/wfg/ Writefag General: Forest Birds edition

you're totally not upset right now

>you're totally not upset right now
not sure what prompted your non-sequitur, but indeed I am not, just unsure about what was trying to say.

Wave of Darkness
>side-step bear charge
>empty mag into its side
>.308 bounce off bone plates
>few went through, bear noticed
>fall back, fall back
>only an idiot takes a bear into CQC
>cue axe-guy's shriek from other fight
>reload, repeat
>2nd mag, no noticeable difference
>np still fast enough to kite the bear
>bear sees this, getting angrier
>did the bear get faster?
>3rd mag loaded
>looks like I'm an idiot
>dodge a swipe, move in close
>killing close
>step closer past 2nd swipe
>oh hey, horns
>forgot about that
>gored hard, knocked down
>bear goes in for a bite
>bear meet bayonet
>bayonet jammed into mouth
>with rifle attached
>3rd mag dump super effective
>nap time for the bear
>unstick bayonet from new demon throw rug
>2 mags left
>really need to carry more
>rifle fine
>reattach DMR parts
>head towards gothcat and hunter shrieking sounds

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helpful chart bump

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pic related

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Looking for a few recommendations
>autobiography of John Browning
>book of 1911 -> hi point development specifically

any books like exotic weapons systems or cool mods like that?

imagine getting mad at writing

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Wave of Darkness
>hunters fell back
>no sign of gothcat
>black blood scattered about
>levergun guy dead
>he doesn't need all that gear now
>it's salvaging not looting
>backtrack to bear corpse
>collect head, paws, and pelt
>takes a bit to get the pelt
>why does this bear smell delicious
>cut through corpse to reach heart
>real pain with only a bayonet
>not human, should be fine to eat...right?
>save it for later, need to kill that cat
>head back to hunter fight scene and tracks
>need to loot more corpses
>I mean salvage things
>looting =/= salvaging

>tracks leading back towards outpost
>fighting retreat to base, i'm guessing
>follow the tracks
>spare spear guy down
>salavge gear and kept following
>finally catch up to axe-guy and witch
>and gothcat
>backs to a rock
>witch holding back cat with a shield
>debating merits of patience
>remember I need survivors
>set up on spot and start shooting
>bad angle, hope the shield survives
>cat not as big as bear
>spend a mag picking at cat
>shadow spots absorb shots
>not completely covered, some hit
>gothcat dies one and a half mags later
>cautiously approach survivors
>witch reluctantly lowers shield
>getting angry glares from axe-guy
>axe-guy snaps "The cat was its pet or something!"
>"Monsters like that don't keep pets!" the witch snaps back
>drop bear paws and head
>look at axe-guy "INNOCENT."
>that dead cat smells like the bear
>start butchering it when witch approaches
>witch looks at me "What are you doing?"
>try not to growl "MINE. NOT YOUR KILL."
>"It's demon-tainted! You can't just-"
>interrupt her "MINE."
>wish I could talk better
>either way what I make out of throw rugs is not its business

What of you get mad at your own writing?

imagine

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go on. eat the clearly demon tainted bear and bobcat hearts.
What could possibly go wrong, right?

cont tl:dr for those catching up:

>Be space cruiser URBS Wildfire
>Be on a contract to patrol a minig station and a bunch of rocks.
>Boringshitbutpaysthebill.holo
>Notice something strange on the scan
>Some asshole has jumped into your sector a while ago and is clearly trespasing
>notonmywatch.jpeg
>Go full on battle stations and scramble the drones.
>Get fired at
>Defend against missile attack.
>Finally find that motherfucker.
>Exchange some rail and missile fire
>Get hit by particulary nasty bomb
>ow
>Damagecontrol.rep
>Retaliate by absolutely wrecking his shit with railguns and hacking torpedos
>Bitch is dead in the black.
>Contract and orders from HQ require you to find out what he wants.
>Fuck it. One way to find out
>Assemble the boarding party.

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>As of standard operating procedures, the sounding of general quarters, means that all marines are to clear their quarters and head to the armory, suit in, get their weapons and equipment and then head to designated posts, where they are to await further orders.
>Right now, over a dozen of men and woman, wearing airtight blacksuits and full combat webbing, were sitting in a locked room somewhere in the middle part of the ship, waiting for anything to happen.
>Hopefully it’ll be “stand down, all clear” order and not “standby to repel the boarders”.
>Some of them had their helmets on, but most took them off and tried to relax.
>In case of depressurization, they would be sucked out at supersonic speed.
>A semi-sphere of carbon alloy and reinforced plexiglass wouldn't help here.
>Some were listening to music, someone was trying to take a nap, somebody was just staring blankly at the wall.
>A few men were talking.
>Section Chief Stg. Bunny interrupted the chatter as he bursted through the door and gazed over the marines.
>-All right, get up ladies! We're Oscar Mike! Command just gave the word; We're going in!-
>Soldiers raised from their seats, grabbed their gear and assembled on the corridor outside. >They went through a corridor and climbed few ladders, where each step felt lighter than the previous.
>They made it to the center of the centrifuge, where they found themselves in 0-gravity and started moving towards the bow of the ship. >They no longer run, but rather pulled themselves using handrails and let inertia do the rest.
>They also met sergeant Mikhail Kirov and his section, the other half of third platoon.
>Then went straight to the launch bay, constantly hurried by sarge's Dave's voice.
>-Move it, ladies! Don't slack!-
>It was not far away, but still good several hundred meters.
>Finally, the platoon rallied with others in the launch bay no3.

>The hangar was thriving with life.
>The technicians were running amok, hurried by the constant shouts of their superiors, engines buzzed in the background and in the middle of that, 150 marines somehow had to navigate through and that chaos and reach their ships.
>After a while, entire party, of two companies made it across the hall.
>And there they were, their rides,
>Assault Transports CTSS-22 mod.4. "Crows", as they were nicknamed.
>Majestic beasts, with their nimble silhouettes and folded wings gave an impression of a genuine intelligent being.
>Their dark, wave absorbing paint, the shape of the nose and a pilot's cockpit window, which when viewed from a side, almost looked like an eye, only reinforced their similarity to the bird they took their name after.
>There were five of them, swarmed by yellow-suited technicians, looking after every detail.
>You could clearly see why these guys were called "bees".
>Meanwhile 1st company assembled, waiting for their turn to board the Crows.
>Using the opportunity, Company Coordinator George Jackson, scarred, old veteran and commander of the boarding party, climbed on some crates, managed to outshout the surrounding bustle and addressed his men:

>-Gentleman. As you all know by now, our ship is engaged in combat. The enemy remains unknown, although we suspect it to be Kongregate renegades. We're going in to find it out and lock them down.
>They opened fire first, so expect hot welcome. Go in fast, go in hard. Shoot first, ask questions later. Details will be send to you mid-flight. Get the job done and don’t get killed! Move out!-

>Without further ado, 1st company broke into platoons and boarded their transports.
>1st on the "Anger", 2nd on the "Fear" and 3rd platoon entered the "Sorrow"
>Soon, the door closed shut behind them and 30 men and woman took their places, waiting for launch.

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>Inside the cockpit of "Sorrow", a single pilot, John Sekunda, was just finishing pre-takeoff checklist, when the radio sounded off:
>-Blue Bird, this is Nest. Comms check. Over.-
>-Nest, this is Blue Bird. 5 by 5, loud and clear. Over.-
>-You're third in the queue. We're still awaiting confirmation from the command. Over.-
>-Copy that, Nest. What's the picture ahead, over?-
>-Enemy ship is immobilized. Portside and dorsal flak batteries are down. However ventral, bow and aft might be still operational, so don’t stray too far. We've plotted your course to keep you in the corridor, but expect the unexpected and be ready for hot approach. over.-
>-Stay in the pipe, got it. Any bandits I should worry about, over?-
>-Negative. No signal so far and we doubt they'll manage to scramble any interceptors. You should be clean as whistle. Bravados squadron is in the area, but just to be sure we got Alatfar squadron spaceborne as well, ready to cover your approach, if necessary. Over.-
>-Copy that. Systems check complete. All systems operational. We're good to go, over.-
>-Copy, standby for green light. Nest out.-
>John noticed the technicians outside had finished preparations, and proceeded to move the shuttles onto the take-off platform.
>When the crafts reached their positions, everyone cleared the area and the siren, accompanied by flashing red lights, sounded three times, warning anyone who might have still remained on the platform to clear away.
>The blast doors closed, separating the platform from the rest of the launch bay.
>Then, the air on the platform was sucked out and the armored hatch above them opened.
>The platform ascended and set in position for shuttles to start.
>Holding clasps unlocked and the shuttles were now sticking to the ship using only their own magnetic landing gear

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>Meanwhile, in the space-group control room, located in secured section of the ship, a bald man in grey uniform with black stripes on his shoulders, checked last details with the bridge.
>It was Chief Flight Officer Major Edan Wilson, the man responsible for every single spacecraft operating from the Wildfire.
>Having received final confirmation from the Captain, he turned to his lieutenant, Nicholas.
>-Is all set?-
>Lt. Hawke, responsible for shuttle management, checked the list again.
>All five Crows reported full readiness for deployment.
>Marines on board, shuttles checked, fueled and sealed, take-off platform in place.
>-Yes, sir. All elements ready. Awaiting your word, sir.-
>Edan took one more look at the monitor showing the launch platform with five Crows awaiting there, and said;
>-Send'em.-
>Hawke reached for microphone and announced;
>-All elements, this is Nest. The word is go, I say again, the word is go.-

>As the shuttle launched and begun its journey towards the enemy ship, 30 soldiers were sitting cramped inside the craft, Lt. Dimone ‘Specter’ Freehold, for this operation bearing callsign Blue 1-4, used this opportunity to briefed his platoon;

>-Ok, listen up. Details are up. The plan is as follows;
>We're going to make multi-point insertion, but in relative close proximity to each other, so watch your fire during the breach. I don't want any blue-on-blue. We don't know exactly who are we dealing with, but that's not our concern.
> Our objective is the cargo bay.
> We are to get there and search for any stolen Republic's property, resources or anything suspicious. Find it and note it. If it's something of ours, tag it with a beacon. We’ll come for it later. Report any and all findings to me.
> We'll be moving through damaged enemy ship, that means lots of vacuum and 0-G, so double and triple check your gear.
>Bunny, your section takes the point. Kirov. Your guys cover the back.
>Don’t stretch out and don’t cram up.
> That's it for now. Stay frosty, stay alive.-

>The soldiers nodded and checked their suits, especially vector propulsion systems, as well as mag-boots, gloves and anchor lines.
>Soon, intercom sounded off with Sekundas voice and announced;
>-Closing in on target. 30 seconds to touchdown.-
>Last checks.
>Someone finished a prayer, somebody else a joke.
>They were all nervous, but at the same time focused on the task at hand.
>The red light flashed overhead and the air was pumped out of the troops compartment.
>A dead silence engulfed them as they now found themselves in a vaccum.
>Before long, the shuttle sat down on the hull of hostile ship, with its landing gear holding them in place.

>Sekunda tapped something into a console, flipped a switch and said;
>-We're in position. Deploying sleeve.-
>A short cage-like tunnel expanded from the shuttle's tail, and stuck onto a hull of a ship.
>The boarding hatch opened, with Stg. Dave and breacher Rene Sanders being the only ones to exit.
>-Sanders, set the charge. Double time.-
>-Copy.-
>Rene pulled herself on the handles and jumped toward the ship.
>Her mag boots kicked in and held her in place as she reached for the device thrown to her from the dropship.
>Unlike normal, hydro-cutting breaching charges, bigger and heavier Endo-Exo->Thermic charge were carried in several pieces that require assembling before being used.
>Due to the fact that this was her first real action, she was assigned relatively safe task. >After all, she was just the one making the hole, while the others were to go through first, as was the job of most people from B element.
>Few moment later, the charge was set.
>She plugged the fuse and reported;
>-EnEx set.-
>Sergeants voice in her communicator responded;
>-Copy, now get back here.-
>Having set the charge, she jumped back to the shuttle.
>Bunny grabbed her mid flight and pulled her inside.
>They both entered the shuttle and locked the blast doors behind them.
>Everyone else were ready to storm the ship, as soon as the door open again.
>Dimone contacted commander Jackson.
>After receiving the word back, he switched back to his platoons channel.
>Because of the vacuum, radio head-sets were the only reliable form of communication, other than sign language.
>-All set. Get ready to breach.-
>Then he switched to individual channel of pvt. Sanders.
>-Get ready to detonate, in 3... 2... 1... Do it!-

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how a fuck do i get good at writing? it's literally my worst skill, i'm even better at public speaking than i am at writing.

>Sanders tapped a button on her wrist-pad.

>If anyone was there to see it, they would have witnessed a single blaze cutting a circular pattern in the ship's hull.
>Temperature of over 4000 degrees Celsius is hot enough to melt the plating, but still not enough to pierce through entire composite armor.

>If anyone was there to feel it, they would have felt a wave of heat, as endothermic charge activated, momentarily snap-freezing the plate to somewhere around 10°K.
>All that thermal energy was transferred out of the hull and radiated away, momentarily making the underside of the Crow boiling hot.

>If anyone was there to hear it, they would have been deafened as directional C-14 high explosives went off, easily cracking now fragile metal and breaching the hull.

>Finally, if anyone was there to smell it, they would have sensed the characteristic smell of spoiled eggs, made by the detonation of "pushing" charge, which launched the piece of armor into the ship, leaving behind a hole in the hull.

>The blast doors on the Crow opened and marines commenced the assault.

Just write.
Think of what you want to write about
Then, think of the format.
plan a story accordingly.
Start writing.
Ask yourself, if there are any flaws, weak points, assumptions known to you, but not obvious fo others?
Make a character sheet
Make a timeline of events and their consequences.
Keep writing
Ask yourself if some element is out of place or unnecessary (chekov gun rule)

As for writing itself; simplest way:
write
have somebody read it and come up with criticism.
DON'T FEEL BAD FOR CRITICISM, but use it to get rid of bad things and improve.
Make use of Synonyms dictionary.

Seriously: Just write.

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bump

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Wave of Darkness
>left axe-guy and witch to sulk
>still following them, just far away
>pair backtracking path they fled
>going back for the bodies I guess
>hope they arent looking for salvage
>new hog pack stalking them
>counting 7-8
>same odor as bear and cat
>unhealthy hue, bigger tusks, glowing eyes
>once is an accident, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action
>10 rounds left, need to resupply
>also can't risk leading rancor boar, or worse that witch, to hideout
>need to make due with what I got

>axe-guy finally notices
>watching him look around with nervous look
>witch focused on magic tracking
>rancor boar focused on them
>first shot ricocheted off a tusk
>hogs start moving, fast
>not fast enough to dodge follow-up
>witch finally noticed
>shield up in time for charge
>no time for distractions
>4th shot, hog #2 falls over
>7th shot, hog #3 stumbles and rolls
>last round, hog #4 hits a tree full speed
>last three hogs slam into shield
>too far away to help
>two hogs bounce, third penetrates
>rancor boar goes for the witch
>axe-guy tries to tackle, gets trampled
>witch braces spear and shouts something
>bright light flashes from spear, blinds me
>refocus optic, one hog down
>last two hogs flee

>mosey on over to pair
>witch is pulling at wounded axe-guy
>way it's crying, you could think it had feelings or something
>finally notices me and says "You have to help him."
"WILL HELP. FIRST, ANSWER."
>good time as any to ask
>"WHY HUNT ME."
>witch bites its lips "Something is calling forth darkness in this forest. We thought it was you."
>you eat a few hearts...bigots
>more importantly, there is an intruder
>that I didn't sense
>in MY forest
>got that need to feed
>but first "WILL TAKE YOU TO FOREST EDGE"

super exited to read more of these. I check every couple hours at work to see if you've wrote more. Morning is a treasure trove because I get to read what I've missed overnight.

excited even

>be me
>Tribune Laticlavius
>that's broad striped Tribune for you non-latinate barbaroi
>basically there are 6 tribunes
>5 are drawn from the upper middle class and are just glorified secretaries with no real power or responsibility
>but us broad striped bros are different
>from the Senatorial class
>being groomed for high command and eventual command of our own Legion
>sometimes have actual responsibilities like leading a flying column or vexillation on detached duty

>fresh off the cart from Rome
>am told to report directly to my new commanding officer, the Legate of the Legio II Augusta
>enter headquarters tent, directed to Legate's office
>walk in and do my best impression of a legionary salute
>"TRIBUNES LATICLAVIUS user reporting for duty legatus Vespassiana"
>legate looks up
>oh sweet vestal virgins she a qt-π
>mid length wavy blonde hair
>deep blue eyes
>kek someone has some Northern blood in them
>gold chased custom curiass
>hnnga I hope those tiddies are as firm and round as the cuirass implies
>she meets my gaze
>by Venus it's like staring into the waters of the Mare Nostrum on a summer day
>a mix of expressions runs across her face
>shock
>amusement
>barely contained laughter
>stoic composure reasserting itself
>"What in the Gods damned..."
>"what in Jupiter's name are you doing here boy"
>I flush with embarrassment and stutter out a reply as I hand her my written orders
>she reads my letter of introduction
>"you're joking"
>"YOU'RE my 2nd in command"
>oh yeah I should probably mention, I've spent most of my life reading philosophy and attending Greek plays at the Palace in Rome
>so I don't exactly have a "military look" about me
>smol_patrician_boy_aesthetic.fresco
>The legate shakes her head sadly
>"What is the Empire coming to"
>with visible annoyance, she confirms my orders as valid and has an orderly enter my name into the Legion records
>when that is finished she hands me a handwritten note with her official seal freshly pressed in wax
>"take this directly to the Primus Pilus (Chief Centurion), she will get you sorted from here"
>Yes ma'am, I say with a final salute
>huh, not how I expected my first day in the Legions to go
>fresco related

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Anyone interested in continuing?

>women
>roman
>position of any significance
pic related.

Historical accuray and memes aside, you did pinged my interest.
By all means, continue.

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I have been waiting for the latest update of that, actually.

Au greetings fellow discord tranny

Yeah I'm aware of the historical inaccuracies, but facts must give way for waifus

>the great thing about Roman Fortresses is that they're all constructed the same so finding the Primus Pilus isn't very hard
>spot the transverse Crest of a centurion's helmet
>jackpot
>Primus Pilus is observing a parade ground drill and occasionally whacking legionairies back into line with a wicked looking vine staff
>notices me approach and turns
>blonde hair cropped short
>why are there so many fucking blondes in the Rhine Legions
>oh right, the Rhine Legions, duh
>light grey eyes
>Centurion's harness
>hips
>oh fuck not another girl
>getting made fun of by one qt a day was already too much
>I walk up and swiftly hand her the Legate's note
>she reads it
>she looks at me
>she reads it again
>looks at me again
>I can tell she wants to say something, but the purple stripe on my tunic makes her check her tongue
>even in the army, mocking a member of the Patrician class as a low born professional was a career ender
>instead she just gives me the most loaded eyebrow raise I've ever seen
>The Centurion seems visibly annoyed as she says
>"alright I'm Primus Pilus Marcella and I've been given the...honor of giving you the rounds and getting you into Legion fighting material. Follow me. Now."
>questioning our destination seemed a poor idea
>I hurried after her and struggled to match her pace, despite being taller by a reasonable amount
>I was quickly led to the quartermaster and equipment was drawn for me from the stores
>being an officer I did not get the standard equipment
>instead of the Lorica Hamata (chainmail) or Segmentata, I was given the cuirass, crested Attic helmet, and greaves reserved for officers
>the tunic and cloak were also of higher quality than average
>finally I was given a wooden practice sword and wicker shield
>"hey what gives? Why don't I get a real sword?"

>Centurion looks like she desperately wants choke me, or at least scream for a while, but can't due to rank
>"you get a real sword when you know how to use it. Not before"
>we leave the quartermaster, my arms trembling as I carry the heavy weight of armor, equipment, clothes, and weapons
>led back to the officers barracks near the Praetorium
>open the door to my now room
>it's Spartan compared to my home back in Rome but it's still better than the 4 man dorms of the ordinary legionaries
>as I step inside, Marcella says tersely
>"report to headquarters tomorrow morning at dawn"
>the room is plunged into darkness as she forcefully shuts the door, save for the window letting in the dying sun's light
Will things look up from here? Or have I just started the descent?
>tapestry related

(OH SIDE NOTE): just to avoid any confusion, I have no affiliation with the artwork I'm posting nor the artist who created it. I just found the pictures on the interwebs and got inspired by the idea of Roman waifus. If you want to see more of the art, Google Centurii-chan and that should take you to the FB page. I'd link it but GookMoot thinks its spam

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By all means keep going.

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Ave

>I fall asleep almost instantly due to the long days journey
>when I awake, I put on my new uniform (not the armor, we're in a fortress on our side of the Rhine, no need) and report to headquarters
>immediately shown in to Vespassiana's office
>"I will not be approving your position in my Legion at the current time"
>I'm sorry come again
>"ma'am this is a Senatorial appointment. Refusal to obey constitutes tre-" I say indignantly before I'm cut off
>"oh don't get your perfumed silk undergarments in a twist. You'll assume your position in 3 months"
>ok so what happens between now and then?
>"until that happens you will be on administrative leave"
>"in the morning you will report to headquarters and assist me with administrative duties"
>"at mid-day, you will report to the Primus Pilus and she will personally bring you up to the physical standards of the Legion...or..at least something that almost resembles it"
>"due to the dignities that rank affords, you will be trained privately, away from the other recruits"
>"you can imagine how thrilled the Primus Pilus was about that, so expect a brisk workout"
>"another caveat of rank is that it would be inappropriate for her to spar with you during weapons training"
>wait wut why
>"because the Primus Pilus is a low born professional and you are of Senatorial rank. If she bruises your smol patrician boy body in a sparring match and you complain to Rome, it'll end her career"
>"so after she shows you the basics of swordsmanship and close combat, you will report to me for sparring"
Oh boy. Somehow I don't think this is gonna be as fun as the small tent in my tunic suggests

>"Now, I have some supply reports to file with the quester, that should keep you busy for the rest of the morning"
>I take a seat at a smaller desk neatly pushed into the corner and go to work
>I may be underwhelming in other areas, but my upbringing has given me a good grasp of the written word and arithmetic
>for the next several hours, we each work on our tasks silently as the sun slowly ascends to its zenith
>after finishing a report I would occasionally sneak glances at Vespassiana when I thought she wasn't looking
>even when just doing paperwork in a safe fortress, I could see the firm muscles on her arms moving with every stroke of the stylus
>Gods I can only imagine what her legs are like beneath those greaves
>I start day dreaming and only barely manage to avoid getting caught when she looks over my way
>through the rest of the reports I can't stop thinking about those legs

>when midday hits, I give Vespassiana my completed work and leave headquarters to find the Primus Pilus
>Marcella is waiting in front of the Praetorium and she does not look happy
>without even acknowledging me she turns and begins marching down the Via Principalis (main road) towards the gate
>once outside, she turns to me
>"let's go for a run"
>and like that she's off at the trot, and I'm struggling to catch up
>10 minutes pass and we've now left the fortress outskirts and small village clustered around it
>ok getting kinda winded here Primus Pilus
>10 more minutes pass
>alright Marcella plz lets have a short breather
>10 more minutes pass
>holy fuck my side has never hurt so much in my entire life
>steps turn into stumbles
>with a final Herculean effort I pour the last of my energy out
>I will not fail Rome!
>funny thing is, I don't even remember tripping
>1 second I'm jogging down the road, the next I'm sprawled across the stones
>Marcella turns around and stalks towards me not looking even slightly out of breath
>"TRIBUNE user GET OFF YOUR PERFUMED PRETTY ASS OR I WILL PUT MY FOOT SO FAR UP IT YOU'LL BE SPITTING HOBNAILS"
>she knows she can't do that because of my rank
>I know it too
>but damn am I still fucking terrified right now
>I drag myself to my to my feet and put one foot in front of the other
>I make it another quarter mile before I collapse again
>we go through this 2 more times before Marcella calls a rest
>I stagger off the road and collapse under a nearby tree

Wave of Darkness
>tense walk through forest
>first time in months (years?)
>need to keep better track of time
>down to using G3 as a spear
>and maybe chucking empty mags
>left pair near forest edge
>looked like outpost group, waiting
>head to fallback location
>some sort of bunker
>end up taking long way to cache
>can't risk hideout until trail fades
>however long that is
>reload, stash extra loot
>also need to rest
>bear fight left me hurt
>curling up on new throw rug
>short nap wouldn't hurt
>or a good long one

>dozed off when it approached
>same smell as the beasts, but undiluted
>stood outside of the bunker, started yelling, "Beast! I have come to parley."
>guy in a black dress, flanked by witches
>this is bad
>tainted crows watching from trees
>really bad
>too tired for this
>really glad I came here instead of hideout
>shadow-guy yelled again "I know you're there, show yourself!"
>call out from inside "WHAT?"
>shadow-guy seems suprised "Come out and face me!"
>"NO. WHAT YOU WANT?"
>too tired to play
>hear a gulp "We should not fight! You are a powerful creature if shadows. We can work together to-"
>stopped listening to recruitment pitch
>just finished repacked stuff
>aim at bored-looking witch on left
>friendly tap of 308 makes witch lose its mind
>aim already on other witch
>expected it duck, aimed low
>hit collar area
>tainted crows flying around shadow-guy
>bird shield, neat
>bolt out the back
>probably should've killed shadow-guy first
>hindsight

do their feet smell better than italian feet of today?

By all means, continue.
I want to know where is this going.

Attached: Staby time.jpg (175x325, 10K)

First Screencaps for Tribune user

Attached: ThiccStripedTribune1.png (1920x3200, 329K)

added pics

Attached: ThiccStripedTribune1.png (1920x3200, 1.47M)

interesting. didn't know the PNG format compressed large areas of the same color
both images have the same amount of pixels, but the second has more of them that aren't the same color. Neat.

'ere we go again>-Go! GO! Breach and clear! Move! MOVE! -
>Marines jumped through the hatch, using shuttle's sleeve to pull themselves and gain more speed as they spilled through into the ship, with guns pointing in all directions.
>-Front! Clear!-
>-Corridor! Bow! Clear!-
>-Crossing!-
>-Aft! Clear!-
>-Covering!-
>-Movement! Aft side!-
>-Watch it! Friendlies! Gold!-
>-Clear!-
>-All clear!-
>A vanguards landed on the wall, turned themselves around and leapt forward, still covering both sides of the corridor they landed in.
>Section leader and 2nd element followed closely behind and again, put their feet against the wall, and jumped, this time sideways, hugging the walls, getting out of enfilade position.
>After them, second team made their entry.
>Second section landed behind them and finally the command team deployed inside.
>Whole platoon made it inside in just few seconds.

>Everything happened in perfect silence. >Someone might even say that it was too quiet.
>Literally, because they were in the vacuum, and all one could hear was his own breath, heartbeat and gear rubbing against the suit.
>Metaphorically, because there was no resistance.
>No one to shoot at.
>No one to be shot by.

>Command team took positions, covering corridor to bow side, as well as locked door, just across their entry point.
>Forward section already moved further away and were securing nearest intersection, while 3rd section were busy sweeping the two nearby rooms.
>Gold platoon, who just so happened to breach into the same corridor, took positions on further down, towards the aft of the ship.
>Same thing happened in three other places, where rest of the boarding party entered the enemy ship.
>They met no resistance.

>Dimone made a sitrep:
>-Rainbow 1-5, this is Blue 1-4. Entry clear. Got visual on elements of Gold platoon. Awaiting map update. Over.-
>Coordinator Jackson answered;
>-Blue 1-4, this is Rainbow actual. Copy. All clear here as well. Green is deploying the EAR. Standby for map update.-
>Few moments of tense silence later, the communicator sounded off again.
>This time to everyone.
>-All units, EAR in position. Preparing to perform a scan. Everyone, stay clear of the walls. Pulse in 10 seconds.-
>They were all trained to act in complete blackout, with no intel on their surroundings or enemy presence, using nothing but mk.1 eyeball to assess the situation.
>But still, it was much easier to operate on board of hostile ship, when you know a layout of the rooms and corridors.
>Even easier, if you had someone watching over your back, constantly monitoring the enemy movements.
>-Ringing the bell in 5...-
>Developed from mining equipment used to find ore deposits, tactical infrasound acoustic probe, or Echolocation Acoustic Radar, commonly known as "the ear", was an interesting little device.
>It can detect and point the distance and direction to any vibrations on the surface it is deployed on.
>Depending on the material it is made of, the range can vary, but on metallic hulls of ships, it gives solid 300 meters of effective detection range.
>But that's not all. It can not only listen, but also map the surroundings using strong infrasound pulse, commonly referred to as "ringing the bell".
>Normally, the device would have to be remotely operated, because anyone caught by the pulse ended up with serious nausea, if not loss of consciousness.
>Luckily, vacuum, combined with lack of gravity, gave the boarding party a sneaky little way to avoid any consequences.
>Simply, let go of the walls and float in the vacuum, where no floor, wall or even air could transmit the wave.
>-4... 3... 2... 1... Pulse.-

>The platoon started making its way through the ship.
>2nd Section, led by stg.Bunny was taking the point, clearing the way and securing passage for the reminder of the group.
>Just after them, went the 1st section, the command team. 3rd Section, in nearly reversed order was covering the rear of the formation.
>At some point, they came across a sealed door.
>While they could just blast it with a charge or a DERP launcher, lieutenant Freehold insisted on keeping the door operational.
>With that in mind, Dave ordered technician to unlock them instead.
>Operative Victor Leblanc used to work on the freighters as a member of the security personnel.
>Although he served for over four years, somehow he never managed to get the promotion he deserved.
>It was around then when he decided to quit, and enlist in Republic's navy instead.
>He had no luck here however, so he eventually signed up with the contractors on Wildfire.
>Even though his previous job gave him some combat experience, it was his knowledge of security systems and protocols, that get him on board.
>However some say that it was to do with certain officer on the ship, who just so happened to be his cousin.
>Leblanc plugged into a control panel, powered it up and get to work.
>He had no trouble tricking the system, bypassing the lockdown and unlocking the door.
>The power was still down however, and his external power source, although capable of powering up a panel and making it operable, was not enough to power up whole heavy door.
>Luckily, it was not his task.
>His job here was done;
>-Door unlocked.-
>-Good.-
>Bunny switched channels again;
> -Sanders get the jack. Open these doors. Seb, Ian, cover the entry. Watch out for air blast.-
>-On it.-

>Section’s breacher stuck an elaborate bastard of piston and crowbar into the door and cleared away.
>The machine started to pry the door open.
>The second it started pushing, stream of air ripped through the slit.
>The bulkhead ahead of them was not big, but still had quite some air inside, which now was sucked into the vacuum.
>Fortunately, no one got hit by anything flying out.
>As soon as it blew over the door were opened fully and three marines entered the room, followed by another three. >After confirming it was clear, rest of the section followed.
>When everyone made it across, Bunny noticed an access panel on the wall and halted his men.
>The section they entered through was damaged and breached by the bombardment from Wildfire, but the rest of the ship still had air inside.
>Sooner or later, the platoon had to get out of vacuum and this bulkhead could be used as an airlock.
>-Rear guard, lock the door. Leblanc, get the air back in here.-
>-Will do.-
>Victor accessed a system, bypassed the outdated security measures and linked with life support system.
>After a while, when the door behind them were locked again, he managed get the air pumped back into the room. >Suddenly, the world wasn't mute anymore.
>The Forward section moved up, into another bulkhead, while the rest of the platoon repeated the maneuver and also get themselves into the pressurized part of the ship.
>Meanwhile Arial, one of the medics run quick analysis of the air;
>-Atmosphere readings ok, no toxic fumes. Oxygen level optimal. Seems breathable.-
Dimone nodded and responded;
>-Copy. Everyone, switch to open circulation.-
>Combat EVA suits were designed to last a long time in the vacuum and were equipped with large air supply as well as several CO2 filters. >However they were also designed to allow open circulation of the air.
>There was no need to use reserves when you can breathe freely.
>Dimone checked on his team and continued forward.
>-Allright, let's move.-

>-Corridor ahead. clear.-
>-Moving.-
>-Copy, got you covered.-
>Blue team proceeded with moving through the ship, covering each other's back, looking after every corner and moving forward in quick jumps from wall to wall.
>The checked every room they went by, but didn't wander too far off their trail.
>They weren't securing the area, nor taking the territory, but just making their way to target.
>Although they met no resistance so far, they were still moving cautiously, covering all angles, expecting to be ambushed any second.
>Lack of gravity worked in their favor. It gave them an opportunity to move through the entire corridor and gave them more options when it came to approaching corners.
>However, the rules were about to change.
>-All units, this is Rainbow. Just got word from the techies; Scans indicate that gravity spine is about to go back online. Everyone, brace for gravity return. Rainbow out.-
>Marines orientated themselves vertically and landed on ventral side wall which was about to become floor.
>Soon, the lights on the ceiling turned from dim red to white and a soft female voice sounded over the address system.
>-Attention. Gravity spine is restarting. Standby for return of gravity. -
>And then, everything fell down.
>The gravity spine jumped back online and generated stable 0.95 G, pulling everything toward the one side, the supposed "keel" of the ship.
>The sound of falling object echoed through entire vessel.
>Everyone gasped out, as they suddenly felt the weight of all the equipment they were carrying.
>But then, everything went silent, just like before.
>An automated public address message stated the obvious;
>-Gravity back online.-
>No more floating around, but at least the directions get clearer.
>Now they were back in stable world, with top, bottom, left and right.

thank frens

>implying her feet don't smell divine

>as I lay on my back panting, a skin filled with watered wine flies over and lands on my stomach, knocking the little wind I had managed to gather out of me again
>"don't gulp it all at once. You'll just throw it back up in 5 minutes"
>after what felt like only a few seconds but must have been close to 20 minutes, the Primus Pilus pulls me up
>I spend the next few hours doing, or at least trying to do some basic legionary exercises, while Marcella screams encouragement and insults in equal measure
>when I reach muscle failure in one area of my body, the routine is switched and a fresh muscle group is put to the test
>by the time we're ready for the return journey the sun is falling to the west
>the pace is slower, and I manage to stay on my feet for the most of it, but about 3/4 of the way my vision starts going blurry
>with a final step, I pass out
>I don't even feel the impact of the ground, or being lifted off of it several moments later
>I fade in and out of consciousness for the last stretch
>I am briefly stirred when I hear a door open next to me
>the next thing I feel is my body hitting the softness of a straw mattress
>I just briefly catch a glimpse of Marcella closing the door behind her as I black out again

Attached: tumblr_ovp69wYAdN1vsjsvlo1_400.jpg (400x561, 65K)

>we got back when the sun was still above the horizon and still several hours before sun down, but I slept through the entire night
>I awoke just before dawn feeling hungrier than a galley slave on a 3 month voyage
>as I got out of bed, nearly every muscle in my body ached and protested
>after a few minutes of stretching I was at least able to walk straight again
>after splashing some cold water on my face from the wash basin and throwing on a fresh tunic, I felt as ready as I ever would be
>stepping outside, my nose and stomach guided me to the mess hall
>Legion fare isn't fancy, but it is hardy and nutritious
>I ate a double portion with some watered wine to wash it down
>sated, I made my way to headquarters to report for the new day
>upon entering the Legate's office, Vespassiana raises an eyebrow sardonically
>"have a nice sleep" she says without humor
>"can't complain ma'am"
>she frowns
>"well I can. You missed our evening appointment"
>oh yeah
>um
>right
>"don't let it happen again"
>anyways..
>morning continues as normal with paperwork bullshit until mid day
>exit the Praetorium and meet up with Marcella
>she's holding a wicker shield and practice sword
>"get your weapons and meet me at the porta Principalis"
>huh I guess she isn't even going to mention what happened yesterday
>10 minutes later we're outside the castra and I'm awkwardly holding my practice sword and shield at my side
>she stands right behind me and moves my arms and legs into the proper stances
>erectus_magnus.bathhouse
>like holy shit I can feel her harness pressing up against my back she's so close
>I catch the faint scent of metal polish, iron, and...something heady I can't quite place
>and like that it's over as she steps back when I'm in the right stance
>I practice stabbing and hacking at the post for the next several hours
>my arms burn like they're on fire but at least I'm not exhausted like yesterday
>"remember a small bit of point is worth more than a whole lot of blade"

Attached: 41607828_2233131120302889_6090590554420403200_n.jpg (891x960, 109K)

>after a while of stabbing and bashing the post, Marcella picks up her own shield and sword
>"Alright Tribune, let's see what you've learned"
>"I want you to attack me and I will defend"
>"If you can get past my guard and land a hit, we're done for the day"
>Shit Primus Pilus that's all you had to say
>I rush forward, if I can overwhelm her early I might be able to put her off balance
>and...I'm on my ass
>this will not be over as quickly as I hoped
>I proceed to attack and get knocked on my ass repeatedly for the next several hours
>she's careful though not to actually hit me or attack due to our difference in rank
>not that I'd do anything if she did, but liability and such
>"keep your shield up" Marcella says as she thrusts my shield down and puts her wooden sword on my neck
>fucking trying this thing is heavy
>"stop crossing your feet" she says as she steps inside my guard and catches me off balance
>I start to tumble to the ground before the Centurion's hand shoots out and catches me
>breathing heavy, I pick up my sword and shield and prepare to attack again
>the primus pilus allows a small smile to tug at the corners of her mouth as I prepare to attack again
>"it's good to see you have spirit, if nothing else"
>just take the backhanded compliment user, it's the best you'll get right now, I tell myself
>as the sun slips down to the tree line, Marcella says we're done for the day and we part ways at the Praetorium
>hey at least I'm still on my feet this time

>Their footsteps echoed across the hollow corridors, as the team made it to the cargo bay's door.
>As the vanguards approached the door, radio sounded off again:
>-Blue 1, this is Rainbow. Be advised, you've got movement in the adjacent room. Several contacts. Coming towards you. Proceed with caution.-
>-Copy Rainbow. Blue out.-
>Dimone looked at the display showing the door through the camera mounted on Bunny’s rig.
>He decided to go in hot.
>Dave received the order and said to his team:
>-Stack up on the door. Johansen, get ‘the goose’. Shard the lock. Get ready people. Breach and clear.-
>Vanguards took positions on the two sides of the door followed by the team leader.
>Cannoneer Johansen took "a goose" off his back and assembled it in few quick moves.
>Two other members of B element grabbed the handles, ready to pull the door open.
>Further back, reminder of 2nd section was preparing to follow the forward elements inside.
>The goose, as it is was nicknamed by the marines, was modular, multi-coiled gauss cannon.
>Depending on the way it was assembled in the field, it could serve as either an anti-material rifle, a hi-powered machine gun, or as a shard gun, the mother of all shotguns.
>It was too heavy and cumbersome to effectively use as a regular gun, but very useful when deployed on fixed position.
>The shard gun variant, composed of six coils, automated feeding system with eight shot magazine, a spring stock and built in power cell, was lightest of all other configurations, but still kicked like a mule and was difficult to handle.
>However, when you need a pure stopping power to break through a lock, look no further.
>-Get ready.-
>Johansen aimed at the door control panel. >Vanguards of the first team aimed at the door, ready to go in, guns blazing.
>-Execute.-

aw, shit. I just realized I forgot to sign the last entries.

quality writing mates. Keep going.

bump

Attached: 1479937807284.jpg (643x906, 75K)

Wave of Darkness
>shadow-guy didn't follow
>couldn't or wouldn't?
>playtime officially over either way
>no one gets between me and a good nap
>left a trail that's easy to follow
>also left tainted crows fluttering about
>patiently wait till nightfall
>easy for me to avoid the crows at night
>sneak back into bunker
>shadow-stink all around
>gonna need a new fallback location
>current working plan: find shadow-man's base, establish new cache, start collecting info
>sneak out and follow shadow-man's trail
>took most of the night
>see more and more tainted creature about
>even some tree wtf
>long time since I got this angry
>trail leads to an odd section of woods
>no smells coming out of it
>pretty sure it's here
>make a mental note, begin backtracking
>need to establish new cache, unload inventory
>nearly noon when I finish
>hope I didn't lose too much time

>on the trail again
>making notes of tainted stuff as I go
>no small creatures corrupt foutside of crow
>size restrictions maybe?
>spot another hunter group
>about 8 hunters
>think I saw scout rando with em
>why are they setting up camp?
>oh right, almost sundown
>give em a wide berth
>took another hour to reach odd space
>carefully push through barrier
>ah, there it is
>sharp corruption smell
>probably too distracted with harrassing scouts and extorting ammo to stumble on this
>large red circle surrounded by tents
>four witches in the circle
>more witches meandering about
>large tent probably hiding more witches and shadow-guy
>stow rifle, draw bayonet

stabbing time.

>Develop sci-fi story idea
>Still fermenting it all about
>Protagonist belongs to an aquatic species of human
>Essentially electric catfish meets merman meets unholy abomination
>Ends up on a planet being swarmed by the high-tech equivalent of a gold rush
>Originally there for prime hunting, protag learns about a fallen probe that contains physical keys to some astounding macguffin fulla stuffin
>The planet was originally owned by an anarcho-capitalist market that turned an entire continent into a city before calamity struck
>The descendants are all bipedal herbivores thanks to incest and foreign bioweapons now long gone
>Protag decides to go looking for the probe

I'm trying to develop good ideas for potential PMCs and the like that are roaming the "eperopolis", along with specific challenges the protag has to overcome. He has no access to land-walking technology and the overall aesthetic is much like the webm I just posted, except with lots of posthumans and random battles over false leads.

Attached: Concrete Forest Rain.webm (854x480, 1.56M)

Don't want to rush it, but want to finish this. Would like to return to Territorial Dispute's tone

Wave of Darkness
>have to fight hunger
>feel like a starved fattie in a buffet
>originally planned to just scout around
>approaching hunter group changed that
>gonna lose face if I don't clear this up
>keep thinking of nam's warning
>maybe it won't be so bad if I don't eat?
>start with meandering witches
>need to even the odds before I make a racket
>claws over mouth, knife into kidneys, drag behind tent, finish it off
>inspect blade, rinse, repeat
>bayonet hasn't dulled after 3rd kill
>unearthly aura returned
>is it the witch's blood causing that? their deaths?
>too many question not enough time
>struggling against growing need to feed
>total of 8 witches so far
>down to four in the circle, whatever in the big tent
>took longer than intended
>witches in the circle rising
>spell finished? shift change?
>they notice strange quiet
>4v1, not good odds if I'm trying a stealth run
>witches split up to look
>have they never seen any horror movies?
>four more dead witches
>just the large tent left

>first thing's first: loot
>I mean salvage
>strip corpses, pile them in the ring for lulz
>rut through the tents
>odd pile of salvage, not as much as I thought
>didn't grab the books
>can't read what they write
>probably gonna regret that later
>tomorrow's problem for tomorrow's me

>unsling rifle, mount bayonet
>time for final boss fight
>peek into large tent
>hear a shout, blow back
>didn't sound like shadow-guy
>two witches step out, shields up
>more witches. great.
>charge the left one, G3 firing
>stupid shield
>bayonet breaks it, nice
>get in a good stab when witch #2 tries to zap me
>with lightning
>while my rifle is still in witch #1
>witch #1 manages a shriek as it cooks
>bolt locked me up, can't pull out
>hehe innuendo
>muscles unlock, turn attention to witch #2
>slice with rifle
>shield pops when bayonet touches
>go in for the kill

Wave of Darkness
>witch #2 dies of knife-in-the-guts-itis
>must be very contageous
>hope shadow-man don't catch it
>can't seem to find him anyway
>shadows start moving
>gathering in front big tent
>coalese into shadow-guy
>but bigger
>shadow-guy glares at me "You dare interrupt my great work?"
>glare back "YES."
>he starts laughing "You cannot stop me! This wave of darkness shall wash away all! First this forest, then the Salvager Guild's outpost, and then-"
>started shooting, aimed for the head
>too hungry to deal with monologuing
>shadow-guy roars "Your mortal weapons are no match for me!"
>bullets don't effect him? not good
>don't want to, but need to engage with bayonet
>pierced shields, maybe shadow-guy too?
>start quick jabs with rifle
>cracks in his hide, bayonet working
>shadow-guy keeps swinging
>keep dodging and stabbing
>luck runs out
>shadow-guy grabs rifle mid-stab
>keep my grip in it
>won't let go of my raifu
>pay for it when shadow-guy beats me against ground
>hunger pains give way to hurt pain
>haven't hurt this bad in a long time
>painful snap
>thrown into circle
>shadow-guy holding up raifu in triumph
>still got a hand on it
>that explains the pain
>at least I didn't let go
>shadow-guy grabs raifu in both hands
>no
>smiles at me
>he wouldn't
>raifu groans under stress
>nononononono
>shadow-guy laughs, drops bent raifu

>without shooting whats the point?
>hunger washes away the pain
>shadows gather to me
>missing hand reforms
>hunger makes me forget why I'm crying
>charge at shadow-man
>last coherent thought was an apology to my LARPing friends

Wave of Darkness
>standing in the middle of the circle when my mind clears
>my poor broken raifu in hand
>nothing left of shadow-guy above the waist
>same for the dead witches
>and the trophies in my bags
>sucks I'm still hungry

>a flash of light blinds me
>glimpse of something riding down the light
>rhodie looks sadly at me "You messed up bad, man."
>I look up at him in spite of the light, "He broke my rifle..."
>extra teeth gone? focus, think about it later
>rhodie shakes his head "Take it as punishment for trying to go it alone. You should have fought alongside the Hunters."
>"But they had a witch-"
>"Who was working with the Hunters." rhodie interrupts "Shouldn't have held that against her."
>"What happens now?" I ask
>"You'll need to get out of the sun, for one."
>rhodie vanished in a haze of pain
>it was sunrise, and I lost the right to walk in the light

>duck into large tent
>inspect injuries
>burns not bad, just itches bad now
>stuck here until sunset
>hunters also incoming
>poor, poor G3 bent bad
>reciever folded behind barrel
>forend cracked
>bcg probably bent as well
>don't have tools to fix this
>maybe the scouts?
>shadow-man said they were salvager's guild
>worth a try, nothing else to lose

Wave of Darkness (Final)
>roughly noon when I hear the hunters
>lots of murmuring, no yelling
>yet
>scout rando peeks into tent
>squeaks and ducks out when he sees me
>three hunter come in next
>recognize witch to the right
>front one stands tallest out of three
>most scars, too
>holding a sabre and a pistol
>glares at me, "Where is the Shadowmancer?"
>glare back, "DEAD. OATH KEPT."
>"Do you wage war against man?"
>"ONLY DEFEND. MY FOREST. NO KILLING, ONLY FUN."
>the lead hunter nods, "Then we have no quarrel. Will you help us hunt the remaining shadow beasts?"
>"FOR A PRICE."
"Are you some kind of mercenary?" the leader scowls, "We won't give you live sacrifices, and there is no gold to give."
>the hunter on the left started up too, "You should be paying us a king's ransom for killing off those shad-"
>all three go silent when I pull out my broken rifle
>I simply asked "CAN YOU FIX?"

>be me
>LARPing post-apocalypse
>chillin innawoods
>still wearing flecktarn
>just got my raifu back
>can't go out during the day, but making it work

any update on fletch? is he published yet?

bump

Attached: __nikka_edvardine_katajainen_world_witches_series_and_etc_drawn_by_konnyaku_kk_monmon__bcfed7082c96f (800x1296, 464K)

I hope for some wholesome lewd.

>Somehow in Kyle's mind, the moment rendered itself into his mind as something he'd experienced somewhere months in the past. Somehow the memory of seven people on a rooftop sitting as silent and motionless as if they'd been frozen in time, a tableau forever preserved in its own unseen place. It seemed too far from lucid and lived to have been a real memory.
>He could feel the air, setting placidly in the sweat that had condensed into a cold coat against his skin. He looked around with his eyes only, seeking not to disturb the quiet that had come around him.
>All the faces of the people present, were disengaged from the presence of others. Eyes stared into the concrete of the roof, minds, as he could see, turned inward.
>In each face, he saw the look of a mind calculating its own equations. A mind that could only be expected to be reflecting upon times past, just what had brought it here, what could have been done better, what was done better.
>His eyes hovered over Molly. Between her feet and forward just two thirds of a yard, her gaze fixated. He could see her anatomy arranged in the array of indifference one typically displayed when they were turned away from the world. The Blue irises were as constricted as they could be. Her hair had turned dark, displaying little suggestion of color as it hung limply against her skull. Her chestrig had begun to soak up sweat on its upper edge, and thanks to the thoroughly soaked shirt underneath, Kyle could see under The bra underneath, and track as her ribs rose and fell, as though tracking the ebb and flow of the gentle breezes that came through the hills.
>Were it not for the sheer sharpness of the impression to his eyes, he'd wonder if he was dreaming.
>Jim began to slowly rise to his feet and just like that, the tableau was lost forever, existing henceforth only in the living memory of those present, finally eradicated by the heads of all present except for those of himself and Molly, having instead locked eyes.

Attached: PhotoFunia-1556828032.jpg (1200x907, 406K)

>Kyle didn't mind the time passing, and he had a feeling that Molly didn't either.
>He was shocked out of it when a hand grabbed his shoulder and shook him in place by about six inches. Kyle's eyes darted to Charles, whose arm retracted away as quickly as it had come.
>"Come on, kids. You can make googly eyes at each other later."
>Kyle's eyes shot back to Molly only slightly slower than they'd shot to Charles, and he saw her giggling, her cheeks, flushed with and covered in sweat, growing just slightly more red.
>Kyle lunged forward, carrying himself to his feet by force of momentum alone, made sure he had everything he needed before he began walking down the stairwell, and went about the task of navigating down the stairs, cluttered and in some places stacked with the carcasses of creatures of the zone.
"Hey, how would we go about tagging these? We need some kind of proof of death to send the company for our pay."
>"We'll come back with a sack and cut the left ears out."
>Kyle laughed at the thought of the supply depot getting a bag full of bloody animal ears. Somehow he felt he'd receive a disgruntled message from the company asking just what the fuck was wrong with him.
"What a mess." he thought as he clambered over bodies that'd once been malevolent creatures intent upon killing him, and rustling among casings that must've numbered into the thousands of rounds after all the shooting was said and done.
>"Hey, Kyle, you look a lot like someone I know..."

Attached: PhotoFunia-1556827288.jpg (1200x880, 290K)

Sweet. I'll try and keep this handy for the future.

Sounds interesting.

I fully believe this chart.

Boarding time.

Ask and ye shall recieve

>right as I'm turning to the Praetorium building, Vespassiana
>"Legate" I say with a quick salute
>"oh good, you're conscious today. Follow me"
>we move not to the gate or the wrestling ring the legionaries use but instead to the stables where the Legate requisitions 2 horses
>"uhhh where are we going?"
>"it would be improper for the troops to see Patrician officers sparring. We're going to my private quarters outside the castra where we will not be observed"
>oh k gotcha
>Vespassiana hands the reins of one horse to me and swiftly mounts the other
>now might be a good time to mention I've never read a horse before
>"uhh..."
>understanding dawns on the Legate's face
>"you've got to be kidding me"
>with a sour face and a sigh of resignation, Vespassiana sticks out her and and gestures for me to take it
>I grasp her hand and pull myself up onto her horse, sitting directly behind her
>oh sweet Venus I was not ready for this

>put my hands around her waist as she kicks her heels into the horses flanks and
>this saddle was not meant for 2 people so I'm pressed into Vespassiana's back, so close that I can smell the scented oils in her hair
>we ride out the Porta Decumana (back gate) to draw less attention
>thankfully most legionaries are either off doing other shit or don't care enough to notice a horse with 2 riders leaving the back gate
>the ride to Vespassiana's villa seemed to both last forever and be over far too soon
>as we dismounted, I felt a pang of sadness at the loss of physical closeness that was still fresh in my mind
>if ever there was an incentive never to learn how to ride a horse, that was it
>inside we are greeted by the Legate's Major Domo (head butler more or less) as we make our way to the central courtyard
>once there, Vespassiana moves to a small square of sand set off in one corner of the yard
>"we'll start your training with unarmed combat, and build from there. What do you know of wrestling?"
>"I watched some matches in Rome once but I have never had any personal experience"
>"that changes today" Vespassiana says as she unstraps her cuirass and greaves
>she then unclasps her cloak and throws it to the side
>then she grabs the hem of her tunic and pulls it over her head before throwing that to the side as well
>I stand there momentarily stunned as the Legate stands there in only undergarments
>"well don't just stand there. Take your tunic off and get ready. You didn't expect to wrestle with it on did you?"

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bump

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Second Screecap

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Overall, I'd say we won. Who needs daylight anyway?

>sending in a sackful of bloody ears

Yep, sounds like a Jow Forumsommando's solution to me.

>that pic

Why would you stab me when I try to snuggle you? That's just rude.

Our boy's gonna have a hell of a time keeping Mr. Johnson down once the wrestling starts, I reckon.

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Oh yes. Oh hell yes.

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Bump.

hey look, it's that guy again.

3 hours later

You step into the office of the air base commander and shut the door behind you, standing at attention.

“What you did was reckless and uncalled for!” He yells, turning back towards you. “What the hell do you think this is? A cartoon?!”

“No, sir.” You tell him.

“That wasn't your bird to fly Daniels. It sure as hell wouldn't have been your bird to lose either!” He yells. “Still, I can't argue that your old squadron did some work. I mean, destroying an entire wing of bombers with only 4 aircraft and no losses? I'd have brass all the way up my ass if I court marshaled you 8.”

“But sir, we're retired. All of us are ex-military.” You tell him. “How could we get court marshaled?”

“Well, you're being reinstated, Captain Daniels.” He tells you. “Your first assignment will be to escort B-58s to a bombing site in California. We have reports of nuclear detonations up in Montana, so we're going to retaliate with equal force. 5 B-58s are going to be fitted W-53s. They pretty much dropped 20 RDS-37s on us, so we're going to flatten their command centers in Cali and destroy their garrisons as they have done to us.”

“Sir, wouldn't we be nuking our own soil?” You ask.

“California has always been partial to the communists and has talked about seceding constantly to continue being communist. Nothing of value will be lost. Now go rest, you'll need the sleep for tomorrow.” He tells you. “Dismissed.”

You give him a salute and turn back, opening the door and leaving the office.

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dunno if this fits, but I was listening to it while I wrote this.
youtube.com/watch?v=WQYN2P3E06s
The next day

Wilkins

You turn over the last engine, hearing all 4 of the engines burning as you get on the radio.

“ATC, Tall Man 1-1 is ready for taxi to runway 3 left, how copy?” You ask as you're given a thumbs up from the flight crew.

“Tall Man 1-1 you're clear for fast taxi to runway 3 left. All aircraft are grounded or waving off.” ATC tells you. “Secure package.”

“Package secure, taxiing to runway 3 left.” You tell them. “Tall Man 1-1 out.”

You taxi onto the runway and bring the aircraft up to military power, letting off the brakes and allowing the aircraft to start rolling.

“Tall Man 1-1 is rolling.” You say, switching to internal coms. “How's everyone?”

“Observer okay.” Your bombardier says.

“DSO okay.” Your ECM operator tells you.

“Pilot okay. Hold onto your lunches boys, afterburners on.” You tell them.

The afterburners light and you feel like you get kicked square in the ass, the plane continuing down the ever shortening runway. You reach V-1, pushing the throttles to the firewall as the plane screams down the runway. The entire plane begins to shake as you approach takeoff speed. Takeoff speed is reached and you lift the nose up, barely taking off before reaching the end of the runway.

“Gear going up.” You say over coms, raising the gear lever.

The nose gear light goes green first, followed by the left and right gear.

“Gear up, confirm gear up.” You tell the DSO.

“Gear confirmed up.” He says.

“Tall Man 1-1 waiting for escort and all other Tall Man elements.” You tell ATC. “Orbiting runway.”

>forget the music
k guess I'll delete the post and start over
>forget the picture
(external screeching)
30 minutes of takeoffs later

You look out the window of your Hustler and see an F-14 to your left and an F-14 to your right. They have a skull and crossbones emblem on the rudder and a black ribbon with gold stars under the cockpit. You were told these pilots served in Iraq back during the Gulf War. What are old timers like them doing out of their wheel chairs? They were carrying 4 AIM-120s, 2 chaff pods, 2 drop tanks, and 2 sidewinders. Not to mention the deadly 20mm cannon they were packing in the nose. However, they weren't the only ones packing a 20mm cannon.

You get onto the heading that would take you to the Russian air bases and garrisons, keeping your nuclear arming key handy. All 3 crew had a nuclear arming key, an extra safety precaution instated in all aircraft capable of launching nuclear weapons back in 2025. Why 2 men wasn't enough is beyond you, but you were just a pilot, not a tactician. You tighten the mask on your face and begin cruising toward your intended target. Commiefornia.

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