Post by ∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram on Aug 15, 2011 2:14:55 GMT
Location: Brandenburg, Germany
Time: 0255hrs
Weather: Heavy downpour of rain.
The vague shimmer of light from two steadfast headlights broke through the tree-line, followed by the full-hardy murmuring engine of mechanical life vibrating through the dense forestry, stirring with restless wildlife as a Volkswagen Kübelwagen pottered along a dirt road, en-route to a military facility deep within the beautiful etiquette scenic scenery of Brandenburg’s popular vacation spot all year round. Tonight however, a storm had been brewing for the past four hours and the heavy downpour of rain had failed to seize up, making what would have been a routine journey through the woodlands to the military compound, a treacherous journey to have been bestowed.
The squeaking noise emitting from the kübelwagen’s windscreen-wipers as they thrashed across the windscreen, slowly became annoying to the SS-Sturmbannführer sitting in the passenger next to SS-Rottenführer Gerwulf, his loyal friend and driver for the night. There was little the SS-Rottenführer could do about the irritable noise though, the windscreen-wipers simply needed new rubber fixtures, something that was uncannily difficult to get a hold off. Since the war had broken out, most vehicle manufacturers concentrated on creating the ultimate engine and chassis durable enough to withstand the war’s endeavours. The little things were commonly overlooked; window-wipers were commonly narrowed down from two wipers on the windscreen, to just one wiper for the driver’s side to save resources and materials. Brake and indication lights were frequently removed from vehicles, their necessity in a war seemed to be nil and other minor touches a vehicle would have, were soon to be removed completely, so the likelihood of finding a pair of rubbers for the windscreen wipers, would most probably be ludicrous to find.
Sitting in his long black slender leather trench coat, SS-Sturmbannführer Wolfram smoothed his leather gloved hands across the fine wrinkles of the coat spread over his lap and come to rest them upon a brown folder held closed by three white elastic bandings resting by the top of his knees. The brown folder clearly had a white sticker stuck diagonally on the front of the folder, reading: “SPITZENGEHEIMNIS” (TOP SECRET) followed by a stencil written title: “Das OPERATIONSARIER-STEIGEN” (OPERATION: ARYAN UPRISING) and with a distinguished seal of approval, the Waffen-SS insignia was stamped close-by to the title in black ink.
It was apparent that the SS-Sturmbannführer had important business to attend too, carrying what would seem to be significant information, deep into the forestry of Brandenburg headed towards a secret military facility built in 1935, the year that the Nazis pulled out of the ‘League of Nations’ and began to militarize the Axis regime. Since such time it has remained a secret military strategic facility of operations, purposely built in mind for the Nazis’ and their continuing endeavours. The SS-Sturmbannführer knew little of the facility, with it’s historical context shrouded in mystery, the SS-Sturmbannführer didn’t even know it existed until twenty-four hours prior when he received immediate dispatch orders from Berlin.
Reaching into his chest pocket, the SS-Sturmbannführer withdrew a silver cigarette case and clicked it open. Sliding out two cigarettes, the SS-Sturmbannführer handed one to Rottenführer Gerwulf without even asking him if he wanted one and placed the other cigarette at hand, upon his own lips. Rottenführer Gerwulf multi-tasked for the moment, whilst he drove, sparking a light from his Zippo lighter and held the flame out for SS-Sturmbannführer Wolfram to lean in and light his cigarette. “Danke” the SS-Sturmbannführer murmured, taking a long drag on the cigarette and rolling down the window a faint gap to allow the smoke to escape the locked tight confines of the vehicle. The tiny glow of two cigarettes inside the vehicle glowed dimly, as both men smoked their tobacco in silence, sharing the moment without words. There was little to be said, but their friendship never did portray many words, but rather a silent mutual agreement, with the leverage and respect of rank in-between somewhere.
The kübelwagen’s headlights skimmed over the uneven terrain of the muddy path they were following as they turned a sharp corner on the dirt path and SS-Sturmbannführer noticed something immediately unusual in the woodlands. As the vehicle veered around the hard corner, the lights skimmed over what seemed to be a man or silhouette of someone in the woods for a split second. It was abrupt and quick, but a reflection from the headlights bounced back from the silhouette and caught the SS-Sturmbannführer’s attention instantly. Turning to Rottenführer Gerwulf with the intent of saying he’d seen something unusual, a loud explosive burst blew from the back of the vehicle and Rottenführer Gerwulf panicked in unsuspecting shock to grab control of the fish-tailing vehicle on the wet muddy dirt-path. Dropping his cigarette, SS-Sturmbannführer grabbed onto the interior and embraced himself against the door, as the vehicle spun outwards, tipped over and began to roll off the dirt path and down a wet sloped embankment leading downward into the forestry. Narrowly missing three trees, the kübelwagen’s tail-end clipped a fourth tree it failed to miss and sent the vehicle rolling in the opposite direction for another two turns, before it found even ground and halted to rest upon it’s roof in tatters.
The SS-Sturmbannführer awoke slowly with a warm burning feeling scorching across his forehead from an open head-wound drooling blood down one side of his face. Slumped against the broken windscreen in the upside-down vehicle, the SS-Sturmbannführer struggled to make sense of his surroundings and winced as the back of his head brushed against broken glass clawing at his scalp. He could barely see the outline of someone laying slumped beside himself, but then something else caught his attention, as beams of light shone through the vehicle and the faint noise of voices came from the distance, getting louder as they drew closer. Perhaps it was help? The SS-Sturmbannführer struggled to make a noise as blood dribbled from out of his mouth with a fragment of glass he must have somehow caught inside of his mouth during the crash process and reached for the door with a trembling gloved hand smeared with blood.
OOC: If you are interested in entering, please PM me first. This thread has not been reserved for anyone and is open to anyone.
Time: 0255hrs
Weather: Heavy downpour of rain.
The vague shimmer of light from two steadfast headlights broke through the tree-line, followed by the full-hardy murmuring engine of mechanical life vibrating through the dense forestry, stirring with restless wildlife as a Volkswagen Kübelwagen pottered along a dirt road, en-route to a military facility deep within the beautiful etiquette scenic scenery of Brandenburg’s popular vacation spot all year round. Tonight however, a storm had been brewing for the past four hours and the heavy downpour of rain had failed to seize up, making what would have been a routine journey through the woodlands to the military compound, a treacherous journey to have been bestowed.
The squeaking noise emitting from the kübelwagen’s windscreen-wipers as they thrashed across the windscreen, slowly became annoying to the SS-Sturmbannführer sitting in the passenger next to SS-Rottenführer Gerwulf, his loyal friend and driver for the night. There was little the SS-Rottenführer could do about the irritable noise though, the windscreen-wipers simply needed new rubber fixtures, something that was uncannily difficult to get a hold off. Since the war had broken out, most vehicle manufacturers concentrated on creating the ultimate engine and chassis durable enough to withstand the war’s endeavours. The little things were commonly overlooked; window-wipers were commonly narrowed down from two wipers on the windscreen, to just one wiper for the driver’s side to save resources and materials. Brake and indication lights were frequently removed from vehicles, their necessity in a war seemed to be nil and other minor touches a vehicle would have, were soon to be removed completely, so the likelihood of finding a pair of rubbers for the windscreen wipers, would most probably be ludicrous to find.
Sitting in his long black slender leather trench coat, SS-Sturmbannführer Wolfram smoothed his leather gloved hands across the fine wrinkles of the coat spread over his lap and come to rest them upon a brown folder held closed by three white elastic bandings resting by the top of his knees. The brown folder clearly had a white sticker stuck diagonally on the front of the folder, reading: “SPITZENGEHEIMNIS” (TOP SECRET) followed by a stencil written title: “Das OPERATIONSARIER-STEIGEN” (OPERATION: ARYAN UPRISING) and with a distinguished seal of approval, the Waffen-SS insignia was stamped close-by to the title in black ink.
It was apparent that the SS-Sturmbannführer had important business to attend too, carrying what would seem to be significant information, deep into the forestry of Brandenburg headed towards a secret military facility built in 1935, the year that the Nazis pulled out of the ‘League of Nations’ and began to militarize the Axis regime. Since such time it has remained a secret military strategic facility of operations, purposely built in mind for the Nazis’ and their continuing endeavours. The SS-Sturmbannführer knew little of the facility, with it’s historical context shrouded in mystery, the SS-Sturmbannführer didn’t even know it existed until twenty-four hours prior when he received immediate dispatch orders from Berlin.
Reaching into his chest pocket, the SS-Sturmbannführer withdrew a silver cigarette case and clicked it open. Sliding out two cigarettes, the SS-Sturmbannführer handed one to Rottenführer Gerwulf without even asking him if he wanted one and placed the other cigarette at hand, upon his own lips. Rottenführer Gerwulf multi-tasked for the moment, whilst he drove, sparking a light from his Zippo lighter and held the flame out for SS-Sturmbannführer Wolfram to lean in and light his cigarette. “Danke” the SS-Sturmbannführer murmured, taking a long drag on the cigarette and rolling down the window a faint gap to allow the smoke to escape the locked tight confines of the vehicle. The tiny glow of two cigarettes inside the vehicle glowed dimly, as both men smoked their tobacco in silence, sharing the moment without words. There was little to be said, but their friendship never did portray many words, but rather a silent mutual agreement, with the leverage and respect of rank in-between somewhere.
The kübelwagen’s headlights skimmed over the uneven terrain of the muddy path they were following as they turned a sharp corner on the dirt path and SS-Sturmbannführer noticed something immediately unusual in the woodlands. As the vehicle veered around the hard corner, the lights skimmed over what seemed to be a man or silhouette of someone in the woods for a split second. It was abrupt and quick, but a reflection from the headlights bounced back from the silhouette and caught the SS-Sturmbannführer’s attention instantly. Turning to Rottenführer Gerwulf with the intent of saying he’d seen something unusual, a loud explosive burst blew from the back of the vehicle and Rottenführer Gerwulf panicked in unsuspecting shock to grab control of the fish-tailing vehicle on the wet muddy dirt-path. Dropping his cigarette, SS-Sturmbannführer grabbed onto the interior and embraced himself against the door, as the vehicle spun outwards, tipped over and began to roll off the dirt path and down a wet sloped embankment leading downward into the forestry. Narrowly missing three trees, the kübelwagen’s tail-end clipped a fourth tree it failed to miss and sent the vehicle rolling in the opposite direction for another two turns, before it found even ground and halted to rest upon it’s roof in tatters.
The SS-Sturmbannführer awoke slowly with a warm burning feeling scorching across his forehead from an open head-wound drooling blood down one side of his face. Slumped against the broken windscreen in the upside-down vehicle, the SS-Sturmbannführer struggled to make sense of his surroundings and winced as the back of his head brushed against broken glass clawing at his scalp. He could barely see the outline of someone laying slumped beside himself, but then something else caught his attention, as beams of light shone through the vehicle and the faint noise of voices came from the distance, getting louder as they drew closer. Perhaps it was help? The SS-Sturmbannführer struggled to make a noise as blood dribbled from out of his mouth with a fragment of glass he must have somehow caught inside of his mouth during the crash process and reached for the door with a trembling gloved hand smeared with blood.
OOC: If you are interested in entering, please PM me first. This thread has not been reserved for anyone and is open to anyone.
