Roderich Edelstein, Neu Austria

While not exactly emaciated, Roderich’s build is thin and his face isn’t as full as it used to be. His short dark brown hair is nearly always unruly, and one strand in particular always sticks out. Gone are his glasses, since he never needed them anyway, but his eyes are still sharp as ever, a dark indigo that looks violet in the correct lighting. He stands at 5’10”, and can be a formidable-looking character when he needs to, but he can also easily slip under the radar.


He is never without his burgundy double-breasted trench coat made of a fabricated material that is sturdy, lightweight, and most importantly, radiation-proof. Underneath he wears a worn collared shirt and baggy military breeches. His boots come to just below the knee and are leather-soled, and he nearly always wears a pair of black leather gloves. He carries a satchel slung across his chest that holds his supplies. The only weapon he uses at the moment is an old hunting rifle.

War brings about a seldom-seen side of Roderich. The aristocrat becomes no more, and in his stead is a man who will steadfastly stand by his cause, no matter the cost. He nearly always thinks his actions through beforehand, only succumbing to his instincts in the heat of combat when to hesitate is to fail. The Third World War took its toll on him as much as any other; he seems more subdued now, partly from physical weakness and partly from the horrors he has witnessed humanity commit. Nevertheless, he isn’t one to go back on his word or take advantage of others for personal gain, no matter how great the temptation is.

Practicality has always been a major trait of his and is prominent now more than ever. If there was an idealistic side of him before the war, it’s gone now. As he sees it, there’s no use in pretending things are better than they are, but that doesn’t mean he always sees the glass half-empty. Yes, he hopes for a time that the nations will be restored, and will have certainly learned from their mistakes, but his primary focus right now is on the survival of his people; he reasons that if he made it this far, other nations have too, and they’re bound to run into one another some time, so looking for them isn’t high on his list of priorities. He can be a bit of an introvert at times, but in this age, keeping to oneself is sometimes wiser.

The one indulgence he allows himself is music. His beloved instruments are gone, but the melodies and harmonies in his head aren’t. One of his greatest fears is that he will forget the songs he knew and played before the war, the classics by Beethoven, Mozart, Haydn, and Chopin. When he is alone, he plays the fingerings on an imaginary piano and longs for the day when he can feel the ivory and ebony keys under his hands again.

What once was thought of as stinginess is now resourcefulness. Roderich is excellent at creative solutions and never wastes anything that could possibly be of value. He is usually a good judge of character and isn’t easily fooled. Though perhaps a bit warped, his morals are still strong and he has a nearly concrete sense of fairness and will never look the other way when justice needs to be doled out.

Old habits die hard. Usually without meaning to, Roderich will think of himself as superior, and this can easily lead to others getting annoyed with him. He is quick to assume a position of authority without weighing the potential hardships. Prone to being cynical, he will inadvertently complain about things, particularly food.

Physical-wise, he was never the strongest nor the fastest, and the same is true now. He tires easily and avoids running as much as he can, preferring to stand his ground and confront the danger than retreat.


In the beginning, he tried to keep lying to himself. Two world wars he had endured and lost, and yet he was still here; this one wouldn’t be different. Yes, it would be hard to rebuild both physically and economically, but Roderich was sure would make it through somehow.

Needless to say, he had grossly underestimated everything: the suffering of his people, and the toll it took on him; the ferocity that the nations showed in exterminating each other, and how he was swept up into its current; and finally the contingency plan his government had to resort to, when he could go on no longer. The stubborn Germanic blood he carried had kept him fighting until couldn’t stand, and even then he adamantly refused to lock himself away in a vault and ignore what the world had become. It wasn’t until he passed out from fatigue that his head of state dragged Roderich’s body into the shelter and locked it, securing the future of Austria whether the nation himself wanted it or not.

A few days later he awoke to find himself trapped underground but still alive. He was used to watching the sun climb its way to the top of the mountains in the morning and the stars winking from a million miles away in the ebony skies. Now they were replaced with LED lights. Pitiful.

In an effort to keep his culture alive, he taught his people the old folk songs he still recalled from times long past. With no orchestra on hand anymore, he grew to appreciate the simple beauty of a choir.

When they finally deemed it safe to venture out of the shelter, the first thing that hit Roderich like a brick wall wasn’t the lack of color, nor was it the mutated beasts that made up the animal population; it was the absolute silence. Not a bird sang, not a tree rustled in the wind – there were no such things anymore. It was almost like after the bombs had dropped and irrevocably altered the earth forever, they had taken sound with them. It was horrifying.

In time, he learned that there were indeed sounds that populated the desolate landscape: the guttural, fear-instilling growl of a mutated animal before it attacked, the whistling of the wind through the craggy mountains. It was better than nothing, he thought, but he yearned for the way the land sounded before it was destroyed by men. The trickle of a stream and the crackling of the fallen leaves underfoot in autumn haunted him, and they gave him the will to keep going on. One day, he vowed, he would help restore the earth to its former glory.

He has perfect pitch and could never refuse a cup of coffee. While he’s a decent shot with a gun, he is even better with a sword and is on the lookout for one.

Perched on a rocky outcropping, Roderich looked at the unforgiving landscape spread out below. At first he thought he recognized what used to be a border he shared with Switzerland, but it was almost impossible to tell if it truly was. The bombs dropped in the mountains had disfigured the countryside as badly as they twisted the limbs of those born with radiation poisoning.

Besides, he thought grimly, borders don’t matter anymore. The lines they had created had been erased, with no signs of being drawn again soon. He supposed that it should feel freeing, being without restrictions on the land, but he felt a little bit lost now. Chaos was always the last thing he wanted as a nation, with anarchy being a worst-case scenario. Now it was simply reality.

“Mr. Edelstein, sir!” Jolted out of his musings, Roderich turned around to see Franz trying to scramble up the side of the mountain. The man always had good intentions at heart, but he wasn’t the brightest.

“Here,” Roderich said, holding out his hand. Franz gripped it almost painfully, and Roderich managed to haul him up the last few feet onto the ledge. He let the man catch his breath before asking, “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing’s wrong,” Franz replied. “It’s just that there’s a woman down there, and she wants to talk to you.”

He knew it was crazy to even hope that this woman was her. Still, Roderich wasted no time climbing down from the ledge, leaving Franz stranded. Oh well, he’ll get down somehow, he reasoned. After all, it was easier coming down than it was to climb up.

He made his way through the permanent camp in which his people lived. Every face was familiar to him, so he had no trouble spotting the new arrival. Of course it wasn’t Elizabeta, but he felt a stab of disappointment anyway. The woman before him was shorter, and her hair was a darker brown, cut short. She didn’t seem fazed despite being surrounded by strangers.

“Roderich Edelstein, I presume?” she said in German, though it was tinged by an all-too-familiar accent.

“At your service,” he replied just as formally, and he had to fight to keep from smiling. It had been much too long since he had heard a Hungarian speak, especially in German.

She didn’t introduce herself, but went straight into her narrative. “I came from what used to be Hungary. When I was little, there was a woman who told me stories of the old times when I couldn’t get to sleep. She always talked about a man named Roderich. I know what you mean to her. On the day when I left her settlement, she told me that if I should ever find you, I should relay this message: Elizabeta hasn’t forgotten you.”

Roderich comprehended this in silence, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Elizabeta was still here, somewhere.

“Thank you,” he finally managed. “If you see her again, tell her that—“

“No,” she interrupted. “I’m not a messenger, just a nomad. Besides, I think that she would rather have you deliver your message personally.”

Roderich smiled sadly. Yes, that sounded exactly like Elizabeta, but he knew that if he ever saw her again, there wouldn’t be anything to say.

Seeing that she was finished, the woman turned and walked out of the Austrian camp without another word. Roderich stood there as the small crowd that had gathered to get a glimpse of this foreign stranger dispersed. He turned over her words in his head, not so much dwelling on the meaning as the way she enunciated his language, nearly the same way Elizabeta had during their marriage.

Already, he felt closer to her than he had in too many years.

----------------

-Tell me if I've done something wrong, or if I'm not making sense, since I have a bad habit of both.

-About that picture... I figured that it would be nearly impossible to find a picture of Roddy without his glasses, so I made one myself (bad move #1) in watercolor paint (bad move #2). I was so proud of the hair and I figured, "Hey, this is going to turn out GREAT!" (bad move #3) Then his eyes turned out to be blank and piercing at the same time, and half of his face is purplish, and I completely screwed up the mouth since I can't draw lips to save my life, let along paint them. Stupid story time over. (Also, I promise not to post my crappy artwork on this forum ever again. orz)

-If we ever get a Hungary RPer, and you are reading this, feel free to slap me for godmodding your character.

*pounces on* YAY AN AUSTRIA~ I love how you made him! 8D like really amazing! *cough* haha sorry, other than the italy bros hes my favorite... LOL

ACCEPTED!

Welcom to the wastes~