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The legend of the Dead Baron


Butzzell
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S!

 

A quick explanation of Hett's personal symbol.

 

Regarding the Dead Baron

 

I think I remember reading about that. ( Copied from Wikipedia)

 

Legend of the 'Dead Baron'

 

Rolff Hett was the youngest child of Freiherr Joseph Emst Hett von Saxe-Coburg, second cousin to the Duke. As a frail child Rolf was picked on by his two older sisters, Juni and Gertrude. It was expected that he would be unfit to follow his father and ancestors in military service to the Duchy. His heart was strong as was his will. He was determined to follow the family tradition and prove himself. With a word or two from his father, he was accepted into Königlich Bayerisches Schwere-Reiter-Regiment „Prinz Karl von Bayern“ Nr. 1 ,as Leutnant. Away from the influence of his over protective mother, Rolf's physical strength grew in response to the hard work in a cavalry unit. His keen intellect and self determination was appreciated. He rose to Oberleutnant in less than 5 years.

 

He was excited when the war started. Now he could prove himself worthy of his fathers trust. While there were some early skirmishes, his regiment soon found they had little to do. Word came down that many of the officers would be transferred to logistics duties. Rolf felt this would be an embarrassment. He quickly placed a transfer request and was accepted into the Die Fliegertruppen des deutschen Kaiserreiches. At least here he could fight.

 

At first there was some difficulty in flight training as he outranked his instructors. He quickly put them at ease. He earned his pilots badge and was posted to the western front.

 

This is where it happened, on a sunny day with a wind from the west. Rolff had just sat down to a lunch of bergkäse ("mountain cheese") some dark rye bread, and pickles. There was that familiar sound from his cavalry days. Artillery shells!! He almost choked on the cheese as he dove next to the wall of the canteen. With the windows blown out, clouds of smoke poured into the building only it wasn't smoke. GAS!. It was too late for a mask. Still choking on the cheese, he succumbed to the gas and died.

 

 

The next day troops came through to remove the bodies. A piece of the wall had landed on Rolff and his body was not found till very late. At first , no one wanted to touch him. The gas had done something strange to him. The flesh from his head and hands was eaten away. Just eyes in lidless sockets remained. Finally the troops got up the courage to move his body. A scream rang out when a soldier grabbed the body's leg. The eyes, the eyes moved and looked at the soldier. The troops all ran screaming at seeing such a horror.

Slowly Rolff was able to move and stand. His hands were mere bones. He did not understand. As his gaze passed a shell hole, the reflection in the water caught his attention. It was a skeleton looking creature. It was him! The shock of it all soon turned to cold reality. He grabbed a pistol and shot himself. Death was the only answer for such a monstrosity.

 

Something was not right with the pistol. It went off yet he was still alive. Again the loud report of the pistol and still, he was alive. What kind of nightmare was this? Who was he? What was he?

 

There was one plane not damaged in yesterdays attack. Now alone, he found fuel and oil for it. He loaded the magazine for the machine gun. He did not feel tired. He did not feel cold. He felt only anger and the desire for revenge upon those that had done this to him.

 

Flying alone at great altitude, he did not feel the cold. He felt hot, hot for revenge. Seeing four enemy observation machines below him, he dove upon them with all the hatred and loathing that a life ruined can muster. He put bullets into the engine of the first plane and it caught fire as he pulled up. He laughed at seeing the two men in it plummet to a fiery death. Turning back on the second enemy he hoped to do the same. By now the enemy planes were doing their best to shoot at him. Rolff paid no attention to the enemy fire. This time he killed the pilot. The plane spun out of control with the hapless observer trapped in the falling machine. Diving at the third plane he felt good. Good at seeing his enemy receive their due, good at seeing these people punished for what they had done to him.

 

He may not be able to die but his machine is another story. Diving on his third enemy his engine failed. The machine stalled and went into a spin. Rolff finally gained control of the plane but to late. The plane crumpled and splintered as it crashed. All Rolff felt was frustration at not having killed more of his hated enemies.

 

Eventually a special unit was formed to take advantage of his abilities. Rolf took to wearing a long leather coat, boots and gloves to hide his appearance. With his cap and scarf, he looked almost human, except for those eyes in that bare skull. He had his aeroplanes painted red. Red, the colour of blood. Red, the colour of VENGANCE!

 

Some say it was the cheese that altered the gas. Others claim it was a mold on the bread. Either way, the Dead Baron wreaks his vengeance in the sky over Europe.

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