NES2 VI - Last Semblance of Order.
- Thread starter das
- Start date
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
C'est possible. Then again...Spanish in the loose sense of the word.
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Oh well. All the sucessful rebellions announce themselves openly. 
das
Regeneration In Process
Forgot to mention - the deadline has passed two hours ago.
Stormbringer
The Brick and The Rose
Dont worry Stalin, I also sent orders in case you decided to attack me
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Hmm, good idea Dachs.
Kentharu
Zebra Commander
iggy remember to put in a little blurb about sending scholars to Sennar 
EDIT- nvm considering deadline is past
i got orders in though
EDIT- nvm considering deadline is past
i got orders in though
Swissempire
Poet Jester
Imperial MArch does apply surprisingly well to this update, muhahahahaha
Oh, and did i make any diplo deals with anyine ither than England?
Oh, and did i make any diplo deals with anyine ither than England?
Niebelsburg, Prussia
The War Directive Room
0900 Hours
The noise was that strange familiar sound of words and speech. Noise of several things, important things being written down on paper. The strokes of the pens and pencils were covered by the talk of several people and their speech of urgency. These were the staff officers of the military branches of the country. They were all moving from place to place getting the last details sorted out. They were very nervous, the recent Treaty of Vienna meant to many that von Dunkelheit had backed down on the original plan.
This idea irritated every member of the staff, but today was the day. The day marked on the calendar with a big red circle of ink. Today was the day in which a decision was to take place wheter for the best or for worst.
Eventually the noise became lesser and only soft spoken conversations could be heard in the large room. Eyes would look at the tall wooden doors and the granite surrounding it. Waiting, waiting. Any moment someone would come into the room and break the news and get them to work harder than they ever had on their lives... or send them in an unwanted six months leave vacation.
Past the guards and the tick wooden walls and the marble surroundings was a much smaller room, but more elegant. Inside the room was the Grand Chancellor himself and his most trusted advisors. Among them was the head or the Army and the head of the Guard. Rossemberg, Marshall of the army moved in circles around the room, thinking and waiting. He was of hungarians and Polish parents, and had graduated as number one from the Prussian military schools. "It will work!, we designed it and it was flawless!, it is flawless!. We have the men, we have the will and we have the capasity!. let us go forward!". He continued to walk in circles as the other two men sat and thinked. "I know how much we worked on the plannings and preparations, we all did. We hardly had any time for ourselfs, most of the day looking at maps and checking logistics. Testing rifles and observing training.... however if our Grand Chancellor decides against it, we must do so. These arent Venetians or Serbians. I know we can win this war, but i not here to make that decision". After saying this Field Marshall Franz I of the Guard stood up and looked outside, fixing his uniform to perfection as he stood up.
Both men then faced the chancellor, who sat on his chair. He looked on the only paintings in his room, one of Wittlin and the other of Gustav II. He had been staring at the paintings for more than 40 minutes, time without moving or talking.
Outside the door the staff members waited and waited, one of them decided that he could no longer bear the buttoned up tunic up to his neck. he moved his fingers around the silver platted button and began to relieve the pressure on his neck. He sighted as he looked around the office, the calmed office and the bored nervous officers.
Suddenly a sound, an otherwise average sound, but not so average this one time came. It came like a thunderbolt. The giant pair of doors opened, the guards outside saluted and the all important personalities were there. A fraction of a second passed before every officer and staff quickly got out of their chairs. There was that noise of several wooden chairs being pushed a bit to the side. The buttons were quickly buttoned up all the way to the neck. They stood up in a prussian perfect line. At ease!, the Marshalls said. The Grand Chancellor walked to the center of the line made up of no more than fifteen men.
"Gentleman Officers and soldiers, i know how much was put on the planning, all the endless nights of research and tireless paperwork of logistics. Working from the very early dawn into the dark hours of the night. Well as most of you are informed, i signed a specific treaty in Vienna concerning Serbia..."
The faces of everyone in the room turned pale, sickened by the feeling that such hard work was going to be thrown to the trash and burned, forgoten.
"... well with no further deliverations i arrived to the conclution to go forward..."
The faces then started to regain color again, from a pink to a red. The mouths turned into ever larger smiles. These men were no older than 27 years old, normally uncommonly young, but they were already veterans of the general staff during Venice & Pomerania.
Everyone qickly sat down to their desks, with their back to their Grand Chancellor. They prepared their metallic device, the telegraph and took their notepads. They wrote the message from the Grand Chancellor and began to tap their telegraphs.
tick, tock, tock, tick, tock, tock, tock, tick, tick
The noised lasted all afternoon....
Northern Romania:
Krakowian-Russian Borders
0600 Hours
The Generals drank their coffee, they knew a decision had taken place and it was now for them to act. A young officer ran from the telegraph and delivered a very important message that had travelled all the way from Prussia. The Telegraph was a relativetely new invention and the older school generals remembered the days of men riding with news on top of tired horses.
The Telegrap was opened, it read as follows:
and so... it began...
The War Directive Room
0900 Hours
The noise was that strange familiar sound of words and speech. Noise of several things, important things being written down on paper. The strokes of the pens and pencils were covered by the talk of several people and their speech of urgency. These were the staff officers of the military branches of the country. They were all moving from place to place getting the last details sorted out. They were very nervous, the recent Treaty of Vienna meant to many that von Dunkelheit had backed down on the original plan.
This idea irritated every member of the staff, but today was the day. The day marked on the calendar with a big red circle of ink. Today was the day in which a decision was to take place wheter for the best or for worst.
Eventually the noise became lesser and only soft spoken conversations could be heard in the large room. Eyes would look at the tall wooden doors and the granite surrounding it. Waiting, waiting. Any moment someone would come into the room and break the news and get them to work harder than they ever had on their lives... or send them in an unwanted six months leave vacation.
Past the guards and the tick wooden walls and the marble surroundings was a much smaller room, but more elegant. Inside the room was the Grand Chancellor himself and his most trusted advisors. Among them was the head or the Army and the head of the Guard. Rossemberg, Marshall of the army moved in circles around the room, thinking and waiting. He was of hungarians and Polish parents, and had graduated as number one from the Prussian military schools. "It will work!, we designed it and it was flawless!, it is flawless!. We have the men, we have the will and we have the capasity!. let us go forward!". He continued to walk in circles as the other two men sat and thinked. "I know how much we worked on the plannings and preparations, we all did. We hardly had any time for ourselfs, most of the day looking at maps and checking logistics. Testing rifles and observing training.... however if our Grand Chancellor decides against it, we must do so. These arent Venetians or Serbians. I know we can win this war, but i not here to make that decision". After saying this Field Marshall Franz I of the Guard stood up and looked outside, fixing his uniform to perfection as he stood up.
Both men then faced the chancellor, who sat on his chair. He looked on the only paintings in his room, one of Wittlin and the other of Gustav II. He had been staring at the paintings for more than 40 minutes, time without moving or talking.
Outside the door the staff members waited and waited, one of them decided that he could no longer bear the buttoned up tunic up to his neck. he moved his fingers around the silver platted button and began to relieve the pressure on his neck. He sighted as he looked around the office, the calmed office and the bored nervous officers.
Suddenly a sound, an otherwise average sound, but not so average this one time came. It came like a thunderbolt. The giant pair of doors opened, the guards outside saluted and the all important personalities were there. A fraction of a second passed before every officer and staff quickly got out of their chairs. There was that noise of several wooden chairs being pushed a bit to the side. The buttons were quickly buttoned up all the way to the neck. They stood up in a prussian perfect line. At ease!, the Marshalls said. The Grand Chancellor walked to the center of the line made up of no more than fifteen men.
"Gentleman Officers and soldiers, i know how much was put on the planning, all the endless nights of research and tireless paperwork of logistics. Working from the very early dawn into the dark hours of the night. Well as most of you are informed, i signed a specific treaty in Vienna concerning Serbia..."
The faces of everyone in the room turned pale, sickened by the feeling that such hard work was going to be thrown to the trash and burned, forgoten.
"... well with no further deliverations i arrived to the conclution to go forward..."
The faces then started to regain color again, from a pink to a red. The mouths turned into ever larger smiles. These men were no older than 27 years old, normally uncommonly young, but they were already veterans of the general staff during Venice & Pomerania.
Everyone qickly sat down to their desks, with their back to their Grand Chancellor. They prepared their metallic device, the telegraph and took their notepads. They wrote the message from the Grand Chancellor and began to tap their telegraphs.
tick, tock, tock, tick, tock, tock, tock, tick, tick
The noised lasted all afternoon....
Northern Romania:
Krakowian-Russian Borders
0600 Hours
The Generals drank their coffee, they knew a decision had taken place and it was now for them to act. A young officer ran from the telegraph and delivered a very important message that had travelled all the way from Prussia. The Telegraph was a relativetely new invention and the older school generals remembered the days of men riding with news on top of tired horses.
The Telegrap was opened, it read as follows:
OPERATION WITTLINSKAMPF GO. ALL MEN ARE EXPECTED TO DO THEIR BEST. MAY THE GHOST OF WITTLIN AND GUSTAV BE WITH US ALL.
and so... it began...
Swissempire
Poet Jester
Me, 
conehead234
Braves on the Warpath
Swiss, what did you want to talk to me about on AIM? SN= conehead234
