Post by Königreich Preußen on Sept 18, 2011 16:41:56 GMT -8
Name: Gilbert Beilschmidt
Country of Origin: Kingdom of Prussia (Germany)
Gender 100% Male
Age: 27
Height: 5’10”
Weight: 162lbs.
Appearance:
Smaller in height and weight -- and overall physical appearance -- than his brother, Ludwig, Gilbert is often mistaken to be the younger of the two. His hair, which naturally parts down the right side, is a light, premature grey and falls just on top of his ears. His bangs sweep to the side, and lie over his ruby eyes, causing them to stand out luminously against his ashen features.
Enjoying colors that stand out against his pallid coloring, and stylish materials that attract attention, Gilbert’s wardrobe is filled with satin and brocaded knee-length coats, frocks and vests, in crimson, deep blues and black -- (he wears olives and earthy browns, too, for his casual days). He also likes to throw a golden sash around his waist, and have it hang casually off of his right hip.
Disliking anything that clings underneath his heavy coats, Gilbert’s drawstring breeches and white undershirts are light and airy, making them easy to maneuver, run, strip off and recline in. His fingers can usually be seen adorned with gold rings, while his neck is bedecked in thin gold chains, an antiqued Iron Cross pinned to his lapel. A leather belt also rests snugly on his hips, and holds his coin purse, holster, knife and pistol.
Gilbert also tends to have an affinity for large hats with ostrich plumes, wide brims and gold trim, and he collects them excessively. He’s also amassed quite a large collection of old war medals -- some of them having been pulled off of the bodies of his enemies -- and are pinned, proudly, to his outfits. It’s these extra bits of flair and physical evidence that help to remind him that he’s in charge.
Crew member of: The Imperial Eagle
Status: Captain
Pet: Gilbird
Crest:
Personality:
It can be said, with much accuracy, that Gilbert is a strange and rather complex man.
His general attitude is haughty and often disrespectful towards those he doesn’t know, as he believes (wholeheartedly) that he is above others and should be treated accordingly. He dislikes being excluded from activities, being un or misinformed, and not being taken seriously causes him to become rather depressed. He also has a volatile temper, that erupts after he’s either had too much to drink, or he’s been pushed over an emotional edge.
Beneath Gilbert’s rough exterior, however, is someone who truly just wants to be understood. He devotes a surprising amount of time into his relationships, and being social comes almost second nature to him. He enjoys laughing, joking around, and stating his opinion on anything and everything -- whether you wanted it or not -- as he doesn’t bother to hold back his thoughts or feelings, unless they touch him on a very personal level, or make him appear weak.
Despite his constant barking about wanting to be left alone, Gilbert dislikes being by himself and will do just about anything to avoid it. This, and losing his brother, are his biggest fears in life, and from time to time he suffers from sudden attacks of paranoia, (a phenomenon he tries to keep secret from everyone, including Ludwig). Because of this, Gilbert tries to stick as close as he can to his brother, these days, convincing himself that it’s for Ludwig’s own good, and not for his own. He also can’t sleep in complete darkness, and keeps a candle lit in the corner of his room, for when he wakes up in the middle of the night.
Due to his need for closeness and constant affirmation, Gilbert enjoys having his brother around, and often asks for his advice and opinions, before forming his own or making heavy decisions. Whether he actually takes Ludwig’s words to heart, one can never be too sure, but the fact that he asks is proof enough of his adoration for his younger sibling, and if one were to ask him, Gilbert would confirm that he considers Ludwig his closest friend, despite their past problems.
On the lighter side of life, Gilbert adores pulling pranks, teasing and making others uncomfortable -- especially with Ludwig. If he can get a rise out of you, he won’t hold back, and insults only make him laugh. Drinking beer and challenging others to contests is a favorite pastime of his, as well as gambling and playing games, particularly with cards. Listening to music on the radio, smoking tobacco and playing the flute are all ways he likes to wind-down, and he loves tinkering on old pianos, despite not knowing how to play.
While Gilbert tends to have a casual outlook towards most things, he can become extremely serious when it comes to his brother and the overall condition of his ship and crew. His strengths include sweet-talking, swift decision making, heartfelt enthusiasm and jumping into situations, headfirst. That being said, his strengths can also become his greatest weaknesses, and they have from time-to-time, gotten him into serious trouble.
Other weaknesses generally include spending money like a drunken sailor, being a drunken sailor, anything German-made and getting bored easily.
History:
Gilbert doesn’t remember much of his life before he came to live with his and Ludwig’s caretaker. “Old Fritz” -- the name their guardian had requested that the two siblings call him -- is, as far as Gilbert is concerned, his father through-and-through. While most children dream and wonder what their parents were like, Gilbert merely fills in his own blanks, and just assumes his parents were German, Aryan, and awesome.
As a child, growing up in war-torn and newly reconstructed Berlin, Gilbert often found himself to be his younger brother’s closest playmate and friend. Rather than detest it, the older of the two took his brotherly mission to heart, and took care of Ludwig in all the ways he saw fit. Reading to, wrestling with, chasing off bullies and indulging in Ludwig’s desire to play cops and robbers became usual pastimes of Gilbert’s, and wherever he went, Ludwig typically followed.
Their favorite game, “Deutsch-Offizier und Gypsy König” found Gilbert playing the underhanded and devilishly clever king of the Gypsies, while Ludwig chose to play the uptight and law-abiding cop. Each sibling played their roll exceptionally. Ludwig’s officer was not only convincing, but fearsome, and Gilbert’s king was dastardly, and at times, shocking. He was quick to make bold -- and often outlandish moves -- to make an escape, seize a handful of treasure, or betray a time-honored make-believe friend, and each time they played, Gilbert’s crimes became more and more extravagant and criminal.
As teenagers, a strong, moral rift began growing between them, inevitably forcing the two to drift apart. Ludwig devoted his time entirely to schooling and an upstanding career, while Gilbert set his sights on obtaining quick fortunes, scandalous love affairs, and swindling those who were fool enough to trust him. As close as they once had been, the two siblings soon found themselves disagreeing on small things, bickering here and there, before erupting into full-blown arguments, eventually causing their small issues to become large problems. It was during this time of heated quarrels and frustrated tension that their caretaker, Old Fritz, passed away.
Unable to cope with the sudden loss of his adopted father, and the painful disagreements he had had with his younger brother, Gilbert detached himself from his longtime home in Berlin, and set off across Europe.
Days became weeks, and weeks became months, as he traveled across the Netherlands, into Belgium, and finally dropping down into France, its capital calling out to him, subconsciously. Despite never having left Berlin before, Gilbert felt strangely comfortable in Paris, and he found himself walking in all directions, purposefully trying to get himself lost, only to know exactly where he was going. He also found himself able to pick up on the language quickly, and adaptable to life in the large, renovated city.
But soon, the nightmares began. Paris burned, and a man -- whom Gilbert recognized instinctually as a blonde -- that represented all the splendor of France, was dead. Night after night, he woke to find himself in a cold-sweat, his hands around his throat, and a feeling of déjà vu paralyzing him.
Deciding to get out of Paris, almost as quickly as he had come into it, Gilbert moved around, jumping from Cannes to Barcelona, before being locked up in Lisbon, on trumped-up charges of disorderly conduct and aggravated assault. It was here that Gilbert learned about the Legendary Treasure, and the highly coveted and sought after map pieces. Deciding that his next big fortune was to be found through piracy, Gilbert executed an escape -- not unlike the kind he made when playing as a child -- and started making his way back to Germany.
It was during this time, in a seedy little bar, in an ill-reputable area, that Gilbert became the captain of his ship, The Imperial Eagle. The game was Four Kings, and the opponent (a swarthy man with a low alcohol tolerance) was drunk. Gilbert dealt the cards. In a stunning round, only four rounds long, the albino took the gold, the jewelry, and the ship, leaving the captain stranded, without his crew or a penny to his name.
Deciding he would need a reliable first mate, and someone who could help keep his crew -- and himself -- inline, Gilbert made the trip back to Berlin, his ideal person prepping to become an officer of the law …
Convincing Ludwig would be out of the question, and the two hadn’t seen or spoken to each other in so long that Gilbert felt he’d be refused, outright. Scheming, the Gypsy könig making his infamous return, he set out to make sure that Ludwig wouldn’t be able to reject his offer, by forever tarnishing his brother’s impeccable record and promising future.
Without Ludwig’s knowledge of the scandal that had just ruined him, Gilbert appeared, unannounced, and proposed a truce between them. Stating that “brothers are brothers, no matter the past” he revealed his peace offering: two steins filled to the brim with their favorite, frothy beer. Clinking their glasses and toasting to Ludwig’s “new career”, Gilbert watched with narrowed eyes, as Ludwig finished his beer in several quick gulps.
The sedatives he had slipped into his brother’s drink had worked faster than expected, and as Gilbert dragged, rolled, and lifted his brother’s large body down the street and toward the docks, he could only laugh at the shocked expressions of passersby. The start to his grand and rather dubious adventure had begun, and he was certain -- despite all the trouble he had caused and gotten himself into -- that it would prove to be the best thing he had ever done …
Allegiance: Sky Pirate
How They Died:
“On your feet, Proozen. We’ve arrived. ”
Prussia squinted as the cover over his eyes was lifted, and a harsh hand grabbed his arm, forcing him out of the truck he had been shoved into, days prior. The air was cool and damp, but unlike the air back in Moscow, it didn’t stick to his skin like a frozen stamp. The American escort released his bound arms, allowing Prussia to stretch out his stiff shoulders for the first time in days -- his neck popping in several places, as he bent his neck.
He was glad to be away from Russia; away from the cold weather and the harsh, bitter personalities of the Soviet guards he had been under for weeks. As he started glancing around, however, Prussia’s heart plummeted. He could feel that he was back on his own soil, and he saw that he was standing where he had stood many times before, but now … it was barely recognizable.
Königsberg castle, home to former kings and foreign delegates, magnificent halls and grand war rooms, had been reduced to almost nothing. “We started ripping this piece of shit down, as soon as we broke through your stubborn German ranks,” the American escort snickered, while picking at his teeth. “Not that there was much to take apart, anyway.” Lifting his head, Prussia looked up at the former King’s Tower, as he was pulled briskly past it. The black roof had caved in on itself, allowing the weather, war, and time to quickly eat away at the grandeur of its size. White window panes had been shattered all along the castle’s exterior, and even now, American soldiers threw stones at them, roaring loudly whenever they managed to bring a whole panel down.
Passing through the old iron gate, Prussia could see that the courtyard had fared little better. Carriage filled memories played out before him, layering over the dirt and rubble, as he glanced around. The large Pegasus statues that had once guarded the gates were now gone. Their fierce equine bodies lay dismantled; their wings and spirits, broken. Pieces of the white stone walls lay crumbled and scattered throughout the yard -- while a makeshift hanging beam and bucket sat quietly in the middle.
There were several American generals talking amongst themselves, their heads lowered with hushed voices, as Prussia was shepherded across the grounds, towards the center. His ruby eyes narrowed as he was forced to a halt, and a thick rope was placed around his neck. There, between a group of several privates and officers, was America, himself.
He was a bit skinnier than in the photos Prussia had seen of him -- his faced had thinned considerably -- but the rectangle glasses and blonde cowlick at the front of his hairline was unmistakable. He looked on silently, his blue eyes distant and unwavering, much like Germany’s had been when Prussia had seen his brother last.
It was then that a small man, with thin, graying hair, stepped to the forefront and cleared his throat. “Preußen,” his voice was low and graveled, taking Prussia by surprise. “You’ve been brought here today on charges against the Allied Nations and all the innocent peoples whom you have helped to oppress and destroy. The most severe of which shall be read to you now, and will be judged upon, immediately.” He turned to his colleagues, wiping his brow with a handkerchief, before muttering, “Prepare yourselves, friends.”
“First, aiding and assisting projects of mass genocide, knowingly and willingly. Second, refusing to abdicate, support or release the countries of France, Poland, Belgium, Czechoslovakia, Luxembourg --” Prussia closed his eyes. The world he knew disappeared around him, as he took himself back, and far away. Back to the banks on the Rhine, through the forests of Masuria, and over the Silesian mountains. He could smell the salt emanating from the German coast-line, and feel the cold damp of the Brandenburg Marsh. Nothing … could touch him here. “The military cooperation between yourself, Germany, and the annexed Austria --” The man paused, and glanced over his paper. “Herr Preußen … are you listening to me?”
“What are you stopping for?” Prussia asked, his silver brows raising, but not his eyes. “You were just getting to the good part.”
“E-excuse me?”
“I’m not sorry for supporting Germany.” He stated, his ruby gaze lifting. “I would do it all again, if he asked me to.” At this, several murmurs broke out, before a disappointed hush fell over the courtyard.
The small man quickly rolled up his parchment, before crossing his hands across his lap, and giving Prussia a cold, hard stare. “Then you regret nothing? None of your actions?”
“Nein, I do regret … /not/ winning.” Prussia replied, his eyes sliding over to glance at America.
“Then I believe -- and I think I can speak for everyone here -- that our decision is made, Herr Preußen. Due to your lack of remorse, and your steadfast -- albeit foolish -- defense for a Germanic regime, our only action can be that of your immediate disposal. If you would, please, stand on the bucket.” He gestured toward the pail on the ground, before the escort who had lead Prussia in, grabbed his shoulders and practically lifted him up on it. “If there’s anything you like to say, Herr Preußen, do so now.”
Prussia glanced around at his audience, the muscles tightening in his face, before he leaned forward and spat at their feet -- his message made clear.
“May your death be swift and painless, as we show you the mercy that you could not show /your/ enemies. Auf wiedersehen.” With that, the man nodded his head, signaling for the escort to give the bucket under Prussia’s feet a swift kick.
Taking a last breath, Prussia inhaled deeply through his nose, the smell of birch and pine filling his lungs, as the rope tightened around his neck, and he felt his body fall out from under him.
Country of Origin: Kingdom of Prussia (Germany)
Gender 100% Male
Age: 27
Height: 5’10”
Weight: 162lbs.
Appearance:
Smaller in height and weight -- and overall physical appearance -- than his brother, Ludwig, Gilbert is often mistaken to be the younger of the two. His hair, which naturally parts down the right side, is a light, premature grey and falls just on top of his ears. His bangs sweep to the side, and lie over his ruby eyes, causing them to stand out luminously against his ashen features.
Enjoying colors that stand out against his pallid coloring, and stylish materials that attract attention, Gilbert’s wardrobe is filled with satin and brocaded knee-length coats, frocks and vests, in crimson, deep blues and black -- (he wears olives and earthy browns, too, for his casual days). He also likes to throw a golden sash around his waist, and have it hang casually off of his right hip.
Disliking anything that clings underneath his heavy coats, Gilbert’s drawstring breeches and white undershirts are light and airy, making them easy to maneuver, run, strip off and recline in. His fingers can usually be seen adorned with gold rings, while his neck is bedecked in thin gold chains, an antiqued Iron Cross pinned to his lapel. A leather belt also rests snugly on his hips, and holds his coin purse, holster, knife and pistol.
Gilbert also tends to have an affinity for large hats with ostrich plumes, wide brims and gold trim, and he collects them excessively. He’s also amassed quite a large collection of old war medals -- some of them having been pulled off of the bodies of his enemies -- and are pinned, proudly, to his outfits. It’s these extra bits of flair and physical evidence that help to remind him that he’s in charge.
Crew member of: The Imperial Eagle
Status: Captain
Pet: Gilbird
Crest:
Personality:
It can be said, with much accuracy, that Gilbert is a strange and rather complex man.
His general attitude is haughty and often disrespectful towards those he doesn’t know, as he believes (wholeheartedly) that he is above others and should be treated accordingly. He dislikes being excluded from activities, being un or misinformed, and not being taken seriously causes him to become rather depressed. He also has a volatile temper, that erupts after he’s either had too much to drink, or he’s been pushed over an emotional edge.
Beneath Gilbert’s rough exterior, however, is someone who truly just wants to be understood. He devotes a surprising amount of time into his relationships, and being social comes almost second nature to him. He enjoys laughing, joking around, and stating his opinion on anything and everything -- whether you wanted it or not -- as he doesn’t bother to hold back his thoughts or feelings, unless they touch him on a very personal level, or make him appear weak.
Despite his constant barking about wanting to be left alone, Gilbert dislikes being by himself and will do just about anything to avoid it. This, and losing his brother, are his biggest fears in life, and from time to time he suffers from sudden attacks of paranoia, (a phenomenon he tries to keep secret from everyone, including Ludwig). Because of this, Gilbert tries to stick as close as he can to his brother, these days, convincing himself that it’s for Ludwig’s own good, and not for his own. He also can’t sleep in complete darkness, and keeps a candle lit in the corner of his room, for when he wakes up in the middle of the night.
Due to his need for closeness and constant affirmation, Gilbert enjoys having his brother around, and often asks for his advice and opinions, before forming his own or making heavy decisions. Whether he actually takes Ludwig’s words to heart, one can never be too sure, but the fact that he asks is proof enough of his adoration for his younger sibling, and if one were to ask him, Gilbert would confirm that he considers Ludwig his closest friend, despite their past problems.
On the lighter side of life, Gilbert adores pulling pranks, teasing and making others uncomfortable -- especially with Ludwig. If he can get a rise out of you, he won’t hold back, and insults only make him laugh. Drinking beer and challenging others to contests is a favorite pastime of his, as well as gambling and playing games, particularly with cards. Listening to music on the radio, smoking tobacco and playing the flute are all ways he likes to wind-down, and he loves tinkering on old pianos, despite not knowing how to play.
While Gilbert tends to have a casual outlook towards most things, he can become extremely serious when it comes to his brother and the overall condition of his ship and crew. His strengths include sweet-talking, swift decision making, heartfelt enthusiasm and jumping into situations, headfirst. That being said, his strengths can also become his greatest weaknesses, and they have from time-to-time, gotten him into serious trouble.
Other weaknesses generally include spending money like a drunken sailor, being a drunken sailor, anything German-made and getting bored easily.
History:
Gilbert doesn’t remember much of his life before he came to live with his and Ludwig’s caretaker. “Old Fritz” -- the name their guardian had requested that the two siblings call him -- is, as far as Gilbert is concerned, his father through-and-through. While most children dream and wonder what their parents were like, Gilbert merely fills in his own blanks, and just assumes his parents were German, Aryan, and awesome.
As a child, growing up in war-torn and newly reconstructed Berlin, Gilbert often found himself to be his younger brother’s closest playmate and friend. Rather than detest it, the older of the two took his brotherly mission to heart, and took care of Ludwig in all the ways he saw fit. Reading to, wrestling with, chasing off bullies and indulging in Ludwig’s desire to play cops and robbers became usual pastimes of Gilbert’s, and wherever he went, Ludwig typically followed.
Their favorite game, “Deutsch-Offizier und Gypsy König” found Gilbert playing the underhanded and devilishly clever king of the Gypsies, while Ludwig chose to play the uptight and law-abiding cop. Each sibling played their roll exceptionally. Ludwig’s officer was not only convincing, but fearsome, and Gilbert’s king was dastardly, and at times, shocking. He was quick to make bold -- and often outlandish moves -- to make an escape, seize a handful of treasure, or betray a time-honored make-believe friend, and each time they played, Gilbert’s crimes became more and more extravagant and criminal.
As teenagers, a strong, moral rift began growing between them, inevitably forcing the two to drift apart. Ludwig devoted his time entirely to schooling and an upstanding career, while Gilbert set his sights on obtaining quick fortunes, scandalous love affairs, and swindling those who were fool enough to trust him. As close as they once had been, the two siblings soon found themselves disagreeing on small things, bickering here and there, before erupting into full-blown arguments, eventually causing their small issues to become large problems. It was during this time of heated quarrels and frustrated tension that their caretaker, Old Fritz, passed away.
Unable to cope with the sudden loss of his adopted father, and the painful disagreements he had had with his younger brother, Gilbert detached himself from his longtime home in Berlin, and set off across Europe.
Days became weeks, and weeks became months, as he traveled across the Netherlands, into Belgium, and finally dropping down into France, its capital calling out to him, subconsciously. Despite never having left Berlin before, Gilbert felt strangely comfortable in Paris, and he found himself walking in all directions, purposefully trying to get himself lost, only to know exactly where he was going. He also found himself able to pick up on the language quickly, and adaptable to life in the large, renovated city.
But soon, the nightmares began. Paris burned, and a man -- whom Gilbert recognized instinctually as a blonde -- that represented all the splendor of France, was dead. Night after night, he woke to find himself in a cold-sweat, his hands around his throat, and a feeling of déjà vu paralyzing him.
Deciding to get out of Paris, almost as quickly as he had come into it, Gilbert moved around, jumping from Cannes to Barcelona, before being locked up in Lisbon, on trumped-up charges of disorderly conduct and aggravated assault. It was here that Gilbert learned about the Legendary Treasure, and the highly coveted and sought after map pieces. Deciding that his next big fortune was to be found through piracy, Gilbert executed an escape -- not unlike the kind he made when playing as a child -- and started making his way back to Germany.
It was during this time, in a seedy little bar, in an ill-reputable area, that Gilbert became the captain of his ship, The Imperial Eagle. The game was Four Kings, and the opponent (a swarthy man with a low alcohol tolerance) was drunk. Gilbert dealt the cards. In a stunning round, only four rounds long, the albino took the gold, the jewelry, and the ship, leaving the captain stranded, without his crew or a penny to his name.
Deciding he would need a reliable first mate, and someone who could help keep his crew -- and himself -- inline, Gilbert made the trip back to Berlin, his ideal person prepping to become an officer of the law …
Convincing Ludwig would be out of the question, and the two hadn’t seen or spoken to each other in so long that Gilbert felt he’d be refused, outright. Scheming, the Gypsy könig making his infamous return, he set out to make sure that Ludwig wouldn’t be able to reject his offer, by forever tarnishing his brother’s impeccable record and promising future.
Without Ludwig’s knowledge of the scandal that had just ruined him, Gilbert appeared, unannounced, and proposed a truce between them. Stating that “brothers are brothers, no matter the past” he revealed his peace offering: two steins filled to the brim with their favorite, frothy beer. Clinking their glasses and toasting to Ludwig’s “new career”, Gilbert watched with narrowed eyes, as Ludwig finished his beer in several quick gulps.
The sedatives he had slipped into his brother’s drink had worked faster than expected, and as Gilbert dragged, rolled, and lifted his brother’s large body down the street and toward the docks, he could only laugh at the shocked expressions of passersby. The start to his grand and rather dubious adventure had begun, and he was certain -- despite all the trouble he had caused and gotten himself into -- that it would prove to be the best thing he had ever done …
Allegiance: Sky Pirate
How They Died:
“On your feet, Proozen. We’ve arrived. ”
Prussia squinted as the cover over his eyes was lifted, and a harsh hand grabbed his arm, forcing him out of the truck he had been shoved into, days prior. The air was cool and damp, but unlike the air back in Moscow, it didn’t stick to his skin like a frozen stamp. The American escort released his bound arms, allowing Prussia to stretch out his stiff shoulders for the first time in days -- his neck popping in several places, as he bent his neck.
He was glad to be away from Russia; away from the cold weather and the harsh, bitter personalities of the Soviet guards he had been under for weeks. As he started glancing around, however, Prussia’s heart plummeted. He could feel that he was back on his own soil, and he saw that he was standing where he had stood many times before, but now … it was barely recognizable.
Königsberg castle, home to former kings and foreign delegates, magnificent halls and grand war rooms, had been reduced to almost nothing. “We started ripping this piece of shit down, as soon as we broke through your stubborn German ranks,” the American escort snickered, while picking at his teeth. “Not that there was much to take apart, anyway.” Lifting his head, Prussia looked up at the former King’s Tower, as he was pulled briskly past it. The black roof had caved in on itself, allowing the weather, war, and time to quickly eat away at the grandeur of its size. White window panes had been shattered all along the castle’s exterior, and even now, American soldiers threw stones at them, roaring loudly whenever they managed to bring a whole panel down.
Passing through the old iron gate, Prussia could see that the courtyard had fared little better. Carriage filled memories played out before him, layering over the dirt and rubble, as he glanced around. The large Pegasus statues that had once guarded the gates were now gone. Their fierce equine bodies lay dismantled; their wings and spirits, broken. Pieces of the white stone walls lay crumbled and scattered throughout the yard -- while a makeshift hanging beam and bucket sat quietly in the middle.
There were several American generals talking amongst themselves, their heads lowered with hushed voices, as Prussia was shepherded across the grounds, towards the center. His ruby eyes narrowed as he was forced to a halt, and a thick rope was placed around his neck. There, between a group of several privates and officers, was America, himself.
He was a bit skinnier than in the photos Prussia had seen of him -- his faced had thinned considerably -- but the rectangle glasses and blonde cowlick at the front of his hairline was unmistakable. He looked on silently, his blue eyes distant and unwavering, much like Germany’s had been when Prussia had seen his brother last.
It was then that a small man, with thin, graying hair, stepped to the forefront and cleared his throat. “Preußen,” his voice was low and graveled, taking Prussia by surprise. “You’ve been brought here today on charges against the Allied Nations and all the innocent peoples whom you have helped to oppress and destroy. The most severe of which shall be read to you now, and will be judged upon, immediately.” He turned to his colleagues, wiping his brow with a handkerchief, before muttering, “Prepare yourselves, friends.”
“First, aiding and assisting projects of mass genocide, knowingly and willingly. Second, refusing to abdicate, support or release the countries of France, Poland, Belgium, Czechoslovakia, Luxembourg --” Prussia closed his eyes. The world he knew disappeared around him, as he took himself back, and far away. Back to the banks on the Rhine, through the forests of Masuria, and over the Silesian mountains. He could smell the salt emanating from the German coast-line, and feel the cold damp of the Brandenburg Marsh. Nothing … could touch him here. “The military cooperation between yourself, Germany, and the annexed Austria --” The man paused, and glanced over his paper. “Herr Preußen … are you listening to me?”
“What are you stopping for?” Prussia asked, his silver brows raising, but not his eyes. “You were just getting to the good part.”
“E-excuse me?”
“I’m not sorry for supporting Germany.” He stated, his ruby gaze lifting. “I would do it all again, if he asked me to.” At this, several murmurs broke out, before a disappointed hush fell over the courtyard.
The small man quickly rolled up his parchment, before crossing his hands across his lap, and giving Prussia a cold, hard stare. “Then you regret nothing? None of your actions?”
“Nein, I do regret … /not/ winning.” Prussia replied, his eyes sliding over to glance at America.
“Then I believe -- and I think I can speak for everyone here -- that our decision is made, Herr Preußen. Due to your lack of remorse, and your steadfast -- albeit foolish -- defense for a Germanic regime, our only action can be that of your immediate disposal. If you would, please, stand on the bucket.” He gestured toward the pail on the ground, before the escort who had lead Prussia in, grabbed his shoulders and practically lifted him up on it. “If there’s anything you like to say, Herr Preußen, do so now.”
Prussia glanced around at his audience, the muscles tightening in his face, before he leaned forward and spat at their feet -- his message made clear.
“May your death be swift and painless, as we show you the mercy that you could not show /your/ enemies. Auf wiedersehen.” With that, the man nodded his head, signaling for the escort to give the bucket under Prussia’s feet a swift kick.
Taking a last breath, Prussia inhaled deeply through his nose, the smell of birch and pine filling his lungs, as the rope tightened around his neck, and he felt his body fall out from under him.
