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 Posted: Wed Jun 16, 2010 4:06 pm
Everyone in the German army has heard of the Basterds.
An elite squad of eight Jewish American soldiers (And Hugo Stiglitz) under the command of one Lieutenant Aldo Raine, a fierce commander with an Apache background who hails from Tennessee is concerned with doing one thing (and one thing only)--Killing Nazis.
These rouge ruffians are the Rough Riders of their time. Dropping into German Occupied Europe and slaying mercilessly anyone in a German Uniform who has the misfortune of crossing their paths:
INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS
The Basterds are:Aldo RaineDonny "The Bear Jew" DonowitzHugo Stiglitz
Omar Ulmer
HirschbergSmithson Utivich (The Little Man)
Andy Kagan
Michael Zimmerman
Simon Sakowitz
Wilhelm Wicki
The Players are:
Arrieth
Naughtygrl144
[JOIN US]
The Date is:
January 4th, 1944
The Enemy is:
Anyone in the German Army.
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Posted: Thu Jun 17, 2010 1:28 pm
Donny "The Bear Jew" Donowitz and Omar Ulmer!
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Posted: Thu Jun 17, 2010 3:41 pm
"Listen here, Monsieur." The word 'monsieur' could have been mistaken for a completely different language than it originally hailed from, the way it was uttered, in a thick southern accent. Not that it mattered much, as it was being spoken to a German and English speaking officer. "My men here are sick of your little game, and they ain't gonna stand for it much longer." The speaking man shifted his weight from his right to his left leg and and gripped the rifle in his right hand. "All you have to do now, is put down that there gun, and sit your Nazi a** there on the ground.
"You wanna live, Son?"
The nervous looking German soldier slowly lowered his gun, nodding and trembling slightly. He placed the gun on the ground. Before he could even give into the demands of the Tennessee native before him, he fell forward, shot dead.
"God dammit, Hirschberg!" The Lieutenant turned immediately on the usual suspect, the trigger happy Private First Class. However he was met immediately with a correction by another private.
"It was Stiglitz, sir."
"God dammit, Stiglitz." The man corrected himself, "Coulda at least waited 'til he pissed himself. Sure was shakin' like a cold Chihuahua.
Hugo Stiglitz forgot to apologize and shrugged, slinging his gun over his shoulder and stepping down the slope into the ditch where three of his comrades stood with scattered bodies around their feet. "Done for tonight? I could use a drink."
The sun was setting and the world around them grew darker.
"Son," The leader of the large group, Lieutenant Aldo Raine, "Ain't never a good time to not be killing Nazis." He walked over to face the man, putting both hands on his hips and tilting his head to the side, making a famous, slightly amused face of his,"But it is always a good time for some good liquor." He slapped the man on the arm and nodded, "Tonight we drink like the basterds we are."
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Posted: Thu Jun 17, 2010 6:43 pm
Hirschberg like a few of the other men, was busy cutting the scalps off of the remaining dead Nazi men. Cutting one clean he looked it over before tossing it at Hugo yelling "Think Fast."
Walking over to the two men, he smiled "I could go for some good liquor tonight."
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Posted: Thu Jun 17, 2010 8:42 pm
The Sergeant just looked at the Trigger Happy Private with an unamused stare. He wore that face a lot, and it probably scared a lot of people away. But if they weren't scared of his face, his name would surely run them off. He held his gun with two hands and walked along the ditch, waiting for the other men to finish gathering their scalps.
Finally, when he saw they were nearly done, he began climbing out of the ditch and waited there for the rest of the men to gather. As they were just outside of Paris, in Reims, Hugo was ready to simply find the nearest tavern and take a drink, but it was tough to find one that wasn't buzzing with Nazis. At least they all simply looked like citizens.
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Posted: Fri Jun 18, 2010 11:02 am
Hirschberg shrugged and began working on scalping more of the dead Nazi men. He knew he had gotten more then his one hundred scalps. But hell he couldn't just leave then laying on the ground, and with a full head of hair.
Done with the chore, he began climbing up the side of the trench to stand next to Hugo. "So any ideas where we can get some good liquor round here?" He called out to every one still down below. He then turned to his team mate. "You got a little," making a motion to his own face "blood."
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Posted: Fri Jun 18, 2010 4:37 pm
Hugo Stiglitz looked over at the man and simply stared. He made no reaction, blinked once or twice, then went back to looking in the ditch. After a few quiet, drawn out moments of awkward silence, Hugo spoke, "I'm not French."
Just then, Aldo climbed out of the ditch, sheathing his knife and walking up to the two, "Guess tonight is a night on the town, boys." He started off, "Let's find us somethin' sweet."
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Posted: Tue Jun 22, 2010 10:54 am
Hirschberg nodded "I say we find us some good liquor and ever better girls." Looking back at the dead Nazi men below he smiled. "Wouldn't it be great to be the ones to comfort their wives, it'd be like pissing on them even though they are dead." Hacking up some thing nasty in the back of his throat he held it in his mouth and called out "Ook ou bollow!" Then spit it out as fare as he could manage to send it.
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Posted: Wed Jun 23, 2010 11:10 am
"Good except for we're in France. You'd be ******** the wives of your own allies." He pulled out a cigarette and struck a match off of his gun to light it. He shook the match to extinguish the flame and tossed it on the ground, then finally exhaled releasing a good amount of smoke. He eventually continued his statement, "Besides, German women are only easy for Nazis. Try a French whore."
"Methinks Stiglitz may have a point." Aldo broke into the conversation, "And not only that but German women have this awful tendency to look like men- nothin' on your momma or anything, Sergeant, but I ain't seen the world, yet, and from my perspective, there's testosterone in the drinkin' water."
Hugo shrugged, "No offense taken, Lieutenant." He took another long drag on his ciagarette and ended the thought, "My mother was Polish."
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Posted: Fri Jun 25, 2010 4:18 pm
hirschberg laughed. "Ok well I think then, Lieutenant, that you should buy some french girls in the red light district." Suddenly he frowned "Wait, do they even have them round this place, or is that just them orientals?" Shrugging he sighed "I just want some lovin tonight!" He announced in a slightly over dramatic voice.
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Posted: Sat Jun 26, 2010 9:46 pm
"Finding a brothel here is easy," Hugo began, but it could never be good news when he continued, "But the best ones are reserved for German officers, and the German officers alone." He took another long drag on his cigarette and took it out of his mouth, "So either a small city, or you learn German to get your dicks sucked."
"Dammit, Sergeant." Aldo started, "We ain't dressin' like no Nazi to get syphilis from some French tart."
"Vichy's nearby," Hugo began again, "Everyone's a prostitute there."
"God dammit, Stiglitz, why didn't ya say so?" Aldo rolled his eyes, turning back around to face him, "On ta Vitchy."
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Posted: Mon Jun 28, 2010 6:01 am
Hirschberg smiled and threw his fist up into the air "On to Vitchy!" He said mocking what his leader had said. "Come on boys lets get the hell outta here!" He called down to the remaining men in the pit. "I wanna get me some french tang!"
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Posted: Mon Jul 05, 2010 3:34 pm
Hugo simply rolled his eyes, flicked his cigarette onto the ground and smashed it into the dirt with his boot, scoffing at the butchering of the French word. He wasn't French, but god help these men who were trying to pass as such.
He caught up with Wilhelm and, in German, struck up a quiet conversation, likely about French brothels. Everyone knew French brothels. And every European knew enough French to get to and through one.
Aldo ignored the two speaking German. They were both pretty impressive Nazi killers, as were the rest of the basterds. What did he care if they wanted to speak German, or French or even Jibberish, as long as they kept killing Nazis. And actually knew the way to Vichy. . .
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