning that once we return to our positions, then the plan will be executed. Now, troop suicides have been increasing, so we can use that as a diversion to shoot them. And besides, Falkenhayn is extremely unpopular among the German government, and Petain was outed as a spy for the germans, so it wouldn't matter if both government's try hunting us down due to how massively unpopular they are already."
"Any more questions?"
A five minute period of silence, one of the troops responded.
"No, and we'll get onto it as soon as we can."
"Alright, I wish to see all of you on the battlefield tomorrow. Good luck comrades, this won't be an easy task. May god be with you all."
They all began leaving the bunker and as soon as they all left, 049 had felt something..odd. He could have sworn he had seen someone in the corner of the room a few minutes ago, yet they were gone. Then, he heard a loud scream, almost as if it was another soldier dying, he thought. Yet the figure reappeared, this time much, much closer than the first time. "Get away from me!" He yelled, yet it wasn't of any use. She was a tall, pale woman, she had her right eye missing, her throat had a large slash running through the middle of it, and her hands, her hands were extremely mangled, as if she was mauled by a bear of some sorts. Though the moment he saw her, she disappeared again.

One of the officers heard the screaming and ran towards the bunker to see what was going on. To his surprise, he found 049 near the corner on the bottom right of the bunker.
"Corporal Antoine, are you alright?" Said the soldier in a heavy french accent.
"Comrade, I told you not to call me by that name, but yes, I am alright. I just tripped, is all."
"Alright, looks like you need sleep, comrade. The battlefield has been tiring, hasn't it?"
"Yes, it has been tiring. Now, I need to go to the barracks now, remind me when the plan is ready."

8:17 AM
OCTOBER 17TH, 1916
049 had awoken with a cough. It must have been the wind, he thought. Regardless, he didn't have enough time to process what happened last night, as a german sargent had stood near the doorway.
"The plan is ready, Herr Kommander." He said.
"Perfect, is everyone awake?"
"From what I know, everyone is ready, though we haven't picked a sniper yet."
"Ah, so who's the best option at the moment?"
"Rudolf Heinster, Austro-Hungarian infantry leader who left the Austro-Hungarian Army and was conscripted into the Kaiserliche deutsche Armee once the war broke out. And from my knowledge, the French have chosen you."
"How come?"
"Not sure, but they want you at the trenches immediately."
Confused, he ran towards the trenches to see why he was chosen to kill petain. He was informed that the majority of the troops did not wish to participate, but rather attempted to convince the mutineers to take them hostage instead. In the end, they decided to choose him due to the hesitancy and fatigue of the rest of the troops.
"Comrade, we've found out that Petain is arriving here at any moment to take the injured soldier that was attempting to shoot himself in the chest to the infirmary."
"Alright, so where do I hide?"
"Over there."
The soldier in question was pointing at a foxhole in the ground, meaning that 049 would have to be quick and steady. It would have been possible to use a tree, yet the majority were charred completely, which would make him both vulnerable to artillery fire, and a lack of cover. He grabbed his rifle and began running towards the foxhole. After that, he positioned himself, and said one more thing before the plan would truly commence.
"Comrades, just so that you know, in the event that this fails, remember one thing, that this plan was, simply put, not for our benefit, but for the benefit of Europe. The very fact that we are collaborating with our greatest enemy is a testament to that. Bonne chance camarades, et vive la France!"
As soon as he finished, Petain had arrived. He had appeared weary, tired, and overall, jaded. As if the war had desensitized him to his own men attempting to take their own life.
"Do not look at the enemy as human" 049 remembered that Petain had told the troops:"The enemy shall and will remain and adversary to our survival. Let it be known that the Germans attempt to dominate us once more shall not be tolerated. Remember 1871!
He took aim, and fired.

[Langenia]

I don't have a social life.

Anyways, here's the first part of the post.

February 21st, 1916

Worry.

No feeling was superior to worry that day. It seemed as if even the high command was paranoid. News was transmitted to them only days prior, stating that German troops were advancing into Verdun, and that the approximately seventy-five divisions both near and around the city are to remain on high alert. He hadn't been this paranoid since the start of the war. Verdun was his birthplace, after all.
For a while, it appeared as if the "attack" wasn't going to happen. And for a moment, everything appeared calm.

And then, they came.

He then saw a wave of 600 German soldiers charging towards the trenches. Not only that, but the sound of artillery going off in the distance made it outright impossible to venture into no man's land, as if it wasn't deadly enough. The trenches were being overran with Sturmtruppen, while the french troops charged at them, rifle in hand, ready to sacrifice themselves for the motherland. He then saw a german infantry soldier charging towards him, and so he picked up his rifle, and began charging towards him.

The two soldiers had fought each other for five minutes, trying to overpower the other with the butts of their rifles. Though in the end, 049 had come out on top, pushing the soldier to the ground, and shoving his bayonet into his stomach. And again, and again, until he laid there, dead. At first, he didn't feel anything abnormal, though after a few minutes, he felt sick. Sick at the fact that he had killed a man once again, that he took an innocent life, was to him, irredeemable. He hadn't killed anyone on the battlefield in 16 years, and such, he was uncomfortable with himself having killed a man in cold blood. He vomited on the ground, though he stopped when he felt that the rest of the troops had noticed him.

The thought of killing a man who has done no wrong to him was still something 049 had considered repulsive at best. The sheer thought of it was still fresh in his mind, even after decades, if not centuries, of combat experience.

This wasn't a one-time event, as this would occur for well over 200 days. Countless failed pushes, counter-attacks, and trench bombardments became frequent, if not monotonous. It was, evidently, tiring for the troops, and having to deal with near-endless stress had driven some of them insane. 200 days of endless bombardment, increasing casualties, and overall hopelessness had, in other words, led men to suicide.

Some would just, run into the enemy's bayonets, while others would suffocate themselves. The overwhelming majority of the casualties in the battle were as a result of suicide attempts having gone either terribly wrong or extremely successful.

"Wir sind verloren, With sind verloren"
Every night, he could hear chants, cries even, of tired, fatigued soldiers. It was becoming more and more gruesome by the day. More and more trenches were filled with the bodies of young, otherwise normal, men. Men with a family, parents, and a future ahead of them back at home, lay dead on the mud. As the days past, the weariness, the paranoia, and the mutinies, got worse. In the end, a group of 57 French and German troops congregated to plan out the assassination of both Phillipe Petain and Erich von Falkenhayn, and 049 was one of them.

OCTOBER 16TH, 1916
Verdun, France
10:45PM
"Alright comrades, here we are." 049 said, as he began welcoming the rest of the mutineers into the bunker.
"Now, what's the plan?" Asked a german soldier.
"The plan itself is rather simple. There are about 29 Frenchman and 28 Germans, one of us each go into their living quarters, place grenade with the safety pin still inside, lead them outsid-"
"Seems like a good plan, but how will we get the grenade in there? How will we lead them out? Most importantly, what will happen when the government finds out?" Asked a French soldier.
"Good question. The simplest answer to the first one is that they aren't in their quarters at the moment, meaning that once we return to our positions, then the plan will be executed. Now, troop suicides have been increasing, so we can use that as a diversion to shoot them. And besides, Falkenhayn is extremely unpopular among the German government, and Petain was outed as a spy for the germans, so it wouldn't matter if both government's try hunting us down due to how massively unpopular they are already."
"Any more questions?"
A five minute period of silence, one of the troops responded.
"No, and we'll get onto it as soon as we can."
"Alright, I wish to see all of you on the battlefield tomorrow. Good luck comrades, this won't be an easy task. May god be with you all."
They all began leaving the bunker and as soon as they all left, 049 had felt something..odd. He could have sworn he had seen someone in the corner of the room a few minutes ago, yet they were gone. Then, he heard a loud scream, almost as if it was another soldier dying, he thought. Yet the figure reappeared, this time much, much closer than the first time. "Get away from me!" He yelled, yet it wasn't of any use. She was a tall, pale woman, she had her right eye missing, her throat had a large slash running through the middle of it, and her hands, her hands were extremely mangled, as if she was mauled by a bear of some sorts. Though the moment he saw her, she disappeared again.

One of the officers heard the screaming and ran towards the bunker to see what was going on. To his surprise, he found 049 near the corner on the bottom right of the bunker.
"Corporal Antoine, are you alright?" Said the soldier in a heavy french accent.
"Comrade, I told you not to call me by that name, but yes, I am alright. I just tripped, is all."
"Alright, looks like you need sleep, comrade. The battlefield has been tiring, hasn't it?"
"Yes, it has been tiring. Now, I need to go to the barracks now, remind me when the plan is ready."

8:17 AM
OCTOBER 17TH, 1916
049 had awoken with a cough. It must have been the wind, he thought. Regardless, he didn't have enough time to process what happened last night, as a german sargent had stood near the doorway.
"The plan is ready, Herr Kommander." He said.
"Perfect, is everyone awake?"
"From what I know, everyone is ready, though we haven't picked a sniper yet."
"Ah, so who's the best option at the moment?"
"Rudolf Heinster, Austro-Hungarian infantry leader who left the Austro-Hungarian Army and was conscripted into the Kaiserliche deutsche Armee once the war broke out. And from my knowledge, the French have chosen you."
"How come?"
"Not sure, but they want you at the trenches immediately."
Confused, he ran towards the trenches to see why he was chosen to kill petain. He was informed that the majority of the troops did not wish to participate, but rather attempted to convince the mutineers to take them hostage instead. In the end, they decided to choose him due to the hesitancy and fatigue of the rest of the troops.
"Comrade, we've found out that Petain is arriving here at any moment to take the injured soldier that was attempting to shoot himself in the chest to the infirmary."
"Alright, so where do I hide?"
"Over there."
The soldier in question was pointing at a foxhole in the ground, meaning that 049 would have to be quick and steady. It would have been possible to use a tree, yet the majority were charred completely, which would make him both vulnerable to artillery fire, and a lack of cover. He grabbed his rifle and began running towards the foxhole. After that, he positioned himself, and said one more thing before the plan would truly commence.
"Comrades, just so that you know, in the event that this fails, remember one thing, that this plan was, simply put, not for our benefit, but for the benefit of Europe. The very fact that we are collaborating with our greatest enemy is a testament to that. Bonne chance camarades, et vive la France!"
As soon as he finished, Petain had arrived. He had appeared weary, tired, and overall, jaded. As if the war had desensitized him to his own men attempting to take their own life.
"Do not look at the enemy as human" 049 remembered that Petain had told the troops:"The enemy shall and will remain and adversary to our survival. Let it be known that the Germans attempt to dominate us once more shall not be tolerated. Remember 1871!
He took aim, and fired.

Dang. That's really good. I wish I could write like that for Madlad rps and not just in International Incidents.

[Socialist Macronesia]

made a palisade meme

[Langenia]

made a palisade meme

(Image)

I honestly don't know what to say.

[Kiu Ghesik]

made a palisade meme

(Image)

:facepalm:

[Socialist Macronesia]

made a palisade meme

(Image)

:facepalm:

moral of the story: make your ai a cat

[Brettenwald]

somebody, anybody, post

[Langenia]

somebody, anybody, post

When I feel like it comrade.

[Bogi Smerti]

somebody, anybody, post

is coming along, mus make floomfy pillows

[Kiu Ghesik]

somebody, anybody, post

yeah, will try to. things have been, uh, how you say, chaotic recently and I haven't found the time to write one.

[Brettenwald]

somebody, anybody, post

yeah, will try to. things have been, uh, how you say, chaotic recently and I haven't found the time to write one.

my apologies, irl matters more, as always

[Bogi Smerti]

Hey guys, is this good?

SEPTEMBER 12TH, 2004
LA CORUÑA, GALICIAN SOCIALIST FEDERATION
6:00AM
"War is hell, isn't it?" Katerina had thought. She knew she wasn't alone in that sentiment, as the over 52,000 American volunteers had all experienced war at home. For some, this was the first war they have ever fought in, while the others, specifically 049, had much more combat experience and in turn, more trauma. This was 049's 10th, or 11th? war he had participated, he wasn't fully sure. Regardless, this was her first war, and she was understandably nervous about it.

She remembered when this all started, it was barely the beginning of 2004, when ethnic tensions in Spain ruptured as a result of the French invasion. Only years prior did Spain experience massive social and political change when the Falangists created a semi-democratic dictatorship, in which the falanga although still held absolute power, were at the complete and utter mercy of the spanish people. However, 15 years after that, the Carlists overthrew the government, and after increasing centralization, ethnic violence rising dramatically, and an economic recession, It became clear that Spain was running on borrowed time. January 4th, the beginning of the Galician War of Independence, had become Spain's final breath.

At first, the war was almost lost. However, both the MSA and the Międzymorze had sent volunteers, numbering in total 450,000. It didn't seem like much, but the Spanish Army had lost a significant amount of men due to the french invasion, defections, and the disastrous Asturias Campaign, in which 271,000 Spanish troops were encircled and killed due to a lack of supply. However, it was becoming clear to her that even if she won war of liberation, the economy would be in complete shambles.

The concern was slightly alleviated when she had noticed that 049 was among the 52,000 sent. She had known him for a little over ten years now, as such she knew how he functioned, and why he went to war. He would say that under no circumstance would he let troops, men that he had command over, die brutally on some godforsaken island 2,000 km away while he sat in a chair barking orders. He chose to lead his troops to death, no matter the cost.

This post is already longer than my 1,700 word post wtf

[Main Nation Ministry]

Hey guys, is this good?

SEPTEMBER 12TH, 2004
LA CORUÑA, GALICIAN SOCIALIST FEDERATION
6:00AM
"War is hell, isn't it?" Katerina had thought. She knew she wasn't alone in that sentiment, as the over 52,000 American volunteers had all experienced war at home. For some, this was the first war they have ever fought in, while the others, specifically 049, had much more combat experience and in turn, more trauma. This was 049's 10th, or 11th? war he had participated, he wasn't fully sure. Regardless, this was her first war, and she was understandably nervous about it.

She remembered when this all started, it was barely the beginning of 2004, when ethnic tensions in Spain ruptured as a result of the French invasion. Only years prior did Spain experience massive social and political change when the Falangists created a semi-democratic dictatorship, in which the falanga although still held absolute power, were at the complete and utter mercy of the spanish people. However, 15 years after that, the Carlists overthrew the government, and after increasing centralization, ethnic violence rising dramatically, and an economic recession, It became clear that Spain was running on borrowed time. January 4th, the beginning of the Galician War of Independence, had become Spain's final breath.

At first, the war was almost lost. However, both the MSA and the Międzymorze had sent volunteers, numbering in total 450,000. It didn't seem like much, but the Spanish Army had lost a significant amount of men due to the french invasion, defections, and the disastrous Asturias Campaign, in which 271,000 Spanish troops were encircled and killed due to a lack of supply. However, it was becoming clear to her that even if she won war of liberation, the economy would be in complete shambles.

The concern was slightly alleviated when she had noticed that 049 was among the 52,000 sent. She had known him for a little over ten years now, as such she knew how he functioned, and why he went to war. He would say that under no circumstance would he let troops, men that he had command over, die brutally on some godforsaken island 2,000 km away while he sat in a chair barking orders. He chose to lead his troops to death, no matter the cost.

This post is already longer than my 1,700 word post wtf

It's noice.

[Langenia]

Hey guys, is this good?

SEPTEMBER 12TH, 2004
LA CORUÑA, GALICIAN SOCIALIST FEDERATION
6:00AM
"War is hell, isn't it?" Katerina had thought. She knew she wasn't alone in that sentiment, as the over 52,000 American volunteers had all experienced war at home. For some, this was the first war they have ever fought in, while the others, specifically 049, had much more combat experience and in turn, more trauma. This was 049's 10th, or 11th? war he had participated, he wasn't fully sure. Regardless, this was her first war, and she was understandably nervous about it.

She remembered when this all started, it was barely the beginning of 2004, when ethnic tensions in Spain ruptured as a result of the French invasion. Only years prior did Spain experience massive social and political change when the Falangists created a semi-democratic dictatorship, in which the falanga although still held absolute power, were at the complete and utter mercy of the spanish people. However, 15 years after that, the Carlists overthrew the government, and after increasing centralization, ethnic violence rising dramatically, and an economic recession, It became clear that Spain was running on borrowed time. January 4th, the beginning of the Galician War of Independence, had become Spain's final breath.

At first, the war was almost lost. However, both the MSA and the Międzymorze had sent volunteers, numbering in total 450,000. It didn't seem like much, but the Spanish Army had lost a significant amount of men due to the french invasion, defections, and the disastrous Asturias Campaign, in which 271,000 Spanish troops were encircled and killed due to a lack of supply. However, it was becoming clear to her that even if she won war of liberation, the economy would be in complete shambles.

The concern was slightly alleviated when she had noticed that 049 was among the 52,000 sent. She had known him for a little over ten years now, as such she knew how he functioned, and why he went to war. He would say that under no circumstance would he let troops, men that he had command over, die brutally on some godforsaken island 2,000 km away while he sat in a chair barking orders. He chose to lead his troops to death, no matter the cost.

This post is already longer than my 1,700 word post wtf

Wha...how can y'all write long posts for this rp while I can only do that in International Incidents?!

[Western Fardelshufflestein]

PRAISE JESUS!

HALLELUJAH HALLELUJAH

Wha--whyareyousayingthatduringLent.

[Main Nation Ministry]

Wha...how can y'all write long posts for this rp while I can only do that in International Incidents?!

Determination by one's self. Which all of us have in random moments.

[Bogi Smerti]

Hey guys, is this good?

SEPTEMBER 12TH, 2004
LA CORUÑA, GALICIAN SOCIALIST FEDERATION
6:00AM
"War is hell, isn't it?" Katerina had thought. She knew she wasn't alone in that sentiment, as the over 52,000 American volunteers had all experienced war at home. For some, this was the first war they have ever fought in, while the others, specifically 049, had much more combat experience and in turn, more trauma. This was 049's 10th, or 11th? war he had participated, he wasn't fully sure. Regardless, this was her first war, and she was understandably nervous about it.

She remembered when this all started, it was barely the beginning of 2004, when ethnic tensions in Spain ruptured as a result of the French invasion. Only years prior did Spain experience massive social and political change when the Falangists created a semi-democratic dictatorship, in which the falanga although still held absolute power, were at the complete and utter mercy of the spanish people. However, 15 years after that, the Carlists overthrew the government, and after increasing centralization, ethnic violence rising dramatically, and an economic recession, It became clear that Spain was running on borrowed time. January 4th, the beginning of the Galician War of Independence, had become Spain's final breath.

At first, the war was almost lost. However, both the MSA and the Międzymorze had sent volunteers, numbering in total 450,000. It didn't seem like much, but the Spanish Army had lost a significant amount of men due to the french invasion, defections, and the disastrous Asturias Campaign, in which 271,000 Spanish troops were encircled and killed due to a lack of supply. However, it was becoming clear to her that even if she won war of liberation, the economy would be in complete shambles.

The concern was slightly alleviated when she had noticed that 049 was among the 52,000 sent. She had known him for a little over ten years now, as such she knew how he functioned, and why he went to war. He would say that under no circumstance would he let troops, men that he had command over, die brutally on some godforsaken island 2,000 km away while he sat in a chair barking orders. He chose to lead his troops to death, no matter the cost.

This post is already longer than my 1,700 word post wtf

Wha...how can y'all write long posts for this rp while I can only do that in International Incidents?!

What? I have to get it done before break ends, but I'm determined to make it at least bearable to read.

[Socialist Macronesia]

HALLELUJAH HALLELUJAH

Wha--whyareyousayingthatduringLent.

Because not everyone here is Catholic. Or Christian. Or religious.

Aurelia--

[Brettenwald]

Wha--whyareyousayingthatduringLent.

Because not everyone here is Catholic. Or Christian. Or religious.

Aurelia--

Or you could be like me and just enjoy the occasional moments of personal comfort religion provides while specifically rejecting dogma and the funi gamer book as a way to live your life.

_{aureliapleaseno-}

[Kiu Ghesik]

i shall now refer to the twelve plagues as a succession of funi gamer moments. god'll forgive me. he's got a lot more to hold against me than that anyways.

[Socialist Macronesia]

i shall now refer to the twelve plagues as a succession of funi gamer moment. god'll forgive me. he's got a lot more to hold against me than that anyways.

Ah, yes, the bestselling mystery thriller novel Bible. Man, I've been trying to find an autographed copy for a while now. But then I figured out that it wasn't actually written by world renowned miracle worker, public speaker, and storyteller Jesus Christ, and it was actually written by a team of ghost writers, who're all dead by now. Luckily, I think the book said that eventually Christ would come back to autograph copies at some point, but the date's still TBA.