Herrliches München!

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

OOC: This is open to Dr Vlakte and Dr Strumfelder, so anyone else looking to enter, please reframe from doing so. With three people in one thread, it takes enough time to wait for your turn to post, anymore people and it would turn into a doctor’s waiting office…


München! The valiant and historical city of Germany, as of that to Berlin. Sturmbannführer Wolfram’s lips coiled into daisies as he proudly walked along the sidewalk, his attire of dress boldly distinguishing the proud (Waffen) Schutzstaffel Nazi he was; The bold red, black and white swastika armband neatly and finely wrapped around his left bicep upon the fine-black fabric of his tunic, with the astounding cuff band distinctively showing his divisional and regimental command of the “Das Reich!” in gothic stitch work just below, upon his left forearm.

This was no ordinary field grey uniform or battle smock, but a fine piece of officer’s dress that praised hail to that of the Nazi Regime, an intimidating prospect that symbolised true authority. Sturmbannführer Wolfram may’ve looked callous and mean, if it wasn’t for the young six year old blonde boy clutching at his right hand, energetically bouncing against the concrete of the sidewalk and curb, excited that his father had returned home and more so, they were near the local toy-shop. A local woodcrafter that turned some of the most ugliest pieces of lumber into such beautiful puppets and wooden toys; “Kommen Sie auf Vater, Sie laufen so verlangsamt!” the young blue eyed and blonde haired boy, spitting image of his father, spoke out impatiently as he tugged on Rafael’s right arm some, pulling a frustrated look somewhat.

The Sturmbannführer laughed gently, nodding as he let go of young Wolfrick’s hand, patting him on the shoulder to firmly say “Gehen Sie dann, weiter ist der Laden nur auf der Ecke. Ich werde direkt hinter Ihnen sein - aber gehe nicht Wandern irgendwo sonst ab!” Sturmbannführer Wolfram said firmly and typically parental towards the end, watching in slight anxiety as young Wolfrick happily sped from out of his grasp, trotting towards the toy-shop on the near corner a matter of seven or eight yards away. The young boy waved back briefly, causing the Sturmbannführer to break a rare smile, before the young and slim nipper disappeared into the shop…

Sighing gently, Sturmbannführer Wolfram took a few more steps, before he tucked his hands into his trouser pockets with his thumbs hanging out, looking around quietly. Unfortunately, he was unable to schedule a married flight with the two doctors of his division; It seemed a mishap had occurred with a fellow Sturmbannführer of the ranks, urgently needing the remaining seats for himself and his aides’ back to München - family matters perhaps? Most likely, so he had to rearrange their flight for the following morning, today in actual fact. He also arranged for a kubelwagen and driver to pick them up, thankfully the driver knew where he was talking about when he mentioned “The toy-shop and parade of shops”… Taking a brief look at his wrist watch, he stiffened up at the sound of a few passing automobiles and furrowed a brief stare, he was sure their flight landed a couple of hours ago.

OOC: I decided that it would be best that you two entered as if you had just arrived in Munich, it seems odd to say you were walking along with Wolfram and etc… Plus, it seems a little more logical for the two of you to meet Wolfrick and such as if you were actually meeting him for the first time, rather than you had already met him - if I were to say you were walking along with the two of them. Sorry to confuse you, if I have. If you want me to change my post, then I will by all means, but you would have less to play on just walking with Wolfram… Oh and you can always be imaginative and say the kubelwagen and driver didn’t show up or something. So you can enter on your own means perhaps.


Translations:[/b]

Kommen Sie auf Vater, Sie laufen so verlangsamt!
~ Come on dad, you're walking so slow!

Gehen Sie dann, weiter ist der Laden nur auf der Ecke. Ich werde direkt hinter Ihnen sein - aber gehe nicht Wandern irgendwo sonst ab!
~ Go on then, the shop is just on the corner. I'll be right behind you - but don't go wandering off anywhere else!

[☤Theodorijk Wijzemens]

It had been years since Dieedrik van de Vlakte had visited München; he smiled as he seated himself in the Kubelwagen Sturmbannführer Wolfram had sent to the aerodrome. It was a warm day for wearing his dress-uniform, but Dieedrik felt almost at home now in the black wool uniform. An immaculate swastika armband was wrapped around his left arm and white captain’s epaulettes stood out on his shoulders. After Haupärzlichführer Vlakte stepped into the kubelwagen, the driver shut the door and began driving from the aerodrome carpark.

Dieedrik smiled as the vehicle made its way through the crowded streets of München. München was the seat of Bavarian history; the home of modern Germany. If there was any city in which an SS man had respect, München was that city. The forty-year-old man was finally relaxed after months of operating and medical care. He had seen more battle than many of the younger men had fought in the past year.

Shunning all thought of war from his mind, Dieedrik began to enjoy the sights of München as the kubelwagen made its way around tight corners and narrow streets. Church towers stood above the city and the typical Bavarian painting patterns blurred as Dieedrik sat back in his seat. Children ran along the sidewalks and German citizens made their way about the streets doing their daily business. He had finally returned to the real world.

Finally, the kubelwagen arrived to its destination. Standing right there, was none other than Sturmbannführer Wolfram, the famous commander of the 2nd Armoured SS division, in his crisp black dress uniform. He was a man that Dieedrik was glad to call a friend; inviting one to one’s home was a very personal relationship in Germany. Dieedrik stepped out of the car and walked around the vehicle to greet Wolfram. Since it was München, he raised his right arm and clicked his heels to salute him before he stepped forward and held out his hand to Wolfram, “guten tag, Herr Sturmbannführer. Wie geht’s Ihnen? Bist Sie froh, Haus zu sein? Ich bin zweifellos froh, in München zu sein.„ It was a beautiful day and Dieedrik coudn’t think of better company to enjoy it in.

Translations:
“guten tag, Herr Sturmbannführer. Wie geht’s Ihnen? Bist Sie froh, Haus zu sein? Ich bin zweifellos froh, in München zu sein.„
~ Good day, Herr Major. How are you? Are you glad to be home? I am certainly glad to be in Munich.

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

OOC: This entrance should be good, though I have to make a bit of an atmosphere between me and yourself Doc. I’ll PM you the provisional plot me and Wolfie have scraped together, and it will bring out a little more of your character later on, if you don’t mind helping a shrapnel ridden man...

Flying was not one of Erhard’s hobbies. It deafened him, it shook him violently, put him in danger, and it lasted for what seemed like forever. He respected pilots for what they did, and also admired the creator of the Luftwaffe; he would never have thought of sticking all his mental patients in planes. The flight had been uncomfortable, yet more bearable than usual, flying down from the Rhineland to the south, close to the border with his homeland. He had been sitting across from his medical superior, but he might as well been a hundred miles away for the chance they had to speak to one another. They’d arrived at the Munich Aerodrome, and Strumfelder was surprised by a personal driver. Wolfram didn’t miss a beat.

But he still had a little baggage that required collection, and split off from Vlakte while he searched for it. He asked Vlakte tersely to wait the driver; they’d had a falling out before the flight. Vlakte seemed to have detached himself from reality slightly since his bad news, something which Erhard couldn’t blame him for. He just wished his superior could be that tad more considerable sometimes. Ten minutes later and he had found it, and headed for the main entrance. But when he arrived, the driver and vehicle were no where in sight. Several minutes of searching and Erhard still drew a blank. Bloody hell!

Munich was a foreign city, and all he new was the name of the shopping parade where he was meant to be in.... now. He looked around in dismay, until he spotted the taxi rank, with one small automobile and a bored driver smoking and leaning on the bonnet. But did he have enough money? He didn’t have a clue how far it was, or what an average Munich fare was. He checked his watch, and advanced towards it, he could at least try. The driver finished his cigarette, and stamped it out, before entering back into the car. Erhard shouted, but the driver wasn’t listening and disappeared down the road.

“Scheisser!” Erhard roared, not caring for who was around. He attained a few odd looks; a dressed SS man rarely disturbed the peace. Then something occurred to him. He couldn’t really, but Wolfram wouldn’t care for him being late. And who would know? He might not have enough money for a taxi fare, but how much did you need to shut someone up?

The medic turned and walked towards a parking area for waiting drivers. He didn’t want anything that was too conspicuous. He found a young man leaning on a VW Beatle, reading a news paper. That would do. Erhard straightened his back, and twisted his blood red armband so the Swastika was obvious to any fool. He stepped towards the man, placed his small suitcase down, and cleared his throat. The young man glanced up, then closed the paper. “Kennen Sie Ihre Weise zur Untermenzing Einkaufenparade?” Erhard asked, using every fibre of his authority. “Ja...” The man asked cautiously. “Das Reich erfordern Sie nehmen mich dort, Pfosteneile.” Strumfelder spoke, raising his chin, and attempting to overwhelm the much younger man. “Aber ich warte jemand. Ich kann nicht.” Erhard bit his lip. He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. “Sie sind zahlende dreißig Reichsmark für Ihren Service. Wenn Sie noch nicht imstande sind, möchte ich Ihr Namens- und Adresse haben.” The medic stepped forward slightly, throwing his large build into the equation. The man looked rather nervous, but complied, and within minutes they were driving. Erhard didn’t try to make conversation, neither did his new driver. He just tried to work out what he would say to Wolfram.

Fifteen long and bumpy minutes later, they pulled up outside a colourful toy shop, sitting on a street corner. The driver looked the doors, and turned to Erhard. The Medic had already counted out his money, and handed over a small wad of notes. That gave him another twenty left. Maybe he could buy the boy a toy, and claim that was why he was late; he wasn’t sure his story against Vlakte would wash. He stepped out, and the car sped off and away, while he popped into the small shop. The Medic removed his cap, and spotted a small boy marvelling at hand carved wooden trains. It didn’t take any stretch of the imagination to make the connection between the child and Wolfram.

Strumfelder stepped forward, and admired the craftsmanship; it was a work of art. The boy retreated slightly, and watched him reach up and collect the small toy. Erhard turned and winked at the blue eyed boy, before purchasing the toy. The clerk behind the small desk smiled. “Dass Junge in fast tägliches kommt und dieses ein Regal bewundert. Lieben es. 10 Reichsmark, bitte.”



Translations:

“Kennen Sie Ihre Weise zur Untermenzing Einkaufenparade?”
~ Do you know your way to Untermenzing shopping parade?

“Das Reich erfordern Sie nehmen mich dort, Pfosteneile.”
~ The Reich requires you take me there, post haste.

“Aber ich warte jemand. Ich kann nicht.”
~ But I am waiting for somebody. I cannot.

“Dass Junge in fast tägliches kommt und dieses ein Regal bewundert. Lieben es. 10 Reichsmark, bitte.”
~ That boy comes in almost everyday, and admires that one shelf. Loves it. Ten Reichsmarks, please.

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

OOC: Sorry if this is a little short or very talkative, I haven’t much else to go on…

The street was fairly busy for a delightful afternoon, but for some apparent reason, it wasn’t as lively as he anticipated. The Sturmbannführer quietly out of boredom or maybe anxiety, shuffled upon the balls of his heels, curiously observing the adjacent street - it had been a good few years since he’d last stepped toe upon the Earth of Munich, but already, he noticed the lack of male dominance along the parade. Market stalls that littered one side of the street after the great war, were full of veteran soldiers, either selling goods they’d idly made in the trenches, out of wood or old belongings, whilst other men further down the chain of stalls would be selling stolen goods and souvenirs from their journeys. Now, it seemed desolate almost, much more quieter…

Abruptly, the day-dream was broken as a sleek automobile squeaked against the curb of the sidewalk; A familiar face emerged soon after from the backseat and Doctor Vlakte shifted around the sleek model of the vehicle to acquaint the Sturmbannführer standing stiff. The salute didn’t go unnoticed, as in return, Sturmbannführer Wolfram straightened up formally and raised his hand - perhaps a little more relaxed than his usual salutes. “Nachmittag - Es ist sicher eines Angenehm Tags der Doktor Vlakte. Wie war Ihr Flug? Zu Ihrer Befriedigung sollte ich hoffen. Ich entschuldige mich für die Verspätung hat in Sie nach München sind geflogen, gab es einige Komplikationen” spoke the Sturmbannführer with a length of breath, as he extended his almost fine manicured hand to grasp at the fellow male’s extending hand, to firmly grip and shake with a pleasing manner.

“Ja bin ich froh, Heim zu sein, vielen Dank... Und, wo Doktor Strumfelder ist... Hat er aufgehoben?” he curiously asked, as he phased a curious look towards the automobile stagnantly remaining parked, the driver, good old Hans Arnold, his father being a familiar family tailor and friend to his own father; It was a shame the Sturmbannführer couldn’t approve of his son, the driver, he was a shifty character, but one of the last remaining people he could call upon for errands to be run for the family. “Uh, Hans. Würde Sie bedenken Warten hier, werden wir eine Fahrt zurück zu meinem Rittergut in ein paar Stunden brauchen” asked Rafael quite forwardly, as he caught a glimpse of Hans stepping out of the vehicle to stretch his legs - “Jawhol…”[/b] he replied smugly, quite suspiciously or just sarcastically, he continued to say more placidly “Es wäre mein Vergnügen”. The young sleek male grinned and turned his back to the two senior officers of the cloth, pulling out a cigarette…

Pulling a quizzical look momentarily, Sturmbannführer Wolfram brushed the remark aside and paid more attention to his guest that had travelled all the way to Munich to spend time with him; Unfortunately, it seemed just by the look of things, Doctor Strumfelder had better plans. “Kommen Sie, müssen Sie Wolfrick treffen. Er war eifrig zu hören, dass es mehr Firma geben, aber er wurde mehr aufgeregt, zum Spielwarengeschäft zu kommen” he said in gesture, turning his body to openly suggest the way in which they will walk. Stepping towards the Shop doorway, he barely opened his mouth to call Wolfrick when the youngster came bouncing out of the shop, forcing a wooden train against the Sturmbannführer’s hands. “Aussehen! Schauen Sie Vater an! Ein netter Mann hat mir diesen Zug gekauft! Ich habe es für agesss gewollt!” he said incredibly enthusiastically and even more excitedly, before he cautiously looked towards Doctor Vlakte, as he slinked behind Rafael’s leg staring at him. The Sturmbannführer pulled that quizzical look again as he tried to look into the shop towards whoever treated his son, but knew it would be rude to not introduce Wolfrick first… “Stehen Sie gerad Wolfrick, kommen Sie. Dies ist ein guter Freund von meinem, ist er Hauptärtzlichführer Vlakte. Er wird die nächste Woche verbringen oder so mit uns - Sagt hallo, stellt sich vor” he said firmly, pulling the younger out from behind his leg, but Wolfrick stood there, clutching at his toy train, staring at the older male…



Translations:[/b]

Nachmittag - Es ist sicher eines Angenehm Tags der Doktor Vlakte. Wie war Ihr Flug? Zu Ihrer Befriedigung sollte ich hoffen. Ich entschuldige mich für die Verspätung hat in Sie nach München sind geflogen, gab es einige Komplikationen
~ Afternoon - it is certainly a pleasant day Doctor Vlakte. How was your flight? To your satisfaction I should hope. I apologise for the delay in having you flown to Munich, there was some complications.

Ja bin ich froh, Heim zu sein, vielen Dank... Und, wo Doktor Strumfelder ist... Hat er aufgehoben?
~ Yes I'm glad to be home, thank you... And, where is Doctor Strumfelder... Did he cancel?

Uh, Hans. Würde Sie bedenken Warten hier, werden wir eine Fahrt zurück zu meinem Rittergut in ein paar Stunden brauchen
~ Uh, Hans. Would you mind waiting here, we will be needing a ride back to my manor in a couple of hours

Jawhol
~ Yes (of course)

Es wäre mein Vergnügen.
~ It would be my pleasure.

Kommen Sie, müssen Sie Wolfrick treffen. Er war eifrig zu hören, dass es mehr Firma geben, aber er wurde mehr aufgeregt, zum Spielwarengeschäft zu kommen.
~ Come, you must meet Wolfrick. He was eager to hear there would be more company, but he was more excited to come to the toy-shop.

Aussehen! Schauen Sie Vater an! Ein netter Mann hat mir diesen Zug gekauft! Ich habe es für agesss gewollt!
~ Look! Look Father! Some nice man bought me this train! I've wanted it for agesss!

Stehen Sie gerad Wolfrick, kommen Sie. Dies ist ein guter Freund von meinem, ist er Hauptärtzlichführer Vlakte. Er wird die nächste Woche verbringen oder so mit uns - Sagt hallo, stellt sich vor.
~ Stand straight Wolfrick, come. This is a good friend of mine, he's Hauptärtzlichführer Vlakte. He will be spending the next week or so with us - Say hello, introduce yourself.

[☤Theodorijk Wijzemens]

OOC: Sorry for such the short length. I'll have more to write about once Strumfelder gets into the conversation.

As Hauptärtzlichführer Vlakte held out his hand, Sturmbannführer Wolfram took it in friendship. Doktor Vlakte had always trusted Wolfram since he had shaken hands with him the first time. A man could judge another man by his handshake. Wolfram had a firm, steady, though welcoming handshake that fostered trust in the recipient. Doktor Vlakte smiled before answering his superior’s question; “Nicht bat Doktor Strumfelder mich, voranzugehen. Er scheint, daß der Flughafenservice einige Problems mit Gepäck hatte und Strumfelder nach blieb, um seine Beutel zu erhalten. Er sollte hier kurz sein.”

Wolfram took a small tangent to speak to the chauffeur of the SS kubelwagen Doktor Vlakte had ridden into the city. Dieedrik had ignored the driver for the most part until now. It occurred to the doctor that the man was a little scraggly in an old worn suit. His necktie was askew and smudges of something were visible on his jacket; hardly the way for a man of any real social standing to dress. No sooner had Wolfram finished speaking to the grimy man than had he turned back to Dieedrik, suggesting he meet his son, young Wolfrick. Dieedrik gave a small, “Jawhol” and followed the superior officer only to be stopped when a young boy ran out the door of the toy-shop.

The boy was a living, breathing model of what Dieedrik imagined Wolfram had looked like when he was a child, if wolfram was ever a child. Dieedrik smiled as he thought about it; the boy was beautiful in a sense. He looked innocent, making Dieedrik think of his past. He had never been married and he had never had any children. This glimpse of Wolfram’s son was perhaps a small revelation for Dieedrik. He smiled and laughed slightly as the boy hid behind Wolfram’s leg. “Hallo, Wolfrick. Ich heiße Doktor Vlakte. Dein Vater ist mein Chef. Wie du alt bist, Wolfrick?”

Translations:
“Nicht bat Doktor Strumfelder mich, voranzugehen. Er scheint, daß der Flughafenservice einige Problems mit Gepäck hatte und Strumfelder nach blieb, um seine Beutel zu erhalten. Er sollte hier kurz sein.”
~No, Doctor Strumfelder told me to go ahead. It seems the aerodrome service had a few problems with baggage, and Strumfelder stayed behind to get his bags. He should be here shortly.

“Hallo, Wolfrick. Ich heiße Doktor Vlakte. Dein Vater ist mein Chef. Wie du alt bist, Wolfrick?”
~Hello, Wolfrick. I'm called Doktor Vlakte. Your father is my boss. How old are you, Wolfrick.

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

OOC: Strum, when you get a moment, could you post in this please? If it's proving too much of a hassle to try and keep this thread a float, whilst you deal with your hostile thread and such; Me and Vlakte wouldn't mind at all if you wanted to simply drop out.

Only reason I'm pushing a little, is because this thread will play a changing role in Wolfram's persona and I'm unable to start any other thread upon this website until this one is complete. You and I both know, I'm eager to begin role playing with a new persona for my character and this thread is not moving anywhere fast. So to avoid it being closed out of inactivity altogether, it is entirely fine to abandon this thread and allow me and Vlakte to complete it, all you have to do is say. You would not lose favor with myself or Vlakte, I'm just eager to get this thread finished.

Sorry if I've sounded impatient in any way what-so-ever, but again, I can not start my hostile thread or any other thread in general until this is complete. It has already gone four days stagnant.
- Raf

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

I understand. I will remain, and post later today. I've been swamped with homework, and the thread with Nathan has been eating up my time aswell. I already have a post half finished. This thread is just as important for you as for me. This is when get my grudge for the slavs. I understand where you are coming from though.

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

OOC: Sorry it is so short, but there isn’t much more you can write when all you do is walk ten metres. I thought we’d better get everyone together before the festivities.

There was not a word qualified enough in the German language to describe the boy’s happiness. Erhard had even it to him, and the boy had rushed out clutching it. The clerk chuckled to himself. “Ich denke, dass Sie meinen besten Kunden oder Fensterkäufer gerade weg gekauft haben konnten!” Strumfelder smiled at the comment, and stepped out of the bright shop onto the street. It was quieter than he expected, though it was hardly a busy time of the day. He looked around for the boy, and sighted his father first, the imposing Wolfram, with Vlakte next to him. The boy was firmly attached to his father’s leg, something Erhard could except. He nodded to Wolfram, and began to walk towards the trio, his small suitcase in hand. How long would it be before he was like Wolfram; a proud father with his own little by his side? Six weeks, if that. He was nervous for his wife. Erhard might have been a doctor, but he had never delivered a baby, for obvious reasons. He just prayed it didn’t come early.

The Medic strolled up to the two men, seeing Vlakte was greeting the small boy. He joined them quietly, and tussled the small boy’s fair hair, and beamed at him. “Tun Sie mögen Ihren neuen Zug, Wolfrick?” Erhard questioned, leaning down to the boys height. He glanced up at the men briefly. “Guter Nachmittag, Herren.” He let his gaze fall on both men, but Vlakte fractionally longer.





Translations:

“Ich denke, dass Sie meinen besten Kunden oder Fensterkäufer gerade weg gekauft haben konnten!”
~ I think you might have just bought off my best customer, or window shopper!

“Tun Sie mögen Ihren neuen Zug, Wolfrick?”
~ Do you like your new train, Wolfrick?

“Guter Nachmittag, Herren.”
~ Good afternoon, gentlemen.

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

OOC: I jumped straight to the chase almost, guess it would get this thread moving quicker for everyone.


The Sturmbannführer held a meek stature as the young boy was pulled from the grasp of his leg to stand straight upon his own heels and face the opposing male; Their guest. “Ich werde Sie töten irgendjemand lassen. ..?”[/b] the young boy asked innocently, as he glared towards the man’s holstered sidearm, the P38, his eyes fluttering a little as he clutched at the toy train, glancing to his father who alluded over him to speak. “Seien Sie so unverschämt Wolfrick nicht!” the Sturmbannführer said with a firm hand, as he squeezed at the boy’s shoulder, before looking to Doctor Vlakte to apologise “Es tut mir Leiddoktor, ist er an einem neugierigen Alter und Anna hat mich, das nur letzte Woche, sie haben gefunden eine Gruppe slawischen Versteckens in einem Weinkellergeschoss erzählt das nicht ist weit von hier - jung Wolfrick hatte gesehen, dass meine Schwester ein Lugar in ihre Handtasche einpackt, die ich zu ihr für Sicherheit gegeben hatte. Er ist ein naiver Junge…” he explained some-what, smirking a little as he felt the presence of a body move behind himself.

“Ja! Vielen Dank! Vater, dies ist der Mann, den ich Ihnen ungefähr erzählte!” excitedly announced the young boy, already completely forgetting his Father’s solemn strict hand upon his shoulder, as he laughed playfully when the man ruffled his hair - causing the young boy gleam wide lipped, looking to the male who fell to his height. The Sturmbannführer almost looked shocked, as he grinned towards Doctor Strumfelder. “Ah, ich bin froh zu sehen, dass Sie es gemacht haben, Verfälscht Strumfelder…”, but paused as he noticed the glaring look exchanged between the two, before continuing “Wolfrick hat einen Glanz zu Ihnen genommen, sehe ich, dass Sie schon ihn getroffen haben... Als wir alle vertraut gemacht sind, werden wir gehen und werden etwas erhalten zu essen? Sie müssen beide Hunger von Ihrem Flug haben” he said in gesture, perhaps not giving them a choice? As he already looked onwards towards their general walk down the street - a lovely variety of restaurants stacked up along the parade of shops.

As the Sturmbannführer took a step forwards, he abruptly froze within his stride upon hearing metal clunk. His jackboot clicked against the concrete heavily, coming to a stop, as he twisted his torso to look back at the black automobile used to pick up the Doctor; It’s engine reared up and back wheels loudly squeaked from a spin against the cobbled road, before darting straight past them, causing the Sturmbannführer to hesitantly step backwards, almost worried the driver was going to rear the automobile up onto the sidewalk. “Wahnsinniger Mann! Wo geht er!?” he angrily spat out, fully well knowing he told the man to wait in the car! But now that seemed like a dazed dream, as the driver veered violently off down the road.

Turning upon his heels, he looked to his associate officers and pulled a worried stare, one that broke an expression that asked ‘What is happening!?’ Then, a mere twenty to thirty yards away behind the two doctors and Wolfrick were four men, dressed in casual clothing, bunched together clumsily with their flat caps pulled right down against their thick brows; Their heads dipped and their overcoats swinging in the warm breeze. If they didn’t look conspicuous, they looked foolish, foreigners! Gawping his mouth open, Sturmbannführer Wolfram was just about to say something when - KA-KA-KA-KA-KA!” the sound of a PPD-40 submachine gun roared open from across the road, the four men disbanding quickly behind their position to take cover, one of them swinging out a SVT-40 gas operated rifle, leaning against a bollard to adjust his aim on the trio that now had concrete spitting up from beneath their feet.

“STEIGEN Sie herunter!” he cried out hardily, falling down behind a parked automobile, fumbling for his P38 in the holster, turning towards Erhard Strumfelder who was closest to his son “Erhält Wolfrick aus hier Jetzt!” he cried out again, half pointing to the toy shop, before ringing his hand out towards Doctor Vlakte to get into cover - His hands making quick work on the sidearm, as he locked back the mechanism to load the chamber, peering over the automobile vaguely, blindly firing a quick retaliation fire for a little cover… They were surrounded!


Translations:[/b]

Ich werde Sie töten irgendjemand lassen. ..?
~ Have you killed anyone...?

Seien Sie so unverschämt Wolfrick nicht!
~ Don't be so rude Wolfrick!

Es tut mir Leiddoktor, ist er an einem neugierigen Alter und Anna hat mich, das nur letzte Woche, sie haben gefunden eine Gruppe slawischen Versteckens in einem Weinkellergeschoss erzählt das nicht ist weit von hier - jung Wolfrick hatte gesehen, dass meine Schwester ein Luger in ihre Handtasche einpackt, die ich zu ihr für Sicherheit gegeben hatte. Er ist ein naiver Junge...
~ I'm sorry Doctor, he is at a curious age and Anna told me, that just last week, they found a group of Slavics hiding in a wine basement not far from here - young Wolfrick had seen my sister pack a Lugar into her purse that I had given to her for security. He is a naive boy...

Ja! Vielen Dank! Vater, dies ist der Mann, den ich Ihnen ungefähr erzählte!
~ Yes! Thank You! Father, this is the man I was telling you about!

Ah, ich bin froh zu sehen, dass Sie es gemacht haben, Verfälscht Strumfelder...
~ Ah, I'm glad to see you made it Doctor Strumfelder...

Wolfrick hat einen Glanz zu Ihnen genommen, sehe ich, dass Sie schon ihn getroffen haben... Als wir alle vertraut gemacht sind, werden wir gehen und werden etwas erhalten zu essen? Sie müssen beide Hunger von Ihrem Flug haben.
~ Wolfrick has taken a shine to you, I see you've already met him... As we're all acquainted, shall we go and get something to eat? You must both be hungry from your flight.

Wahnsinniger Mann! Wo geht er!?
~ Mad Man! Where is he going!?

STEIGEN Sie herunter!
~ GET DOWN!

Erhält Wolfrick aus hier Jetzt!
~ Get Wolfrick out of here, Now!

[☤Theodorijk Wijzemens]

Doktor Vlakte finally realised that Wolfrick’s discomfort was not due to him, but to the Walther P38 that was tightly strapped to his side. The pistol was a new piece of equipment fir Dieedrik. He had picked it up from the supply officer back at Das Reich! Headquarters. After hearing of his siblings’ deaths, Dieedrik requested a pistol for personal protection. Though he was a doctor, his sister was a nurse and she had been shot down by the Slavs. It was a hard revelation for Dieedrik, but he dealt with it as a man would; he got a gun.

Wolfram explained the boy’s fear of the weapon; and doctor Vlakte looked down at the young boy, Es ist kein Angelegenheit Sturmabannführer Wolfram,” he said looking up to the man before looking at the boy again, “Nicht, Wolfrick; Ich habe niemand getötet. Ich bin ein Doktor. Ich spare die Leben der Leute. Ich habe nur diese Pistole, zum sich vor den Briten zu schützen.„ Just as Dieedrik finished speaking, Ärzlichstabsfeldwebel Strumfelder appeared from the toy-shop. He ruffled the boy’s hair, giving only enough time to give a slight glare at Dieedrik.

Doktor Vlakte immediately seized the moment, “Ich sehe, daß der Flughafen instandzuhalten dein Gepäck im Auftrag, Doktor Strumfelder erhielt. Ich bin es dauerte nicht sehr lang froh; jene Bediensteten neigen, ihre Zeit zu nehmen, als ich erfolgtes etwas wünsche. Strumfelder stood back up and Wolfram immediately suggested dinner was in order, not giving time for conversation with Erhard. The strong-willed man began walking along the sidewalk and the two doctors fill in aside him.

The three men had only walked but a few metres before they heard the screeching of the kubelwagen Dieedrik had taken into the city. Wolfram began shouting at the grimy driver as soon as he realised what was going on. Turning to look behind, Wolfram ordered the doctors down and under cover as SMG fire flew past them. Doktor Vlakte rushed behind one of the few cars parked along the street and pulled out his pistol, hearing bullets hit the other side of the car. He was in battle again.

The firing continued and Dieedrik chanced a view over the bonnet of the car he was hiding behind. He saw four figures standing in the street. Taking his chance, Dieedrik pointed his new pistol at the man on the far right and pulled the cold steel trigger. The loud pop ensued and the man on the far right crumpled on the ground while the other three began running toward the cars. There was far more firing going on, there were more than four men.

Dieedrik swivelled around in his position behind the car to see six men walking down the rest of the street. Taking his chance, Dieedrik rushed across the street and into the café that stood to the right of the street. There were a few people in the café; Dieedrik hurriedly shout at them, “Erhalte hinunter dich täuscht, erlischt die Rückseite!” Dieedrik rushed to the door an looked out it to see almost ten men on wither side of the street. He took another chance and brought his sights down to the left-most man on the south side of the street and fired two more shots at him. He got hit but continued moving. The men were going into the stores to shoot Germans! Dieedrik rushed out into the street and began firing on the men in the south side of the street, rushing across into a book store that was on the other side of the street.

He got into the bookstore and felt the adrenaline rushing. Shouting out the same warning he had given in the café, he got to the front window to see what was happening; people were being shot in the street and Doktor Vlakte couldn’t find Wolfram or Strumfelder or the young boy, Wolfrick. Fear gripped the doctor as he watched the butchery in the streets.

Translations:
Es ist kein Angelegenheit Sturmabannführer Wolfram,”
~It is no matter Major Wolfram,

“Nicht, Wolfrick; Ich habe niemand getötet. Ich bin ein Doktor. Ich spare die Leben der Leute. Ich habe nur diese Pistole, zum sich vor den Briten zu schützen.„
~No, Wolfrick; I have not killed anyone. I am a doctor. I save people's lives. I only have this gun to protect myself from the British.

Ich sehe, daß der Flughafen instandzuhalten dein Gepäck im Auftrag, Doktor Strumfelder erhielt. Ich bin es dauerte nicht sehr lang froh; jene Bediensteten neigen, ihre Zeit zu nehmen, als ich erfolgtes etwas wünsche.
~I see the aerodrome service got your baggage in order, Doctor Strumfelder. I'm glad it didn't take very long; those servants tend to take their time when I want something done.

Erhalte hinunter dich täuscht, erlischt die Rückseite!
~Get down you fools, go out the back!

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

OOC: Reinforcements, for you. And it’s something worse than a grenade, but Vlakte will have to move fast to keep me alive. And you’ll need to find some water.

It was amazing and terrifying both at the same moment. Bullets flew past Erhard’s ears as dropped down low, and tucked himself in behind a small car. He doubted it would stop any of the bullets, but at least it hid him from the sight of any others. He didn’t have a clue of numbers, just people were putting bullets in his direction. Strumfelder only had two magazines on him; one strapped into his weapon, the other tucked into his holster. And were the hell were the Kripo?!

Erhard drew his Luger, knowing he couldn’t waste his sixteen precious shots. He looked up as Vlakte moved up and down the road firing off pot shots at the rebels. He was surprised just how easily the Doctor moved, for someone of his circumference. Erhard guessed this had to be some very hurried attempt of assassination. The three SS men stuck out like sore thumbs on the street, and someone must have informed the local resistance; probably Czech Slavs who had got over the border. The weapons were certainly communist, but he daren’t get close enough to examine their features.

Erhard glanced at the small boy, out of place in this environment. He stood dumbfounded, scared by mystified by what he was seeing. It was his heaven and hell wrapped into one. Wolfram barked at him in a way he had never done before. Strumfelder didn’t need telling twice. He kept low but charged forward, sweeping the young Aryan of the pavement and speeding up. He headed for the toy store, the first thing in front of him. He tried the door, but it had been locked, probably by a disconcerted clerk. Erhard didn’t have time for this. He stepped back and shoulder charged it; the lock was weak and he nearly fell onto his face. The old clerk he had seen earlier, smashed him over the side of the head with a small log of untrimmed wood. Strumfelder didn’t know if the man had though him a fighter, or had intended the hit, but he wasn’t waiting for a second one. His trigger finger did the talking.

He stepped over the clerks body, his brain not quite registering he’d just shot someone, and looked for a back door. Two fighters stormed in, spraying bullets everywhere with their automatic weapons. Erhard ducked behind a small shelf which offered little protection. He didn’t have a clue how Wolfrick was handling this, but he did feel a small wet patch on his shoulder. Erhard jumped up, and fired at the first fighter five times. Three shots went wide, but one struck him in the stomach, other in the jaw. He fell back, his finger locking on his weapon’s trigger, sending rounds into the ceiling. The other one pulled out, firing bursts in. Erhard fired off anther two shots to make sure he was completely out. Panting, he placed the boy down and crouched down to look him in the face. He needed to seem in control, confident, for the boy’s sake. “Wolfrick, steigen in die Rückseite des Geschäftes ein und finden das beste Versteck, das Sie können. Ich komme erhalten Sie später.”

The boy’s face was a mass of water, but as long as they stayed here, he could hold them off, he was sure. He heard a roar of an engine, and an Opal Blitz passed by the window, and MG42 strapped to the top of the cab, a policeman spraying away. About a dozen soldiers were packed into the back, firing off bullets. The back dropped down, and they began to leap out. Erhard turned back and saw Wolfrick’s eyes stilling boring into him. He gestured with his head for the boy to go, before there was a tinkle of glass. A liquid sprayed over Erhard’s upper body, his chest protected by the boy. Then it burst into flames.
Strumfelder screamed from the depth of his lungs at the flames enveloped his face, hair, and upper body. He placed his hands up to his face instinctively, but they caught fire in a split second. He collapsed backwards onto the burning floor.



Translations:

“Wolfrick, steigen in die Rückseite des Geschäftes ein und finden das beste Versteck, das Sie können. Ich komme erhalten Sie später.”
~ Wolfrick, go into the back of the shop, and find the best hiding place you can. I will come an get you later.

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

OOC: Not my greatest post, sorry.


CLANG![/I] The Sturmbannführer’s head darted back out of a sheer flinch and bodily reaction, as a blinding array of sparks blew past his face from a close bullet hole, ripping straight through the chassis of the automobile he was huddled behind. Knowing lightening didn’t strike the same place twice, Sturmbannführer Wolfram half hesitantly, pushed himself to roll over upon one of his knees and take a look from over the body of the car he was behind - a rugged old man wielding a Nagant Revolver spat onto the end of the barrel, before swinging his arm up into the general direction of the Sturmbannführer, clunking the jackhammer to his revolver like a piston, bullying off rounds towards him.

Dropping back down behind the automobile, Sturmbannführer Wolfram clutched at his P38 and continued to twitch as loud clangs thumped the exterior of the car he was leaning against. Thankfully, he’d seen Doctor Strumfelder hoist his son into cover within a breath; But worryingly, two figures scurried up from his behind and entered the shop before he could even do anything! More so, if they had have spotted him huddled against the automobile, he would have been dead right about now -- then machinegun fire erupted from within and the Sturmbannführer’s heart griped at the sound, glancing towards the position Doctor Vlakte was meant to be at, he just about shouted out “Doktor…”, before he realised the man was gone!?

The Sturmbannführer worriedly looked about himself momentarily, realising he was alone, when he thought the Doctor was an arm’s length away all this time! Gritting his teeth, he grumbled something beneath his breath, before someone came running out of the shop behind him. Turning upon his heels quickly, Sturmbannführer Wolfram trained his sidearm up with a quick precision and watched as the disgruntled male hardly drew a breath to try and raise his own, before Rafael squeezed off three quick rounds at the male’s torso, sending the Slavic rebel staggering backwards into a wall, before slumping down lifelessly against the sidewalk. Worryingly, the Sturmbannführer cautiously gained a stature upon his feet, scurrying to the next automobile parked closer to the toy-shop, his eyes wearily glaring over towards the doorway, trying to see if they were okay inside… If Wolfrick was oaky…

Startled, a loud belled siren of an Opel Blitz Truck came roaring on past, with a gunner atop of the truck spraying bullets. As the men dropped from out of the back, the Sturmbannführer cautiously stood up and shouted over “Schießen Sie nicht!” he yelled out, as he watched two of the men swing their rifles at him, before acknowledging the uniform. Pacing over quickly, he kept a low stature and rung his hand out towards a few of the men, facing one particular male that knew what he was doing, as he quickly saluted. “Slawische Rebellen, sie sind alle die Straße hinunter! Ich schlage vor, dass Sie ein bilden --”, before he could finish, a Volkswagen came bawling down behind them, skidding outwards into the road; The passenger leant out of the window and without delay, suddenly began to spray bullets with his PPD-40...

“Urrggh!” the Sturmbannführer spun from his feet as two well placed shots from the spraying, both cut straight through his left bicep, knocking his body sideways and backwards against the back of the truck. Two of the officers standing near him, fell from similar penetration wounds, as they reared out a cry and staggered from off their feet against the concrete, the remainder of the Kripo fell like logs, returning fire immediately as they dashed behind what cover they could - the MG42 gunner slumped against the gunnery as his helmet pinged from off his head…

Falling against the cobbled road, Sturmbannführer Wolfram crawled like a dog as he felt the heat of the close bullets zip past his skull, his body collapsing against the side of the truck, as he yearned out in agony from the agonising pain in his left arm, hardly able to move it, but then he froze - A passenger in the back of the automobile leant out, tossing a Molotov cocktail into the toyshop, before quickly relighting one with the help of an associate in the back, to toss another at the Kripo proving to be a pain.

The Sturmbannführer’s eyes widened as he watched the horror of what was happening. Picking his moment, he plucked together what little strength he had and gritted his teeth to try and quickly move behind a better shield of cover, as more bells began to ring from the opposite end of the street, another convoy truck hauling more Kripo into the street. Slumping against a bollard, he sucked another quick breath and drew to his feet, holding his limp arm as best he could, whilst gripping at the P38 -- but he fell short of the toyshop he was aiming for and landed on one knee, as the pain in his arm had his whole body numb and hot. Looking up slowly, he watched as someone fumbled inside on fire, but couldn’t do anything. He didn’t have the strength… He couldn’t move…


Translations:[/b]

Schießen Sie nicht!
~ Don’t shoot!

Slawische Rebellen, sie sind alle die Straße hinunter! Ich schlage vor, dass Sie ein bilden --
~ Slavic Rebels, they are all down the street! I suggest you form a --

[☤Theodorijk Wijzemens]

OOC: I hate for this post to be so short, but here it is in all its glory. Sorry for the god-moding Strumfelder, I thought the wounding and ambulance would work well. I can by all means change it if you want me to. I'm not quite in a writing mood at the moment.


The street had gone to hell. Doktor Vlakte ran down the street full of burning cars before he saw the window of the toy shop burst into flames. He felt a feeling, a large weight drop in his stomach, pulling it down to his knees. Someone was in the building; he was sure of it. He continued sprinting down the street in his jack boots and arrived at the Kipo truck. Looking up at one man that was standing in the Kipo truck, Dieedrik began yelling, “ Gib mir den medizinischen Beutel! Im Augenblick Soldat!” The soldier immediately threw down a black polished leather bag.

Dieedrik then flew into the now smouldering building to find Erhard on the ground. His body was severely burned as Dieedrik observed when he got to his knees, prying open the med-bag. Erhard was breathing, just barely. Quickly, Dieedrik pulled out every pouch of sulpha powder possible and began pouring it across Erhard’s face. The final move was injecting a syringe of morphine which Dieedrik did, hoping he could save Erhard.

Burns were the worst wound possible to get. Dieedrik called for a tub of Vaseline which was immediately delivered from nowhere. Removing Erhard’s wool coat, Dieedrik began spreading the Vaseline across the burns to prevent germs and infection. Erhard was still breathing, a good sign this long after the wound was inflicted. Luckily, the fires were out after the fire department had come and the Kipo had secured the area. All the activity had prevented Dieedrik from noticing the corpse that lay farther ahead on the ground of a young boy.

Finally, an ambulance arrived at the scene. Dieedrik got in the vehicle with Erhard on a stretcher. He finally began giving the wounded doctor some plasma and penicillin to prevent infection. As he waited in the back of the vehicle, he thought of the horrible event. The Slavs had appeared out of nowhere and killed a child in cold blood as well as severely wounding Dieedrik’s greatest friend, Erhard Strumfelder. The only thought that came to his mind was the feeling of accomplishment when he pulled the trigger of his new pistol and watched the man fall to the ground presumably dead and as useful as such a rebel would be.

Translations:
“ Gib mir den medizinischen Beutel! Im Augenblick Soldat!”
~Give me the medical bag! Right now soldier!

[∬: Rafael Z. Wolfram]

Perched upon one knee, with his wounded arm draped across his thigh pinned up across his chest from leaning forwards, the Sturmbannführer galloped his lungs for a panted breath, feeling paralyzed from the shock and agonising pain that was rupturing throughout the whole of his left arm and chest. His hand wielding the P38 and simultaneously multitasking to provide support to his body, by crookedly resting against the concrete beneath him to hold his weight up, began to shake and soften; The Sturmbannführer’s arm wobbled uncontrollably for a brief moment, before giving away, causing the Officer to slump down against the sidewalk, drawing breaths at a quickened pace, trying to subdue the pain that was causing him to seize up, it felt like his muscles were fuel injected with lactic acid, rendering parts of his muscles into tight cramps.

Rolling onto his back, the Sturmbannführer clenched his eyes closed and gripped at his wounded arm, murmuring in sheer pain. The bullets must have struck the nerves or the bone, it was agonisingly painful and felt far worse than a Lee-Enfield rifle round he was treated for many years ago, as a clumsy junior officer out in the field. No, this was far worse and the world felt like it was falling apart around him; Bells ringing, gunfire, shouting and the inevitable screams…

As a shadow phased over the Sturmbannführer’s face, he flinched his eyes open and watched as Doctor Vlakte ran past, completely unaware to his superior strewn on the floor a matter of meters from the shop entrance, but then the Sturmbannführer realised, bodies were strewn everywhere across the street overall, it was to no avail he had not taken notice of him. Gritting his teeth, he bared the thought of young Wolfrick in mind and crunched the pain as best he could, rounding up what little strength was left to try and drag himself up from off his back, before reluctantly staggering to his feet - blood had begun to drip from off his knuckles upon his left hand, as the two open bullet wounds in his left bicep bled with very pounding heartbeat. The black fabric was hardly noticeable to being blooded, the only tell tail sign was the swastika arm-band upon his left arm being completely obliterated by the blood and bullet holes, ripping two rugged puncture wounds into the once delicate fabric.

Groaning from the pain, he stumbled to his feet the moment Doctor Vlakte rushed back out of the shop, stretcher in tow with a few soldiers busying around the man. He tried to say something to get the man’s attention, but only air came out, the shock of only seeing one stretcher had the Sturmbannführer fearing the worse,. He hurried to the doorway with a weak few steps, falling against the wooden doorframe to clutch tightly, kicking a few of the wooden toys from out of his way, before his eyes caught glimpse of the dead woodcrafter by the entrance. Moistening his throat, he staggered inwards and limply held at his throbbing arm, his face pale from the fresh wounds already, a few soldiers ran by outside of the shop and made Wolfram shakily raise his aim from a broken morale - thankfully, they didn’t notice, as they passed in a haste.

Gulping, he took another cautious step inwards and felt his foot sink against something soft beneath his heel. Almost instantly, the Sturmbannführer retracted his foot and looked down, only to choke on a winded intake of breath and fall backwards from off his feet with tears immediately forming in his eyes. “Wolfrick…” he uttered out in distraught as he glared towards a young boy buried beneath some toys, facial complexion askew with melted burnt flesh and hair, the clothing black, burnt to a crisp and the only recognisable feature - were his pure blue eyes…

The Sturmbannführer wretched, as tears streamed down his face, his body shuffling backwards towards the entrance, unable to look at his son any longer, his moaning whimpers of distraught heard by a few soldiers hauled to the scene after the Kripo, who ran with haste to the shop, dragging the Sturmbannführer out by the lapels of his rank, signalling for a medic…

OOC: I posted due to Strum notifying me it would be best. I’ve ended the thread with my post, due to the fact the two doctors have left the scene and there isn’t much else this thread could go on? Great thread guys, I can’t wait to RP the next instalments with you. A new Wolfram is born.

[Daniel Brennan]

Wolfram: 10CP

Vlakte: 9CP

Sturmfelder: 9CP


~Dan