MachtpolitikBoard

Hello, everyone.

From Fire

The whiskey was nothing too fiery. It was from Renmark, the town they were in. The town had a 'major' t-junction that marked the town's effective middle. Located in the east of South Australia, it sat at the border of the riverlands and was home to wineries and distilleries for as far as the eye could see. In the inn, sat a thin man with semicircular spectacles. His coat had been thrown recklessly on the bed as he himself sat in his dark brown pants, harsh black shoes and leather suspenders. The window was behind him and through it the evening light barely shined, instead he looked at the bright fireplace. He held in one hand a letter and in the other he circled the top of a glass of whiskey that rested on the table by his couch. He read the letter with stringent interest, frowning as he neared the end.

... There is the anticipation that as October ends, Japan will heighten its aggressive posturing following July's bridge incident (See Appendix B(1a) for ACTU letter), consequentially it is expected that war may break out in full by year's end...

The man reached the end of the letter; ...hence, it is the determination of this office that an East Asian War is likely. Signed, R. H. H.

He scrunched the letter up and threw it into the fireplace watching it burn. His other hand gripped the whiskey and he gulped it in one. It was old, that's all he knew, what else mattered? He stood, picking up the bottle from which the dark liquid had emerged and pouring himself a more than healthy serving and approaching the window behind him. He looked out at the main street of the dilapidated town. The Depression had devastated horticulture, who buys wine when they can't buy bread? Who buys whiskey when they can't buy apples? Instead the farmers had reluctantly relegated acres of horticulture into fruits, hoping to pick up a profit. Those that succeeded were still around, those that didn't went under. The man sipped his whiskey more conservatively this time, out on the street there was only his car. That told him more than enough information about how poor the public had become, two floors down was what should have been a busy restaurant. Instead he could hear a town singer quietly play at his vocal chords and not another soul, what should be a bustling townly Friday evening was a quiet torrid affair.

He looked at the whiskey, swishing it around, then in one fell swoop gulping and swallowing the rest of his glass. He looked at what remained of the bottle, barely another glass. He put the cork back on, acutely aware that another glass would have him more tired the next morning than he needed to be. From outside the window he could see the open grass from which he'd deliver his address the next morning. The stage was set, the podium set, the flags and chairs would be set out at about sunrise. He picked up his jacket, effortlessly slinging his arms into it and shortly thereafter leaving his room. Down two flights of stairs for if his wife knew he took the elevator she'd nag about his heart, and soon enough he entered the empty bar. The singer was drinking water before his next song and the man took a seat at the bar.

"You look familiar," the barman said bluntly.

The man smiled, extending a hand, "John Curtin, pleased to meet you."
The barman beamed, "Mr Curtin! Prime- Prime Minister!"

Curtin gestured to the empty room behind him, "slow night?"

"Been like this a while," the barman said, somberly. He extracted a glass and a bottle of whiskey pouring a glass for Curtin, "it's on the house."
Curtin took the glass, placing a one pound note on the table, "keep the change."

The barman was about to protest when the singer began to sing a new tune... I came from the dreamtime. From the dusty redsoil plains. I am the ancient heart, the keeper of the flame... Curtin turned to listen to the melody. He saw what seemed like a brief flicker out the corner of his eye, then a scream and then the doors burst apart and Curtin felt his body pushed from his stool onto the floor as fire engulfed the building. He heard a shout, a yell, what sounded like gunshots but he couldn't raise his head, and the black took his vision - there came the darkness.

Tag List
The fascist british empire
The nation of france
Cascadiuh
Thrihanti
Shogunate of new japan
Itaaly
America the ambitious
Braziliv
The chinese national government

I am going to have to depart this region, due to the fact I am going to focus on getting employment. It will let some one more active and competent to claim as Hungary.

OOC: Hello.

Swiss cheese confederation wrote:

OOC: Hello.

Welcome!

Cyrusa wrote:

Welcome!

OOC: Does this region have anything to mark out of character posts? It doesn't seem that it does but I'm just making sure.

Cyrusa wrote:

Not as far as I am aware, most RP posts are so detailed they're obviously spotted.

That's correct. That said, there hasn't been a ton of RP recently cuz school is a thing.

Turns out I don't start my job until Monday.

nuke time

I created a faction called "Faction Macro"

pls join

Swiss cheese confederation wrote:

The Founder has ceased.

Just like the activity in this region.