[X] Plan Crossing the Rhine
In-quest, Napoleon has a lot of BS protections that make it near to impossible for him to fail at something. Because he's the main character or something like that.Uh, he did it in OTL. He did a runner when he raelized it'd gone to shit.
I'd rather we not feed the nationalism. There's still room in European politics for cosmopolitan transnationalism.I'm thinking splitting Germany into three. A Southern German Confederation, a Northern and Rhine based Protestant French Puppet and Prussia. They can all be part of a German League
Provided he keeps his bonuses, Egypt is perfectly doable for him in-game. As obnoxious as that would be.
Don't worry we'll just go through a Disney training montage, with a song and everything and they'll be as good as the old guard.Well it seems the infantry win out, so far. With an army full of milita, I'd want a leavening of high morale cavalry to cover our manoeuvres, but if we can raise the green troops into line infantry then they can form square. As long as the enemy don't have cannon to hand, to smash those squares then the day might still be ours. A victory based on casualties is a far more bloody thing. I hope that we can survive such sequential sanguinary success.
The only reason I'm writing this is because I'm laughing... a whole lot.I refuse to vote for any of these plans.
All the options are terrible and they'll just make the war worse.
A vote for one is just a vote for another and I will vote my conscience.
We need a new plan, a better plan, a progressive plan that makes everything better.
Where will Thérèse go?
Switzerland, of course.
What will the focus of training be on?
Body and Soul.
I present a new kind of plan, it's so good I can't even call it a plan.
[X] Scheme: Feel the Bern
-[X] Switzerland
-[X] Body and Soul
I am going to say this...Just Remember. You Did This.
For Need of an Option
In a candlelit tent, many odd things are possible. Small men may threaten big ones. Great crimes can be conspired in the open air. And even rarer still, someone may have an intelligent thought from time to time.
Right now was as odd as any other time, but sadly nothing intelligent had a thing to do with it.
When the General came to camp, you were almost happy to have some direction, now, you wish the old man fell off his horse and smudged these letters. These damned, foolish letters. In front of were two very bold plans, two very stupid plans, and this man has the audacity to present them to you, to ask your opinion no less.
Your opinion was to toss them in the fire and forget they were ever there, your opinion was to march on Paris and demand new letters, better letters, letters that fit the damn moment! For Christ sakes, if those fools in the capital wanted everyone dead they could have had the decency to be upfront about it.
But, for the sake of everything you hold dear, you don't give your opinion. You give some thoughts.
"General, we have two choices here: either be practical and fail by all the means one could expect." You say first, Jourdan can only nod to this. The Prussians were formidable in the worst of times, they will not be kind even on the defense. "Or, be insane and fail by all the means anyone can predict."
"Yes, I've come to the same conclusion. We need something different."
"Obviously, fate has conspired against us, what we need to do is-" You finish your sentence, but you don't think the General heard you over the door slam.
.
.
.
.
.
'Door slam We're in a tent?!'
Locking eyes with the General, he seemed to have the same thought. Mouths agape, you both turned toward the door that shouldn't have been there and in that moment, your eyes failed you. A flash, so white hot, so powerful, so virile, spirited, invigorating, and so many other things all at once BLINDED YOU.
How you felt all these things, you couldn't tell, but while you pondered the impossible, it seemed the world stood still. The air felt cold, wild even, and the grass under your feet did not spring back into place, but rather you felt something hard and flat. It was so loud, you could scarcely think.
Blinking like mad, you try to regain your sense of place.
You reach out to where the table was before and you cannot find it.
You feel for the edge of the tent, but instead you find a railing of some sort.
Somehow, you manage to get ahold of the General.
"WHERE ARE WE?!" You howl, jerking the old man's ear lower so he could hear you over the deafening howl.
"I DON'T KNOW!" he bellowed, "HOLD ONTO ME!"
You respond by digging your fingers into his lapel and muttering prayers.
This goes on for longer than you can ever know before it abruptly stops. You and the General both collapse to the floor, on what is undeniably some sort of hard wood.
And peering through tear filled eyes, you catch a glimpse of a figure standing some ways off.
Even halfblind, you drag yourself to your feet and draw your saber. "Who are You and where the -- bloody hell -- are we?!" You felt almost feral, pointing a blade at someone in a frenzy like this.
'Was I speaking in English?'
'YES'
'Who is that? Are you in my head?'
Making it even worse, you received no answer but the sound of cane pounding the floor some ways ahead of you. The vibrations rippled toward you, and almost instantaneously, the sword fell from your hands.
Then, the cane pounded again.
And almost on instinct you felt a compulsion, your arm was outstretched, hand outstretched. Almost like you were expecting a handshake.
Then, the figure began to walk. Each step felt like pride, and enthusiasm, like the promise of a choice, like..... 'FREEDOM?'
"You there! How are you my head?" You scream, terrified.
The figure keeps walking. Your hand is still outstretched. It won't go down, not yet.
When the figure is standing before you, your eyes still haven't recovered enough to make out much. But you can see shape, an outline of a man with his hand likewise outstretched.
And having seen that much, you were immediately ensnared in the most hearty, manly handshake you've ever had in your life. Your hand was like to fall off before the figure patted your back with the good nature of a drowsy bear.
With the air knocked out of you and your eyes finally seeing stars, you could almost be forgiven for not registering the wiry, high, and enthusiastic guffaw of a laugh ringing off your eardrums.
"Well isn't that Bully? I should hope my friends think of me sometime!" The figure said.
At the sound of those words, you couldn't help but smile exhaustedly. "....What?" you practically snort out, overtaken by foreign emotions.
Whatever this figure was, it had a way of forcing a friendly nature, that much was sure.
"Oh, you still can't see me clearly?"
Another cane pound.
Your vision was back.
That figure was no man.
"Dear God...." Falls from your lips.
That figure was none other than Theodore Roosevelt.
"IN THE FLESH!" The President of United States boomed, far too loud for the inside.
"I heard you wanted a third option and figured I'd stop by." He said, normally this time. "I've heard enough fimble famble in my time to know how that talk was going. This cat-head was going to pen you in to some nonsense you were going to go along with it."
"....You're not wrong, étranger."
"I swear, you put a stamp on any damned thing and they'll have you chomping off the horn. What you two need is some dash-fire, and I brought some matchsticks."
"I have no idea what you're saying." You mumble, sure that the war has finally driven you mad as your cavalrymen. "How I understand you at all is quite the mystery actually." you mutter, under your breath. The short man was rather intimidating somehow.
"Aw, that's nothing at all. A strong handshake can make anything happen." he said, as if that explained anything. "Now, what I said was 'you wanted something else on that table.' Another way to go. And you sure weren't gonna find it there so I brought you here."
"And where is .... here?" 'You sounded almost French again'
"Well of course you sound French, you're confused." Taking a moment to chuckle, he finished, "This here, this in the pie in the sky."
"This is a place where all impossible things come true. Welcome, Therese, we've been expecting you."
No one expects time traveling Teddy Roosevelt.
Not even Teddy... though then again, Death would be relived that he is out of his time for awhile...
Happy Election Day...Well, if you excuse me. I'm going to go chuckle myself into a coma, on this cursed day.
Which is why I unofficially consider November Third to be April First II (Read that like a Final Fantasy title) but instead of everyone cracking jokes on each other, we're all one joke, together.
Happy Election Day...
Teddy would be disappointed in all this madness.