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I can see why you would think the Japanese are cats... maybe my description was just not good enough lol. They are supposed to be badgers. My reasoning for this is that Badgers are really vicious, especially when cornered. This would be my explanation for Japanese forces not surrendering ever. Plus, the female in the story... have you ever seen a female badger protecting her young? It is just plain brutal.GeneralHannibal said:
Thank you for the kind comments everyone, the remaining "Major" Nations should be coming either later today or tomorrow.
Wierd and yet compelling!
Australia ought to be A great White Shark.... hmmm.... Australia is submerged.... hmmmm.... maybe a great white shark with lungs.... yeah with lungs!!!!
Australia ought to be A great White Shark.... hmmm.... Australia is submerged.... hmmmm.... maybe a great white shark with lungs.... yeah with lungs!!!!
Early Afternoon; 1st January 1936; Italy:
Benito Mussolini strode towards the inner council chamber, trying to hum a tune, but failing miserably, his rigid nostrils and rigid jaw did not allow him to gain the frequency allowing him to hum. As Mussolini got closer to the chamber, his independent eye turrets started scanning each of the walls, delighting in the many paintings, works of art, that bestrode those walls. However, Mussolini had reached the doors and, focusing both eye turrets forward, he entered the room, expecting to find all his ministers sitting around as they normally were, he was being fashionably late again. It was then that Mussolini cursed his memory… it was better to get there early… at least then you could see where they were seated.
As it was, Mussolini’s eye turrets began scanning the room, looking for the slightest hint of movement that would give his ministers away, aware that they had probably blended into some natural looking colours, he began stomping around the room, throwing his arms around and gesticulating wildly. By chance, his hand caught on one of the furnishings and, when he tried to continue gesticulating, he was pulled off his feet, and Mussolini cursed himself for being so absent minded, he should have willed his hand to lessen it’s iron grip on whatever he touched. Mussolini got back to his feet and, all by accident, bumped into Alberto Pariani, the Army Chief of Staff and they went tumbling down into a heap.
When they had extricated themselves from each other, secreting fluids to help in this task, the rest of the inner council were sitting down at their desks, looking like, for all the world, that nothing had happened. Mussolini could hardly barrack them with any real cause, so he sat down at the head of the meeting and was just about to speak when the meals arrived. The Servants quickly placed the meals before the men in the room, and then quickly left, lest they overhear something that could complicate matters later on. Mussolini started talking about his plans for a Roman Empire but, every now and then, either Mussolini or his inner council would stop talking and flick their tongue out towards their meals, capturing what they could and then pulling their tongues back into their mouth.
Evening; 1st January 1936; China:
Colonel Yim Po-Lung looked through his field glasses at the Japanese forces patrolling the border with China, seeing their fur bedraggled, a consequence of the miserable weather that had been sweeping the region recently. Yim did not mind the weather that much, his tough, leathery skin kept the rain off him, he could hardly feel it running down his snout, never mind off his wings… wings that were unable to allow him to fly, but which still looked very impressive when he flexed them. Yim lowered the field glasses, his long talons clicking on the glass as he thought about what he would report.
He had not seen any additional Japanese forces in the area for a while, but he was still unsure about what motives the Japanese could have towards China. Yim snorted, a puff of smoke emerging from his nostrils as he did so, steaming up the field glassed, causing Yim to chuckle slightly, a deep throated chuckle that hinted as much more. Yim strode back to the command tend, his wings flapping slightly as he tensed and flexed them, before entering the tent and spying some food on the table. Yim picked it up and examined it with his high arched eyes, a leer of pleasure coming over his face, although the leer faded somewhat when he realised that the food was cold. Concentrating hard, knowing he effort would tax him greatly, Yim breathed out, a wisp of flame catching on his breath and breathing a mild flame over the food, enough to warm it up again, but not enough to cook it.
Yim sighed with pleasure and exhaustion, sinking down into the chair, his wings folding around the back, nibbling on his food, savouring the taste.
Late at Night; 1st January 1936; Canada:
Samuel Johnson looked out across the wilderness, a cigarette in one hand and a pint of beer in the other as he sat on the fence… in turn breathing in the fresh night air and, in others breathing in the carcinogenic fumes of his cigarette… life was good. He, of course, had to make sure not to let any ash fall on him, there was a chance, however small, that his fur could ignite… although it was normally too wet, even on cold dry nights like this, to ignite, but he was taking no chances. Taking a big pull on his beer, her turned to see one of his friends coming out to see him, his tail slapping against the ground as he moved, generating a little bit more forward momentum.
Samuel’s own tail was being used, at this moment, to keep his balance on the fence he was sitting on, much to precarious for most to sit on, with his wide flat tail, Samuel could lean forward and still have a perfect centre of balance. He saw that his friend was gesturing for him to come back inside so, with a gentle sigh an a slightly nattering of teeth against the wooden fence, Samuel did come back inside… and entered to a scene of organised chaos. It was perfectly clear to Samuel that some sectarian violence was about to break out, the French Canadians, still managing to look haughty despite the fur AND feathers covering their body, their long neck seemingly at odds with their flat tail… were obviously in for a beating.
Far from stopping this, Samuel was content to watch, a hacking laugh coming from his throat as the French Canadians tried to reconcile their French side, which was telling them to either run or bury their head in the floor, with their Canadian side, which was telling them to stand up and protect what is theirs. Of course, the Canadians had no problem deciding, and turned around and smashed the French Canadians in the face with their tail, knocking them flying, although bringing a grimace of pain to the face of the Canadian who attacked as such. Before the fighting could get too out of hand, a shotgun blast echoed from the doorway and the Mountie entered… stopping to gnaw at the door before he did so. Samuel sat down heavily, it had been a long night, and it was time to get home.
Other Stuff:
Okay, that is the major nations(ish) done and I will now be doing it in a date format… where I see an event happening on a date and then use my warped mind to think about how it would happen with the animals. Seeing as though I am using HSR… I know there will be a lot of them. If there is a major event… such as re-occupying the Rhineland, Munich, Barbarossa… that sort of thing, they I will go into slightly more detail and try to wring some humour out of the way I foresee them going.
For Example… Neville Chamberlain meeting Hitler… a Lion meeting a Weasel… should be interesting…
Benito Mussolini strode towards the inner council chamber, trying to hum a tune, but failing miserably, his rigid nostrils and rigid jaw did not allow him to gain the frequency allowing him to hum. As Mussolini got closer to the chamber, his independent eye turrets started scanning each of the walls, delighting in the many paintings, works of art, that bestrode those walls. However, Mussolini had reached the doors and, focusing both eye turrets forward, he entered the room, expecting to find all his ministers sitting around as they normally were, he was being fashionably late again. It was then that Mussolini cursed his memory… it was better to get there early… at least then you could see where they were seated.
As it was, Mussolini’s eye turrets began scanning the room, looking for the slightest hint of movement that would give his ministers away, aware that they had probably blended into some natural looking colours, he began stomping around the room, throwing his arms around and gesticulating wildly. By chance, his hand caught on one of the furnishings and, when he tried to continue gesticulating, he was pulled off his feet, and Mussolini cursed himself for being so absent minded, he should have willed his hand to lessen it’s iron grip on whatever he touched. Mussolini got back to his feet and, all by accident, bumped into Alberto Pariani, the Army Chief of Staff and they went tumbling down into a heap.
When they had extricated themselves from each other, secreting fluids to help in this task, the rest of the inner council were sitting down at their desks, looking like, for all the world, that nothing had happened. Mussolini could hardly barrack them with any real cause, so he sat down at the head of the meeting and was just about to speak when the meals arrived. The Servants quickly placed the meals before the men in the room, and then quickly left, lest they overhear something that could complicate matters later on. Mussolini started talking about his plans for a Roman Empire but, every now and then, either Mussolini or his inner council would stop talking and flick their tongue out towards their meals, capturing what they could and then pulling their tongues back into their mouth.
Evening; 1st January 1936; China:
Colonel Yim Po-Lung looked through his field glasses at the Japanese forces patrolling the border with China, seeing their fur bedraggled, a consequence of the miserable weather that had been sweeping the region recently. Yim did not mind the weather that much, his tough, leathery skin kept the rain off him, he could hardly feel it running down his snout, never mind off his wings… wings that were unable to allow him to fly, but which still looked very impressive when he flexed them. Yim lowered the field glasses, his long talons clicking on the glass as he thought about what he would report.
He had not seen any additional Japanese forces in the area for a while, but he was still unsure about what motives the Japanese could have towards China. Yim snorted, a puff of smoke emerging from his nostrils as he did so, steaming up the field glassed, causing Yim to chuckle slightly, a deep throated chuckle that hinted as much more. Yim strode back to the command tend, his wings flapping slightly as he tensed and flexed them, before entering the tent and spying some food on the table. Yim picked it up and examined it with his high arched eyes, a leer of pleasure coming over his face, although the leer faded somewhat when he realised that the food was cold. Concentrating hard, knowing he effort would tax him greatly, Yim breathed out, a wisp of flame catching on his breath and breathing a mild flame over the food, enough to warm it up again, but not enough to cook it.
Yim sighed with pleasure and exhaustion, sinking down into the chair, his wings folding around the back, nibbling on his food, savouring the taste.
Late at Night; 1st January 1936; Canada:
Samuel Johnson looked out across the wilderness, a cigarette in one hand and a pint of beer in the other as he sat on the fence… in turn breathing in the fresh night air and, in others breathing in the carcinogenic fumes of his cigarette… life was good. He, of course, had to make sure not to let any ash fall on him, there was a chance, however small, that his fur could ignite… although it was normally too wet, even on cold dry nights like this, to ignite, but he was taking no chances. Taking a big pull on his beer, her turned to see one of his friends coming out to see him, his tail slapping against the ground as he moved, generating a little bit more forward momentum.
Samuel’s own tail was being used, at this moment, to keep his balance on the fence he was sitting on, much to precarious for most to sit on, with his wide flat tail, Samuel could lean forward and still have a perfect centre of balance. He saw that his friend was gesturing for him to come back inside so, with a gentle sigh an a slightly nattering of teeth against the wooden fence, Samuel did come back inside… and entered to a scene of organised chaos. It was perfectly clear to Samuel that some sectarian violence was about to break out, the French Canadians, still managing to look haughty despite the fur AND feathers covering their body, their long neck seemingly at odds with their flat tail… were obviously in for a beating.
Far from stopping this, Samuel was content to watch, a hacking laugh coming from his throat as the French Canadians tried to reconcile their French side, which was telling them to either run or bury their head in the floor, with their Canadian side, which was telling them to stand up and protect what is theirs. Of course, the Canadians had no problem deciding, and turned around and smashed the French Canadians in the face with their tail, knocking them flying, although bringing a grimace of pain to the face of the Canadian who attacked as such. Before the fighting could get too out of hand, a shotgun blast echoed from the doorway and the Mountie entered… stopping to gnaw at the door before he did so. Samuel sat down heavily, it had been a long night, and it was time to get home.
Other Stuff:
Okay, that is the major nations(ish) done and I will now be doing it in a date format… where I see an event happening on a date and then use my warped mind to think about how it would happen with the animals. Seeing as though I am using HSR… I know there will be a lot of them. If there is a major event… such as re-occupying the Rhineland, Munich, Barbarossa… that sort of thing, they I will go into slightly more detail and try to wring some humour out of the way I foresee them going.
For Example… Neville Chamberlain meeting Hitler… a Lion meeting a Weasel… should be interesting…
Grothgar said:
Yep, Badgers are just smaller Wolverines. All this means it that their rage is more compressed....
1936 in a 2 Part Nutshell:
January 9th:
Germany’s “Mustela Lutreola” division, a crack division of weasels whose motto “watch your crotch” has been their watchword for the last few years, marches into the Rhineland to reclaim the Heavy Industry that lies there. Adolf Hitler, backed by his many ministers scratch their way around his mountain retreat when they hear news that Britain has only sent a strongly worded letter of protest… whereas France buried its head in the sand and did not comment on the matter, one way or the other.
As the Mustela Lutreola division of the German army marched into the Rhineland they were pelted by eggs by the grateful residents, who were glad to see Germany on the rise again. To the uninitiated, it may seem strange that the residents of the Rhineland threw eggs at the German troops, until you realise that weasels love the taste of raw eggs, and that most of the eggs were snatched out of the air before they could hit the ground. Sentiment in Britain and France is guarded, but most people see this as a legitimate move, considering the harshness of the Versailles Treaty.
January 29th:
“This is Edmund Snallersby, chief reporter of the BBC, reporting to you live from Berlin. The city today started to enter Olympic Fever, as Adolf Hitler broadcast that he had accepted the IOC’s offer to host the games. Speculation is ripe as to how the German athletes will do… will Hitler’s view of a Weasel Race hold any merit against the French Ostriches… who are looking to keep their unbeaten record in sprinting going, having stretched back 8 years now.”
“Other nations that are expected to do well… especially in events that favour them, are the United States, who are expected to excel in the High Jump, despite the controversial disqualification of the last US athlete to attempt a jump, for illegal use of wings. Japan is expected to do well in the Boxing, they refuse to stay down in a fight, although they will have to watch it… the spectators may love the sight of blood, but the judges will look dimly on such antics in this Olympics.”
“Of course, not forgetting the Regal British Team, whose record at middle distances is almost unbelievable… there are not many nations on the planet who can match a Lion’s stamina and ability to accelerate away on the last lap. As for Italy… well, like normal… it will be hard to notice them unless they feel like doing… but, given the fact that Chameleon’s are mostly climbers, they are not forecast to do well. Not forgetting the Australians… their claims to be the best boxers in the world, whilst under threat by Japan, is well founded, not many other nations can bound around the ring with such relentless energy, although maybe kickboxing would be an even better sport for them.”
“That is all from me… Edmund Snallersby, signing out.”
February 26th:
Reports from Japan today seem to indicate that a Right Wing Coup had been stopped in its tracks. Apparently the rebels, thinking that the majority of the army was on their side, made an attempt to take over the government. The Army, however, seeing advantage in turning the rebels in, fought back against them and the Coup was quickly crushed, leaving the Army with all the credit and a lot of leverage as the “Guardians of Japan.” Eyewitness’s report that rank after rank of Badgers were awaiting the rebels and, when the rebels started cheering, thinking the Military had done their work for them, the army opened fire of them, killing most of them instantly.
June 13th:
Italy’s adventure in Ethiopia has come to a victorious end this afternoon… the Ethiopian army, mostly armed with spears and bow and arrows, as well as being a primate, and thus more affected by the temperatures than the cold-blooded Italians, was comprehensively defeated on all fronts and General Ciano marched triumphantly into the Capital. Ethiopian Armed forces also had the trouble of not really being able to locate the Italian forces until they moved, their skin allowing them to blend into the terrain almost seamlessly, and the Ethiopians did not possess the right technical equipment to allow them to do so anyway.
Emperor Selassie, scratching his arm pits and picking fleas and nits out of his partners back, met General Ciano at the gates to the city to hand it over with no fighting needed, although he was jumping up and down with rage as he did this… at least, that is what General Ciano wrote in his memoirs after the event. Italian troops are now taking up positions around the country, blending in with the locals, making them uneasy as to whether an Italian soldier is in the room or not. Britain and France, seeing their interests in the region threatened, sent a letter of protest to the Italian Embassy… but the message was returned, the messenger unable to find anyone to give it to.
July 18th:
After electing a left leaning Government, to say the least, Republican Spain had to face the possibility of armed rebellion against its rule. Now, to understand why, you must understand that Spain is a country that holds two different kinds of animal… The Red Breasted Robin, whose people have held power for a long time now… and the Bull, whose relationship with their Robin colleagues had becoming drastically curt, apparently the sight of the Robins strutting around was enough to make the Bulls go ballistic. In what some commentators had been saying was going to happen for a long time, on July 18th the Bulls renamed their nation Nationalist Spain, “standing up for the little guy with horns” and declared war on Republican Spain.
The army was split, with some supporting Francisco Franco’s regime and others supporting their Government. Some powers in Europe wasted no time in declaring their interest in one party or the other, with Germany and Italy sending material and volunteers to Nationalist Spain and the Soviet Union sending supplies to Republican Spain. So, across many of the battle lines, Chameleons, Weasels and Bulls lined up against an alliance of Robins and Bears… creating some unintentionally funny pictures… although the first of what is now being called “terror raids” were launched by the Nationalists, who seemed determined to kill as many Robins as they could.
Britain and France, not really given to liking either Fascists of Communists, sat the conflict out, Britain stepping up her Naval Preparedness and sending a few divisions of infantry to Gibraltar and the French just shrugging shoulders, wobbling their necks and turning away from the entire business. Reports from the French/Spanish border, which have been dismissed as a hoax, say that, whenever an artillery shell was heard moving through the air, whole divisions of French troops buried their heads in the hard rocky ground.
Coming Soon… 1936 Part 2!
January 9th:
Germany’s “Mustela Lutreola” division, a crack division of weasels whose motto “watch your crotch” has been their watchword for the last few years, marches into the Rhineland to reclaim the Heavy Industry that lies there. Adolf Hitler, backed by his many ministers scratch their way around his mountain retreat when they hear news that Britain has only sent a strongly worded letter of protest… whereas France buried its head in the sand and did not comment on the matter, one way or the other.
As the Mustela Lutreola division of the German army marched into the Rhineland they were pelted by eggs by the grateful residents, who were glad to see Germany on the rise again. To the uninitiated, it may seem strange that the residents of the Rhineland threw eggs at the German troops, until you realise that weasels love the taste of raw eggs, and that most of the eggs were snatched out of the air before they could hit the ground. Sentiment in Britain and France is guarded, but most people see this as a legitimate move, considering the harshness of the Versailles Treaty.
January 29th:
“This is Edmund Snallersby, chief reporter of the BBC, reporting to you live from Berlin. The city today started to enter Olympic Fever, as Adolf Hitler broadcast that he had accepted the IOC’s offer to host the games. Speculation is ripe as to how the German athletes will do… will Hitler’s view of a Weasel Race hold any merit against the French Ostriches… who are looking to keep their unbeaten record in sprinting going, having stretched back 8 years now.”
“Other nations that are expected to do well… especially in events that favour them, are the United States, who are expected to excel in the High Jump, despite the controversial disqualification of the last US athlete to attempt a jump, for illegal use of wings. Japan is expected to do well in the Boxing, they refuse to stay down in a fight, although they will have to watch it… the spectators may love the sight of blood, but the judges will look dimly on such antics in this Olympics.”
“Of course, not forgetting the Regal British Team, whose record at middle distances is almost unbelievable… there are not many nations on the planet who can match a Lion’s stamina and ability to accelerate away on the last lap. As for Italy… well, like normal… it will be hard to notice them unless they feel like doing… but, given the fact that Chameleon’s are mostly climbers, they are not forecast to do well. Not forgetting the Australians… their claims to be the best boxers in the world, whilst under threat by Japan, is well founded, not many other nations can bound around the ring with such relentless energy, although maybe kickboxing would be an even better sport for them.”
“That is all from me… Edmund Snallersby, signing out.”
February 26th:
Reports from Japan today seem to indicate that a Right Wing Coup had been stopped in its tracks. Apparently the rebels, thinking that the majority of the army was on their side, made an attempt to take over the government. The Army, however, seeing advantage in turning the rebels in, fought back against them and the Coup was quickly crushed, leaving the Army with all the credit and a lot of leverage as the “Guardians of Japan.” Eyewitness’s report that rank after rank of Badgers were awaiting the rebels and, when the rebels started cheering, thinking the Military had done their work for them, the army opened fire of them, killing most of them instantly.
June 13th:
Italy’s adventure in Ethiopia has come to a victorious end this afternoon… the Ethiopian army, mostly armed with spears and bow and arrows, as well as being a primate, and thus more affected by the temperatures than the cold-blooded Italians, was comprehensively defeated on all fronts and General Ciano marched triumphantly into the Capital. Ethiopian Armed forces also had the trouble of not really being able to locate the Italian forces until they moved, their skin allowing them to blend into the terrain almost seamlessly, and the Ethiopians did not possess the right technical equipment to allow them to do so anyway.
Emperor Selassie, scratching his arm pits and picking fleas and nits out of his partners back, met General Ciano at the gates to the city to hand it over with no fighting needed, although he was jumping up and down with rage as he did this… at least, that is what General Ciano wrote in his memoirs after the event. Italian troops are now taking up positions around the country, blending in with the locals, making them uneasy as to whether an Italian soldier is in the room or not. Britain and France, seeing their interests in the region threatened, sent a letter of protest to the Italian Embassy… but the message was returned, the messenger unable to find anyone to give it to.
July 18th:
After electing a left leaning Government, to say the least, Republican Spain had to face the possibility of armed rebellion against its rule. Now, to understand why, you must understand that Spain is a country that holds two different kinds of animal… The Red Breasted Robin, whose people have held power for a long time now… and the Bull, whose relationship with their Robin colleagues had becoming drastically curt, apparently the sight of the Robins strutting around was enough to make the Bulls go ballistic. In what some commentators had been saying was going to happen for a long time, on July 18th the Bulls renamed their nation Nationalist Spain, “standing up for the little guy with horns” and declared war on Republican Spain.
The army was split, with some supporting Francisco Franco’s regime and others supporting their Government. Some powers in Europe wasted no time in declaring their interest in one party or the other, with Germany and Italy sending material and volunteers to Nationalist Spain and the Soviet Union sending supplies to Republican Spain. So, across many of the battle lines, Chameleons, Weasels and Bulls lined up against an alliance of Robins and Bears… creating some unintentionally funny pictures… although the first of what is now being called “terror raids” were launched by the Nationalists, who seemed determined to kill as many Robins as they could.
Britain and France, not really given to liking either Fascists of Communists, sat the conflict out, Britain stepping up her Naval Preparedness and sending a few divisions of infantry to Gibraltar and the French just shrugging shoulders, wobbling their necks and turning away from the entire business. Reports from the French/Spanish border, which have been dismissed as a hoax, say that, whenever an artillery shell was heard moving through the air, whole divisions of French troops buried their heads in the hard rocky ground.
Coming Soon… 1936 Part 2!
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IIRC the french were actually pretty consistently the more beliigerent of the two parties. France actually drew up some plans for invading the Rhineland but they didn't want to do anything without british support.