You are a P-61 Black Widow pilot of the 501st Joint Fighter Squadron, and you're currently flying south in a badly-damaged machine with a dead engine, leaking fuel fast and blood slow. You hope. You're climbing for as much altitude as you can; mindful of the hungry muzzles of Martian AA guns below, but you can't grab too much – Chain Home Low picks up *low* stuff, and Chain Home proper is being jammed by the Martians. With the proper ground sites on the coast destroyed or in squid-held beachheads, Chain Home Low's reverted to the old mobile stuff they pressed into service during the Battle; small antennas atop masts, being rotated by WAAFs pedaling on stationary bikes. But you've no idea where you are, your navigational equipment is bereft an operator and you're starting to have trouble focusing - - you smack your head against the plexiglass canopy, focusing on the stinging pain in your skull to keep yourself awake. You've got to put this thing down before you run out of fuel, and Amelia's your best shot. You'll follow her plan.“Fighter Command's got you on their plot, Ghostrider,” Amelia chimes in, much to your relief. “You'll be passing over the divisional stop-line soon.”“Lucky me,” you grumble.
“Relax. They've gotten shy about shooting ever since the American artillery brigades showed up.” As long as they don't realize that said guns are almost out of ammo – maybe they're just as depleted. Or so the rumor mill says. Both sides have been ground down – you shake your head violently before your thoughts can drift again. “We've got a solid plot. We'll be with you shortly. Hang on!” You keep climbing through the solid overcast that's shut down the battle for England, any second expecting to hear the distinctive FSSSSH-WHAM of Martian artillery rockets detonating around your head. The forces pushing on London are below you right now – if Amelia asks you to flip on your nav-lights so they can find you, you'll be blown asunder. You're starting to wonder if you're going to make it out of this. And now that you're over Martian lines, baling out isn't an option any more. You might make the ocean, and pray that the damn dinghy inflates. If you ditch. If... how did the manual put it? “In the event that the plane floats...” Yes. “In the event.” Yeah, it'll be a long, slow sink into-“Amelia, keep talking,” you hear yourself say. “I'm... I'm having trouble here.”“Your engine going out?” “No. Focusing.” “Copy that, Ghostrider. We're almost there.” Within a minute she hails you again, and you look over the dead, smoking Engine #1 to see the faint outline of Amelia approaching, the magic blades of her Strikers a faint blue glow that cuts through the English fog. As she sidles up to your wing, you make out another witch with her – they're actually holding hands. The newcomer looks scared, even from this distance, her twintails waving in the slipstream. “Thank god,” you sigh with relief. “Bring me home, Amelia, I'm tired of this shit.” “Don't worry, kid,” the older woman replies, giving you a thumbs-up from just beyond your wingtip. “I'm going to lead you to the closest friendly tarmac I find."
You follow Amelia's lead unerringly, trusting to her experience. Her magical talent is for navigation, and she's already demonstrated her skill plenty during this sortie alone. More importantly, she circumnavigated the world in a Lockheed Electra – a twin-engined plane, like your Widow. She understands steel-wings in a way most Witches don't, and she's sensitive to your precarious fuel situation. You're itching to keep talking, to keep the throbbing ache in your head from dulling your senses even more, but repeated radio transmissions in proximity of Martians is unwise. Besides, Amelia clearly looks busy, her expression one of concentration as she stares into the overcast intensely, seeing something you cannot, the- “FUCK!” you snarl, slapping your flight helmet with one gloved hand. You fumble for your switches and turn on the short-ranged UHF. “Ameila, is it safe to transmit on low-band?” “Should be, we're a few miles off the beach now,” she says. “Hey, froggie. Uh, Georgia. What's your name, again?” The twintails witch looks startled, and glances at you over the ruined engine. “Eh?” “Talk to me, kid. I'm having a hard time staying awake, here?” She looks at Amelia helplessly, but Amelia shakes her head slightly and mouths something – probably “I'm very fucking busy.” The French witch looks back at you, her expression incredibly uncertain. You're bleeding from the head and contemplating your very possible demise, but that doesn't mean you can't be diplomatic. >what discuss?
>>37336897Why the hell were you all alone up in the fucking clouds?
>>37336897"Are French redheads crazy in bed?"
inb4 Panzer, crix a shit, faith in planefag, etc.
>>37336897Where are you from? Got any hobbies?Let's not talk about how, if she was alone, that could mean her entire squadron was shot down over Martian-held land and therefore as good as dead, if they're lucky.
>>37336897Why are you soaring here all alone!*Insert several lines of idiotcy here*
>>37336937You got separated from your wingman during a dogfight and then your crew (gunner and radio operator) bailed out like little pussy bitches just because you were clearly unconscious and the plane was in a nasty spin. What a bunch of crybabies.
>>37336997WE MUST BREAK THEM!
>>37336997I think he meant ask her that.
>>37336997Oh wait, you mean what the fuck was FROGGY doing up there all alone without an escort. HMM GEE THAT'S A GOOD FUCKING QUESTION great now I have to actually figure out an answer you motherfucker I ought to cut you, just fucking slice you
>>37336997I knew that. I was asking a question to said French Witch.
>>37336897"SO, WHO ARE YOU FUCKING."
>>37336972>Inb4 PanzerThat's my line!>>37336696Considering writing yet another spinoff, where can we talk about it?
>>37337050IRC channel is #swq on IRC.
>>37337050>Considering writing yet another spinoff, where can we talk about it?Just give me a ring at 1-(800)-273-8255but seriously now, pop into #SWQ on Rizon, that's our IRC
>>37337032+3.Since we know erotic auto-asphyxiation is a typical French thing, this is a valid topic.
>>37337032"SO, ARE YOU FUCKING WHO?"
>Bleeding out>On enemy territory>While bullying frogsThis thread is going places.
>>37336897How did you wind up in the middle of all this?Got family? Friends? Someone special?What powers do you have?
>>37336897>what discuss?Let's make her thing that Ian is into frenchies (He is) and she is just his type. The cat fight is our first towards revenge for the fucker bailing.
>>37336897Ask if she's got someone special. It will make you think about how hard Minna will kill your ass if you come home dead.
This>>37337032Followed with this>>37337154Even at 0 hp we bounce.
>>37337154Ian has Perrine. Stop trying to waifu for NPCs, Jesus.
>>37337184>Not waifuing for crewWhat are you, navy?Plus, we have a tab to settle with the fuckers. Two french stalkers are always better than one.
>>37337184he must pay the fucking price!
>>37337154>>37337196Georgette is already happily involved with someone else. So she'll simply laugh awkwardly and ignore Ian completely.
>Endless Legend downloaded>Comfy chair acquired>SWQ threadNow only booze is left and the day will be perfect.
>>37337154>>37337196A shame Georgette's already been taken, by the rare Hetero Seaman even.
>Wake up just in time for SWQGood Life Choices
>>37337217Then we tell her how Ian admires her and all the nice cute pinups he's drawn in his room. Cue ackward introductions later.
>>37337245We don't even fucking know her name in character, stop trying to force it.
>>37337278No, I meant to make it up on the spot. Don't care who some frenchie is. Ian would do the same for us.
>>37337321>Ian would do the same to us.FTFY
>>37337321That's still stupid. "Yeah my gunner totally has pinups and drawings of you, some random ass French witch who isn't very famous and who's name I don't know, do I sound retarded yet?"
>>37337321I dont think so, Minna would turn him inside out.
>>37336897"Why the hell were you flying up here alone?"
>>37337376We clearly recognized her from the very realistic drawings of her underwear.As for the retarded part, PILOT!
Waiting is always the best part.
>>37337404We need more of the best European
>>37337415Pic related towards your idea, you're being extra retarded.
>>37336897>How do I look? I need to look good for the ground crew!
>>37337449What are you talking about, that one was our best idea ever. You sound like some infantry peasant.
>>37337440We had enough of Zuchinni lately.
>SWQ>Macho Man to be entered in to the WWE HOF Today is a good day!
>>37337507We just need to find a way to burn that endless energy out of her! We can power city's with her!
>>37337532>Side Quest: Bring Zuchinni to Tesla
>>37337546Years later she is locked up by the foundation as a Keter level SCP
“Soooooooo whoyafukkin?” you ask. “Ww-ww-wha-” Amelia's head snaps around and gives you a glare that warms up your cockpit more than the last direct-hit from a Martian maser did. You point at your head wound desperately. “I do not understand the English this well?” Georgette replies with the careful diction of a well-educated secondary speaker. “Is there anyone significant in your life?” “Uhhh.. there are many people?” “Lover,” you clarify, shaking your head again to dispel the cobwebs. She looks at Amelia for guidance, but the older woman is still focused on her task, reaching through the ether with her magical witchy powers to read the ley-lines or whatever the fuck she does, you don't know, spinning the D/F loop in circles while wanking off is what Sean does, you're the goddamn pilot. You've got people for this shit. Yeah. That's your story, and you're sticking to it. “Ah... there is... a man...” she replies. “So you're fu- it's actually a dude?” you ask.
>>37337605>it's actually a dude?” you ask.heh.Also this is exactly how I expected this conversation to play out
>>37337605She looks back at you, her bewilderment clear even over the long wing of your Widow. “Y-yes?” “No shit,” you say, very mildly surprised. “So what were yah doin up there with no wingman?”“Ou, I am transferr from Germany,” she replies carefully, tilting her head towards an overnight bag over her shoulder. “Permanent, or temporary?” “One month, maybe,” she replies with a slight shrug. “Depends on permission, oi?” “Who you transferring to?” “Five-oh-Firrst,” she replies, “Ah, the castle group? Am not sure. Papers are in here,” she says, tapping her bag. “And you were alone, why?” She pouts a bit at this. “I am a witch. I can protect myself!” “They do regular fights with supplies and stuff though. Even have those huge-ass transports that can launch a Striker unit. Why make the flight on your own. You've got to be pushing your range-”“Could not wait!” she insists. “It's important!” “What's so important!?” She flushes at this question, enough to be visible over thirty-odd feet of Widow wing. “Is none of your business, monsouir!” >Okay, okay. Are you from the 501st?>BLOOD IN THE WATER
>>37337645>BLOOD IN THE WATERPress the advance.
>>37337645>BLOOD IN THE WATER
>>37337645>BLOOD IN THE WATERSHOVEL MORE COAL INTO THE BOILER KEEP THE FIRES RUNNING!
>>37337645>Blood in the water! She still hasn't told us the name of her lover.
>>37337645>BLOOD IN THE WATERwe need keep bouncing or we will DIE!
>>37337645>BLOOD IN THE WATERWHATS HAPPENING OH GOD, SOMEONE HOLD ME.
>>37337645"Oh, it just became my business."
>>37337645>BLOOD IN THE WATERPilot. Tact.Pick one and only one.
>>37337645>BLOOD IN THE WATERYour resistance makes my curiosity hungrier!
>>37337645>BLOOD IN THE WATERCAUSE WE'RE A PILOOOOT~
>>37337645>BLOOD IN THE WATER"WHO IS IT"
>>37337645>BLOOD IN THE WATERAmelie is going to shoot us down herself.
>Blood in the water
>>37337645>Okay, okay- Hey, can you do me a favor? See the rockets? I need you to pry open the pylons so I can ditch them.
>>37337912Didn't we shoot all those?
>>37337912On the one hand getting rid of them is a good idea, on the other hand I don't want Georgette to fucking die of horrible german fuel poisoning
>>37337935Planefag forgets things a lot.
>>37337935We had 4, we shot two I think
>>37337645>BLOOD IN THE WATERAnd likely all over the cock pit.
>>37337958We loaded 4, and shot 2.He hasn't forgotten anything, unfortunately.
>>37337797AND WE ONLY CARE ABOUT US!
>>37337939ONE LESS FROG TO WORRY ABOUT.
“Ooooh ho ho ho, but I think it *is,*” you rejoin, warming to the challenge. Amelia has floated in front of your nose, trusting you to fly careful formation with her. Formation flying is exacting and demanding, as always, but the mental stimulation of harassing the poor froggie is cutting through that damned throb in your skull. Or maybe you're just an asshole. “I think it is not, s-sirr!” she exclaims. You get plenty of mental stimulation racking your mind for a reason why it... wait, that newspaper article Ian was reading this morning, didn't it mention-“You're from the Five-oh-Second, right? Brave Witches, or something?” “Yes?” JACKPOT“Waltrude's unit, right?” “... yes?” She confirms, much more wary now. “Ah, Waltrude. You know her reputation, right?” “She is a fighter ace-”“SHE IS LEWD,” you cackle into your headset, feeling a little loopy as you stare at Amelia's ass, those striped panties your beacon through the fog. “LEWD. LEWD. LEEEEWWWWWWWD,” you drawl as you swing your head around to leer at Georgette over the left wing. She's regarding you with horror now, her face well and truly flushed. “B-b-but-”
“WHAT IF YOU'RE LEEEEEEEEWD?” you draw. “My precious crewman Ian was already kidnapped by a lewd frenchie! She just SNAAPED HIM UP, loaded him on her bromstick and flew away like some robbing robber guy! What if you do the same!? WHAT IF YOU ARE HERE TO RAPE OUR CASTLES AND STEAL OUR MEN?” “B-b-but I I just I-” “You gotta tell me,” you say seriously. “Come on, if you have a boyfriend, he has a name, and you would know his name and then you're legit! If you don't, you've come to steal and pillage the boys!” Georgette's hiding her face now, looking straight ahead. “I do not understand-” “A LIKELY STORY!” you laugh, a little too high and easily, and you feel the world spinning a little. This time you SLAP yourself across the chops, the sharp pain pulling you back to reality. You tilt your head to catch the bitterly cold slipstream whistling through your shattered canopy. “Ghostrider, we're almost there,” Amelia cuts in tersely. “ATC has been alerted. They're using the standard SBA frequency, but I'll guide you in anyways.”“Okay,” you mutter, and paw at the console for a minute before sighing. “Uh.. what is that, again, I'm-” Amelia reels off the proper sqawk and you dial in your radio, to be greeted with a quick little “pip-pip-pip” in your earphones, so you give the Widow a little right rudder, following Amelia. “We're about one-point-five nautical miles out, Ghostrider,” Amelia says. “Get yourself set up.” “Ay-oo,” you say, shaking your head miserably and tapping the fuel gauge. “I'm pretty low on fuel, here. One engine. Don't want to get too draggy till I have to.” “If we-” “Leave that to me,” you reply. “Just bring me in slick, okay?”
>>37338168>WHAT IF YOU ARE HERE TO RAPE OUR CASTLES AND STEAL OUR MEN?
>>37338168Oh god. This is getting tense.
>>37338168Oh man oh man!
>>37338286Oh god Oh man!
>>37338168When (if) we land they'll race to be the first one to beat us.Feels like home.Extra points if we them to straddle us.
we must give the traitors the EVIL smile when we see them
>>37338292Georgette will be torn between wanting to throttle us and her healwitch instincts.Amelia's going to kill us though
Amelia quiets down and does as you've requested, glancing over her shoulder every now and then to make sure you're following closely. The world is starting to wobble a little bit, but that witch-ass out front is your guiding AND THERE WE GO AGAIN GOD DAMMIT BRAIN STOP FUCKING BEING USELESS IT'S JUST A FLESH WOUND. “Aaah, are you going to land with those... bombs?” Georgette asks with trepidation. “What bombs,” you reply tersely.“The... the rocket-ship things?” Oh, right. Those things. Those fucking abominations of German alchemy and Egyptian xeno-math that combine rockets AND fuel into one insanely-volatile deathtrap. That they strapped to your fucking wings. You reach forward and yank the bomb-release toggles, than hit the external tank releases. “Are they gone?”“They are still there,” Georgette replies dubiously.“Well, fuck me sideways with a pogo stick,” you mutter. “You are a bad man,” Georgette says quietly, and for some reason this makes you want to laugh a lot NO NO NO NO BRAIN STOP THAT. “One mile,” Amelia replies. The pips in your headset has smoothed into one continuous tone, the radio signals guiding you straight down the unseen runway's centerline. You finally consent to drop flaps a notch and adjust your trim. You keep your gear up, however – that's a lot of drag for one engine to overcome, and since you've lost your hydraulics, once that gear is down, it's not coming up again. It's unlikely you can wave-off and try again – you've got to land, NOW. And you've got to put her down very, very gently, otherwise -“Oh, fuck,” you mutter miserably. You can't see this going very well.>What say? (Last chance, if this doesn't work out well)
>>37338324You're assuming we don't try to kill her for 'inspiring' our sister to join the frontlines, right?Because that was a thing until recently plus nearly dying and needing her help.
>>37338347>>What say? (Last chance, if this doesn't work out well)"You are all smalltime."
>>37338347GNOME FORCE! FULL POWER NOW!
>>37338347Tell Minna I died as I lived, PILOT!
>>37338347"Yes, Yes I am a bad man BUT YOU'RE SMALL TIME!"
>>37338360>>37338368got to go with the classic!
>>37338324And then Mack will show Young how he got his Medal of Honor. Personally.And by that i mean an intimate meeting with the helmet.The physical contact will be glorious.
>>37338347My crewmates are pussies!
>>37338347"Don't let him go froggie."
>>37338347"Where's Small Time when I need her? She could crawl in here and either pull me out or give me a witchy-shield against FUEL-AND-ROCKETS! SERIOUSLY, WHO THOUGHT THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA?!?"Reason Check: Failed.
>>37338347"You've been great company. If I don't die, first round is on me."
>>37338347>What say? (Last chance, if this doesn't work out well)Tell my crew I hate them and will haunt them into eternity.
>>37338347If I die, my crew better meet me wherever I'm going!
>>37338347>>37338374Gonna support this one.
>>37338347>If i'm gonna die, I'm going out with style.Pilot plane with butt.
>>37338347Where is my Hallucinated personification of my technical ability a la the USMC
>>37338347"I wasn't joking about Waltrude. Watch out, or she'll rape you in the bath. Already happened once. But it wasn't the bath."
>>37338347"WHO IS IT. I MUST KNOW."
>>37338347WITH MY LAST BREATH I CURSE SEAN AND IAN!
>>37338462HAH, I vote for this one
>>37338347"Tell Minna... I love her."
>>37338347"BIG WING IS SHIIIIIIIIIIIT"
>>37338571This one has my support!>>37338478And this one too!>>37338462But this one is also okay.
>>37338571This. Truly the last Neon Samurai's death.
>>37338347[x] "Hey guys, watch this."
>>37338347YOU! ARE! SMALLTIME!
>>37338571Add on something about how our crew are pansies and this is aces
>>37338771On that note, didn't having them in group gnomespace augment our abilities further?...Fuck.
Just grabbed a quick dinner, WRITING NOW
>>37338840Did you grab a few douchebag marching band directors or are they snacks for you?
>>37338347>>What say? (Last chance, if this doesn't work out well)"Ian and Sean are cowards!"
>>37338840Go faster, I've been edging since this shit started and my dick is starting to feel sore.
>>37338840I wondered where the hell you when Fap Angel.
>>37338548Tell Minna... No, you take the fucking trash out!
Holy shit! when did Planefag come back?
>>37338933MONTHS AGO NIGGA!
>>37338933He never came back.This is a fever dream.
>>37338932I'm serious, I think I'm taking the epidermis off of my foreskin.joking aside, I have done that. Hurts like nothing else.
>>37338347"Tell Minna I'm sorry."
>>37339011Not entirely sure whether I'm impressed or kinda weirded out.
With your very probable demise looming ahead of you in the (god damned motherfucking ever-present) English overcast, a lot of odd thoughts flit through your mind. You think of Minna; the way she looks when you penetrate that aura of Super Serious Business and touch something a bit deeper (ahahahue oh remember that one for later that's good you cad), you think of your mother and father, of Robin, your little sister that looks up to you, even now, enough to follow you into a hopeless war. There's a lot to think about... but, when you get right down to it, one thing is paramount over all.“Georgette?”“Oui?” “If I don't make it down alive, can you send a message for me?” She gives you a scared look. “Do not talk this way!” “Promise me.”“I... I promise,” she says softly, and you see her wipe at her eyes with one hand. “Just to make you 'appy, monsouir, so you can focus!”“Tell my crew...” you sigh, disappointed that your last communication will have to be passed on in such a way. But it's your last chance. “Tell them... tell them that I always hated them the most, and that they can consider their dumb asses haunted.” Georgette stares at you with an expression blanker than a sheet. You turn back to your controls. Through the thick fog, you can just barely make out the landing lights of an airstrip not a mile ahead. You throttle back – just a little – and tell Amelia to clear out since you've got a visual. Your vision is wobbling to and fro, so you shift in your seat till the graduated lines on your reflector gunsight are lined up against the runway's edge; as long as the lines oscillate and swim in-synch, you figure you're good. About fifteen hundred yards out, give-or-take, you take a deep breath and hit your landing gear switch.
>>37339200Either or. It was a couple of weeks ago and I had decided to see how many times I could feasibly wank in a day. I got three days in before the skin started to flake, and by the fourth I had cracked dry skin instead of smooth supple loveliness.. Hurts like hell in the shower, and I only started wanking again today.
>>37339256Bracing for impact!
A loud, violent FOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH! sounds underneath your ass as the emergency pneumatic bottles discharge, providing the power to swing your landing gears out and down. You drop full landing flaps and push the engine forward, applying plenty of rudder to counteract the crabbing. “No, no, no!” Georgette is shouting.“Georgette, what the hell are you-” You glance away from the runway long enough to notice the forward gear light is still glowing cherry-red, and your heart sinks. You thumb the mic button on your yoke. “Airstrip ATC, Ghostrider is on short final; I've got live ords and an unlocked nosewheel,” you say, vaguely aware you're slurring a bit. “Tell the meatwagon to stay well back iff'n anything happens, now.” Amelia's shouting at you, just like the navy man on the carrier was, shouting about balls and calling and all this other dumb shit, but you tune them all out, spending all your remaining energy on doing what you were born to do – fly. You were never a good student, or a good sportsman, or even a good *sport,* come to think – not a good boyfriend, nor a very good man, in summation. But you're good at this. By god, you're good at this, and if you can just make a two-point landing, let the nose-wheel come down gentle-like, maybe nobody will have to suffer on your account today. You glance at the gear indicators again and realize that's all fucking bullshit and you're bullshit and you're about to die when those fucking rockets apslode and take you with them and you don't want to burn to death you really don't please jesus FUCK why did you not just jump OUT god DAMMIT
>>37339290Nose up a bit. A little more, tweak the mixture pull the throttle now goose that throttle a bit just give her a little more juice to keep the sink rate right on the - - the nosewheel clicks it fucking CLICKSthe light is green and there is a god tires are squeaking so nice as the nose sinks in a gorgeous two-point landing, kill the magnetos and lean on the brakes a bit but not too hard, don't ground-loop on me babydon'tslowing down now, you canlet go
>>37339290And that's when the world goes white.The end.
>>37339290Oooooooohhhhhhh dearie me.
>>37339290>notice the forward gear light is still glowing cherry-red, and your heart sinksThe fucking light is lying, they always do.
>>37339290ohgodohgod we're gonna die and we only did two witches!
>>37339322I hate you so muchAlso, real talk, that was very tense. Well done.
>>37339322you know that I started classes again rightI'm within walking-and-shitting distance of your front porch tomorrowI'mma go buy five chicken MRE's, sonFIVEthis is on you
>>37339322...is this over?Am I finally free of my curse? I can move on now?SWEET FREEDOM!
>>37339322hate. Hate! HATE!
>Being fooled by the fakepost long enough to respondhehehehehehehe
>>37339322HAHAHA YOU BRILLIANT MOTHERFUCKER
>>37339374Planefag, go home. You're drunk and threatening yourself.
>>37339322Nice try, Zarflax!
>>37339382Look closer at the tripcode, friend.
>>37339322Wait. I thought you had left by now, you usurper!
>>37339392I know, I feel like the newfag I was trying not to beI read the archives, I should know better by now
>>37339374>>37339392Shit, it's not who I thought it was. Okay. In that case I gotta hand it to you, I laughed my fucking ass off at that image macro, especially.saved
>>37339404Everyone is Planefag.
>>37339403TONKS WHEN MOUSE?
>>37339435I'm not even the brilliant bastard who made the post, I'm just laughing at the flames
>>37339322I JUST GOT INTO THIS QUEST! YOU CAN'T KILL ME NOW!
>>37339374But Planefag, I live in Arkansas.
>>37339374>five MRE'sThe rectal devastation is gonna make the news.
>>37339374OHOH >>37339322 YOU CLEVER FUCKING SON OF A BITCH I BELIEVED IN YOU
>>37339447Never, because you keep asking. People can be *busy,* dude, and have *lives* outside of 4chan.
>>37339462Didn't you hear?He's bringing FIVE MREs.You could be in fucking Antarctica and he'll still get you.
>>37339462>he doesn't know how MRE shits work
>>37339403>https://twitter.com/JakePenetrator/status/554812042943922177Jake Bishop@JakePenetratorTW89 is currently being tabled to work on other projects. IT WILL FINISH. This I can guarantee.Noooooooooooooooooooooo
>>37339495It was an obligatory thing anon. Kinda of a habit now.>>37339462There is no escape from this. You are doomed.
>>37339374>>37339322Clever Girl.... You had me there.Get ready for my vengeance
>>37339549I fear not the Greek Wizard. I will not afraid.Do what you will, for I have already won.
Fakepost aside God damn planefag is good at writing tense as fuck plane sequences
>>37339667And this is why we all love him for it.
>>37339550I fucking knew it, I knew he would flake out.
>>37339623He is gonna shit an MRE shit on your porch. You have not won, not by a long shot.
>>37339550Sigh... So TW89 never then?
>>37339706Laura Toth a best
Post best witch.
Damn you planefag, this is the night where I was supposed to make up for only sleeping for 3 hours the previous night.
>>37339825start fapping.you'll feel better.
You wake up staring like ten girls in the face.You stare back at them. “Are you witches?” you ask simply.“Yes,” one of them replies. You clap your hands over your face. “I'm in hell.” One of your demons, who looks suspiciously like Amelia, leans down and flicks you in the forehead. “You're welcome, you asshole.” “Language!” a french accent gasps. “Oh god what the fuck,” you reply intelligently as the last few everythings go spinning through your head. Speaking of your head, you start feeling around it curiously, searching for-“Looking for this?” Amelia says as someone slips an arm under you and helps you sit up. She holds up a two-inch long bit of steel, wickedly jagged. “We found this embedded in your thick skull. I washed it off for you.” She tucks it into your shirt pocket. You rub the left side of your head wonderingly, but find only sweaty hair. “How'd you-”
>>37339744>>37339761It be the curse of witches with wide treads!
>>37339909“Oui~” Georgette says, leaning in front of Amelia with a sunny smile. “I am a medical witch!” “Yeah, but...” you shake your head. “Last time Yoshika patched me up – last, uh, *few* times – I was out like a light, and it took her hours-” “Yoshika's... different,” Amelia says. “I know the kid. She was recruited very recently, and hasn't finished half her training yet. Besides... if Georgette here is a scalpel,” she says, plopping a hand on the shorter brunette's head and rubbing it affectionately - “and she is... Yoshika's like a fire-hose that spews buzzsaws. She's got so much raw output that it'd be hard for anyone to control, much less a rookie.” You rub your temple a little more, than go to stand up - - and promptly sit down again as the room begins spinning.“No, no no, Monsouir!” Georgettes scolds you, pushing you back down onto the cot with one dainty hand on your chest. “Blood loss! Not enough to operate brain!” “Notafuckingword,” you snap at the whole group, half of which have already opened their mouths. “Maybe even concussion!” Georgette continues, her expression one of stern concern. “I fixed any 'emmorage in yourrr brrain, but still a little too much pressure on it for a little bit. Move slow!” You mouth something approximating obedience, and she nods, satisfied. The rest of the room empties out slowly, the Witches giving you curious glances before slipping outside. Amelia says something about being right back before stepping outside, but Georgette remains in the room, turning to a medical kit. She soon turns out all sorts of implements, humming to herself as she lays it all on a tray. >VOTE FOR THE ABSOLTUTELY MOST PRESSING THING>Ask for news of your crew – did they get good 'chutes and get down okay?>Ask what the hell happened to the rest of the flight – did anyone else get hit?>Ask for a phone – you've got to call Barin! You've got to call right now!
>>37339910No that's just you being terrible, Mouse ain't but he is unreliable.
>>37339950>>Ask for news of your crew – did they get good 'chutes and get down okay?Shit, tough choice.
>>37339950>Ask what the hell happened to the rest of the flight – did anyone else get hit?Crew bailed on us, they can come last.
>>37339950>>Ask for news of your crew – did they get good 'chutes and get down okay?if yes: FUCK!If no: FUCK!
>>37339909>Ending on a hyphen in a room full of witches.
>>37339950>Ask for news of your crew – did they get good 'chutes and get down okay?
>>37339950>Ask what the hell happened to the rest of the flight – did anyone else get hit?
>>37339950>>Ask for news of your crew"Tell me the cowards died screaming and wetting their pants."
>>37339950>>Ask what the hell happened to the rest of the flight – did anyone else get hit?
>>37339950>>Ask for news of your crew – did they get good 'chutes and get down okay?>>Ask what the hell happened to the rest of the flight – did anyone else get hit?>>Ask for a phone – you've got to call Barin! You've got to call right now!
>>37339950>Ask for news of your crew – did they get good 'chutes and get down okay?We can give them shit after we know they're ok.
>>37339950>>Ask for news of your crew – did they get good 'chutes and get down okay?THE HUNT IS ON!
>>37339950>Ask for news of your crew – did they get good 'chutes and get down okay?"IS THAT SEAN? DO I HEAR SEAN? TELL HIM I'M HAUNTING HIM. HAUNT SEAN FOR ME, FRENCHWITCH."
>>37339950>Ask for phoneCrew are all assholes, so they probably made it out fine.
>>37339950>>Ask for a phone – you've got to call Barin! You've got to call right now!Minna might kill us if she thinks we're dead because a certain pair of cowardly shitstains tell her we got shot down.
>>37339950>“Notafuckingword,” you snap at the whole group, half of which have already opened their mouths. [X] IS MY CREW OKAY? IF SO, LET'S FIX THAT!
>>37339950>>Ask for a phone -- you've got to call Barin! You've got to call right now!
>>37339950>Ask for a phone – you've got to call Barin! You've got to call right now!
>>37339950>>Ask for news of your crew – did they get good 'chutes and get down okay?
>>37339950>>Ask what the hell happened to the rest of the flight – did anyone else get hit?FLOIGHT
>>37339950>Ask for news of your crew – did they get good 'chutes and get down okay?Sounds good.
>>37339950>>Ask for a phone – you've got to call Barin! You've got to call right now!Not having our girlfriend finish the martian's business of killing us would be helpful. Plans of most humiliating revenge can be made later once our brain functions properly again.
>>37339950>>Ask for a phone – you've got to call Barin! You've got to call right now!
Also>“Who you transferring to?”>“Five-oh-Firrst,” she repliesshould be funny when this realization drops
>>37339950Gonna change my vote (>>37339974) to >Ask for a phone – you've got to call Barin! You've got to call right now!Because Minna is going to be absolutely fucking FURIOUS.
>>37339950>OtherThank Georgette.PISSING AGAINST THE TIDE
>>37340198I think we can be excused for having shrapnel in our skull and NOT making the most reasonable response. For once in our dadgum life.
>>37340230>>37339950>OtherSpank Georgette.PISSING AGAINST THE THIGHS
>>37340230Also a good thing to do
>>37339950>>Ask for a phone – you've got to call Barin! You've got to call right now!"I'M NOT DEAD YET"
I THOUGHT YOU WERE KILL
>>37340286Where's that Kane "You can't kill the Messiah" meme picture when you need it?
>>37340284They've come to snuff the rooster?
>>37340286IN TO THE ARCHIVES YOU GO!
>>37340322DAMMIT CASIUS YOU TOLD ME YOU CRUCIFIED THAT GUY. "NO PROBLEMS" YOU SAID.
>>37340230This. Poor little frog. We were teasing the shit out of her.
>>37340359So begins muh crusade
“Georgette. My crew. Are they okay?” “Ou?” she makes an inquisitive sound as she turns back to you with a stethoscope on. “'ush, sirr.” She presses a finger to your lips as she applies the stethoscope to your chest for a bit, then removes it, satisfied. “W'at now?” “Two other guys in my plane,” you reply. “They bailed out. Did they come down okay?” “... Miss Ear'art did not say about this,” she replies. The sinking feeling in your chest must've been apparent on your face, because she leans over and pats you on the forehead, giving you a sweet, reassuring smile. “Do not worrry! There is no rreason they would not bail out okay. We just have not heard from them!” “B-but-”“Ah!” she exclaims, slipping a thermometer under your tongue expertly. Even in a weakened and disoriented state, you doubt a fucking thermometer has anything to do with head wounds, but you take the hint and keep quiet for a moment. “Amelia said we get a call from the very fast witch – I saw her in a magazine. Shirley?” You nod, the thermometer bobbing in your mouth. “She was shot down,” Georgette says. “Along with one of the radar planes.” You go to blurt something out, but Georgette tutts you, delaying you till she can retrieve her thermometer. “Is she-” “She is... not hurt,” Georgette says apprehensively. You squint at her. “What's wrong?” “I... do not know,” she admits. “We got a phone call from Barin, they say Shirley called from a boy's boarding school's switchboard. She said she landed in the courtyard.” She shrugs. “Amelia is very upset... is there rule against witches at those schools?”
>>37340415I'll leave the light on for ya when you get back.
>>37340382Vale fratrem!Sorry, I licensed it out to Dacian subcontractors.
Don't mind me, posting best froggirl
>>37340429You blink a few times as the information processes and builds into a full-fledged scenario within your head. “You... don't see a problem with this.”Georgette gazes at you, her face open, innocent and a little confused – a kind of perpetual state for her, you suspect. “Nnno?” A strange sense of unreality is beginning to creep over you. “Well, uh, nobody else was hurt?” “No,” she says cheerfully, sorting through her kit. “Everything is better now!” “Right.” You sit up slowly, find the floor slowly, and – slowly – stand. Georgette is already on your feet, an arm around your middle and her shoulder under your armpit, ready to help you, but she's such a slender little thing that you make reassure her you're okay until she reluctantly releases you. You can't stand the thought of tripping and dragging the poor thing down.“Oh, Georgette, one more thing – where the hell am I?” “Oh!” she says. “We landed at Isle of Wright!” She smiles and points to a castle-like emblem decorating an emblem against one wall of what looks like a small infirmary.You really should have jumped out of that fucking plane.
>>37340429>Shirley at a boy's boarding schooloh boy
>>37340429Oh god, Shirley at a boys boarding school SO MANY AWKWARD BONERS!
>>37340429>Shirley at a boy's boarding schoolShe must have almost drowned in all the jizz.
>>37340429>Shirley>Boy's boarding schoolSo what were her tastes again?
>“We landed at Isle of Wright!”Fucker, I already told you it's 'Isle of Wight'.
>>37340429>Shirley called from a boy's boarding school's switchboard.hue.jpg>>37340457>You really should have jumped out of that fucking plane.Next on Strike Witches Quest...
>>37340457>You blink a few times as the information processes and builds into a full-fledged scenario within your head. “You... don't see a problem with this.”>Georgette gazes at you, her face open, innocent and a little confused – a kind of perpetual state for her, you suspect. “Nnno?”>A strange sense of unreality is beginning to creep over you. “Well, uh, nobody else was hurt?”Poor girl is so innocent. Or is putting up a really good show of it.
>>37340493>wight http://www.d20srd.org/srd/monsters/wight.htmFINE, MOTHERFUCKER.IT IS NOW THE ISLE OF FUCKING WIGHT. ROLL 1D20 FOR INITIATIVE, YOU FUCKERS, AND THANK PRIVATE /K/UNT HERE FOR OUR NEW FUN GAME.
>>37340457Oh no you don't Fap Angel! You can't leave us hanging here now! We have to call Minna!
>>37340457>Isle of WrightBail out, crazy Ivan, jump into the water and don't stop swimming till you hit your head against Barin's retarded airstrip.
Rolled 5 (1d20)>>37340526LETS DO THISSSS
>>37340526No, you dink. Look at the picture you posted.>>37340457IT IS LITERALLY CALLED THE ISLE OF WIGHT
Rolled 12 (1d20)>>37340526
Rolled 14 (1d20)>>37340526
>>37340493>>37340526/k/ saves the day again!
Rolled 12 (1d20)>>37340526I think this is how to do this...
Rolled 1 (1d20)>>37340526Muahaha
>>37340543Crap we got a 5. What's our initiative bonus?
>>37340543>5THE WIGHTS SURROUND YOU AND FUCKING KILL YOU BEFORE YOU CAN DO JACK SHIT. GAME OVER. BACK TO SWQ. >>37340546DEAR ENGLISHMEN: FUCK YOU AND FUCK EVERYTHING ABOUT THAT ROCK. GOOD RULE OF THUMB; IF THE ROMANS DIDN'T GIVE IT A NAME, PRETEND IT'S NOT THERE. FOR EXAMPLE, THAT'S JUST A BIG FUCKING ISLAND. CALL IT THAT. BIG FUCKING ISLAND. WE NOW RETURN YOU TO YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED SWQ THREAD.
>>37340526Rolling to seduce!
>>37340429>>37340457>ShirleyOh boy.I guess we'll be able to tell what happened depending on whether she comes back with a cigar and a shit-eating grin.
>>37340580>1Oh that is just perfect.
>>37340618To be fair, a lot of our decision making in this quest seems to be pretty low rolls...
> shirley mentioned for first time in over 30 something threads (a third of the quest)> she's at a boy's boarding school
What's so bad about the Isle of Wight?Does it not have the... Wight stuff?No, seriously, what's wrong with it?
>>37340641More like 2-4, we last saw her before we flew out.
>>37340651http://strikewitches.wikia.com/wiki/Isle_of_Wight_Detachment_GroupNothing, really. bunch of lesser-known witches.
>>37340651no fucking clue!
>>37340651It has a canon straight witch.
>>37340700She's into older men, too!
>>37340681Wilma is there.She's going to try to fuck us, isn't she.
>>37340734Nah, we're not old enough for her.
>>37340681According to this here link, Lynette's older sister is thereDidn't Lynette specifically warn us about her oh so long ago?
>>37340681>Wilma BishopUh oh.We need to protect Georgette.
>>37340734Last time we saw her she was actually in Barin. But if she's there we can't let her, it would devastate Lynne.
>>37340651>>37340681It was also frequently bombed.
>>37340764Nah.We would devastate Lynnette. Sister threesome best threesome.
>>37340604BroJust because Greek asses were the Roman's favourite dick repositories doesn't mean that everyone else 'ain't all that. No need to have an inferiority complex about a little Isle.
Stumbling out of the infirmary, you slide along the wall for a bit till your sense of balance returns enough to allow a semi-dignified stagger. You manage to locate an office after a minute, and step in to find a young WAAF banging away on a typewriter. “Scuse me, miss,” you say, nodding at the black telephone sitting on her desk. “Mind if I borrow your phone?” “Ah, you're the young yank that made an emergency landing?” she asks, and you nod. “Of course, handsome. I'm going to get some coffee, anyways – have a seat.” She lets you take a seat and asks you if you want some joe while she's up (“yes please, black,”) and then you're alone in the cluttered office. You pick up the handset and go to press 0 for the operator, when you pause.
>>37340914An hour earlier, you were contemplating your imminent death by burning.Now, you're contemplating your slow, humiliating death from anal hemmorage after Minna breaks her long, well-shaped leg off in your ass for not jumping out of your fucking Widow when you had a chance. Your finger starts shaking as it hovers over the rotary-dial. Minna's... issues stemming from losing her last lover are still extant, and extraordinarily powerful. It took a lot of painful and difficult moments to get her over that, and you're keenly aware of how much trust she's placed in you. For a moment the sheer recklessness of what you did weighs on you – you're not sure you can talk to her right now, much less look her in the face, given what you'll have to confess. You were thinking only of yourself up there, and she desperately needs someone to lean on, someone that she can *trust.* You're both the same age; you can't imagine bearing the burden of command that's been laid on her shoulders, and yet she does it – and you've seen the strain it takes on her. On the other hand, right now, after your incredibly narrow escape – you really, really just want to hear her voice, as selfish as that might be.>Call Barin, ask for Minna.>Call Barin, ask for Mio – if you play your cards right, she NEVER HAS TO KNOW HOW CLOSE YOU CAME>Call Barin, ask the duty clerk if any of your crewmen have called in.>Call the London detachment of the Home Guard, see if they confirmed your kills yet. >Other?
>>37340617Post more Shirley!
>>37340935>Call Barin, ask for Minna.Honestly she should expect this by now.
>>37340935>Call Barin, ask for Minna.
>>37340935>>Call Barin, ask for Minna.We don't have to look her in the face just yet. Just let her know we're alive.
>>37340935>Call Barin, ask for Minna.>Phonesex.
>>37340935>>Call Barin, ask for Minna.
>>37340935>Call Barin, ask for Minna.No sense in drawing this out. She'll find out eventually, so it's best she find out from us.She IS going to straight up ass-rape us though.
>>37340935>Call Barin, ask for Minna.At least we have some serious distance between us and her right now.
>>37340935>Call Barin, ask for Minna.Duuuin, duun, dun-dun, duun, dun-dun, dun-dun, dun-dun.
>>37340935>Call the London detachment of the Home Guard, see if they confirmed your kills yet.PRIORITIES
>>37340935>Call the London detachment of the Home Guard, see if they confirmed your kills yet. Most important part. Don't want to get outscored by some squid. Or worse. A marine.
>>37340991>not wanting to be ass-raped by a hot German
>>37340935>Call Barin, ask for Minna.> You were thinking only of yourself up there, and she desperately needs someone to lean on, someone that she can *trust.*OH GODThat piece of metal and Georgette's subsequent sparkles is making us learn stuff!
better we tell her than she hears it from someone else and knows we hid it.
>>37340935>>Call Barin, ask for Minna."The rumors of my death were greatly exaggerated."
>>37340935>Call Barin Ask for MIODon't let our asses get destroyed. Also probably the best place to get info on sean while we're at it.
>>37340935>Call the London detachment of the Home Guard, see if they confirmed your kills yet. 'CAUSE IM A PILOT! I ONLY CARE ABOUT KIIIIIIILLLLLSSSSS!
>>37341024>You know realise that her magic healing of Young's brain was for this purpose.
>We were unconscious for an hour>Minna can flyjiiiiiiii
>>37340935>Call Barin, ask for Minna.Let's be honest here; with that shard of metal in our head, would we really have been able to survive bailing out, especially without a healwitch right there to heal us?Sure, at first glance, not bailing out LOOKS selfish and stupid, but with a head wound and losing blood, would bailing out and possibly making a mess of the lines or not being conscious for the landing actually have been better?
>>37341045https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SdSj0_Fd4ds Because it hasn't been posted enough.
Time for some music.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oX2qQhpSUeA
>>37341051>This entire mission was just a plan to make Young realize the error of his ways, before christmas no less.
>>37341057Oh shit, you're right.She could be here any minute now!Quick! We need a plane that can take us safely behind the Martian lines where she won't find us!
>>37340935>>Call Barin, ask for Minna.And whatever we say to her, also get her to keep our death a secret from Sean and Ian. We are going to haunt those two fuckers.
>>37340935>Call the London detachment of the Home Guard, see if they confirmed your kills yet.Priorities are in order
>>37340935>>Call Barin, ask for Minna.Sack the fuck up.
>>37340935>Call Barin, ask for Minna."THE KING OF BOUNCE IS STILL KICKIN'!""You ain't getting rid of me that easy, Smalltime."
>>37340935>Call Barin, ask for Minna.Bwahahahaha!!! You're not getting rid of me that easily!
>>37341164You. I like the way you think.
>>37341057>>37341122>We are on the phone, confirming crew and kills>suddenly, a loud crash can be heard>screams can be heard as base patrols try in vain to stop this new threat>suddenly, silence desends across the base>Suddenly a single cry can be heardWHERE IS MY FUCKING PILOT!>Minna breaks through the wall>BAD END
>>37341164>And whatever we say to her, also get her to keep our death a secret from Sean and Ian. We are going to haunt those two fuckers.We did this already back at Barin. Pic related.
>>37341181>>37341186Whatever we do, we have to make sure it is NOT this.
>Call Minna"Is the refrigerator running?""Better go catch it!"
>>37341212I'm still pissed about the Martians cock-blocking us.
With a deep, unsteady breath, you dial for the operator. “Yes sir, how can I connect your call?” “Castle Barin, please,” you ask. A few seconds and a click later, and you've been patched through to the base's switchboard. If you'd called a few months ago, you might've gotten a sleepy answer from Shirley after twenty rings (you've been told,) but with the base packed to its actual capacity, they've got a WAAF manning the switchboard now. “Hello, miss. Please put me through to Wing Commander Minna, please.” You slump over the desk, burying your face in your hand, feeling very tired all the sudden. “One moment, sir,” she says, and after another few clicks, you're connected. The phone barely rings twice before you hear Minna's voice, loud and clear. “Hello?” “Hey, Minna,” you say. “It's Young.” “What's wrong?” she asks. “You sound whipped.” “I...” you cough, not quite knowing how to start. “I'm on the Isle of Wright.”“Wight.”“Heil Grammar, Herr Pendantic,” you snap, and then smack your own skull a few times. “Fuck, sorry sorry sorry, um. I just...” “Spit it out,” Minna says. “You're on the Isle of Wight, why?” “Emergency. I just had a pretty close call.” There's silence on the other end of the line. “Did you injure your head?”You sigh. “That predictable?” “Actually, the bandage was the big giveaway.” You blink. You look at the phone, and find that the handset's cord is no longer attached. You turn the swivel-chair slowly as you follow the cord to a slender, elegant hand, up the uniformed arm, and find Minna's beautiful eyes regarding you cooly.
>>37341211Bad end because we die or bad end because we end up locked in the Minna dungeon for the rest of the war?
>>37341208I feel sorry for the TIE pilots that have to face that..
>>37341276I'm more pissed that Patton did it. Fucking cockweasel.
>>37341256Darling, guess who just jumped out a perfectly good plane like the little ninnies they are.
>>37341294What.Well its a good thing we called her first then.
>>37341294If we hadn't called Minna we would have been fucked. Not in a good way either.
>>37341294PLANEFAG YOU BEAUTIFUL BASTARD YOU DID SEND MINNA FLYING OVER TO GET US I LOVE YOU ALL THE HOMO
>>37341294DEFCON 1ALERTALERTIT'S IN THE HALLSGAME OVER MAN GAME OVERWE'RE SCREWED, WE'RE SCREWED, MAN
>>37341294it was always too late
>>37341294GOD DAMN IT! We are doomed!Also, this is really awesome music.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m147OQm47t4
>>37341211That's actually a really good idea>Have a huge fight with Minna before an op>This will raise the dramatic tension >Fly deep into enemy lines, get shot down>Preferably near the Martian HQ >Get ourselves captured >Make sure word gets out so they know where we are>Wait for Minna to come rampaging by to beat our sorry ass for doing something this retarded/worrying her>War over, everyone go home, we won
>>37341294Dear god we never noticed her at all....we're boned.
>>37341294>her face right now
>>37341294Sidearm. Ceiling. Yelling.
NEXT TIME ON STRIKE WITCHES: TROLL, COUNTER-TROLLSTRIKE WITCHES will resume THURSDAY, 15TH OF JANUARY, to celebrate our THREE YEAR ANNIVERSARY from the day I first started this fucking retarded shit! TUNE IN NEXT TIME!
>>37341389>three yearsI feel old...
>>37341389Damn you you glorious bastard! I will be there, you better be too!
>>37341389YOU.NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.I hate your fucking cliffhangers.
>>37341389Fuck you so much.
>>37341306Tie Defender witch will save you pilot!
>>37341389>NEXT TIME ON STRIKE WITCHES: TROLL, COUNTER-TROLLCLIFFFFHANGERS
>>37341389Well played planefag, well played.
>>37341389>cliffhangerPLANEFAG IS BAAAAAAAAAAAAACK
>>37341389I don't really know what I expected, but I think I got it...
>>37341389Looking forward to finally participating in an anniversary episode.
Welp, we're fucked.
>>37341302dead=badin minna's sex dungeon=good
>>37341294>>37341057>I actually called itahahahahahahahahaha>>37341389Cheers, you magnificent bastard. Here's to three more years of idiocy.
>>37341389How does a lowly noob, such as my self, find out when these quests go live? I've caught two over the last....long time and I'm hooked.
>>37341294Counter Bounce Win!
>>37341496https://twitter.com/planefagit's like... super cool, yo.
Erik Sverkersen hated the cold. It sunk its claws deep into a man, slowed him, made him tired and weak. There was nothing one could to do fight it, either – it came as suddenly as the enemy had come. But snow... snow wasn't so bad – when it was cold. With snow he could make more effective shelter, keeping the wind from chilling his bones so deep that all he wanted to do was curl up and wait for spring.Waiting was hard. There was nothing to do, once camp was made, but to lie low and wait. Wait for orders. Wait for contact. Wait for something, anything. Waiting was grating on a man's nerves. Sitting. Smoking. Waiting let doubts enter a man's mind about the upcoming fight, about his role in it. Doubts were bad. He was, thankfully, not waiting to die or for warmth to return to this frozen part of the Earth. He was breaking trail, carving a path into the snow for the men behind him. Something shifted in the forest to his left. It wasn't motion that tipped him off, but a sense of *wrongness.* He halted where he stood, then knelt. Behind him, the section did so as well, and Sergeant Bjornson moved up to where Erik knelt.“Extinguish that, corporal, you know better. What's got your goat?” The Sergeant wasn't a big man. He was short of stature and thin. They were all thin, almost starving, really, but Sergeant Bjornsen had been thin before the campaign.Erik flicked the cigarette he had been smoking – a shitty Russian one – into the snow, where it went out with a small hiss.“Something to the left, sergeant.”“Ja? What is it?” Erik shrugged at Bjornsen's question, and Bjornsen scowled. “I need an answer, Sverkersen, not shrugs and nods. We're not Finns.”
“Something. Just... something.” Bjornsen sighed, and turned to check the section's spacing.“Well, go see if there's anything there.”“Ja, sergeant.” Standing, Erik unslung the rifle from his back. He slipped the bayonet onto the muzzle and slipped from tree to tree, not bothering to break trail this time, to where he had ~felt~ the wrongness in the forest. This wasn't Martian country – where they knocked down trees to feed the autolathes, leaving the land bare, as far as the eye could see. This was the forest where the Swedish guerillas reigned supreme, flitting through the trees like ghosts from long ago wars and visiting terror and death upon the Martian menace.Separated from his section, Erik could almost hear the forest: a deep thrumming wanting to make itself known, as though someone was beating a drum in the heart of the Earth. Wishing he had finished his cigarette – a belly full of smoke was better than nothing – Erik knelt on top of the snow, and observed. It was a clear night, the imminent snowstorm not withstanding. Erik could taste the bitter smoke from the Martian hive, carried on an odd northern wind. Peering into the gloom of the old forest, he saw a set of moose tracks to his left were maybe a few hours old, at the most. There were no droppings for him to check that against, but instinctively, he knew he was right.His instincts, such as they were, weren't as honed as those of some of his rural section mates, but Erik trusted them. Pulling a canteen from inside his coat, he opened it and took a sip of the water within, kept unfrozen by his body heat. Shivering slightly, Erik looked at the surrounding forest again. He could tell something was wrong, but *what?*
>>37341517...Did you come here from spacebattles? That looks like the link I posted there.>>37341389Well done, good sir. It will be a glorious trainwreck
Replacing his canteen, he stood and crept slowly in a semi-circle, looking this way and that. There was only the dark forest, grim and foreboding to most – but not to him. The only ones who had to fear the forest were the Martians. Erik cast about for a moment, like a dog searching for a scent it knew to be there, but he came up with nothing: his only company was the acrid smell of burning trees and the howling wind. Erik snapped a branch off a pine beside him, before beginning to backtrack to his section, where they set themselves up for an ambush and waited for news.Somewhere above him, an eagle owl hooted a greeting to its mate. Craning his head to catch a glimpse, Erik smiled as he saw the large shape wing its way above him. Resuming his mostly silent shuffle, he dusted his backtrail with the pine branch to disperse it and make it appear as though there hadn't been any movement at all. He didn't jump when Sergeant Bjornsen materialized next to him, calmly smoking a cigarette and cradling his rifle, waiting for Erik to report.“Anything of note, Sverksen?”“No, sergeant. I didn't see anyone or anything. We're alone in the forest – except for a pair of eagle owls.”“Christ-shitting birds. There was a pair on my father's farm, before the war. All they did was eat my mother's rabbits.” The two men switched from hushed whispers to regular voices, then, as the section clustered around Erik, “Let's leave the god-damned owls to their stupid hunting, then, and be on our way to our camp.”“Well,” Erik began slowly, “it's going to start getting light soon. And I'd wager money there's a storm coming down from the North. Here's as good a spot as any.”“We can make the actual campsite before the storm, Sverkersen,” Bjornsen said. “Did something spook you out there?”
>>37341553...No? I just copy-pasted it from the tab I had open
Erik shrugged in response, then pulled the bayonet off his rifle and sheathed it, preparing himself for the march once more.“Ingen, sergeant. Just... the forest itself, yes? It's wrong, somehow. I'll be a damned Dane if I can explain it more than that, though.” Now that he had put it into words, the shadows cast by the weak starlight lengthened and seemed to grow more menacing.“Quit being superstitious, corporal.” Bjornsen thought about it for a moment, grinned at Erik, and jerked his hand to the line of men behind them. “You can have the middle for a while, son.” Erik simply nodded gratefully, glad for the chance to rest his aching legs and lower back, sore from breaking trail for so long. By his count, he had been at it at least two hours. Only the tenseness of possibly being stalked through a gun's sight had kept him going, and now that he wasn't leading men through a maybe hostile forest, he felt oddly tired.They had been in this forest for seven months, now, since May. Erik was glad to be getting a break from the drudgery of breaking trail, in addition to acting as point-man, whose duties included searching for ambushes, marking possible campsites, and looking for caches planted by other partisan groups. Partisans. That's what the Royal Swedish Army's Northern Group had become: operating in cells no bigger than fifteen men, living off the land and civilian populace not killed by the Martians, scrounging for enough ammo to keep the two small crates on the sled full.Letting his thoughts wander away from the comparatively small war in Sweden, Erik thought of happier times: when the winter wasn't so bleak and the summer wasn't so short, a full belly, and a future beyond one foot in front of the other, hunting and living as prey.
>>37341517>>37341518>>37341522Thank you, kind Anons.I have no Cute Witches to offer, please accept this instead.
“Corporal,” the man behind Erik, Gustav Rambo whispered. “Are you well?” At sixteen, Gustav was the youngest of them all, but he bore his burden without complaint, and had proven himself in a close ambush back in July.“I'm fine, private. What about you? Feet doing okay?” Erik was concerned for the younger man's feet. If he couldn't march, he couldn't keep up. If he couldn't keep up, the young Gustav was dead.“Of course, corporal. ”“Good,” he said, and fell silent.Gustav took the hint, and Erik tried to dispel the vague notion that something was going to go wrong. He tried to reassure himself: if it hadn't in the past seven months he had been fighting with Third Section, then it wouldn't today.After what seemed an impossibly short time, Bjornsen called a halt. Erik looked up at the sky and the moon was completely gone. Only the light of the stars served as beacons in the dark of the night. “We'll make camp here,” Bjornsen said softly. Erik began picking out where he would place the men standing watch from his sub-section. The clearing was fairly cozy, but not too large or small. They'd be able to rotate watches easily.Unslinging the pack and rifle from his shoulders, Erik drew the hunting knife his brother had sent to him and set to hacking boughs from the pine trees around them. They would serve as a liner to sleep on and walls for the lean-tos being put together by Bjornsen's subsection.It served to distract him from the aches in his body and the fatigue plaguing his mind; it was with half a mind Erik noted the sudden crack of a rifle from his left. Looking up idly, to see if someone had bagged a moose, he watched as Rambo staggered forward weakly, as if he was drunk. And then his torso ~burst~ in a mist of red and chips of gray bone.
Anyone archive the thread yet?
Throwing himself to the ground, Erik scrabbled for his rifle, hunting knife still gripped tightly in his hand. The forest suddenly exploded into noise. Harsh wheezing from Rambo as he struggled to breath, Bjornsen shouting orders, the hard barks from the m/37 Automatic Rifle; bullets cracking against trees and stone. His hands finally found his rifle. Erik jerked it to him through the snow now partially covering him. Risking raising his head, he saw formless ~blobs~ emerge from the trees around his men. Grimacing, he brought the rifle up to his shoulder and fired on instinct, knocking one of the shapes backwards. Forcing his body into a roll, Erik barely avoided the burst of minirockets that would have left his head and torso nothing but ground beef. Another burst, this time from the m/37, found its way to where he was. Erik rolled again, feeling the heat of bullets shredding the air pass uncomfortably close. Forcing himself to his feet, he ran for cover offered by a rock jutting out of the dirt. A burst of minirockets slammed into the rock just as he slipped behind it. He ducked his head, the thunderous vibrations jolting him through the the stoneA burst from something automatic slammed into his rock again, and Erik swore. He looked around and picked out three of his fellow Swedes down, their blood staining the snow. One, who he thought was Rambo, whimpered in pain.
>>37341569Huh, I have the tab open. . .So, thoughts on Minna?
Trying desperately to muster his courage, Erik stood to a hunched crouch and bellowed.“For the Fatherland, you dogs! Attack! Cut them down! Kill them!” He brought the rifle up to his shoulder, aimed at a blob next to a tree, and fired. He worked the bolt as fast as possible, trying not to panic, the air filling with the smell of gunpowder and the sharp tang of blood.The deep chatter of the squad's m/37 stood out against the booming crackle of rifles. Erik smiled: Jan had found a spot that covered him enough for the Browning and its gunner to begin their grim workErik went down hard as shrapnel from a rocket slammed into the fleshy part of his thigh. His ears rang. He collapsed behind a tree, sighing in relief, even as something ~heavy~ slammed into the tree sheltering him. The clatter of the squad's m/37 mingled with that of the enemy's, and he didn't think about what he was doing. Taking a handful of snow, he shoved it into the wound on his leg, trying to keep it functioning long enough for the fight.He peered over his cover, reaching into the pouch of stick grenades at his side. Bullets and minirockets seemed to shred the air around him, plucking at his cover, at his clothing, his hair. Erik lobbed the grenade directly into a clump where the heaviest Martian firing was coming from. It exploded with a large CRUMP, and then someone slammed into his side, tackling him back behind the tree.
>>37341637Not a spacebattles tab or whatever you're on about, the twitter page
“Stay down, corporal,” the man on top of him said. “I think Sergeant Bjornsen got hit.” Erik bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, then swore. The sound of the Martian minirockets firing peeled off slowly as first one, and then another grenade went off next to where it was coming from, and Erik tried to struggle to stand, but the man on top of him shook his head. “Can't let you do that, corporal.” He was about to order the man, probably Ulfeldt, off of him, when he heard the high-pitched droning of the Martian air support craft approaching, and his blood ran cold.--And that concludes Northern Lights, part one. A big thanks goes you guys for letting me post this, and planefag for really getting me into writing.Stay gay, faggot.
>>37341637Don't think, just feel.
>>37341637Minna is love, Minna is life
>>37341637>So, thoughts on Minna?What is there to think on other than how we're going to make sweet love to her?
>>37341700I prefer cupcakes.
>>37341662That's what I meant. Sorry for being vague.>>37341685Reasonable advice>>37341719We'll probably pass out sobbing that we're sorry and then we'll wake up in a bed with her pinning us there so we can actually rest and get better.
>>37341700More Minna puppies!>>37341637We better not drop any noodles of any kind. We might make it out alive and not snoo-snooed.
>>37341775minnafags plz go
>>37341758All the Minna puppies!
>>37341758Have we shared our thoughts about Amelia with Minna? I forget. That's the most likely noodle-idge topic. That's one thing we've generally been consistent about: worried for Robin.
>>37341786There will never be a Trude x Shirley x Young route.
>>37341801Probably not. Minna's been busy dealing with all of the trouble we caused, we haven't had a decent heart to heart since before the ice-cream.
>>37341801>tell Minna about Amelia>Minna suggests threesome>ahahaha>you're joking>right?
>>37341827>route.No there won't be, we'll just team up with Minna and fucker her on the kitchen table together.
>>37341830>Only if you promise to break her stupid jaw between your thighs>I know you can do it don't lie to me
>>37341801She's for later, and only in the context of her dragging Robin into this war and his anger over it. >>37341787>>37341769Thanks! I need more mina puppies pics.
>>37341830>Amelia is wandering halls of Barin>suddenly dragged into closet>Minna is holding her with a mad grin on her face>and a strapon on her crotch
>>37341874You should just save them all.
>>37341956I am and thanks again!
Do you think we can talk ourselves out of this by pleading for headwound-induced unaccountability?
>>37342196I don't see why it would work now when it hasn't worked the several dozen other times we tried it.
>>37342196Why talk when we can just kiss her and fall on top of her on the bed?
>>37342236>Why talk when we can just kiss her and fall on top of her on the bed?!!!!!!!!!
>>37342236Because she can break us like a twig when we break her heart.
>>37342283But we're not going to break her heart anon.
>>37342299We nearly do so every time we almost die. She's going to snap if we don't dial it back a little bit.
>>37342317So let's dial it back a bit, and start by spending more time with her.
>>37342334Well, I'll try and you can try, but anon seems to be pretty dedicated to being a retard since planefag came back.
>>37342500>anon seems to be pretty dedicated to being a retard since planefag came back>since planefag came backIt's like you've never been in this quest before.
>>37342962I have, there was a brief period before he initially left where anon was actually playing like Young had half a brain and some feelings. It has once again disappeared into stupidity.
>>37342992oh no people aren't voting in lockstep with you better panic for no goddamn reason
>>37342992> there was a brief period before he initially left where anon was actually playing like Young had half a brain and some feelingsAnd then we promptly fucked Waltrude.Lets face it, the stupid will always be a part of us. But that doesn't mean we can't fight it.
>>37343012Not panicing, just commenting. >>37343067We can try.
>>37342992Back then Planefag had a halfway regular eschedule instead of valve time so PILOTard wouldn't build up so bad... but now look at how much it's built up.
Now for a important question: If the Sanyan revealed she has a crush on us, how would we react?
>>37343158Hide behind Minna, say we lover her like a sister.
>>37343189What if Minna was OK with it?
>>37343204Then she'll be the one to bring her into our bed for a threesome.
>>37343204Then we do what our very scary girlfriend tells us to while waiting for Eila to try and kill us. Again.
>yfw after a long and furious bout of lovemaking with Minna you look up to see Sanyan spying on you
>>37343300Minna would have known the whole time because of her magic.
>>37343204if minna wants to farm out pilot as a breeding stud, pilot's gonna get farmed out as a breeding stud.
>>37343335Sanya could still spy. She needs to have kids for 89 at least.
>>37343335>yfw Minna knew the entire time, and said nothing
>>37343158Good question as it's a sizable tendency among little sister figures to develop crushes on their big brother figures.>>37343231>implying Minna wouldn't scare her off.
>>37343524>implying the whole thing wasn't Minna's idea in the first place
Best thread in a while! Thanks Planefag!!!