NationStates Jolt Archive

Imperial Palace of Guffingford
Oslo, Norway

"Those goddamn British! They keep sending me horrid telegrams* asking when the debates about the Shetland islands will start. I don't want to give them away to a bunch of hippies who still love to talk about their pompus history of colonies and victories. I'm gonna keep them just to genuinely piss them off. I'd love hire some terrorist to blow their stupid... Never mind. I just hate them. I HATE THEM!"
"Be careful Emperor, the British are allied with the whole NWO circus. It should not be wise to make war with them." The Emperor turned around and started to scream. Mr Morehouse tried to calm him but it didn't matter. The Emperor started to yell again and kicked against the walls while throwing paper around. A heavy brass candelabra almost hit poor Mr Morehouse. "SHUT UP! Shut up about the NWO! They have thwarted my plans and made us look like religious wackos! Had they not intervened then Guffingford would border Turkey!" Mr Morehouse sighed. The Emperor was suffering from his manic depression again. There was nothing religious about Guffingford. Only the army and the Knights are to make them more effective. The Emperor continued his lunacy "I cannot stand those bastards! They promised us Hong-Kong in return when they completed their Chinese adventures! But no! No no and no!" The rant continued swelling up from random anger to pure hate for them. "I want the British flag used as toilet paper! Arrest their citizens here! Block their harbours! Spit on their culture and history books!"

Mr Morehouse left the office softly but in a hurry. The hysterical screaming and manical laughing went on behind him. The boor bugger didn't even knew Morehouse left the room.
Seeing the Emperor mad is never a good thing. Perhaps its even a bad omen. He had to see the Führer, Mr Gerlach about this important matter. Being emperor is a mere symbolic function but he has power. A great deal of power and in his madness and being an alcoholic. Let's just say having so much power in such a position only leads to more chaos in this dreadful world. It would be so much easier of the royal family just disappeared. A well aimed bullet, a precisely timed bomb. An anarchist. A communist. Who cares, as long as they're gone. All of them. His insane son Constantine, his slut of a wife. She fucked more men than a whore from the filthiest gutters of Bangkok. The grandparents are even dumber than the arse of a horse. Oh I am boiling in anger. Something must happen to them.
I heard Mr Gerlach's butler whispering to another servant how he was talking in his sleep about murdering the Emperor personally. I may need to find out more about his personal relation with them.

A few days later...
Berlin, Germany

Another party meeting. The streets are full of flags of the party, warflags, national flags and more banners. On every streetcorner a banner of the NSP
I love Guffingford, it's my home, my friends and family live here. I love my country and I love my Führer. The only stain, the only cancer of this perfect society is the royal family. I don't mind the religious hypes or the writings of Axelrod Procyon or the recently releaded version of Könrad Sachenspiegels second testament. No, I am worried about the idiotic royal family. You can clearly see it on the eyes of the pedestrians I pass. Not a shred of doubt, they all share my sentiment. The cheering and festivities are in full swing, men and women are cheerful and are praising the Führer. He is such a modest gentleman. He even demanded that his poster must be hung lower than Hitler's. Only real gentlemen can make such a great statement to his folk. I may have a chance of talking to him backstage.

OOC: It is open but I don't want any dogpiles. You know, the 100 & allies vs 3 kind of thing. When there are say, 4 nations attacking me then it's enough. And for those who remember the Dr_Twist civil war, this will not become anything like it. Not even close.
*: US has indeed asked me over MSN a couple of times to hand over the Shetland isles.

http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/guffingford.jpg
TO REJECT THE FÜHRER, IS TO DENOUNCE THE EMPIRE


The camera's move over to the well dressed women behind a desk with a party banner behind her. The peaceful smile of the genderless face overlooked the whole room with a warm and tender feeling flooding the workers with love for the Empire. Liberated spirits were placing the lights, adjusting the sound volume. But a heavy sense of weariness was sitting on the shoulders of the men and women working. A very bad message was about to be issued to Guffingford. Something has happened. Has the Great Leader passed away? Is the Emperor dead? The manager of the broadcasting agency - which one didn't matter, they are all under strict state control. A young but certainly not an attractive chap walked to the set and took a seat. If he personally came to supervise a broadcast, you know something bad has happened. The message was short but the power behind it, the sheer impact of the words, so innocently yet so... destructive.

"...It has been confirmed by the respectable Dr Klaus Schilling that our Emperor Tilmun has died of a heart attack. In the late Emperor's testament he explicitly told not to let his only son Contantine to take place on the Sacred Throne..."

Who will be his heir then? The Empress cannot, she finds herself unable to fulfill the many daring and heavy duties of the late Emperor. Contstantine is not allowed to, who will guide Guffingfor through these days of peril? We can only rely on our good cabinet and the wise men and women in it. I hope they will lead Guffingford like the Emperor did.

Hours later...

Panic all over. The news broadcasts have stopped and ambulance raced around the cities. Fainted people laid on the streets. The toughest men cried and the most fragile elderly begged for death. Women staggered about the streets leaving behind children in disbelief. The subtle sound of sobbing and tears rolling over cheeks replaced the busy noise of the streets of Guffingford. Cars halted. Buses ceased driving their daily schedule and shops closed. The giant screens showing the good man, with a date under his face.
1939 - 2005
The day came off from a good start but ended in tragedy. Miserable life, why have you let me witness the fall of a Great Man? Greatest Man Ever, I will persue you into Heaven. This cannot have happened. A nightmare has caught us, a grim look into a distant unrealistic future. No, our minds are tortured by grief but not by trickery. This is two-thousand-five, the first day of the new year and something like this has happened. I cannot comprehend anything that happened. A small gush of wind, nothing bigger than a breath of air smacked me to the ground. I was as weak as a pudding. A rock in the undertow, undestroyable against the hordes of communists and unbelievers is gone forever. This is not allowed to be written down in history. This day, January the first of two-thousand-five has never happened. I wish it was that simple. Our emperor is dead. The founder and father of Guffingford. The past cannot be changed and the future cannot be predicted. I have to keep on living, my struggle for survival is just beginning.

Large texts where floating by on the news ticker on the bottom of the screen on every channel on my television. "THE EMPIRE BUILT ON ROCK; BUILT WITH IRON; BUILT BY ONE MAN HAS DIED TODAY!" I was sitting in my chair drinking something which contains a high percentage of alcohol. I did not care about my health, I already smoked two packs away and drank a whole bottle of the stuff I just poured again in my glass. Every twenty minutes a news update followed by beautiful shots of his life. He threw himself into the breach, helped his friends and neighbors and loved his family and wife. I was very drowsy because of the booze and cigarettes but then, like a thunderclap in a clear sky it began. A genderless face, foreboding and deceptively peaceful face of the party banner was taking over. The last bit of opposition to the party gone. I did not know and if I did I certainly wouldn't believe it. Guffingford's peoples were enjoying their last free night.

*****

News message to all national leaders
Today our Emperor Tilmun has died. We seek no compassion, only recognition of his great deeds. The National Socialist Empire of Guffingford ceased to exist by this day. Guffingford shall hereby be called "The National Republic of Guffingford"
Thank you.

Franck Gerlach & cabinet,
Führer and servants of the National Republic of Guffingford

*****

Mr Morehouse felt great after hearing the news. His cheerful mood wasn't tempered by the weeping of the masses outside. Nay, he felt good. Finally this idiot of an Emperor is gone. He's dead and that's it. I don't care someone killed him. I'd even do if I could. No more of his rants, his depressions. I am so pleased his asinine reign has ended today. His fruitless quest for whatever he fought for. It doesn't matter anymore. He's gone and a burden of me as well. I never felt this good.

OOC:
If anyone wants to claim the assassination you may do so. There won't be war or sanctions.

Buckingham Palace

King George lounged on a chair not fit for a King, he was tired and exhausted, the press were devils who never left him alone, and those boxes he shuddered. Those endless streams of red boxes! Could he ever be left alone. Sitting comfortably he waited for the eventual arrival of his advisor, just thinking about him seemed to conjure the man and as usual he was on cue.

“Majesty, what news!”

Raising his head George could see his advisor red and bloated with excitement. “Come no further Van Pelt, I do not relish in the stench of sweat. Remain where you are and I will permit you to tell me my news.”

Holding his position Van Pelt smiled. “Majesty, the demon Tilmon is dead. Poison they say.” Looking confused Van Pelt looked at his Lord. “I must say Majesty you do look rather calm considering the circumstances.”

“Of course I’m calm you dolt, I had him killed. The snivelling coward would not relinquish to us territory that is rightfully ours, so I decided to have someone kill him so that I may negotiate with someone else.”

“If I may say so Majesty that is most dangerous, there may be war.”

Smiling George looked into the fire. “There will be no war, there will be no blood from the guns. Our agent will be back in the Empire very shortly, he should be boarding a plan for Manchester rather shortly.”

“Van Pelt, you will draft a letter on condolence to the new leader of Guffingford I believe it will be the Chancellor Franck Gerlach, his sort are always eager for friends. Send them a letter, but I want you to phrase it in such a way so that they know that we killed their King.”

Turning astounded Van Pelt looked fearful. “Majesty that will surely bring about war.”

“Van Pelt when it comes to matters of state I am the King, you are here to do my bidding now do it.”

“At once majesty.”

"Although the mighty Emperor is gone, his great deeds will forever be remembered."

-Viktor Trotzig
Supreme Ruler of Zarbia

In honor of the deceased Tilmun, Zarbia will be holding a massive fascist parade in the capital square in a week's time. We would be honored if the Führer himself would attend but if not video footage will be provided.

President Anderson sends his condolences to the family of the late Emperor, and hopes that his passing will mark a new phase in IH-Guffingford relations.

OOC: Taggggged

"Hold it right there!" I was arrested. The police officer caught me near the Opera. I couldn't watch it any longer. Puccini's work abandoned the stage a long time ago and now the only things they play are written by officials. The motto of each play is the same. Love your country and love your leaders. Basicly the same. Ah how could I have been so stupid? The policeman took me into custody and brought me to the local watchstation. There I had to explain everything. Asking what the charges were didn't quite gave me a satisfying answer. I still feel the hard fist of the chief in my stomach. I must tell everything. "Come on son, speak up. You wear a lot of fancy party stuff. Like that fine golden watch. Tell us what the fuck is going on or I'm gonna sick the dogs on you. They say yer boss hired a hitmen to kill our Emperor!" I was nailed to the ground, they had me in their control. A secretary sat in front of me while the chief and the guy who brought me in were walking around smoking. I started my story.
"Crime and corruption reach to the top of the party. Franck Gerlach is bribed more often than the average Italian policement and every month the country is losing money fast. I don't know why I am telling this." "Just go on, you're safe in here" "Well okay. It's just. Many things have changed in the days after the Emperor's death." "We all know Mr...?" "Morehouse. Maynard Morehouse." Maynard nodded and the chief showed some emotion. "I know this will be hard for you Mr Morehouse but we arrested you because we need to know the whole truth." Maynard looked down. He was sitting there like a small child awaiting punishment from his father. He continued his monologue. "Well on one day... The Emperor was ranting and shouting about the British. They want the Shetland Islands because they're British you know. Maybe an assassin is sent from the British Isles or from Russia..." "Shut up. This isn't an outsider I'm damn sure it's an insider what say you Joe?" Joe the secretary was half sleep behind his desk and woke up when his colleague tapped him on the shoulder. "ehhh... I have. No. Yes it had to be a job by Guffingfordians. Who can be skilled enough to break into the palace hehehe" "Yup. Well go on with the story Mr Morehouse. I am very intrigued, and I assume you're telling me the truth?" "Oh yes I am. Now where was I? Oh yes, The Emperor wanted to make a statement to the British. I know he was planning something. It wasn't an invasion. No, he couldn't miss any troops. I don't know what is was. Well what I do know is that the Emperor has been murdered with poison. The talks went on and truth was revealed. The truth was running out of time. Mr Morehouse was safe between the police and he was safe because he was one of the party members. For now. The printing presses are rolling, the sheets of paper go through the delicate machinery. The lie spreads like a virus, it claims more victims daily. Free minds corrupted and the lie leads its own life. How many newspapers have been printed in this district? Ten million. Ten million people will be infected. Ten million lives are lost.

"When the lie gets repeated often enough the lie becomes truth"

*****

A riot against The Party in Guffingford - many disgusted.
Berlin, from our redaction - Today a massive demonstration against the good cabinet of Adolf Leighmar was organized by a front unsatisfied workers who's minds have been poisoned by the malefic spirit of leftist socialism. (Union) Leaders of several important movements concerning the rights and privileges of Guffingfordii workers all have formed a unitied voice to condemn these actions by the people unworthy to live in the Nation-founded-on-Love Guffingford. Our honest and friendly police officers have peacefully ended the protest march causing no injuries but a few wicked, twisted souls of the communist liars have dared to throw stones at our lawenforcement. The rascals (14 and 17 years of age) were arrested and flogged, a very fitting punishment.
Some people fail to realize the government has nothing to do with the tragic death of the good Emperor Tilmun. All the conspiracy theories and wild stories about a possible assassination are false; enemy regimes try to subvert and destroy us from within. We must be cautious for such subversive elements in our Perfect Society.

*****

COMMUNISTS FANNING THE FLAMES OF UNREST IN GUFFINGFORD!
Today's News - Berlin. An appalling march of hatred was allowed to pass through the peaceful streets of Berlin. The police made ordered to act calm against the evil minds and two wicked youngsters (14 and 17, both flogged) were the biggest fools to throw stones at the nearby policemen. Our government has nothing to do with the ongoing rumours of being involved with the death of the late Tilmun. They have urged all good cititzens to remain calm and keep the faith in our good leadership. Despite all the hardships and attemps of our bloodthirsty enemies we shall prevail! Hail Guffingford!

Screaming headlines in the fair and objective newspapers of Guffingford. An angry rabble spat at the party flag. Insubordination! Betrayal!
Discrimination! Civil disobedience! Treason! Deceit! This will never be tolerated. The masses are rumbling and the amount of civil unrest increases. Our Emperor would never allow this. Something must happen. I will do whatever it takes to ease the pressure on the minds of the masses.

OOC": NS is down so i can't log in with Bob-Bob. I'll just have to put up with Uniied Sith instead.

As he drunk the last of his wine George was feeling rather merry with himself. So far he had gotten away with killing a rival emperor, and now he was poised to take back the Shetland isles. Of course he could not simply attack that would be foolish. No he had to wait until the right moment, he needed an excuse.

Picking up one of the many sealed envelopes on his table he broke open the wax with his silver knife, as he started to read it in came his royal adviser Van Pelt. “Good afternoon sire, I trust you are enjoying the day?”

“You know fine well that I am not Van Pelt.” It was mid-summer in England with temperatures reaching thirty two degrees Centigrade. George was now sure that the clothes of a King were engineered to roast the monarch alive. Every window, door and even cellar was opened to assist in the circulation of air however not even that helped.

“Well Majesty I have come bringing excellent news regarding the current affairs in Guffingford. With the death of the emperor civil riots are starting to break out. There is revolution in the air My Lord.”

“Hmm, this is indeed excellent news. I think its time we helped out one of our patriots Van Pelt. Our spies in Berlin, and the other major cities. I want you to have them spread rumours in taverns and brothels. I want you to reinforce the idea that it was the government that killed off their monarch. If you can make a leader out of some of the rebels I’m sure we can finance his cause.”

“But Majesty, this could lead to Guffingford attacking us, all they have to do is tell their people and show them of our financing their rebels.”

“Why would they do that? No Van Pelt their Government would not do such a thing. It would only prove to the people that they are weak and that the rebellion is strong. The people would be enraged at the government for allowing us to kill their emperor. No their aggression will not be directed at us.”

“I hope you are sure of this sire.”

“Of course I’m sure, now before you go Van Pelt I want you to mobilise a few of our Scottish divisions. The Shetland isles will be ours soon enough.”

“At once Sire.”

A boat with SS and STASI officers entered the small harbour. The local Lord welcomed them and the group (around fifty men strong) walked over the pier to a little house where the commander and the Lord talked shortly. "You guarantee the safety of me and my family?" "Yes we do. Now show me the depots." The Lord marked several spots on the map with a red pencil and the SS commander left the house. The group of fifty stood in lines of ten and he gave the orders. "You go east, you go west, you go south, you go north and the rest follows me. If there's resistance kill them."

Soon all the weapon depots were found on the islands along with plans to initiate a rebellion against the Lord. A man who was cackling about Guffingford was stoned to death after he insulted the late Emperor. What he said made the SS and STASI think, was is the British who killed our Emperor? Possibly. If they did... Well they did. The happening known as the slaughter of Shetland was about to begin. I don't need to tell how every child, women or man is killed. It was the same, repetition all over. The door kicked in, women and children raped and killed. Men were burned alive. I wish I wasn't there after my release from the watchstation after I told my story. Thank God they haven't heard what the old guy said about the possible British involvement of the death of our Emperor. I need to return to Guffingford. I must talk with Herr Führer about this, things are getting out of control fast. Somebody has to do something! All that we have built over the years is being destroyed.

*****

The civil revolt in Guffingford wasn't confined to only the eastern half of the new republic. In the African colonies, the and disgruntled and greedy only son of the late Emperor, Constantine has been shifting nervously around the colonies preparing a coup and a formal decleration of independence. Unsatisfied with his fathers testament the only thing he can do to enjoy some of Guffingford's former glory is to create his own Empire. The Republic has turned its back to National Socialism and Constantine sees the African Colonies as his personal dominion, his own bankaccount. Constantine wasn't a really bright person but he knows how to exploit political situations to the full. Now, the only thing he had to do was to send the message to central command in Guffingford. Carefully written and no word can be explained in another way the envelope was sealed with the royal emblem of the family. The end of Guffingford has begun.

"He has done what" Mr Gerlach couldn't believe it. "Well my Führer it seems the spoiled little brat has declared full indepence of the colonies" Still in disbelief the Führer looked around. Searching for a proper reaction or just bursting into insults and rage. "I cannot believe this. How could this little fucker do this to us" The Führer slammed his wrist on the table. His face turned red, like a ripe tomato. His hands were resting now in his lap, shaking. "The worst thing is the troops there hundred percent loyal to him my Führer. We cannot retake them by force." "I know you moron, and we cannot kill him either. It would all be too coincident. He got us by the balls. We can only recognize the independence of those states."

The next morning...

DECLERATION OF INDEPENDENCE BY CONSTANTINE
Many government officials stunned - what will happen next?
Guffingford News Agency, Our reporter - In an unexpected turn of events the son of the late Emperor Tilmun, Constantine has declared independence of the Guffingfordii African Dominions incorporated part of the former Guffingfordii Empire. This news caused controversy and a shock to our beloved Führer, Mr Gerlach. He needed to have some time for himself and made several important phonecalls to his advisors. Mr Gerlach recognizes the independence of the African Dominions and their new leader, Constantine who has been crowned Emperor. However, our sources confirm the long discussed and feared moment where people suggest Constantine is going to claim the Guffingfordii throne even though his father took away his right.
Many small demonstrations to declare the clause regarding Constantine null has been rejected by the cabinet of Mr Leighmar. This resulted in more demonstrations stirred up by spies and other folk of low nature, most notably the British who try to stir up trouble and divide the people from their government.
Another happening put both governments on an even more aggressive stance on each other's policies is the slaughter of the Shetland Islands. The foolish citizens living on the remote corner of the Guffingfordii Republic were trying to beging a riot and seek unification with the United Kingdom. Thankfully, our SS and STASI have prevented that. The foolish citizens fought like communists, weak and without morale. They have all died without honour and glory on their island. With a bleeding heart the Lord of the island was forced to see how his fellow inhabitants betrayed the Republic. Officials claim they were funded by the communists of surrounding countries. The fact the British Kingdom allows elements such as communists and anarchists in their once good nation troubles the only capitalist stronghold of Europe. We will not let Guffingford go down the dark path that leads to a totalitarian communist hate state. We will remain free.I was reading this article in the Daily Gazette when it sprung to my head. Why do we need to be free? Do we even want to be free? I'm the chancellor of Guffingford's cabinet, I can decide what happens around here. "The Führer! Hah! What a loser. Hell, he doesn't even know how to run a scrapyard! I should be boss around here. I have been the leader of Holy Panooly, I killed those bastard communists, scared the shit out of many nations with the RWC. Franck Gerlach is a worthless criminal, we don't need him around here. If I just... We don't need freedom in Guffingford. The Emperor is dead, I don't give a rat's ass who did it. I ought to congratulate him or her. We haven't had an internal party cleansing since the day the Gerlach bastard was declared Führer." Mr Rixx and Dr Schilling were sitting on the other side of his 18th century desk in Regency style. Mr Rixx, who escaped Holy Panooly after the regime finally collapsed continued Mr Leighmar's story. "I agree something must happen. We have been way too liberal in Guffingford. In Holy Panooly we must sent them all to the gaschamber but the blasted fool Tilmun and his dumbass son Constantine prevented the construction of prisoner and deathcamps in Africa. They wanted peaceful national socialism but gentlemen I do not know if national socialism is the answer. I don't know if ANY type of current government ideologies or policies or whatever type of leadership can apply on Guffingford." Mr Rixx picked up his leather bag leaning against his chair and threw two books on the desk. 1984 and Brave New World. "Those are, according to people, prophetic. There are elements such as the thought police which are absurd to say the least and the indoctrination in the Ministry of Love to create an unconditional love for the leader. Doublethink is perhaps the most stupid of all the but the idea behind it is rocksolid." Dr Schilling leaned back and giggled. "So you're saying we should follow fiction as our new government?" "No Mr Schilling, let Mr Rixx finish his story. I'm deeply curious about this." "Thank you Mr Leighmar. Well, I say we should use elements of the books. In 1984 O'Brein confesses there's no Big Brother, only the party and even the Brotherhood is fake. We can achieve the same thing gentlemen. Our party will be, omnipresent and omnipotent. If we make farms and food distribution state owned we can add drugs and other means to keep the population happy at all times." Mr Leighmar and Dr Schilling were looking at the books and started to laugh. An evil laugh, the same way hungry wolves growl when they see a pray. Dr Schilling was the first to stop laughing "Mr Rixx, who has to die to make this new type of leadership possible?" "Everybody except us. The whole cabinet, Constantine, Gerlach, Royal family, governers, consuls... Not the army, they are already totally brainwashed by the books of Sachenspiegel and Procyon." "We are going to do this. Mr Rixx, Dr Schilling. I will be seeing you more. Thank you".

Tag.

OCC: I am intrested in getting involved but atm i would like to watch and see how things Progress, so For now i shall watch.

I'm fine with that. I do like to point out, if anyone wants to invade me the war will involve the ones currently in my nation - Belem, TMG, Zarbia. The war WILL be multiple closed fronts. Southern Europe, Scandinavia... you know the map.

I'm fine with that. I do like to point out, if anyone wants to invade me the war will involve the ones currently in my nation - Belem, TMG, Zarbia. The war WILL be multiple closed fronts. Southern Europe, Scandinavia... you know the map.

OCC: If I get involved it will only be on the Level of Aid and Security within Guffingford I have no interest in invasion on any level, Because of the Possible Civil war we might see refugees attempt to cross the boarders.

OCC: If I get involved it will only be on the Level of Aid and Security within Guffingford I have no interest in invasion on any level, Because of the Possible Civil war we might see refugees attempt to cross the boarders.That's ok. Settled then.
KEEP ALL OOC FROM THIS POINT IN A NEW THREAD.
I like to see tags instead of subscription so I know how many will be in this.

"Can anyone please explain to me what the hell is going on?" Frank Gerlach, the Enlighted Führer of Guffingford (but no longer of associated colonies) stepped into the hall from where he can visit the ministries. "My Führer, what on earth is going on with you? Please, have a seat and I'll get you some tea." The Führer sat down and dropped his head into his hands, leaning on his legs. "I have ruled this nation and now everybody is unsatisfied. Just three weeks ago everyone adored me. I don't know what the hell went wrong." "Oh don't worry Herr Führer here's your tea." "Thanks. The only few who I still trust are Solan Rixx, Dr Schilling and Leighmar. It's a shame they're from Holy Panooly. I've visited that place once. Totally backwards land. Only swamps, jungles and wasteland. I've visited the old Austar Union base, and this Dominic Templeton proudly showed me the corpses left inside and the sunken Sarzonian ships. It was quite a good tour. Most of the old regime has fled to other nations." Mr Gerlach carefully sipped from the hot lemon tea. A small biscuit was presented by his secretary. "Oh Herr Führer, things will look up. This is just a small fall in your popularity. Can't your minister of propaganda, Vanevar Kramer do something about it?" Mr Gerlach rolled his eyes and head around and it looked like his soul was streaming out his body. Such a tired man, an old man worried sick. "I just can't do this anymore. I'm so tired of all the lies. The deceit. More lies. It's just too much for me... I have done so many bad things in my life. The older I get the more I start to rethink what I have done. My conscience is playing tricks with my mind. I have witnessed the slaughter when Guffingford annexed the African colonies. The concentration camps. I don't know what gotten into me but I feel bad, really bad. I can't do this anymore. I eh, it's just... You know. There's something in every human that goes off when his or her time has run out here on earth. I have done my work, no matter how fucked up and insane it was and still is. I cannot do this anymore. It has to end." Mr Gerlach drank his tea and shuffled back to his magnificent office. Of the mighty man dominating an Empire was nothing left.
His secretary was surprised when he heard the Führer locking the door behind him. He looked up, but soon returned to his duties.

After looking through the window at the angry mod being held back by the SS and police the Führer fell into his chair tired. It was 11 in the morning but he felt like he didn't have a good night sleep in years.
Weary of his malevolent deeds and the endless lies he has to repeat day after day. He could no longer bear it anymore. He unlocked the only drawer with a lock and picked up a .38 pistol from it. Loaded, he left this one here in case allied troops would storm the palace. Every cabinet member and minister had one of these. Holding the gun, he overlooked the chaotic mess on his desk. Notes, memo's, letter's, reports, folders, books, annals, tax almanacs, updates, rosters. He read a note from Adolf Leighmar, ending with a quote from John Milton's Paradise Lost: "Is this the end of this new glorious world?" Yesterday when he received the note he doubted the truthfulness of the message. But after the images of his victims haunting him, the sounds of butchery following him every step he takes, Franck Gerlach couldn't take it anymore. The protective shell of lies has bursted into hostility and violence. Still holding the gun, he was wondering if it would bring him any relief. Franck Gerlach was quite a religious man but fell off his faith when Procyon released his work. A bible completely rewritten to suit all the needs of National Socialism. Glorious Guffingford, why have you left me to the enemies in my head? I must end this all, if there's a judgment somewhere up in heaven or down below in Hell, I have to face them anyway. The time has come to face my punishment. Quietly, he began to cry. Tears were flowing over his cheeks onto the desk. The feeling was alien, for twenty and a half year he was only allowed to have a merciless, iron face. He was sobbing, crying like a child. He felt great relief, yet so short lived, he felt human. That was all he wanted.

The secretary in the hall was still deeply concentrated on the paperwork when a loud bang scared him nearly to death. The pale face of the secretary and couldn't do anything for what seemed to be hours, the poor man pressed the alarm button when the shock was tranforming into the purest of fear.

the tag

OOC: No one can possibly know the Führer has committed suicide.

A few days later...

The Führer died of a sudden heartattack. Everyone knows that. It's just coincidence two of the most Guffingfordians ever lived died the same year.
Tragedy has struck Guffingford twice this year. The Emperor dead, murdered by a foul heathen and the Führer died of a heartattack. Both ended in an honourless fashion, weak and without resistance. The ethnic diverse republic of Guffingford has been starting to crumble, Poland and Luthiania seek independence while the Benelux has started to roar.

Meanwhile the Triple Axis (me, Rixx and Schilling) have been working with their associates in the Guffingfordii administration to design and execute a new form of leadership. Yes, soon the National Republic of Guffingford will be replaced with something, so unique and dangerous. The "Centralist Axis States" will be the new official name for Guffingford. Central because we no longer follow right or left, neither capitalist nor communist, an axis of nations and followers world wide and the incorporated states. Wait for the perfect moment and then! The only problem are a few matters which aren't as minor as killing a few politicians. We need to have something the people love, a charismatic figure. The Emperor and the Führer combined, that would be too good to be true. But why does it have to be a human? Why not a lie? Or a machine, a computer? A computer, without AI but like a massive calculator able to solve all kinds of weird and irrational problems. Things that have no significant importance but can be twisted to make the people believe they are led by an all-knowing Godlike person. But we need a face for this. I thumbed through 1984 again and looked around on the internet and found a very good idea to make our plans more feasable.

http://members.lycos.co.uk/manhattanproject120/screen.jpg

This poster jumped into my eye and I thought, Big Brother is only
manifestated on posters, in written language and on the telescreens. The real leader is the party. Can't we do the same? I must make notes of this.
1) The first and foremost note of all, we need effective leadership. That means me (Leighmar), Rixx and Schilling. The SS, STASI, Army and brotherhoods of knights will be our tools to enforce our policy and possibly maintain power and control by force.
2) Central administration requires a central figure to direct all hate or love at. We need to pick a person/nation and focus all our frustrations at, the same holds to direct all our love at. ie the last one will be the party and all associated businesses and objects such as flags, banners, newspapers, radio/television broadcasts.
3) The army needs to be the hub of all daily activities. Everyone capable of fighting has be in the army. Every Guffingfordii non-war business must outsource its employees. Only CEO's and other executive persons are allowed to remain in Guffingford. We need to attract as many foreign (industrial, war related) corporations to invest in technological advanced research. The higher grade of technology, the more money we will earn.

I have to finish this later, I'm tired but I'm so joyful, centralism is going to be a glorious success!

Slamming his current book closed, George pulled on the bell rope. It was time for a stiff but sweet drink, a large dinner and a daily dose of Van Pelt. Looking at the books on his table with some scorn he decided that studying was for lesser mortals, and as King it was his moral obligation to free up his mind for higher pursuits. Which in all reality meant he was about to order his advisor to do the studying for him.

After a rather short period of time his aide appeared at the door. Not only had he been speedy but he had also been resourceful, he came bearing a platter of hot food.

“Ahh Van Pelt, come in. Bring that tray straight over here.” George patted his hand on the table. “Any wine on you by the way?”

Van Pelt looked up. “Alas no sire, I only have one pair of hands.”

“Hmm, you really should look into that.” George took a chicken leg from the platter. “Any news on the situation in Guffingford?”

“Unfortunately yes Majesty, we have just received news from one of my contacts that….”

Lifting his hand George stopped Van Pelt there and then. ‘Don’t you mean my contact?”

“Apologies Majesty, your contact. We have just received news from one of your contacts majesty that Frank Gerlach is dead.”

Snap! George snapping the chicken bone proceeded to suck out the tender marrow inside. “And how did he die?”

“The official response is a heart attack, however you know better Majesty. One of your contacts, reported a large bang from the recently departed Gerlach’s offices, we can only assume that he was killed by a member of the cabinet, or he killed himself. However I don’t know why he would kill himself? He was the most powerful man in Guffingford.”

Crack George now made his way to the wish bone, pulling it from the chicken he lifted it before his eyes. He always liked to pull both ends himself – this way he was sure receive all the luck. “No I don’t think he committed suicide, more likely that snivelling dolt Morehouse orchestrated the event. I think things are coming to a head in Germany Van Pelt, we will be able to make our move then.” Pushing the tray aside it fell to the floor with a loud clatter. “Oh, if you don’t mind Van Pelt. I would do it myself but I’ve just eaten. You know how exercise after brunch upsets my stomach.”

“Of course Majesty.” Bending down on all fours Van Pelt set about picking up the waste and food scraps.

“What about my spies Van Pelt, how are they coping with spreading the rumours?” Looking down Geroge noticed Van Pelt was within leg reach, he couldn’t help it. Outstretching his limbs Van Pelt become nothing more than paid footstool.

Having no choice but to accept the indignation, Van Pelt was forced to answer the questions from under the table. “We have lost several agents to their security forces but all in all we have been successful. The current atmosphere in Guffingford is one of annoyance and despisation of the current government.”

“Despisation Van Pelt? Dear me, that’s not even a word. I’m afraid that is unacceptable.” Lifting his feet from Van Pelts back he allowed the aide to rise. “You will go to the local secondary school and spend a few afternoons there a week Van Pelt. “Now let no one say I am not concerned for my servants well being.”

“As usual you are most generous Majesty.”

As Van Pelt turned and left the room George was left to his thought.

What are they up to in Germany? Something is not right with the atmosphere, with Moorehouse in control there was a great possibility that his work over the past eight weeks could be undone, and he wasn’t about to let that happen. Opportunity beckoned, and it was his responsibility to take advantage of it and seize the moment. But for now all he could do was wait for his next briefing in the morning. Van Pelt should be along quickly with News of the Shetland Islands.

OOC: From this point everybody is free to comment, the civil war and revolution is about to commence. There are a few small things you need to know if you want to join. The factbook in my sig is worth to read if you really want to participate.

Click for map (http://members.lycos.co.uk/manhattanproject120/europe.jpg)

IC:
"You there! Come here, come back you fucking swine" The man held his hands in the air and dropped a small memo. His pale face, impregnated with terror of his captors. The notorious SS was it this time. What he feared has come true, he even dreamt about them. A recurring nightmare, he tried to calm himself and look steadfast in his nightly task.
"Now what have we here?" The SS officer unfolded the small note and read the contents of the message: I am deeply curious about the information you wish to provide us. Yours respectfully, a fellow conspirator.
"Well well well, a traitor. You know what wé do with traitors? We do not tend to follow the book of law." A small nod ordered the other officer to take his weapon stick from his belt and began to beat the man who let himself fall onto the ground to try and fend off the blows. It didn't work, the other officer took his blackjack and kept beating on the man's knees until the sound of bones snapping and breaking echoed through the narrow backalley.
"On your feet little fucker, now tell us where your contact is. We will find him or her, better cooperate or we'll beat you. Violently." The intensity of the first few strikes were enough to make him think twice of his decision. He couldn't even stand on his feet so the SS officers dragged him along.
"Okay, okay, I'll show you the way."
"Better not lie to us son or warn the other somehow. Don't be concerned over the faith of the other. She or whatever he is will get what he deserves." He couldn't even stand on his feet so the SS officers dragged him along. While walking one officer called for STASI and more SS back-up through his microphone. Two brigades came to help them and when they arrived at the small cafe where the man stopped and said that this was the place the two brigades had arrived already.
"So this is it?" a STASI commander asked.
"Damn right this is, or he's gonna get some more." The most tough SS officer of the two replied.

OOC: I'll continue this tomorrow evening.

Bump for all to read this thread.

http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=7867509 this thread (Collapse) is for the major battles. this one is for the local conflicts