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The New Germanians

Kaiser Martens

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As Dierik Martens stepped out of office and then onto Ostrobothnia, he could already see part of Germania's future - as the country had taken to calling itself, rejecting the simple denominator of "Germany" which seemed so common yet so outdated already.

It was a warm day regardless of how nordic Korsholm seemed to be, and it felt strange, really strange for a Martens to set foot upon a territory formerly a part of Finland without being attacked, but, in fact, welcomed. There was a silent crowd not far from the plane of his, some with Nordland Flags, some with Kalmarunion Flags, a small variety of other banners and then a majority with Germanic Union flags. While he had no power proper, still the people venerated him not only for his blood but also for what he had done for the Fatherland, the bismarckian-manneligian feats of his.

In spite of the ongoing golden age - or silver age? - of Germania and most Germanic Countries in spite of the fact that some were undergoing political turmoil, he knew better. He had been reading the charts and information of the union, and a side effect of the lack of wars and grotwh had been, for many years now, a demographic boom. It was estimated that within the next ten years, Germanic Union would have over three hundred million citizens - a figure too great to, as far as he could tell, live off of the fruits of the Fatherland alone. What would happen then? Would Hussing, Driesen and de Keizer be blamed for what is inevitable? Would the dike hold against the "New Germanians", asked himself de Keizer? It had to. And what of the language policy? Germanic Union seemed to be some sort of tower of babel, with all the confusion of Dialects, Languages, and more...

Martens boards a small armored vehicle - which looked to be rather meant for war instead of civilian use regardless of the fact that it was too a civilian model, and he begins on slow procession towards a secret formerly finnish-übersteinian facility, one so secret that not even Finland itself seemed to have truly understood. The large maximum security prison and military complex at Korsholm, the "cross island" as the name implied. There was somebody there, both forgotten and remembered, that they needed to see under the gray skies.

OOC: Anyone's allowed to chime in btw so long as they don't do something outright disruptive.

Edited by Kaiser Martens
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In the procession, almost right behind Dierik Martens, was a young Asian girl with a simple military uniform. Originally part of the Korean secret forces stationed in the Union, her public function is the military attaché of the Greater Korean Federation, and she had been specially invited for the occasion. Given the almost nonexistent relationship, the invitation seemed very strange, but there were enough hidden reasons for this.

The girl looked across the horizon with her rubious eyes at Korsholm. So much of the past was buried in that place, memories that served to continue the present. In this historical moment, the past, present, and future would all be connected, combined towards a new destiny.....

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And as the vehicle slowly drove on, Europe was not at peace. Dierik holds his PDA and removes his red sunglasses within the dim vehicle in order to be able to see without strain. France remained in pieces with ongoing conflict in the west. England had a Dead King...Finland seemed to be at odds with its national identity...ellections uncertain in Russia, while Sweden too seemed to undergo large changes. Iberia, when had it not? Continued to be shattered. He sighs, receiving news on what seems to be a civil war in a part of Dalmatia - a similar scenario to what was seen in Austria. Only Athens seemed to be doing reasonably well, yet at the same time a conflict with Austria threadened it. Stuck in the middle of Europe, the Bohemians seemed to want to expand, Livland seemed not to get along with its neighbors and of course, Torun was no more...

There were rumors. Rumors that the Torunians, now sent to Dalmatia, may have not really wanted to go. Rumors that the Dalmatians might treat them...no, it was best to avoid thinking about it. Wasn't it? Either way they had damned themselves...as a vestige of a once-belligerent Poland built from the tears of [i]Heimatvertriebene[/i]. Never again. Through these times of difficulty, Germanic Union had seemed to be impervious to whatever illnesses their neighbors seemed to have caught.

Not anymore. There were too many, simply too many mouths to feed - another reason why the Torunians had been rejected. He could see a small video in which Driesen chattered on about the resources formerly meant for war starting to be used to overhaul and expand the Education System, at the same time, a combination of genetic engineering and hydroponic farms would be used to combat the looming threat of famine. Already the economic effects of being forced to import a large amount of food from other countries seemed to be shaking the confidence and standards of living of the population. Martencism, after all, aimed to be completely independent. The announcement, as it was tradition, was made to portray everything as a continuous line towards neverending success and glory. Yet outside, one could see demonstrators by the Reichstag complaining about food-inflation and schools becoming crowded.

Future seemed to be again uncertain. The vehicle finally stops, and when he exits he can see a massive all-black complex with signs of structural abandonment. The image at that time of the day seemed to be completely monochromatic if it were not for the Red and Yellow of many of the flags behind, as some of the New Germanians moved along, and many had as well taken their children with to witness something historical while appealing to Martens, that he should fix the problems of Germania - as his family seemed to always do, in a manner that was almost mystical. When he walks, they follow him only up to where the half-defeated and rusted fence stands, as if there were an invisible wall preventing them from going on any further. He looks back at them, nods, and then when he steps within the perimeter of Korsholm's Fortress, he could have sworn that some of them had gasped. An older man in a wheelchair approaches him. In reality, he is only on his 40s, but by the scars of his face, his rugged clothing and his grim expression, he looks much, much older, as if he were one of the downtrodden in life. He stops next to Martens and speaks in Old High German,

"And so here we have the Latest Martens. It was a honor serving you all. You look very much like Them, you know that? Hm. It has been a long time..." He looks towards the fortress and continues, "You will know you have the right room as soon as you find it. 6D, was the place, I will never forget that..."

Martens nods. "Thank you. I will be quick." He takes a further step forwards, but is stopped by the same man, who calls out, "But what is your plan? What is your plan for all of this? My grandchildren, they..." Martens lifts a hand dismissively and cuts in: "That is for the Norns to decide, not I. We will find our Silver Path again." - He keeps walking, the building seeming to grow as he approaches, as if a large sleeping beast waking up to devour him. In the meantime, Hussing and de Keizer kept telling everyone that "Everything was going accordingly to plan" over someone's radio far behind among the crowd. They did not buy it. Maybe if Martens hadn't invested so much in education, they would have.

He looks up at the building, eyes narrowing. "So, here you are..."

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Martens closes a heavy door behind him. He had at last entered the complex, which, by now, is poorly lit as many of the lights have simply burnt out due to the state of disrepair. Too, a layer of dust seems to have accumulated in most areas, and his eyes could vaguely just distinguish a cockroach, formerly a master of this fortress, moving away from the human tower as if in disbelief. His steps, formerly silent, seem to be the only sound in the entire complex when he begins to move forth through endless hallways, perhaps interrupted by the distant sound of vermin or by the electric flickering of damaged lights or consoles. He moves on.

Deeper and deeper within the complex, it is easy to lose one's sense of orientation. He dares board some seemingly ancient-yet-sturdy elevators, time and time again, it seems uncanny. How many underground levels had Überstein built into this thing? The architecture of the place, intricate as only a paranoid leader could make it, is a show perhaps of his state of mind in his last days as a leader. Most hallways seemed to look the same, and there always seemed to be a new staircase that sent Martens deeper within Ostrobothnia. Some of the zones had begun to show leaks, some others smelled of...something rotten...

A statue of His could be seen at a lobby-like area, but at this point seemed to look more like a sick, rusted manniquin than an awe-inspiring icon of a leader. Were the Martens too eventually destined to such a thing? He moves past it, he always moves past it, when examining his map, being nearly certain that he is by then completely lost. After a long struggle, he reaches the right cell...

He plants a small plastic explosive onto the cell door and steps back, causing it afterwards to explode and clear the way. He has arrived at once, and when he steps in what he can see is both gruesome and awe-inspiring. The dim cell, dirty as is, has its walls and ceilings with an endless amount of runes carved into them. There is a small, red wooden altar upon which rests a chair of similar material, looking as if it might collapse under its own weight anytime, and there are also a few black candles forming a circle around...her. Her flesh had long rotted away, but the Skeleton remained there as did her Valkyrie Armor and Crown, as if not a second had been passed since it had all arrived. The air seemed heavy and sickening, in spite of this, he breathed in with relief.


Magnhild, the Empress of Nordland, had been found.

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Dierik moves slowly forwards, tentatively, gazing at where his Mother's eyes had been, speaking to her softly, "Mother...why did you have to go...but...at last, at least..." His fingers are almost grazing the Crown of Nordland, but then, it seems to slip away from his grasp when the whole Altar, with his Mother included, seemed to collapse down and into a void below. It did not break, but merely moved downwards "in one piece" as if descending in an uncontrolled elevator within a dark infinity. The Young Martens sees that, from this hole, a simple metal ladder extends below and into oblivion. What could this all be? A trap, he considered?

It did not matter. He moves down and begins to climb downwards with the ladder, step after step, seemingly going on forever. Minutes later, engulfed by nearly total darkness, he feels the sound of metal twisting and breaking - the ladder has broken off! He falls, with no ground in sight, screaming!

He regains consciousness. He is in a new cell, an over-illuminated one with very white tiles everywhere. The area almost seems sterile, as if he were in some sort of hospital rather than, in fact, a prison. He moves closer to the bars to try and shake them open, to no avail. After quickly looking around, he sighs and seems to give up, sitting down onto a plain, unsurprisingly white bed. What was the meaning of this all.

"Hello? Let me OUT! At once!"

Nothing. He thought he might have heard someone laughing faintly in a vaguely non-human manner, but was not sure if it were not simply his imagination instead. When he decides to lay down, he realizes that there is something within his pillow...he takes out a piece of paper and a small shard of metal. The paper reads in Nordlandic,

[i]"At the end of the Wagon is the Cup
And the Berchta of the new Nobleman
For the Lake leads to the Sun
With the Knowledge of the Giant
When the grave should be marked
Then is the path no longer Frozen
Too Unbinding the Horses
With the might of Aurochs and Fire
Strike Cradle and strike Grave"[/i]

What could it possibly mean however? He lays down, examining the silvery shard, and flinches slightly when realizing upon his own fingers how sharp it seemed to be. He lifts his head, eerily sure that someone had been watching from the other side, just around the wall by the bars, someone horrible. But it had been just, as he calls it, a peripheral vision glitch...

Minutes, perhaps hours, pass...he will read it many times...

Edited by Kaiser Martens
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Hours have passed, and Dierik has been working. Checking every tile on the room, floor and ceiling included, to try to find anything different. Later, a Guard in old Finnish gear moves past the cell, staring towards Martens for a moment and cursing in his language once. Only due to history lessons does he notice that in fact the gear is from the time in which Magnhild had been imprisoned. Had he gone back to the past? Could this cell be the grave? He reads the text again... "With the knowledge of the giant, when the grave should be marked...." And then, Aurochs and Fire were too mentioned. He thinks of runes, of course. Knowledge, Giant, Aurochs, Fire, they all corresponded to runes. And the very cell was the grave. He kneels down and starts to scratch the runes onto the floor tiles, where Magnhild had been, or would later be? He was not sure, but he felt the warm blood of his dripping from his fingers, the procedure forcing himself to receive cuts...the shard seemed impossibly sharp. As a result, the runes are bloodied, and when he finishes inscribing the last, Þ, they begin to glow. The floor then cracks, the crack extends towards the back of the cell and upwards, causing for the wall to crumble and reveal a path into the darkness. He puts his shard back into his pocket and heads into the exit, or perhaps, into the entrance.

He is able to eventually see a light, which comes to form a broken glass door. He considers opening it first, but instead kicks it down and walks through safely. It takes him a while to figure out, as he wanders around in the new-found fog, that he was perhaps in one of his own cities. Nowhere else would one be able to find Runic script unseconded by a second sign with Latin script variant. But there was something wrong with it, he could not help it but to notice each tree being, as opposed to a harmonious, perfect lifeform, a weird organic cluster resembling at times an uncontrollable cancer grown onto the tree itself, other times the tree seemed to be literally planted upside down, with leaves crushing or half-buried among branches into the ground, while the roots would be high above. Other times, roots, branches and malformed beams seemed to be unexplainably and disturbingly mixed. Nordland, a green land, seemed to have had one of its holy symbols corrupted to the point of generating repulsion. Some of these entities seemed to have blood dripping from them...

He walks on.

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[i]Across Germania...[/i]

More people attempted to recruit themselves into the Reichswehr and other Military Services. However, the maximum of Field Soldiers had been met, and there was very little room for further personel at the moment. Some others tried to look for other jobs in related areas, like the expanding police force, while a tougher group seemed to join along the vikings that had found new homes in distant continents and islands.

Yet that could not suffice. Not everyone could earn a living out of hacking someone to pieces with an axe or shooting a criminal in the face...hence why more criminals seemed to be requiring more lead as of lately. The judicial system had always been quite lenient in some cases and brutal in others. Some would be killed, the ones which were not, sent to work or essentially enslaved - yet there was only one prison in the entire country, for special cases. Penal Batallions could not be used, as the Reichswehr was still at its limit.

Germanic Union seemed to be a victim of its own success. An extremely strong economy combined with cultural changes and lack of war had created more Germanians that the land could currently handle. It was feared that people might start to emigrate to neighboring countries enmasse.

And just like the country, Dierik remained lost in the fog of a ghost town yet never giving up.

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Hours had passed, and Dierik now sat somewhere within the dilapidated city among monstruous trees. There was a large, bloodied spear at his side and he seemed to be drenched in blood. Everything seemed to be, such had been the effects of the earlier rain. He had found himself a guitar, and seemed to feel at peace in this twisted realm, striking some Germanian folk tunes, occationally perhaps a Russian one.

Not far from his position were some corpses, horribly disfigured corpses of chimeras with human parts, and several rather odd monsters that seemed to have had Crosses surgically attached to them, resembling a certain biblical figure. He played on, uncaring.


Months passed. Some riots had been seen across Germany, the Army had been mobilized to stop and then prevent further escalations. Whatever wasn't needed for these issues was instead mobilized to build brand-new cities, while ambitious plans to remodel and revamp the infrastructure of older ones would be launched.

Over at Iceland, a city called Thule would be constructed.
Over in Norway, Njordstad would be created.
In the far east, Rabenburg would arise close to the Russian border.

Three more cities were planned, one at Frisia, one at Germany proper and one at Osterbotten...they promised to help alleviate all problems, but did The Union really have enough time and resources to do it?

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"He just went right in. Never came back. Must have gotten in some trouble right in there. You would never know with them beams so old and them walls all broken. Maybe he shouldn't have. But he had to."

Said much later the veteran in the wheelchair, smoking a cigarette, a relatively unusual vice in Germania.

"'is mother's corpse is in there. The Magnhild, you know. He was going looking for her...he understood the dangers but..."

Then, a man in gray uniform nods and replies, "Thank you for your assistance. Germania is in your debt. Might you say..." He motions towards the wheelchair. "We might be able to do something about that. Why haven't you?"

The veteran shakes his head. "Do not want to. People have got to remember the reality of war...not conceal and forget it..."

Several hundred soldiers and specialists would then storm the Fortress at Korsholm, to try to find both Martens. Specialists were deployed with all kinds of technologies in order to aid the efforts, and the whole place was within hours registered. Yet not a clue remained. The place where Magnhild's cell should have been, did not seem to exist at all anymore. There was only concrete and metal...

Expecialists from the Seidhr Group are brought from Asgaard instead. Most of them being women or experienced scientists, they would, to the dismay of the soldiers, pull out sets of Runes and other unheard of esoteric artifacts in order to research. "We have orders from the Kaiser." - They say, in spite of Germanic Union having no such Emperor. Still, the until-then-colonel at charge listens...

Things were changing. From the first time since the Silver Revolution, in the south, at Memelland, a Church arose among controversy. The Marcionists had created it, and so a mixture of a Christian Cross with a Life Rune stood high above. Not for long, almost immediately it was burnt down by an angry mob...

The Marcionists would rebuild it on the very same spot.

Germanic Union was a pressure cooker at the moment, and the government worked overtime with all of its assets to stop the catastrophe. Even risking the use of a large amount of the war reserve funds, for the sake of the Land, and even for once starting to devote less of the budget to Research of all kind, prompting complaints everywhere in spite of being a logical and necessary step.

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