NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC:
PART I: http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=385836 according to that Guffingford has lost all its African colonies and every person on the Shetlands has been killed by SS troops. The fuhrer has killed himself and my emperor is killed by an assassin from Bob-Bob.
You might want to check this as well http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=385353 for full information about all the characters and more info about guff. Last thing, because of something I planned there are quite a few foreign troops stationed in Guffingford.

IC:
Crimson red of the setting sun flooded the boring Polish landscape in the searing heat of mid-summer. Farm workers were busy in the field, doing their daily things. The storm and madness of war spread like a dreaded virus, slowly, slowly.
Anarchy and chaos aren't proper words to describe the current situation in the capital of Guffingford. It wasn't lawlessness and it wasn't the common patrols of police. A strange glow of great unhappiness and dissatisfaction made up an extremely volatile atmosphere on the streets. No one in Guffingford was really keen on three of the most important executive figures in the government being Panoolians. Solan Rixx, the most evil of the three wasn't satisfied with the axis of himself, Leighmar and Schilling. It would be best if they were killed too. Nobody would miss them.

One day later...
When the assassin's dagger cut through the throats of Leighmar and Schilling ordered by no one less than Solan Rixx the first two real victims of the first Guffingfordii civil war were made. This time the death of the last two leaders of the 'Ancien Regime' were out of the way and the ones who remained were too insignificant to be killed. Murder with a political aftertaste was common but the most important characters in present day Guffingford who built glorious National Socialism? No. It had to have a deeper meening, it required a more thorough investigation. It had to be, why else would this happen to us? We haven't done anything wrong. It ain't us who create the stances on international issues and pass new laws. Bad for us, good for them. Well, at least we I'm not a fool who takes everything for granted. Yeah, you don't need to be a rocketscientists to know the papers are filled with old fashioned bullshit. But what can you do about it? The whole arrangement is perfect. There aren't any other news sources so you have to accept the lies day after day. I only read the ads, at least the discounts are true.
Solan Rixx took power in the consternation and it was then when he made that speech...

http://members.lycos.co.uk/manhattanproject120/flag-%233.jpg
LOVE YOUR LEADER OR EMBRACE DEATH

"Friends and citizens of Guffingford I am here. If you want to kill me, I am here. The most respected leaders of the old ways are dead. It does not matter who committed the foul act or who ordered the low assassin to kill those innocent men. Today I am here to be honest with you, the National Republic has failed miserably. I am ashamed I have helped to build it, only one man could forge an Empire as good as Mr Gerlach..." A subtile breath of air gently waved the party banner above him. It was a very uncomfortably look, but the work of shadows and light made it look like the peaceful face on the banner turned into the face of a devil. Just for a fraction of a second, I swear it was there. Maybe it is foreshadowing something.
"and his good compagnions such as Mr Leighmar and Docter Schilling. They both have worked hard under my guidance and now I feel guilty I have to announce this message. Who doesn't want to cherish an infinite love for each other and the state? Who doesn't want to live like a King and be loved like your wife or husband? Who wants to die like a beggar and be forgotten like a criminal?" Everywhere in Guffingford children, men and women shouted 'NO'. A unified call for changes, but it has started already. A hidden smile on Solan Rixx' face was tempered by a SS officer rushing in.
"Sir, I have an important message for you..."
"Idiot! Can't you see I'm in the middle of a speech?" Rixx balled his fists and was about to punch the officer right on his nose when he got the letter. Rixx turned away from the balcony and read the message.
"Highest priority standard, secrecy essential. An utmost critical situation has exploded my good leader. The royal family has fled Guffingford to neutral Switzerland. Took a substantial sum of money from Federal Guffingfordii Reserve & Trust Banking Corp. Major riots broken out near former imperial palace in Oslo. Royalist groups demand explanation from administration."

I saw Mr Rixx walking off the balcony and then I was certain something has happened. Oh right, the "independent" and "enlighted" TV stations are going to tell us how Mr Rixx had to save a waitress from choking in tapwater or another lame heroic tale of courage and glory. Well I'm not gonna fall for that. You see, it's not a big secret the royal family looted the national bank to live happily ever after in Switzerland. Hell, they daily heard about the Russian threat or any other complex military strategy against us. I bet they just drink wine and eat off gold plates because they know they're safe as hell over there. I mean, this Solan Rixx guy has to be mad as underpants to invade sovereign territory?

Another day later...

I got a pretty nasty surprise when the morning paper fell on my doormat (all Guffingfordian citizens must be registered to two of the three daily national newspapers and at least one daily regional paper). I couldn't believe my own eyes. It just isn't right.

WAR!
Ultimatum presented to Swiss government
Berlin, from our redaction - The newly elected leader of Guffingford, Mr Solan Rixx, has prented the Swiss government with an ultimatum to hand over the royal family unharmed. They have not yet contacted us to meet our demands and if they do not reply without 24 hours a state of war will be declared between Switzerland and Guffingford. This will mean the end of the peaceful relation between Guffingford and Switzerland of the past but if they listen to reason our friendship will endure and we will no longer beg the attention of their government for membership of the German Union. However, if they do not listen then we will be forced to call upon the Geneva Convention and sieze all valuable possessions of the Swiss citizens to protect their heritage from war. We wish to make a statement here, not war. Guffingford has always been a peaceful nation full of loving and compassionate people who do not seek war, only peace by peaceful means such as diplomacy or foreign aid. It is appalling to hear that other evil nations bent on destroying the stable democracy of Guffingford (dating back to Ancient Greece) try to get away with their vile actions of spreading hatred. Mentioning names is not necessary for we all know who they are. Our leaders have always shared bread and milk with their loving people, as a sign of compassion and the gift of being helpful to those in dire need. The Free People of Guffingford have tasted the Fruit of Paradise. A True Paradise is Guffingford, Guffingford is Paradise! HAIL GUFFINGFORD!

Bump for all to read this thread.

http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=7860820 this thread (Counting down to armageddon) is for the more local conflicts. this one is for the major battles.

His Majesty King Geroge was in his chambers enjoying a slow roasted dove, whilst he and his aide discussed various details concerning Europe. There was nothing like eating a bird of peace when one’s tongue was busy wagging about war. His Majesty found the birds a little scrawny but what could one expect from such a dish. No matter that was only the starter, there was still the fatted calf to tend to.

“Mavil you slice it from shoulder to flank not the other way around.” Geroge was having his aide do the duties of his cook. “Not so thin either Mavil. I want to be able to chew on the slices, not wear them as an undergarment.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“Now what is the latest news about the situation in Europe? I trust everything is proceeding well?”

“Unfortunately not Majesty, Guffingford has declared war on Switzerland, a serious inconvenience. However the situation among the populous remains the same. They are still bordering on revolution, though the war has brought out some patriotic zeal.” Mavil placed several slices of red meat on a platter immediately lifting his majesties spirits.

“Who is in control of Guffingford currently?” George took the platter from Mavil.

“Well Majesty, we were wrong in our initial estimates, we now know that Solan Rixx is in command of the Reich, Leighmar and Schilling met unfortunate ends. It appears that Mr Rixx is attempting to consolidate his power base, I suspect that is the reason for the war on Switzerland, he cannot have potential threats to his position.”

George skewered a piece of meet with his little silver skewer. “Mr Rixx is very cunning indeed, not only is he removing the threat to his position but he is keeping the population in line with a national threat. What worries me is that Mr Rixx could annex Switzerland effectively destabilising the situation in Europe.”

Mavil nodded slowly. “Yes, your majesty certainly does have a point.”

His Majesty certainly did have a point, and he used it now to spear Mavils arm. “If I wanted Condescension Mavil I would go to God. Not you.” Removing the silver skewer from his aides flesh George said “Slip of the wrist, Mavil, I intended to spear the calf.” Mavil did not look pleased. “Come now Mavil, stop sulking, it was only an accident.” Felling a tiny bit contrite, his majesty offered his Napkin to wipe away the blood, then quickly changed the subject. “Are our forces in position to take the Shetland isles back?”

Mavil got what revenge he could be bleeding profusely onto the silk napkin. “Our forces are on standby, however we have had reports of genocide on the islands. There is no one left alive, according to our sources.”

George Chewing on a rather thick piece of meet managed to mumble an “excellent.” “Order the invasion as soon as possible Mavil, the islands should be easily taken considering there is no one there. Oh make sure that the ground forces take a camera, we want some nice pictures to show the international community now.”
“At once majesty.”

OOC: More to come but due to demand I had to post this now.

OOC: If anyone wants to be the Swiss just post here.

German/Swiss border

An army well over seven hundred thousand, maybe more than one million was standing near the Swiss/German border awaiting the words of the newly promoted and decorated Field-Marshall Ynsson.
"Be patient... At ease. It would be long now. Take it ease" These words of calm were uttered and said to the agitated soldiers eager for honour, war and above all, victory. Nothing could equal the feeling of victory, pure and all natural. It was a human instinct to conquer, no doubt.
Ynsson was waiting impatiently on the message from Berlin where Solan Rixx, the new unquestioned ruler of Guffingford was waiting in the final hours for the Swiss to be reasonable. Guess they didn't want to avoid war after all, well they're gonna get it.
Some soldiers were reading the insanely popular (among the army) books of Sachenspiegel and Procyon filled with love for the nation. It spurred their lust for battle and their madness they didn't even need drugs like young cadets use before war.

Still nothing, only four hours remaining. Some are reading, others boxing and the rest is resting. The fresh air of the mountains would do the troops a lot of good, but the primary objective is to kill the royal family. Not even their bones may be left in one piece.

Somewhere in Poland....


The long line of Polish men, woman and children dug into the frozen ground with shovels, picks or even there bare hands. They could hear the shouts of the Inquisitors behind them demanding they dig quicker and deeper, any who slowed down was struck with the butt of a soldiers rifle.

Only a hundred yards away more soldiers searched the town for stragglers and anything of value to take back to Belem before they torched the town.

As Poles performed a sastifactory job of digging they were pulled aside by Inquisitors and searched for gold, jewlery and watches. Afterall they would soon have no use for material possesions then sent back to his place in line to wait.

After hours of digging the cold, tired, hungry and scared poles were made to form a line in front of the ditch. Spotlights from Tanks and APCs shined out over the 10 thousand souls. The unit commander gave the command to the soldiers in the town to set the buildings ablaze and in moments flames shot towards the sky as caches of gasoline exploded.

The Loudspeakers of the tank broadcasted this prerecorded message as gunners began pulling back the bolts to their machine guns "Inhabitants of Poland before the eyes of the Emperor, Inquisition and our Lord God you have been found unworthy and subhuman, and have no reason to live. By order of the Inquisition you are to be cleansed by the flame." As the tape finished the one hundred APCs strafed the poles with machine guns.

Tanks fitted with bulldozers plowed the remaining bodies and dirt into the mass grave as the Inquisitiors prepared to move to the next town, its orders were to cleanse two more towns before the night was out.

His Majesty King George read the edict on his desk, dipping his quill in the inkpot he drew the loaded tip across the paper, signing his name with a flourish.

“Mavil!” he called. His aide had been waiting outside and came hurrying in.

“Yes, your Majesty?”

“I have signed the edict banning all Germans and Guffingford allies from the Empire.” George indicated the document on his desk. He then turned his attention to the platter of sweet breads at his side, scrutinizing them carefully and taking in their subtle aroma. They were cooked just they way he liked them, fried in a little oil, no spices or other embellishments to mask their delicate flavour.

“The edict will surely upset Guffingford.”

“That is my intention Mavil, I am quite sick of them interfering in my affairs in Europe. This situation is intolerable. Only last week our trade with Switzerland was severely disrupted. There was an entire shipment of fish destined for the royal families welcoming banquet, they seized the ship then searched it from top to bottom. The whole cargo of fish was ruined.” George busied himself with choosing a sweetbread.
“On top of that the German army are making nuisances of themselves. Telling people that I am corrupt and that I have no right to be involved in Guffingford affairs. Mr Rixx is playing a dangerous game, and it’s high time he learnt the power of his opponents.” George squeezed a sweet bread between his fingers, letting its pale secretions dribble over his fingers. He shot Mavil an accusing glance when some spilled onto his robe.

“But what if they retaliate Majesty?”

“Guffingford retaliate! I doubt it, Mavil, Mr Rixx will hold meetings and assemblies with his military advisors, and then send us letters of condemnation, but that is all. He is too busy waging a war on his own borders and seeing to civil stability.” George reached over and selected the largest of the sweet breads.

“Then why Majesty, did you sign the order?”

“I thought that would be obvious.” The King popped the sweet bread into his mouth, he first rolled it around on his tongue, enjoying the rubbery texture, and then pierced it with his sharp teeth, letting the delicate juices run of his tongue and down his throat. “I am trying to start a trend. Don’t you see, Mavil, Guffingford is welcome in fewer and fewer places, no one in the south trusts them anymore. One minute they act like dangerous fanatics, the next they’re ruining a stable situation in Europe through warmongering. The Empire will be the first, with nerve to finally dispel those self-righteous hypocrites.”

“May I venture to ask his majesty why he is so opposed to Guffingford?”

George dabbled daintily at the stain on his robe. “Really Mavil, your short sightedness amazes me. Mr Rixx, wishes to expand his Empire and get rid of the German monarchy. He is no longer content with his current borders and ideological doctrine, an assault upon any European monarchy is an assault upon myself.” His majesty moved to pick another sweet-bread from the tray, when it slipped from his fingers and fell to the stone floor. “Fenestrations! Mavil would you mind? The sweet bread now covered in a significant amount of dirt immediately lost its appetizing appeal to his Majesty. Smiling George offered it to his aide.

“His Majesty is most generous, but I couldn’t.”

“If it is fit for me to eat then it is fit for you Mavil, there is nothing wrong with it.” As to demonstrate, his Majesty picked a clean sweet bread from the tray and subsequently consumed it. “You see Mavil, there is nothing wrong with them, now eat up.”

“His Majesties generosity never fails to amaze me.”

“I try to keep all my servants happy as well you know Mavil. Now onto the Shetland isles, have our forces captured the barren rocks yet?”

“Indeed Majesty, there was little if no opposition, we suffered no casualties.”

“Excellent, that should raise the national morale slightly, now on to more secretive affairs. Once Mr Rixx has dealt with Switzerland, he will quickly move onto his African holdings. That we must prevent. A divided Guffingford is a weak Guffingford. Pen a letter to Constantine, it is time we championed his cause. Offer him arms and guns at heavily discounted prices, and please inform him in the letter that he is the legally recognised head of state of Guffingford. I want broadcasts, to show the treason of Mr Rixx to the British people. Set up radio stations in German and broadcast propaganda to their people, you know, how Mr Rixx forged the will and forced my cousin to flee. We must do everything we can to destroy their national morale, and above all, contradict all news that Mr Rixx tells his people regarding the front on Switzerland.”

“Yes Majesty, I will see to it today.”

The King unpinned his robe. “Mavil, could you try and remove this grease stain for me? If you can’t, be so good as to deduct the cost form your wages.”

ATTACK ON SWITZERLAND

Today the honest and elected council of Guffingford has declared war on Switzerland after they hadn't listened to our reasonable demands. We will take this oppertunity to test new strategies and to demonstrate or military might to the world.

"...the slaugher of the Polish, well that's not our problem. I don't give a damn if they're killed by Belem. They have always riotting and plotting against us." Mr Rixx walked around nervously, he anticipated the infantry attacks wouldn't have taken this long. Nothing had gone wrong, he heard.
"Our first strike on Switzerland is taking a bit longer than expected but the first bomber raids should reach Bern within fifteen minutes. We will hit key structures such as powerlines, powerstations, government buildings and the such. Civil and commericial structural damage will be avoided at all cost as well as the slaughter of the Swiss. If they want carnage we can send them to Poland."
"Of course. Keep me informed Mr King."
Leopold King stepped out the office proudly with more plans in his head. If the Swiss wouldn't feel his or Mr Rixx' wrath then the Polish will.

*****

On the Swiss front the soldiers of Swizterland fought like lions but could not stop the Guffingfordii warmachine. The cities fell to the combined bombardments of the finest artillery, the M777 or the more known but certainly not outdated F117 fighter/bomber and B2 bombers. The might of the Guffingfordii army was not open for debate, seeing the difficult strategies planned by officers in the field. Small parties of soldiers ambusing the advancing Swiss, offensive guerrila tactics with deadly precision by special forces.

GBA - Guffingford Broadcasting Agency

"Welcome to this special bulletin about the reputed genocide in Poland done by soldiers of unknown origin. We have no footage of the killings but eye witnesses have told our sources large groups of people were mowed down by machinegun fire from a helicopter. The genodice of the Polish people was not gone unnoticed by Mr Rixx, our president and leader of Glorious Guffingford. However in his boundless wisdom he only replied with "no comment". Other than the incident in Poland the attack on Switzerland is going very successful, much progress and minor losses on both sides. This will be the quickest war..."

New Imperial Palace of Emperor Constantine, Cape Verde

"Your Imperial Majesty, we have received a communiqué from The Glorious
Empire of Bob-Bob."
"Carry on lad, what does it say?"
"Majesty they are proposing a deal to attack Mr Rixx. You do you it is Solan Rixx who is the leader of Guffingford?"
"Of course I know that. Tell them I am deeply interested in future talks to kill Guffingford." Emperor Constatine made a subtle wink to his servant he walked away smiling to the communication room. Emperor Constantine broke down in a heavy laughter when the servant closed the heavy doors.

"Why hello there Mr Backs. I suppose you have a response we have to wire to Bob-Bob?"
"Eh yes indeed. Please send the following: Emperor Constantine is very anxious to organize a meeting in a place they wish. Perhaps we can make an agreement there regarding the most unpleasant and annoying situation in Guffingford. Emperor Constantine gladly accepts the arms of your nation.

Thank you"
"Will be done mate"

George was dressing in his most dazzling robes. Expelling the Germans from the Empire had been such a popular move that the nation had organised a parade in his honour. The people of London loved spectacle and expected their leaders to look magnificent on such occasions. Once, many years before King James had turned up to a parade wearing only a plain brown robe, no adornments, no jewellery, not even a hat. The people took it as a grave insult. They had put on their finest clothes. The fact that the King had not put on his, showed how little he valued their approval. The crowd had turned to an indigent mob, pulling the unfortunate James from his carriage and beating him to death.

The irony was that James thought his people would appreciate his gesture. He thought he was showing them that he was a frugal man, who would not spend their taxes unwisely on the trappings of power. George knew better. The people of London required little else form their leaders: they needed to be dazzled by wealth and pageantry and then bask in reflected glory. London was the richest city in the Empire and its people liked their leaders to be an embodiment of that fact.

His Majesty was being sewn into a tunic of bright yellow silk. He was amusing himself by looking down the dress of the seamstress as she stitched up the sides. There was a brief knock and Mavil entered.

“Ah Mavil, I was just thinking about you. Tell me have we received word from our would be King yet?”

“Yes Majesty, as you thought he was most anxious to set up a meeting as quickly as possible.”

George admired his reflection in the mirror. “Well then I guess we should set up the meeting, Switzerland will not hold and the royal family will be murdered, that is a foregone conclusion. But perhaps our best hopes lie in Africa. Yes organise the meeting, three days from now in the palace Mavil, I trust you can send the letter?”

“Of course Majesty. If there is nothing more sire, I will take my leave. I, too, must ready myself for the parade.

“I wouldn’t bother to change if I were you, Mavil. You look so becoming in brown.

-hope u dont mind a tag-

SECRET IC:

New Imperial Palace of Emperor Constantine, Cape Verde

"My good Emperor, are you sure you want to do this?" A servant of the Emperor was helping to dress the Emperor, although there weren't many clothes. Just a snappy suit, a stylish tie and the rest of his costume.
"Yes. I have ordered the best surgeons to perform the operation on my Minister of Foreign Affairs. He entirely agreed to this, I have his agreement on my desk." Constantine pointed to a piece of parchment on his desk, with the Royal Seal on it. Yes, it was official alright.
"But I still don't get it my Emperor, what are we going to do?"
"Allow me to explain it one more time. The minister has undergone a very special surgery."
"But what my Emperor?"
"I cannot tell you that. But believe me, those Brits will not like it."

Another room of the Palace

Mr Backs was very delighted with the plan. Nothing could go wrong, if the British refused the minister then our little meeting would be terminated. I mean, who else can they trust? No one. Who wants to mingle with Guffingford in internal affairs? No one. It's a perfect arrangement, they have to accept there's no other choice. Mr Backs looked at the schematics. A human body was drawn with a few adjustments and changes in the body. While he was looking at x-rays, nothing was wrong. The mass and thickness of the substance matched the other ingestines perfectly and of the other objects nothing was visible. Only the pacemaker was clearly visible.

Perfect.

"I will send a message we agree to their location of the meeting. Make sure their King and cabinet are present, we have most senstive and confidential information to share with them. To us the weaknesses of Guffingford are known."

Now let's see who laughs last.

George was at his bath. The large marbled pool was being filled with warm water and perfumed essences. Servants were busy laying out what would be needed: fragrant oils for washing, pony hair brushes for scrubbing, linen wraps for drying. The King, no, that is the incorrect term, the Emperor himself sat in a red silk robe, nodding distractedly at Mavil who was muttering on about Imperial policy while a young girl cut his Majesties toenails. Apparently, the right honourable gentleman known as the Prime Minister had called upon his colleagues to urge leniency towards Guffingford. Leniency indeed! What did the Prime Minister know of world events, perched as he was in the very grand but distant city of Beijing? There was nothing he could do, he had no real sway: Public offices were only as powerful as the man who held them. And the Prime Minister had never been a great man. “Careful with those scissors girl,” warned the Emperor, ignoring his aide and continuing to read his copy of The Times.

“His Majesty certainly has remarkable feet,” commented Mavil. “Completely free of corn and bunion.”

“Yes I have haven’t I” The Emperor put down his paper. “It comes from a life of studied repose. One cannot expect to have perfect feet if one walks upon them all the time.”

“His Majesty is most fortunate to be in a position where walking is not often required.” George looked up sharply but could see no sign of irony upon Mavils face.

“The work of great men, Mavil, is done sitting. Lesser men such as yourself make their living while standing on their feet.” George noticed the bath attendants were waiting in readiness. He stood up and one rushed forward to remove his robe. Mavil discreetly looked away as the pale and fleshly body of the Emperor was revealed.

George slipped down the few steps into the steaming water, his body reddened like a cooked lobster. The water was a little hotter than normally preferred. Only when His Majesty was immersed up to his neck did Mavil see fit to look upon the Emperor again. “I have received word from Guffingford Majesty.” The Emperor raised his other foot to be cleaned. “It appears Mr Rixx is most displeased, there is talk of condemnation towards you sire.”

“Why I quake with fear at the very thought of it. Mr Rixx is playing the pious bigot again.”

“There have been riots in Warsaw Majesty.”

“Riots indeed Mavil, you have done well.” The emperor looked up and noticed a certain smugness on the face of his aide. “It was nothing Majesty, merely a few well placed actors; one pretended he was a German officer and proceeded to beet an innocent child in public. His accent was very convincing, along with the provided uniform. The other incited the passions of the crowd.”

“Beating an innocent child, indeed! “I can see I better watch out, Mavil, unless you get too clever for your own good.” George lifted a plump arm to be washed.

“I was inspired by His Majesties own cunning.” Mavil was attempting to flatter himself out of a very difficult situation.

“You would do best, Mavil, never to forget just how cunning I can be.” He smiled benignly at his aide. “So when will all of our diplomats be returning?”

“Well Majesty, the Prime Minister shall return today as well as Constantine’s envoy arriving. There is a party tonight welcoming them to the Empire. The politicians will be there.”

George turned towards the attendant “More perfumed essences girl.”

“If Your Majesty will permit, I will be on my way. I have much to arrange.”

“Before you go, Mavil, may I make a suggestion?”

“Certainly Sire.”

“It would not be such a bad idea if you yourself took a bath once in a while. It is not fitting that an aide of mine goes around smelling like a week old Trout.” George watched with pleasure as his aide turned a particularly virulent shade of red and then beat a hasty retreat. As soon as his aide left, His Majesty picked up his copy of The Times. George smiled softly with the germ of an idea forming within his mind.

OOC: I would start with your envoy going to the party Guff, His Majesty may or may not be attending.

The Inquisitors surrounded the city of Poznan with an entire division of troops, the power, telephone and water lines leading in and out of the city were cut to send the city back into the dark ages.

As nightfall fell upon the city deathsquads of Inquisitors supported by tanks and APCs entered the city following predefined routes going building to building killing the inhabitants then moving on as specialized assesment teams moved in behind them searching for fine art and other valuables.

The Inquisitors were thoruough in there searches for hiding poles using Thermal goggles to spot the resisters through walls before terminating them.

The searches continue throughout the night and day as more poles are put to death and trucks loaded with art headback to Belem bases in Germany. It is expected to take a week to clear through Poznan.

"Mr Rixx, the slaughter is still going on in Poland, I urge you to tell Belem to stop this madness!"
"Easy going boy, I'll send a few soldiers to help them out."
"Thanks a lot. Shall I tell Belem to hold his fire"
"What do you mean? I think you misunderstood me Mr Morehouse, I will send soldiers to help killing the Polish."
"Of course my Lord"

On the Swiss front the banks of Zürich and Geneva were still filled with gold but the guards were Guffingfordii. The economic windfall this small invasion created is unmacted. The Swiss gold reserves, the old nazi gold and all the art. All Guffingfordii, all ours. Who said greed cannot be a bliss? Back in Guffingford the first cleansings began to take place. Everyone who was deemed 'unlawful' or simply 'unworthy' was transported to Poland to let Belem have their fun. Roughly two million have been deported already, while the total Polish deathcount reaches nine million. There is also good news, Switzerland has been conquered with a minimum of casulties on both sides. The Swiss army is now incorporated in the Guffingfordii warmachine and is now securing the more outlying provinces of Switzerland from Germany and Lichtenstein. With the eyes of a hawk nations around Guffingford kept watching the brewing situation. Civil unrest was tempered by the genocide in Poland and the random executions. It had a deadly simplicity, if you are unworthy you must pick ten random persons from the street and those will be killed too. Effective, efficient and lethal.

The return of the death camps, feared people whisper these words in taverns where they exchange stories of the construction of camps with barbed wire, watchtowers, smokestacks and many baracks and ovens. These rumors aren't confined to Guffingford alone, word spreads quick.

Poland, Warsaw

On the central square of Warsaw a large group of Polish workers were on strike, not a rare occurance but under Guffingford rule this was quite uncommon since the police havn't shown their faces yet.
"Why are they so pissed at us?"
"Because Solan Rixx has adopted the Holy Panooly flag instead of the old German one. He is now seeking to incorporate Holy Panooly into the Guffingford Empire. Obviously they don't want that." Clearly this wasn't the reason why the angry mob was screaming and ranting at the government of Guffingford. No, the soldiers going wild in Poznan and the newly opened death camps caused the rage. Not quite surprising the police swiftly ended the peaceful demonstration in a hail of gunfire.

*****

Earlier that day Solan Rixx signed a treaty with Holy Panooly's leading figure, the eccentric Baron Dominic Templeton who owns the southern Panooly Archipelago and claims other sovereign islands in the Pacific and Indian Ocean. He tried many times to conquer them but fail due to his lack of naval assets. With the treaty signed with Mr Rixx, he now can start being a real player in the international stage. More documents were signed and now a dual holy republic of Guffingford-Panooly exists. Since Holy Panooly has been seriously depopulated in the countless civil wars it's won't come as a shock the territorial disputes of Holy Panooly will travel over the seas, beyond the Himalayah across the central Asian steppes into Europe. The old party banners of Guffingford were replaced with the foreboding golden face of the nameless deity found by Solan Rixx himself during his many explorations in the Panooly jungles. Two seperate governments administrated Guffingford and Holy Panooly independently while a central council oversees and corrects the two governments. In Guffingford itself the old party was denounced but the new one went back to the old ways and to the old banner - the first signs of the collapse.

George was eating blood pudding. True it was a peasant dish and therefore low on his list of culinary favourites, but every now and then he felt the need to delve into the fare of his childhood. His servants knew nothing about this, of course. He told them he occasionally ate blood pudding and tripe to feel empathy for the peasants who were forced to live on such foods. He made sure this excuse was well publicized, and what had been a liability – his occasional yearning for foods from his traumatic youth – had turned into an asset. The people of the Empire admired his attempts to eat as they ate; it added to his reputation as a man of the people.

George cut himself a portion of the blood pudding, marvelling in its rich black colour. Blood, when dripped from a carcass, was stirred over a flame until it thickened and turned black. Chunks of fat and seasonings were added, and the ingredients were then stuffed into a casing then boiled. When prepared correctly, the pudding should have a dense grainy texture that spoke of the grave.

George spat out a chunk of fat. He was only interested in the blood.

The Emperor knew he should be a happy man; after all the Prime Minister would soon be dead. That politician had been a thorn in his side for years. Only now he found himself feeling rather apprehensive about the future. Events in Germany were moving swiftly, with Mr Rixx in command anything was possible. Trouble that had been simmering for months, even years now seemed close to coming to the boil.

More and more George found his thought moving southwards to Germany. The coming drama would be staged in the most deadly of nations. If he was right, then he would have a leading part in what was to come. A tiny smile pulled at the corner of His Majesties mouth. And if he was wrong, well damn them! He’d steal the show anyway.

A knock sounded and in entered Mavil carrying Georges cat. Mavils face was sporting a vicious and still bleeding scratch. “I finally located your cat, Your Majesty.”

“What took you so long? You’ve been gone for hours.”

“The cat was hiding on the compost heap at the far ends of the gardens, Sire. It was most reluctant to be brought back.”

The emperor tempted the cat back with a morsel of pudding. “Really, Mavil, it’s most inconsiderate of you to bleed on my best silk rug.”

Mavil hastily daubed the blood on his face with the corner of his robe. “I apologise for bleeding Majesty.”

“Good, now, what news have you?”

“Well, the party welcoming the guests will begin within the hour Majesty. If you are to attend you should make preparations shortly.” George reluctantly pushed his pudding to one side; his physician had told him he was slightly overweight and should consider eating less. Advised him to take up music instead. Music, Indeed!

“There is also reports of Mr Rixx forming an alliance with Holy Panooly Majesty, even rumours of Union.” George lifted a pudgy arm to the light. The porcelain pale flesh wobbled like aspic.

“You don’t think me fat, do you, Mavil?”

“No, Your Majesty. You have a most….” Mavil paused as he searched for the right phrase. “…. a most magnitudinous bearing.”

“Magnitudinous,” The Emperor liked the sound of the word on his lips. “I think you’re right Mavil. I’m a long way from fat, I’m magnitudinous.” He favoured his aide with a smile. “So, back to other matters. What else have you for me this day?”

“Well Majesty, there are confirmed reports of mass Genocide in Poland. Concentration camps are also being constructed, Your Majesty.”

“Personally Mavil, I think there is nothing wrong with concentration camps, after all we invented them. I hear they get fed regular meals.”

“His Majesty is a great humanitarian.”

“Alas Mavil, it is a weight I have to bear.” George took a swing at the cat, sending it flying into the air. If he could have no more pudding, then neither could his cat. “What other news do you have for me Mavil?”

“Switzerland has fallen Majesty, the Royal family are still hidden and safe.” A look of concern swept across Geroges face.

“I want them out of Switzerland as soon as possible, Mavil, arrange for them to be taken to safety.”

His aide nodded. “If there is nothing more your Majesty I will be on my way.”

“Just a quick word of advice before you leave, Mavil. I’d get that cut seen to, if I were you. With a face such as yours, you can ill afford yet another disfigurement.”

OOC: Part iii of the civil war http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=387843

IC:
Constantine, the only true Emperor of Guffingfordii Africa stepped down from the chartered airplane. He rarely travels outside his empire and if he does, he just rents an airplane from the nearest 'civilized' country. With his delegates and ministers he traveled from London Heathrow to Buckingham Palace where the first nights cocktail party was organized. Since Constantine has an almost fanatical love of Glenkinchie and Chivas Regal Scottish whiskey, real oak barrels have been bought to accomodate his needs. After driving through the busy traffic of the British capital small groups of demonstrators were singing songs to condemn the violence in Guffingford.
"What are they doing? Why are they insulting Guffingford and screaming at me?"
"Nothing to worry majesty, they're demonstrating. It's something they call 'voicing your opinion' or 'freedom of speech'. I believe they do not agree with you or Guffingford"

*****

Dominic Templeton was growing restless. Bent on visiting Guffingford yet the local authorities didn't like seeing him go. How well did they know he would be the burning fuse in the powderkeg Guffingford. A sworn aristocrat, connections with royal families, rich and has flair. Exactly what the Guffingfordii royalists want, but getting him on the throne is a different matter. He is an unprecedented man of the people, something Guffingfordians hadn't seen before. But when you looked at Mr Templeton there was little royal about him. Or clean for that matter. He was a tall, strong man always unshaven and he never went anywhere without his fur hat. Under his hat a jungle of unbrushed hair which hasn't seen a barber in years. In the rare cases he lifted his hat for a noble a unique stench of sour butter invaded your nostrils, a most unpleasant experience. If you were foolish enough to stand close to him and he laughed then you could see the food particles trapped above his throat giving off a sickening smell of fungus, rotting tomatoes and old meat. In such cases you'd have to be a real tough guy not to let a few minor tears flow from your eyes. Oh the horror when you look at his teeth. It is very hard to understand what exactly charismatic is about this Baron Dominic Templeton. Somehow, under his layer of filth and other nasties he was a kind man who genuinely loves his people.

Victor Potkin was nervous. 'What the hell was happening in Europe?'

With Guffingfordii air strikes against Switzerland and Belemese mass killings in Poland, there was great chance that half the continent could go up in flames.

Zarbian patrols had brought back reports of the gruesome deeds of the soldiers of Belem; the Poles were being murdered by the thousands. As ambassador to Guffingfordii Poland, Mr. Potkin knew that this situation was a delicate one and would need to be handled with care.

'Zarbia cannot afford to be tied to this mess. If war is inevitable then we must leave Poland.'

OOC: Only the 'unworthy' of the Guffingford-Panooly Empire are cleansed away. The rural parts, medium sizes cities and the capital are left out. Isolated cities near the Belarussian border are the target of the operation.

IC post coming later.