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On the Precipice of Defeat [Deux & Thánatos]

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Thánatos

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Join date : 2009-05-29
Age : 25
Location : In between your bed sheets.

PostSubject: On the Precipice of Defeat [Deux & Thánatos]   Sat 06 Jun 2009, 3:10 pm


STOP!

This roleplay is rated NC-17 and may contain very strong sexual or offensive language and situations, strong explicit nudity, very strong gore or disturbing violence, or graphic drug abuse.

It also contains emotional and physical relationships between people of the same gender. Specifically, four men. Characters are of legal drinking age and smoking age as well as fully responsible adults capable of making their own decisions. These men are soldiers in World War II and have seen, heard, and shot dying men and have watched companions die. All characters depicted are original and owned respectively by roleplayers and solely the roleplayers.

Any persons other than Deux or Thánatos are strongly discouraged from posting.

You are, however, welcome to lurk and enjoy. Thank you.








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Last edited by Thánatos on Mon 08 Jun 2009, 3:38 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Deux

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Join date : 2009-06-03
Age : 28
Location : Canada

PostSubject: Re: On the Precipice of Defeat [Deux & Thánatos]   Mon 08 Jun 2009, 1:20 pm


Name: Cole Addison

Gender: Male

Nationality: Canadian

Age: Twenty

Eyes: Greenish-brown

Hair: Medium brown with a slight amber tinge.

Rank: Cadet

Reference: [x] [x]



Name: Giuseppe Saccomanno

Gender: Male

Nationality: Italian

Age: Thirty-six

Eyes: Hazel

Hair: Dark Brown - almost to the point of black.

Rank: Tenente Colonnello “Lieutenant Colonel”

Reference: [x]
[x]








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Thánatos

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Location : In between your bed sheets.

PostSubject: Re: On the Precipice of Defeat [Deux & Thánatos]   Mon 08 Jun 2009, 2:22 pm


Name: Matthias Reiner

Gender: Male

Nationality: German

Age: Nineteen

Eyes: Light blue

Hair: Light golden blond

Rank: Standartenführer; Colonel

Reference: [x] [x]


Name: Samuel Fletcher

Gender: Male

Nationality: British

Age: Thirty-two

Eyes: Green

Hair: Light brown hair with natural sun bleach highlights

Rank: Corporal

Reference: [x] [x]








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Where is my Hypnos? Where is my brother?


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Deux

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Join date : 2009-06-03
Age : 28
Location : Canada

PostSubject: Re: On the Precipice of Defeat [Deux & Thánatos]   Sun 28 Jun 2009, 12:33 pm


As always, Cole Addison ended up getting the short end of the stick. He had thought that maybe things would start improving for him after he had left home, but that did not appear to be the case. At home he was the middle child of six. You’d think that would give him some sort of privileges, but that couldn’t be any further from the truth. He was bottom rung. His two younger siblings were both girls so that meant that they were to be continuously fussed over by their parents. It also meant that they didn’t have to endure the horror of being the youngest boy. He had two older brothers, so that meant that all his clothing had been worn by at least two other people, he got stuck with the worst jobs, and “playfully” teased almost constantly.

He had really thought that joining the army would relieve him from some of the humiliating tasks at the ranch. No more mucking out the cows’ stalls, no more having dirty clothing flung at him by the hired ranches, and no longer would his brothers take it upon themselves to wake him by picking him up by dropping him in the water trough outside. Instead, he got to clean out the latrine, had filthy uniforms tossed at him by the other soldiers, and some jackasses decided it would be funny to wake him up each day by dumping a mug of ice cold water on him. Sometimes he hated being a heavy sleeper. It was exactly the same as back home! Well, besides the fact that he wasn’t entirely sure if he’d live after his next flight.

Still, being on land again was making him a bit antsy right now. He was anxious to get into an aircraft again, if only for the fact that he couldn’t stand waiting and wondering what was going to happen. Half the time he wasn’t sure if he was just going to make a simple drop of supplies or be ambushed by German fighters. It had happened a few weeks ago and now it plagued his every waking thought – the sleeping ones sometimes too. They were supposed to make a quick drop of supplies to a small base, and then head right back to their own after fuelling back up. Seemed simple enough, especially since they were in their own territory, but then ambushing pilots had flown out of the protective cover of the sun. He’d never seen a plane go down before that day, and doubted he’d ever be able to get the image and sounds out of his head. Screams from over the radio were still ringing in his skull. All he’d been able to do was manoeuvre the aircraft as best as his short amount of experience allowed and prayed to God that the guy manning the gun in the back knew what they were doing.

Thankfully, he had, and Cole managed to get back on the ground all safe and sound again except for the possibility that his bones might shatter from his violent shaking. What the hell had he been thinking? Someone like him wasn’t suited for the army! Was he out of his mind? What had he expected? That he’d get fame and glory like the soldiers of the Battle of Vimy Ridge back in World War One? Nobody remembered the part that Canadians had played during that war; that much was obvious. As soon as someone found out that you were from Canada, you got tacked onto some British squad to watch after you. Not to mention those asshole Brits were always teasing him about his accent. There was nothing wrong with his accent! If you asked him, they were the ones who sounded like they had cotton balls in their mouths. Stupid, no good sonabitches- No, no. He had to stop thinking like that.

Cole sighed heavily and scratched the back of his neck as he looked for somewhere to rest for a moment. He’d recently been kicked out of his cot, so he couldn’t go back there. Sometimes he wished he had gotten the same height gene that his brothers had, rather than snagged it from his mom. Being five foot six in the army meant that people treated you like something unpleasant they had just found stuck to their shoe. He should have just stayed on the ranch and continued to muck out the damn cow stalls.



Pippo,

I was very surprised and pleased by your last letter. Your English has gotten so much better since you last wrote. You must be getting a lot of practice by speaking to other soldiers. Although, I noticed that you’re still evading words like “wasn’t” and “it’s”. Joining words together is nothing to be afraid of! I know you a quite busy, but try looking over the sheet I’ve attached for a few minutes before bed. Once you learn that, your English will be near perfect! Perhaps I will teach you German next?

But enough about that! You asked about the family in your last letter, so I will tell you about that. Considering the circumstances, things are fairly well. Mama is still cooking much more than the kids and I can eat. I think she’s still finding it difficult to cope with you being in the army. She’d always hoped that you’d be the one to step away from the family tradition of joining the army, but now that you’ve gone to war, I think she finally realizes that you won’t be settling down to marry a nice girl. It doesn’t make it any easier for her when she sees more Gestapo pouring into the city every day. After what happened to Papa, she refuses to trust any German. It is pointless to try and explain to her that not all of them are so cruel. Yesterday, she almost threw her rosary at one of them, then stopped when she saw it in her hand, and immediately went to go pray for you. We seem to be doing a lot of praying, lately.

Silvano was enlisted a few days ago. The children are constantly asking me where their Papa is. I tell them that he has gone to war. Then they ask me why, and I cannot answer. I wish I could look at war like you do, but when I see the propaganda shoved at us and hear about all the violence on the radio we’ve hidden, I cannot. You are so much stronger than me, little brother. Yet sometimes I wish I was out there fighting with you. It has to be better than sitting her praying that both you and my husband will come home safely. I suppose that I shoulder be happy that I can get these messages to you without them being tampered with because of your position. I can’t do the same with Silvano. Please, stay safe. I love you. And I’m sorry the biscotti we sent you aren’t very sweet, but it’s been difficult to get sugar lately.

Love,

Alessandra.


Giuseppe set the letter down on the table in front of time after he had read it over a couple times. A light wind from a slightly open window teased at the paper as he absently stared at it. It felt quiet despite the fluttering of the letter and the low hum of busy people outside his door. His sister’s letters always put him in a rather silent mood. Or rather, more so, since he was already a fairly quiet person. He always thought before he acted or spoke, which often gave people the impression that he was a bit slow in the head, but that was far from the truth. He could leap to everything hastily like most people did, but he preferred to think before he jumped in to something. Careful thinking is what got him his position, and it was also how he managed to stay well liked by both his superiors and his underlings.

He didn’t understand what she meant by, “I wish I could look at the war like you do.” If anything, he didn’t look at the war at all. Not in the sense that civilians did, anyways. It didn’t matter to him why his country had gotten into the war, just that they had. His job was to analyze battles and plans, not speculate on the outcomes and causes of the war. The politicians could deal with that.

Slightly bewildered, Giuseppe picked up the letter again and started to glance through it. But before he had reached the last paragraph again, his eyes caught something strange in the middle. ...No! That couldn’t possibly be true. Surely Mama didn’t believe that he was going to be married someday. He thought for sure that she knew that he was...? Well, he knew that Alessandra was aware of his orientation. He remembered telling her. The dark haired Italian leaned back in his chair, a hand thoughtfully scrubbing his jaw line. Hm, maybe he hadn’t told her. One day when all this was said and done, he’d have to inform her. Carefully, of course, because he knew she would not handle it well. He’d have to construct a well thought speech and break it to her gently.

Satisfied that there was no need to dwell on that any longer, he sat back up in his chair to tenderly fold the letter up and slip it back into the envelope. That was soon placed in a small wooden box also sitting on the table that he used to keep all of his letters. Feeling quite pleased that everything seemed to be in place, Giuseppe grabbed the tin of biscotti that had been sent with the letter to him. It was very tempting to eat them, and especially so when he opened the top. But there was sort of someone he’d rather give it to instead. Maybe share it with them. Every since he’d seen that golden blonde hair disappear around a corner, he couldn’t stop wondering what they looked like. Even though he hadn’t seen the person’s face, he was positive he’d still be able to identify them, and-

He was being silly. He wasn’t here to court someone; he was here because his country needed him. Time to get his head out of the clouds.









Last edited by Deux on Sun 28 Jun 2009, 4:50 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Thánatos

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PostSubject: Re: On the Precipice of Defeat [Deux & Thánatos]   Thu 09 Jul 2009, 11:43 am


“Where are those papers, Tomlin?”

Honor, glory, and the call of duty were the reason most people joined the British military. Those who felt particularly brave joined the British Army. Those who preferred doing all the work with no reward joined as non-commissioned officers. Of these, the Corporal and Lance Corporal were considered those who provided the most. They did all, saw all, and obeyed every order from their commanding officers unless there was a more efficient way of providing the same result. The ends justify the means and all that. For a select few, those like Samuel M. Fletcher, the only logical career choice was the British Army. It wasn’t because of financial trouble or a debt to the Crown but instead a long linage of excellent men who served the British Crown and the fine Prime Minister of their time.

Samuel never had aspirations to be a man of politics or law or medicine. He was raised in a community of strong and independent women, all who had lost male family members in the First World War. It was only natural that his mother and five half sisters would expect him, the youngest of three boys, to follow in his brothers and deceased father’s footsteps. Samuel hadn’t rebelled against them. The men in uniform he saw when his brothers went off to war were impressive and his heroes. After a few years and slowly climbing ranks, Corporal seemed to be the right fit.

“Sir?” Tomlin said. His short and choppy black hair plastered on his sweating forehead. The tent was stiflingly hot. His dark brown eyes peered from over on the other side of the large tent. His machine gun, dismantled and an ominous black against his light uniform, sat in his lap. Samuel had obviously disturbed Tomlin’s bonding time with his weapon, his gun polishing. “The new section papers? Sorry, Corporal, I thought I had given those to you already.” He set his weapon down on his trunk at the end of his cot and came right over to Samuel’s makeshift desk.

“Did you, now?” Samuel said, pushing the desk forward, his boot connecting solidly with it. The desk didn’t move more than an inch or two but it was enough to ease Sam’s knees. He had been in the same position for hours now, poring over reports of Germany and Japan’s military movements sent out to all NCOs from the higher ups. The Italians had formed the Rome-Berlin Axis and now Japan was signing a pact with Hitler. Tensions were mounting. Samuel didn’t know how much more would be tolerated before the collisions between countries became much more heated and all out war began. Hitler was already beginning his invasions. The British were getting antsy. Samuel had been assigned his new section, eight soldiers, to manage from Britain and Canada.

Tomlin touched a set of papers on the edge of the desk. “These papers, sir?”

The papers were indeed on Samuel’s little desk. Thick in black handwritten ink at the top was ‘Section Soldiers’ and it mocked him from the dusty white paper. “My Lance Corporal,” Samuel said, ignoring the smug way Tomlin had pointed out the papers to him, and reaching forward to caress that tight ass of his, “What would I be without you?”

The pistol that found his cheek clicked dangerously. “Alive. Hands off, Corporal, or I’ll report you for sexual harassment.”

“You wound me, Tomlin. I can’t believe you give up such a beautiful friendship just because I can’t resist touching you. Just once? I could help you remove that stick from those luscious, delicately pale, porcelain ass chee—!”

Tomlin moved his fingers to the trigger.

“So then who do we have here on these papers, yes?” Samuel quickly amended, unable to help the thrill of adrenaline that coursed through his body despite the very real danger that Tomlin’s pistol presented even put away but especially when it was pointed at his face. Samuel liked his face where it was, no matter how much he enjoyed teasing his long time friend. “We got a Canadian Cadet?” Samuel said, surprised they were given a plane along with the tanks they’d be allowed to pick up. “Cole Addison, huh? He’s cute. I think I’m going walk the camp and visit everyone. Tea later, Tomlin?”

His gun back in his lap and his fingers already focused on carefully polishing, his Lance Corporal’s lips barely moved as he said, “Same time as always, Sam.”


“I swear by almighty God this sacred oath: I will render unconditional obedience…” The soldiers in the room enjoyed this morning ritual. The soft voice of their Colonel Reiner was pleasant to listen to. When he recited the Fuehrer Oath, it was made beautiful and melodic. The building was always silent, everyone hoping to catch a hint of that voice as the Colonel walked through each office, slowly going over every word. “…to the Fuehrer of the German Reich and people, Adolf Hitler, Supreme Commander of the Wehrmacht, and, as a brave soldier, I will be ready at any time to stake my life for this oath.” The hush remained only for the few minutes it took for the oath to be said and before long the hustle and bustle of the main building returned, people calling for reports and the radio turned back on for morning broadcast.

Matthias Reiner made sure to greet all German soldiers before morning broadcast. As a Colonel, he didn’t always get to directly speak with them but he found that even a hello built positive energy between the soldiers. It was preferable that they were happy and eager to work with his orders. An army was only strong if people were willing to die for each other. For the soldier that he had under his control, he stressed this to them. Here at one of the main bases though, these were all officers and infantry men that Matthias hadn’t worked with before. A good number were also Italian men who Matthias now had the fortune of working with.

He hadn’t met any of them yet. The Brigadier had told Matthias that the Italian Lieutenant Colonel was in one of the small bedroom attachments on the main building. Matthias could get to it by going through the offices on the way but he was already by an exit. It would take him to the attachment just as fast and with less hassle. His fingers brushed the Totenkopf on the front of his peaked cap as he pulled it on and into place, completing the black uniform he was wearing as he stepped outside. The sun shone bright and he held out a hand before the taller buildings blocked it, walking slowly to the building the Italian was in, his boots tapping softly on the hard paved walk way. Soldiers passing him saluted and clicked their heels, pausing on their way to the main building to show proper respect to his position. The uniform helped. It was authoritative and frightening.

Matthias preferred the pale gray uniform, the steingrau. It wasn’t as scary and it didn’t make him stick out like a sore thumb. His golden blond hair and pale skin stood out sharply against the dark color. Even the splash of red on the armband did nothing for to draw the eye away from him. He fingered the oak leaf on the collar of his uniform nervously. How would the Lieutenant Colonel be dressed? As far as meeting with Italians, Matthias had only walked by the infantrymen and most were too frightened to look him in the eye or salute him. He didn’t hold it against him. He was a Nazi Colonel after all. Germans weren’t looked on favorably by anyone. Matthias didn’t think he was that terrible, honestly. Most of the soldiers referred to him if they needed something. The other regiment leaders refused to hear anything from their infantrymen.

There was an open window on the building where the Italian Lieutenant Colonel was supposed to be. Matthias peered inside spotting a man holding a tin. He pulled off his hat, his hair, he hoped, all in place despite his skipping of slicking it back this morning. Feeling nervous, he set the hat delicately down on the lip of the window and crossed his arms on the sill, leaning inside.

“Hallo?” He said in English, his accent only slightly noticeable. “Are you Lieutenant Colonel Saccomanno?” The last name was awkward on his tongue but he said it as best as he could.








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