Pathas

Movement of the Intrepid

It wasn't short whatsoever! It certainly moved things along, which is just wonderful! Anyways, I added some drama to the mix, for the sake of realistic fears of a Reich citizen anyways. Hope it's a fun read!

Movement of the Intrepid

It was peculiar. Moments before, all Verena could sense from the woman was anger. Now, she felt the complete opposite. Pity? Sympathy? The woman must have been as frustrated as her, having her home being shelled to pieces. The Red Cross symbol on her nurses uniform probably didn't mean a thing at all. It wasn't news that their organization was forced to treat german soldiers first before any others. Many poles had died because of it.

"It's quite alright," she said, offering a smile that she rarely gave these days. There wren't too many things to smile about at all in the fell clutches of war. "I sometimes forget that I'm not at the immediate mercy of the Gestapo. Our words have to be spoken carefully. The right things earn favor while the wrong things got you thrown into a dark cell. I love the Fuhrer, the fatherland, and the sacred mission he so passionately speaks of. I came hear thinking all of this," she motioned to the things outside, "was well justified, to cleanse Europe. Now, I think it makes us barbarians more so than civilized people."

Verena stood there surprised when the waitress asked her not too leave. She had to go back to the tents. She was sure her thirty minutes were up. Well up in fact. Would they all be okay if she didn't head back? A part of her didn't want to go back after her treasonous words she shared with a complete stranger. What if the waitress was an informant? Her strikingly beautiful features that rivaled many german women in the Reich, and her perfect command of german couldn't be a coincidence. Fear clutched at her heart as her new found revelation saturated her thoughts like a parasite.

Her eyes refocused. It was getting harder to breathe. "Show me what?" she asked tentatively. "You're not ... you're not with the Gestapo are you...? Could you forget everything I said?"

Movement of the Intrepid

Verena watched as her order was being fulfilled. Was she angry at her? Of course she was. The whole country of Poland probably hated her guts, for it was her people that ravaged their once beautiful country. Verena was so tired of it all. While the home front was filled with the vigor of victory, they didn't see what happened on the actual front. Sons and fathers died. Wives too when the bombs fell upon the cities. Before the war, Verena had visited the countryside of Poland. It was beautiful; her family came as well. The way that it burned now. It made her wary of what propaganda and speeches the Reich's government gave.

What the waitress said to her wasn't wrong. The jews were also human. She had jewish friends. They went to university together and enjoyed each others company very well. Why was she so quick to get rid of them? Just because the Fuhrer called them the sole instigators for the fatherland's downfall? How daft. It was also because of the recession they came out of due to the first world war! Her family had come from poverty and built up during those early years as proud, pure Germans. They had hired jewish and non-jewish workers; her father respected each equally. However, when the great change came, he hated them.

The clash of the cup filled with her order again against the table made her jump. She looked down and then up. She frowned. "If I angered you somehow, that really wasn't my intention," she said taking the cup and sipping its contents. It was warm. She looked over as the soldiers finally left and joined their colleagues outside. She breathed easy as it was only polish customers left. "Not every German is so bad, Fraulein. Not that you'll believe that of course. The Fuhrer is such a magnificent speaker; he makes you believe everything he says without too much thought. He took away my friends when they spoke out. The Gestapo. Nasty people. Andria was one of them. She too was a jew. It's funny how fear changes you..."

Finishing half her cup, Verena realized how much she said. Her heart immediately went cold until she remembered that the people in here weren't German. Weren't the Gestapo. She cleared who throat and took out a few coins. "I spoke too much. Here's the payment for the coffee," she said. She slowly got to her feet. She was probably needed back at the medical compound. "Stay safe, Fraulein. I appreciated your company, even if you did not."

Movement of the Intrepid

Verena was just about to leave when a voice stopped her. Taking her out of her grim stupor, she blinked in surprise when a very blonde woman with piercing blue eyes stood before her. They had people like this Poland? Back home, the Fuhrer spoke of how the brothers and sisters in Poland were disgraceful creatures to the Aryan standard of beauty. Yet, here stood a woman whom completely shattered that preconception. Why, if she were in Germany, she'd be highly sought after! A shame the woman was born in this god forsaken country that spelt her people's blood. It made her think of the many other women that surpassed her in the Aryan beauty. What a sad thought it was.

It took all of Verena's control to not go slack-jaw in surprise. "You can speak German?" she asked. She brought her hands away from her face. She must've looked terrible. Her clothes were still stained with dried blood, her normally well-kept blonde hair ill-kept, and smudges of grime smeared across her face that only made her pale-green eyes stand out more. Truthfully, she wanted nothing. "If you have any black coffee, fraulein, that'll do. After today, I don't have the stomach to eat anything. Are you originally from the fatherland? You lack the distasteful polish accent. A horrid thing it is."

A commotion drew her attention outside as she saw three soldiers walk down the streets. She scoffed indignantly as the three caroled a cohort of people wearing the yellow star on their arms. Jews. Mixed feelings crawled through her skin. She welled with pride that the soldiers were helping ridding the blight on the world, yet she felt sorrow as well. They were people too.

"How you poles tolerate them confounds me," she said, oblivious to the waitress. The other soldiers in the cafe were making crude remarks to the passing caravan of prisoners. "Yet, how we treat them astounds me as well..."

It took only seconds for Verena to fully comprehend what she said out loud. Her eyes went directly to the soldiers. She sagged in some relief that they hadn't heard her. If they did, she'd be thrown into that sad looking herd and marched away. "Excuse me, I ramble. The coffee please."

Movement of the Intrepid

The stench was insulting. A deep, saturated soot from gun powder and recently used explosives clogged the air. The sky blocked by a hazy screen. Buildings crumbled from the impact of German steel while wails from the dying echoed through the near barren streets. This was the fate of Poland’s capital, Warsaw. A ghost of a city once brimming with beauty and commerce had turned into a landscape of an ill nightmare.

Verena covered her nose with a handkerchief as she surveyed the area beyond the medical tent. With ample protesting from her family, she became a nurse within the German Red Cross. Only by name however. All the medical personnel knew that the Red Cross was controlled by the Wehrmacht. German soldiers were given priority, the poles, devastated by Hitler’s tactic, Blitzkrieg, were treated last. Any who did otherwise was removed from his or her station. Not that many cases occurred however. The superior people deserved life more so than the filthy.

“Fraulein!” A German soldier was walking straight towards her as she quickly smoothed her bloodied nurse uniform and turned to face the man. What was once a clean white was now grey and caked in dried blood. “Are there any empty beds in this tent? The others are all full.”

She moved to the tent motioning for the soldier to follow her. “We have … four openings. How many?”

“A whole squad. So, nine.”

It didn’t sit well with the nurse to turn away patients. Verena tried to accommodate however she could. The medical tent was meant to hold forty patients maximum, they currently attended to sixty. She felt like a gatekeeper more than anything, for she decided who could or couldn’t enter.

She felt her stomach flip. More badly wounded men to treat. When she signed on to do her part for the Fatherland she never thought the things she’d witnessed would be so grotesque. However, such was the fate she chose instead of baring children like her other woman in the Reich. Her father had tried to find her a suitable match, but the men she’d seen disinterested her so. There was no feeling with any of whom she met. Why bother with creating a family based on duty alone? It was ludicrous. She dare not share it though. Thoughts like this was what sent people straight to a Gestapo holding cell. Women included. She shuddered from the stories she remembered hearing.

“Only four,” she finally said. “Check the other tents; they may be open. Can you carry the wounded here?”

“Yes.”

With that, the soldier was off as he held his helmet down with his hand.

“More?” It was Margaret, another nurse Verena worked with. “For heaven’s sake Verena! We cannot hold anymore!”

“But we have four empty spaces.”

Margaret sighed, wiping a sheen of sweat from her forehead. She wasn’t an unattractive woman. Margaret came from Hamburg. Unlike Verena’s family, the brunette came from a farming background, an occupation looked down upon by the middle and upper class. While a tad on the obtuse side, she woman still looked rather well.

“We’ve already got more than enough to attend to! Seven cannot take care of sixty. Simply cannot!”

She couldn’t deal with this right now. Verena walked into the tent as she quickly washed her hands in a dirtied bowl. She moved to the first of the four soldiers brought in. The other nurses who were checking on the ‘stable’ patients came to help. “Get some bandages,” she said as she began to inspect the wound. She gagged. The man’s leg was dreadfully close to severed. “Wait…”

Margaret came over and inspected the leg. She frowned. “Amputation. I’ll go get the doctor.”

Verena’s hand began to tremble. Amputation! How awful she thought to herself. Images of more blood filled her mind as she stepped back. She couldn’t stand to see that. Small gun wounds were fine, but this was far too much.

“Verena?”

She didn’t hear the voice.

“Verena!”

“What?” she half screamed the word. The soldiers were looking at her, as well as the other nurses. “…Sorry.”

Margaret placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You’ve yet to take a walk from this, no?”

She stared blankly back. Did she or did she not take her recommended break? She couldn’t tell. With the constant stream of patient after patient, she had lost track of time.

The next thing she knew, Margaret had guided her to the tents opening and pushed her out. “Don’t come back for another half hour. Go get something to eat, walk around the controlled zone. Take your mind off of this for a moment. When you’re ready, come back.”

The older woman spun on her heels and marched back in leaving Verena to herself. Perhaps Margaret was right. Maybe all she needed was a breather. Taking off her nurses hat, she walked slowly walked towards the checkpoint leading to the city. She nodded to a soldier as he let her pass into the city. While there wasn’t anything much, the desolated city somehow made her at ease. A peculiar feeling.

Though the invasion had only started months ago, the area where the Wehrmacht had assumed control was finding an uneasy normalcy. Small cafe — the ones that weren’t blown to bits — had patrons visiting, brothels were opened for German sons, and the citizens of the near defeated country hid from the invaders. Especially the Jews.

The Fuhrer’s loathing for the Jewish people was clear. On every propaganda poster, public humiliation in the streets of Berlin, and the destruction of shops, ghettos had been formed to imprison the enemies of the Reich. Verena’s friends who were Jewish had been sent there. She didn’t see the danger in them whatsoever; however, years of propaganda and education quickly changed that.

Walking into a relatively empty store front save for a few soldiers and Poles, Verena took a seat at an empty table. The atmosphere rivaled the gloominess of a rainy day. It sucked all the energy from her. She placed her face into her blood caked hands. She loved the Reich and the Fuhrer; but, she wanted all this violence to stop. She wanted a peaceful Germany. The invasion of Poland was slowly wrapping up. The Fuhrer had already promised a strong and secure empire with the capture of Poland. She took comfort in that promise. It’d all be over soon.

Movement of the Intrepid

Here's my character! Just ignore the clothing choice. I'll describe all that later. Also, I couldn't think of an 'awesome' title, so I hope what I wrote works! If you want to change it, we'll simply recreate the thread!

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Name: Verena Schuler
Age: 27
Appearance:

Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy?

I'm definitely interested in this. As someone mentioned before, I'd like to hear more details whenever it should become available.

Tolkien-esque <3!

Hitman

There's a friendly post before I head off to sleep! Enjoy :D!

Devils Never Cry

Scaling back on her effects, Gadra smiled in mocking amusement. Oh how ironic what the girl was saying was! When other binded her kind, the demons always cried out in anguish, forcefully taken from their homes with no say in the matter. The only retaliation to give was disturbing the mortals directly, something that many were all too willing to do. It was a double edged sword however. While the demonic creatures could certainly wreck havoc on the surface of the Earth, what hedonistic happenings that fed their powers and influence would also dwindle. It was a huge system. The demons depended on the humans as much as the humans depended on them. Curse be to the one who created it as so.

Garda lifted her hand away from Vee's face as she slowly sauntered her way over to where Sonny was. It was a rush of primal nature. She crouched to meet Sonny's eyes as her own stared into the girl's. She saw so many things that troubled the mortal. The eyes were truly windows into the center of the soul. "But don't you see?" she finally said, her voice a low, sultry tone. "You gave your blood to that ... trivial piece of cardboard. Do truly not know anything about the blood pact? Oh how those fools, Satanists, are. Do they still not rule over your world? Surely you would've been educated. They think there's a singular devil? How foolish. Dear girl, you 'summoned' me here. I cannot leave unless you die."

The last part was partially a lie. Being one of the five, a mere calling held no authority over her. The girl didn't need to know that however. She came for the sole reason of evaluating what the Netherworld's actions should be. Many cried for invasion, but three of the five didn't agree, herself included. An alternative was preferred. Kill the livestock, the farmers would starve.

Garda reached out with her hand as she gently lifted Sonny's face up. "Look at me," she said kindly yet sternly. "Your fear inhibits your ability to think. You have stolen me away from my home, my people. Through your ignorance, you have trapped me here. I could kill you, but where would the fun be in that? Your friend over there is having the most beautiful of nightmares. I can tell you about it if you like. Or, I could show you yours?"

Laughter escaped her lips as she stood once again. She walked back towards Vee. She stooped down and drew a black mist seal on her forehead before it disappeared. "Your friend shall sleep a while longer. But we come back to our initial predicament. What shall happen to us now? I wonder."

Hitman

When he first came into this household, less than a day to boot, he acted as he was taught by the Society. A difference existed between the demeanor of an assassin and that of a bodyguard. A guard must carry within him or her the utmost stoic disposition and brevity. However, as he looked on with the girl, and from their earlier encounter, that had all melted away. He acted as the true Mathias. That of the killer, blunt with the words.

He moved towards her bed side as he dragged her desk chair with him. He sat down while staring at the window. "To tell the truth or half a truth," he said. "I'm impartial though I do feel slightly bad that you got involved. You strike me as person who's adverse to danger. Walks in the opposite direction should it arise. A literature enthusiast such as yourself should be aware of the phrase, 'curiosity killed the cat', no?"

There was nothing consoling about what he had just said. The assassin was never good with the words. He could fake it, of course. Ryleigh just happened to be witnessing a time where he wasn't. He was too tired of the charade of being socially appropriate. It wasn't his specialty. "Don't think of it as babysitting. More conversational," he said finally. He chose his next words with care. "Still can't get the body out of your head, can't you? It's always the hardest. I won't bore you with the details; to be more precise, talk to someone. Don't hold it up. Otherwise, you'll go crazy."

He got to his feet as he headed towards the door. "Silence is certainly a remedy, if you can handle its bitter echo," he said. "Talked enough for one night. Call if you need me."