>>41913213
[2/2]

You cross your arms. Civil Air Patrol? But you’d never get to the frontline like that! “Can’t you do anything for me?”

He nods. “I am.” He takes your papers and shoves them onto your chest. “I’m saving your life.”

-

-

You sigh. Air Witches is out then. You pull out your notepad and examine it.

New York – X
Utica – X
New Jersey – X
Scranton – X

That’s four different recruiting towns that rejected you. Great, just great. You shove it back into your skirt and huff as you exit the processing station. Out into the hustle and bustle of New York. You watch as men and women all come into the processing station right off the bus, a few you can already make out as witches. Hmph. Lucky. You start moving away.

“Hey you!” You’re suddenly grabbed by the shoulder. “You becoming a Tank Witch too?” she asks.

“Huh?” You look up at her. Red hair, bit of a toothy grin. Looked pretty fiery this one. “Tank Witch? No, I-“

“Come on!” She lifts you up easily and throws you over her shoulder. “We can process together!”

“Hey, let go of me! Stop it! Unhand me! Help, help I’m being kidnapped! I don’t wanna be a tank witch!” You scream and holler. Nobody seems to care though as this hooligan just carries you back into the processing station that just rejected you.

-

-

>>41913236
[3/3]

And that’s how you became a Tank Witch of sorts.

You never did see that one girl after that. You didn’t even catch her name. What matters to you know is that you can’t even call yourself a tank witch. Your Striker Unit was more built for prime moving and focusing your magic into the strength of your legs and your arms so that you could move equipment. Apparently your shields are as horrific as the Dodger’s defense. Damn bums ruin everything.

You sigh as you polish your Striker Unit legs. Alaska is a very lonely post. Nothing but lend-lease stuff coming through to Orussia, Airacobras, Shermans, Tommy Guns, all of that you have to lift into ships.

Gets boring after a while.

But regardless, you pride yourself in the cleanliness of your Striker. Maybe one day a general will come by and promote you to the Front! If only. The Neuroi are apparently on the run, and at this rate the war’s gonna be over before you get to do anything.

Your Striker Unit isn’t exactly a combat thing. It’s:

> A T26 chassis pulled out of the prototype lines and repurposed. Comes with arms too to help lift things.
> A Bergepanther with a crane mount to help you lift heavy items.
> A Churchill with the combat capabilities ripped out and replaced with heavy servos, fast but only to help you move things.

>>41913256
>> A T26 chassis pulled out of the prototype lines and repurposed. Comes with arms too to help lift things.

I like more arms.

>>41913256
>A T26 chassis pulled out of the prototype lines and repurposed. Comes with arms too to help lift things.

>>41913256
>> A T26 chassis pulled out of the prototype lines and repurposed. Comes with arms too to help lift things.

>>41913256
>> A T26 chassis pulled out of the prototype lines and repurposed. Comes with arms too to help lift things.

>>41913256
>A Churchill with the combat capabilities ripped out and replaced with heavy servos, fast but only to help you move things.

>>41913314
>>41913325
>>41913329
You guys also like more arms? Sweet.

>>41913256
> A T26 chassis pulled out of the prototype lines and repurposed. Comes with arms too to help lift things.

>>41913256
> A Churchill with the combat capabilities ripped out and replaced with heavy servos, fast but only to help you move things.
CHURCHILL

File: TM-9-374-T26E1-1.jpg (69 KB, 813x525)

69 KB JPG

>>41913373
Gotta go pure freedom.

Even though our striker will be way underpowered.

>>41913364
>>41913391
>kidnapped by a boisterous redhead
>doesn't even bang her.
We don't deserve a Churchill.

>>41913457
It's okay. We'll get more arms.

>>41913496
Not even first post but already in possible magic carpet munching. Classic GS

>>41913575
>> Classic GS

> GermanSchteel

OH SHIT! I had no idea that this was a GS quest!

> A T26 chassis pulled out of the prototype lines and repurposed. Comes with arms too to help lift things.

You’re told the T26 chassis that you work with is actually supposed to be some big heavy tank the Liberions are developing. It’s been stonewalled due to their hesitation in introducing a new item into the supply line. You don’t blame them, it really sucks when the Karlslanders down south introduce something new. One whole year of having to write paperwork, process, and then lift over six different lines of tanks. Jagdpanthers, Jagdtigers, King Tigers, Jagdpanzer IV, Elefant tanks, and apparently there’s ANOTHER sturmgeschutz on a different chassis to account for.

That was the only year you weren’t Employee of the Month. Goddamn krauts ruin everything.

The extra pair of arms really helps with multi-tasking at least, combined as well with the other pair that you actually wear on your own arms to help out the strength factor. The only thing keeping the T26 from being a full blown suit of armor is the lack of chest protection.

You shudder. Not that there’s anything to protect.

You check your watch. 5 to 12. Nearly time to get the new shipments loaded. You look around the hangar and see your assistant, that Grease Monkey, lying back in his chair with a damn porno mag over his eyes. Must be asleep. “Hey, Grease!” you yell from across the hangar. “Grease!” you yell again. No response. Ugh! You pick up a spare wrench and throw it at him. Off target, but the sound of it landing on his desk rattles him awake. “Wake up! Help me into my Striker!”

He groans, rubbing his neck. “Please tell me we’re not shipping any Karlsland tanks today.”

[1/2]

>>41913680
[2/2]

“No.” You shake your head. “Worse. We’re shipping more artillery guns today.” He scratches at his blonde hair, grimacing. “Come on.” You hold out your arms, and he quickly picks you up and walks up the movable stairs. He slides you into the legs, then lowers the arms down by crane and slides your arms in. “Anything new with my Striker today?” you ask.

He pulls out his notepad. “It’s operating at 100% efficiency!” he says with pride. “… as usual.”

You smile happily. Great! Gotta keep it running nice for that visit from the general one day! “Alright, let’s get moving.”

He holds up a finger. “Ah, first. Can you do me a quick favor?”

You check your watch. 3 to 12. Goddamn it. This better be quick. “What?”

“I might’ve lost my welder, would you mind just quickly giving the motorpool a runaround for it?”

You narrow your eyes. “Why can’t you do it?”

He checks his watch, pursing his lips a bit. “…” You wait for the second hand to tick over to 12. “I’m on lunch break.”

> “Great, because I’m gonna feed you all these spare parts if you don’t find it yourself.”
> “Fine, you owe me though.”
> Pull the hurt little girl act, it works! … you hope.

>>41913702
> “Great, because I’m gonna feed you all these spare parts if you don’t find it yourself.”

>>41913702
>“Great, because I’m gonna feed you all these spare parts if you don’t find it yourself.”
This is not how you get to be employee of the month, Grease.

>>41913702
>> “Fine, you owe me though.”

>>41913702
>> Pull the hurt little girl act, it works! … you hope.

>>41913702
>“Fine, you owe me though.”
Let's not be the bitchy witch this time, please.

>>41913702
>“Great, because I’m gonna feed you all these spare parts if you don’t find it yourself.”

>>41913832
Which quest had a bitchy witchy?

>>41913851
Rookie was pretty bitchy in Gallia.

>>41913878
>roleplaying a girl with blonde drill hair
>not being prissy

>>41913904
Hey, I'm not saying Rookie was bad or anything, just that we could be different.

>>41913702
>> “Fine, you owe me though.”

>>41913904
Gotta love that side drill hair and her sister was pretty sweet too.

>>41913702
>> “Fine, you owe me though.”

> “Fine, you owe me though.”

“Alright!” says Grease Monkey. He pats you on the head. “You’re saving my bacon, Kid!”

“Only this once though, it’s your welder. You’ve got to take better care of your equipment.” You flex out your arms and legs, getting warmed up for the heavy lifting and moving. “Remember when I had to find your spanner, and your wrench, and your helmet, AND your Dodge truck too?”

“Okay, in my defense I was drunk for that last one,” he says quickly.

“Irregardless,” you say. “Seriously, keep track of your stuff.” You pat Grease Monkey’s cheek with your extra arm. “What would your girlfriend say if you lost her picture?” He stares at you, biting down on his tongue by the look of it. “… okay, whatever.” You pat him on the shoulder. “I’ll find it.”

“Employee of seven consecutive months right here!” He snaps his fingers, pointing them at you as he returns to his desk.

“That’s twenty consecutive months! The kraut tanks don’t count!” you yell. You start stomping off, moving into the open air of the Alaskan port. Kept pretty well-concealed to keep Neuroi from storming it. You’re well-aware of the importance of a supply line like this. If the Neuroi were to ever cut off the lend-lease lines to Orussia, then that means they’d lose vital equipment, weapons, planes, tanks, ammo, everything!

So it stands to reason that MAYBE you might get to fight at least one, right?

You look to the skies. Clear blue. No Neuroi in sight.

Damn it.

[1/3]

>>41914529
[2/3]

-

-

Ugh, you found his welder. Stuck between two Tiger tanks. What was he even doing with it with those tanks!? You’ll never understand him. You check your watch. You’re two minutes late for loading. This is going to look horrible on your record. Damn it all. You bet Air Witches don’t have to deal with this though. Air Witches probably get their own servants to load their guns, polish their Strikers, and massage their feet.

Hmph. Air witches are overrated anyway. You stack another container up. Another 105 howitzer.

“Excuse me!” You blink, looking down to see a courier. “Are you…” He looks down at an envelope in his hands. “… damn it, the name’s smudged. You’re the witch here, right?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Who’s asking?”

“War Department!” He reaches up on his tiptopes, and one of your arms takes the envelope. You tear it open and begin reading.


To… (damn it, the name is smudged.)

We have received your request AGAIN regarding your transfer to a combat post and we have decided to deny your request. After further evaluation of your skill and potential combat power as a witch, we cannot in good conscience send you into combat. Please understand that is not a matter of you being too weak to fight, but it is a matter of having to select only the best and brightest to represent the Witch and humanity on the battlefield.

My deepest apologies,
Colonel George Sewell, War Department, USA


The Courier looks up at you. “So, is it good news?”

You sigh. “No.” You toss the letter away and let it disappear into the snow. “But thanks anyway.” Damn it, you were sure that adding in a cutting shield would improve your chances. The Courier salutes, then marches away.

Ugh. Maybe you should’ve tried for the CAP.

>>41914544
[3/3]

-

-

You have returned your Striker back to the hangar after a grueling six hours of manual labor. Even with the Striker Unit backing you up, moving all those guns and ammo gets really straining on your back. You rest now, wiping your sweaty brow with a rag and crossing your legs as you sit on a chair.

Ugh, it’s off-season baseball too, so there’s no game on the radio.

The Grease Monkey comes back. “Hey, you found my welder!” He pats the tank of it, grinning. He looks over at you. His grin drops. “… I know that look. Got rejected again.”

“Yes,” you mutter.

He sighs, frowning a little. “You know, you can’t beat yourself up for getting stuck in a shitty post like this. Come on. You’re doing your part for the war. Someone’s gotta move the stuff you know. Truck it to the front.”

“Yeah, but they never talk about people who have to do this,” you hiss. You furiously cross your arms, glaring at nothing in particular. “I can’t believe they’d just leave me out here.”

“They didn’t leave you out here,” he says. He looks around, then pats your shoulder. “Come on, how about a game of catch, that cheer you up?”

> “Sure, I guess.”
> “No. I want you to help me write another request.”
> “No, just leave me alone, Grease.”
> Other

>>41914570
> “Sure, I guess.”

>>41914570
> “No. I want you to help me write another request.”

>>41914570
> “No. I want you to help me write another request.”
Catch a shit.

>>41914570
>“No, just leave me alone, Grease.”
Please no baseball.

>Irregardless
Keeping that one going are you? It's like seeing an old friend again at this point.

>>41914570
>> “No. I want you to help me write another request.”
Yay its GS!

>>41914570
>> “Sure, I guess.”

>>41914570
> “Sure, I guess.”
I bet we're going to put in too much force by accident and send the ball way off into the distance where it clobbers an infiltrator. I bet we'll even get a medal.

>>41914570
>> “Sure, I guess.”

>>41914570
> “No, just leave me alone, Grease.”

>>41914570
>> “Sure, I guess.”

> “Sure, I guess.”

You sigh. “I’m tired, but okay. Just a few rounds though.”

-

-

It was already getting slighty dark out in the sky. But it was enough for you to see the ball. You feel it smack right into the leather of your glove. Grease kneels, wielding a catcher’s mitt. “Alright, show me your heat!”

This was one of your ways of practicing. Grease was unsurprisingly the only volunteer to help you practice your shield throws. You’d magically enfuse the ball with a shield, then throw it was hard as you could into his mitt. Occasionally you’d have to buy a new one every now and again because the impact is so forceful. You give a high kick of your leg, then lunge forward and throw.

Grease is thrown backwards into the snow with a loud meaty smack. Nice velocity. “You okay?” you ask.

He holds up the mitt, ball glowing blue in hand. “I’m good!” He quickly sits back up and dusts himself off. “The way you throw the ball, I’m surprised you aren’t fighting in the first place.”

“Don’t start,” you say. He tosses the ball back to you. “Let me throw you a curve.” He nods, punching the mitt and readying himself. Another kick, another lunge, another throw. This time it spins downward, right into his glove.

“Good!” He tosses it back. “Getting some good breaking action!” There’s actually no point you think in learning a curveball, you just wanted to learn the curveball. Maybe you could throw it behind hills. You squint, looking in the distance. “Hey, what’s up?”

You point out a couple of headlights moving on the road. “Who are they?” you ask. Too dark to make out the shape of their cars, if they even are cars.

Grease shrugs. “Dunno.” You and him move away from your usual catch spot and start towards the gate. A small crowd of other supply workers is already gathering, with the MPs trying to get everyone to disperse.

[1/2]

>>41915367
[2/2]

The trucks arrive. Open cab with naught but some tarps to cover things up. But you swear on your life, you saw something inside of there. Striker Units!

You scratch your chin, thinking.

Wait. Wait. This is it! This is your chance.

“Hey, priority shipment to Siberia!” yells the lead truck driver. “Where’s the foreman?” The Foreman raises his hand, walking over and checking his papers.

“Wait!” you yell. You quickly run on over and explain yourself. “Hold on, you’re carrying Striker Units, right!”

The driver narrows his eyes. “Who wants to know?”

The Foreman looks up at him, sighing. “This is our resident Prime Mover, she’s an expert with the Strikers.”

“Yeah, okay, fine, they’re Strikers,” says the driver. “We gotta move these two units up to Siberia to 1st Joint Armored Corps.”

You tug on the Foreman’s sleeve, whispering through your lips. “Please let me go with them, please let me go with them.” The Foreman looks down at you. He’s well aware of the routine. “Come on…!”

The driver looks down at you, smirking. “Kid, I’m ordered to move Strikers, not witches.”

> Appeal to the Foreman. If you do it hard enough he’ll have to let you go!
> Try and convince the driver. He’s moving it, it’s his stuff!
> You won’t convince either of them. What you can do is STOWAWAY!
> Other

>>41915390
> Try and convince the driver. He’s moving it, it’s his stuff!

>>41915390
> Other
> Reconsider this terrible idea, then do your damn job.

>>41915390
>> Try and convince the driver. He’s moving it, it’s his stuff!

>>41915390
> You won’t convince either of them. What you can do is STOWAWAY!
>>41915458
Jobs are for adults!

>>41915390
>> You won’t convince either of them. What you can do is STOWAWAY!

>>41915390
>> Appeal to the Foreman. If you do it hard enough he’ll have to let you go!

>>41915390
> Try and convince the driver. He’s moving it, it’s his stuff!

>>41915390
>You won’t convince either of them. What you can do is STOWAWAY!

The traditional path to adventure!

>>41915390
>> Try and convince the driver. He’s moving it, it’s his stuff!

>>41915390
What you can do is not go AWOL in a time of war. That's a good way to get shot as a deserter and coward, or worse, a traitor.

>>41915390
Consider the max penalty of AWOL, desertion during a time of war and all the other stuff they could charge us with

>>41915390
>> Other
Let's uh, maybe follow orders and keep to our duty?

>>41916090
Support, lets not get charged with desertation

> Try and convince the driver. He’s moving it, it’s his stuff!

You quickly hop onto the step of the door and look the driver right in the eye. “Aw, come on, Mister! Just let me go with you! Just this once! I won’t ever ask anything of you again!”

The driver leans forward, looking down at the Foreman. “She always this eager to go?” The Foreman shrugs, writing something on his clipboard. He looks back at you. “If he’s fine with it, I’ll let ya go with them. Write it off as ah… escort duty.” You grin, then look back at the Foreman.

He looks up. “Huh? What were we talking about?”

“We were talking about her coming with us,” says the Driver.

“Oh.” The Foreman nods. “Sure, just make sure she comes back in a couple of days. We’re expecting a big shipment of tanks and a Prime Mover is gonna be a big help.”

The Driver nods, smiling at you. “In the back.” Is this really happening?! You look at everyone, and they all clap and cheer for you. Yes, you’ve finally made it! You’re finally getting to the frontline! You look over at Grease Monkey, who whoops and hollers in jubilation.

“I’m going to war, Grease!” you shout as you run over and hug him.

“Aw! You are, you are!” He laughs, quickly helping you into the back of the truck. “I’ll pack your Striker and your things! Just hold up for now!”

You quickly settle into the back. You quickly wave at everyone. All of these people you’ve worked with for nearly two years and they cheer you on! Oh, it feels so good to be loved! It’ll feel even better when it’s not just dozens, but hundreds of thousands of people cheering you on when you get to parade down the street! A Tank Witch! Not what you had in mind but it’ll do!

You hug your legs, giddy as a fly. You can’t wait! You can’t even sleep!

[1/2]

>>41916257
[2/2]

-[ THE NEXT DAY ]-

Okay, you really wish you had gotten some sleep.

But regardless, you’re in Siberia. One of the last bastions of Orussian defense ever since the Neuroi pushed east and pushed hard. The legendary Misfits gave the world this one holdout so that Orussia could have a future. It’s time for you to be part of that! With a dolly carrying yours and the two other Strikers (A Churchill and a StuG III G), you move on through the military base. Husky, bearded, and gigantic Orussian soldiers are everywhere, intermixed with the occasional Karlslander or two. Tanks of all kinds from T-34s, to Panzer IVs, to lend-lease Shermans are gathered up in the motorpool. And artillery guns line up across the Tank Hangars. Everything from mortars to the hugest 240mm guns.

With the Neuroi, overkill is not a thing.

You look at your orders. Hangar 17 for the 1st Joint Armored Corps, Captain Kelly’s 1st Tank Witch Squadron. Deliver Strikers. Return within three days. Awesome! Just being here is already making you feel like part of the war!

You sit down on the dolly, crossing your legs and smiling. You just got to wait.

…

You lean back on your Striker, pursing your lips. Hm. Maybe you should’ve brought your glove.

“Hey you!” You blink, standing up straight and saluting. Oh thank god it’s an officer, a Major. That would’ve been embarrassing if he were enlisted. “That a Prime Mover?” he asks. You nod quickly. “Great! We needed someone to help tow the guns. Would you mind helping us?”

… oh.

> “Um. My orders say I’m supposed to wait for a Captain Kelly?”
> “Um. Okay. Sure.”
> “Uh… can’t you do this yourself?”
> Other

>>41916269
>“Um. Okay. Sure.”
Helping is helpful.

>>41916269
> “Um. Okay. Sure.”

We're no slacker!

>>41916269
>> “Um. My orders say I’m supposed to wait for a Captain Kelly?”

FYIGMO

>>41916269
>> “Um. My orders say I’m supposed to wait for a Captain Kelly?”
Always mention previous orders. He can still rescind them, but he has to know.

>>41916269
>> “Um. Okay. Sure.”

>>41916269
>> “Um. My orders say I’m supposed to wait for a Captain Kelly?”

>>41916269

>>41916315
Makes a good point, switching >>41916308 to
> “Um. My orders say I’m supposed to wait for a Captain Kelly?”

>>41916269
> “Um. My orders say I’m supposed to wait for a Captain Kelly?”

>>41916269
> “Um. My orders say I’m supposed to wait for a Captain Kelly?”

> “Um. My orders say I’m supposed to wait for a Captain Kelly?”

You just got to the frontline damn it, you’re here, the last thing you want to do is be a glorified packmule again. “My orders say I’m supposed to wait for Captain Kelly.” You motion over to the Strikers. “These new Strikers are for her squadron.”

“Ah, I see.” He points inside the hangar. “You don’t need to wait. They’re in there. I guess we’ll ask Bo for help then.”

Oh. Well, now you feel stupid. You nod, quickly picking the dolly up again and wheeling yourself to the hangar. You gently slide the large doors open to reveal a Strikers, lining up on the walls. And in the center of it all is a…

You sniff the air. Barbecue? You wheel in the Strikers and walk up to the grill. You see a girl in a neat little bikini, a helmet, and an apron cook what appear to be some very good meat patties. Huh. Isn’t she cold? You also look to see someone a bit more dignified sitting next to the grill, smoking pipe between her lips, book in her hands, legs in pantyhose crossed like a proper lady. Hm. Is this the 1st Tank Witch Squadron?

You clear your throat. They both turn to you and-

Wait. You narrow your eyes. Red hair, toothy grin.

Uh oh.

“Need something?” she asks.

“… uh no,” you quickly say. “I’m in the wrong hangar sorry-“

“Are those our Strikers?” asks the sitting girl. She takes the pipe into her hand and stands up, shutting her book. Damn it. You nod. You’re not getting out of this, no use in lying. “Ah, jolly good, jolly good.” She walks over, leaning over to examine them. “Fresh as daisies. Rosemary’s going to appreciate the upgrade to the G model.”

The redhead walks up to you, snapping her fingers. “You look familiar, I seen ya before?”

[1/2]

>>41917049
[2/2]

“Um.” You blink. “No.”

“Excuse me.” The other one taps your shoulder, then nods to you. “Captain Kelly, 1st Tank Witch Squadron, 1st Joint Armored Corps.” Oh! Officer! You click your heels and salute. She gives you a salute back. “Happy to make your acquaintance. Name and rank?”

“Ah, Private First Class-“

“I know!” The other girl slaps you on the back, surprising you. “You’re that Kid from the processing station! Yeah!” Ugh… damn it. “Man, it’s been a while, how are ya!?”

> “Burnie, it’s nice to see you again.”
> “So uh, Captain. Here are your Strikers, will you need my help or anything?”
> “Sorry, that’s not my name, I know of no Kid or… anybody like that… please no.”
> Other

>>41917063
> “So uh, Captain. Here are your Strikers, will you need my help or anything?”

>>41917063
>"Burnie, it's nice to see you again."
>"You shitwank."
>"So uh, Captain. Here are your Strikers, will you need my help or anything?"

>>41917063
>> “So uh, Captain. Here are your Strikers, will you need my help or anything?”

>>41917063
> “Burnie, it’s nice to see you again.”

>>41917063
> “Burnie, it’s nice to see you again.”
> “So uh, Captain. Here are your Strikers, will you need my help or anything?”

but i thought we didn't know her name

>>4191706
> “Burnie, it’s nice to see you again.”
> “So uh, Captain. Here are your Strikers, will you need my help or anything?"

>>41917401
That's my bad.

>>41917063
>> “Sorry, that’s not my name, I know of no Kid or… anybody like that… please no.”

>>41917401
>>41917443
Just a nickname we gave her? Maybe she burned the test apparatus down or something?

File: PANIC!!!.gif (2.92 MB, 580x328)

2.92 MB GIF

>>41917063
> “Sorry, that’s not my name, I know of no Kid or… anybody like that… please no.”

Blush hard

> “So uh, Captain. Here are your Strikers, will you need my help or anything?”

You bite your lip, quickly turning back to Captain Kelly. “So uh…. Here are the Strikers, hehe… you need my helping with anything?”

She shrugs. “Not sure. You’re a witch yourself I’m guessing, correct?” You nod quickly. “Strange that someone like you would be a glorified courier.”

Burnie rests her head on your head, silencing you. “Well, the Kid here’s actually not that powerful, Skip.” Ugh… “She told me she was trying for the Air Witches a couple years back, imagine that!”

“Please…” you whisper.

“Anyway, I’m Burnie, if ya remember that,” she says, patting your arm. “Ya already know Skip. First thing’s first though, Kid. What are ya doin’ here? I didn’t imagine they’d let you out of Alaska.” You remain quiet. “Don’t make me pull rank on you, Kiddo…” She pulls down her helmet, revealing the single white stripe. Ugh, a Lieutenant. How!?

You cross your arms. “If you must know, I am escorting these Striker units here to Siberia.” You look up at her. “And please get off my head. That’s annoying.” She remains on your head. “Please get off my head.”

Burnie harumphs, scratching her cheek. “They never needed an escort for the Strikers until now.”

“That’s because Roy knows that the Units themselves are useless without witches to man them,” explains Captain Kelly. “As for you, Kid.” Goddamn it. “I suppose we can keep you around. Jeb and Doc are out on patrol for now so we could use an extra hand.” She smiles, motioning to the grill. “Help yourself to a burger perhaps. Make yourself at home.”

“A- Actually…” You hold up a finger. “I was wondering if I could perhaps uh… join the 1st Tank Witch Squadron?” Burnie and Captain Kelly stare at you. “I know I’m weak… but I know how to- how to uh… Um. Uh.” Jeez, you can feel your cheeks heating up a bit. “I can throw a curveball!” you yell.

[1/2]

>>41918239
[2/2]

Burnie steps back from you, placing her hands on her hips, her characteristic grip gone. Captain Kelly taps the end of her pipe on her lip, thinking on it. “I was not aware we were playing baseball all of a sudden,” she states. Oohh…

Burnie taps Captain Kelly’s shoulder. “Skip. Maybe we can give her a chance, yeah?” She looks over at you. “Did you bring your Striker?” You nod frantically. “There, see! She’s not gonna need to use one of our old busted ones. Plus, a prime mover would be some serious help for ammo.” Ugh, they’re going to use you as an ass, damn it! You nearly throw yourself to the ground for this!

“Hm.” Captain Kelly looks down at you. “Would you be willing to display your abilities to us, Kid?”

“Yes!” you say. Your eyes light up. “Yes, anything! I’ll do anything!” Burnie licks her lips, quirking her brow. “… almost anything.”

“Good.” Captain Kelly pats your head. “Burnie, assign her to a task for now. I’ll check up on her after I give my Striker a onceover.” She nods. “Jolly good.” She walks away.

Burnie smiles at you. “Well, Kid.” You smile. “Hell if I know what to do with ya.” Your smile drops. “I mean, Bohater’s working right now, Rosie’s kind of uh being uh… hell if I know where she is.” She snaps her finger. “You can help me cook! I cook a mean burger! Especially with friends!”

> “I’ll go find Bohater.”
> “Who’s this Rosie? I’ll find her.”
> “Cooking sounds simple, let’s do it.”
> Other

>>41918263
> “Cooking sounds simple, let’s do it.”
As much as I want to see Rosie.

>>41918263
>> “Cooking sounds simple, let’s do it.”

>>41918263
>> “Cooking sounds simple, let’s do it.”

Select all images with burgers.

>>41918263
>“I’ll go find Bohater.”
Bohater lifts things, we lift things, it's a natural friendship!

>>41918263
>> “Cooking sounds simple, let’s do it.”

>>41918263
> “Who’s this Rosie? I’ll find her.”
>>41918325
It's telling you to be more MURRICAN!

>>41918263
>> “Who’s this Rosie? I’ll find her.”
Everyone but the raging, lesbian idiot.

>>41918263
> “Cooking sounds simple, let’s do it.”

>>41918903
Slowpoke 2 years later.jpg

> “Cooking sounds simple, let’s do it.”

“Awesome!” She unties her apron then quickly hands it off to you. She almost places her helmet upon your head as well. Quite big for you unfortunately. It hangs right over your eyes. “You’ll need that.”

“A-…” You blink, pulling the helmet up as you tie the apron together. “Are you going to use your flamethrower?” The flamethrower resting next to the grill looks intimidating to say the least.

She sputters. “Pffft, no. The patties would taste terrible then. You ever have patties doused in liquid fuel that’s been on fire? Tastes like shit. I wouldn’t have it again.” Oh. Thank god. “We’re going to use what the krauts call Blempkopf or whatever. A what? She holds up a glass flask with a red liquid in it.

Oh. OH. BLENDKORPER. “Wait!” you yell. She looks at you before she pours uncaps it. “Um, that- that’s not good for uh… grilling.”

She blinks, looking at it. “Damn.” She places it beside her flamethrower.

“Why don’t you just use regular coal?” you ask.

“Well, we could but that’s boring,” she says. You stare at her sternly, placing your hands on your hips like a mean old mom. “Ugh, fine.” She hefts up a bag of coals and then quickly shoves a few lumps into the grill. “No fun allowed police right here.”

[1/2]

>>41919209
[2/2]

-

-

After a good half hour of grilling, the burgers are done. You take a bite out of the white bread and the patty, and to your surprise it tastes fantastic! You can’t help but give a mighty yelp of approval as you and her dine on burgers. “This tastes great!” you say.

“Yeah, but I wonder what blempcupper grenade grilled burger would’ve tasted like.”

“It would’ve tasted like calcium chloride,” you say.

She looks over at you. “You really know your equipment huh.”

“You spend as long as I have on the supply line you’ll learn a few things,” you mutter. Burnie nods, taking another bite of her burger.

Burnie looks over at your Striker. “That your Striker?” She nods. “Hey, how about a quick little demonstration?”

You blink. “Here?” She nods. “Now?”

“Yeah! Looks really fucking big too. And are those like… arms?” You nod. “Wow, unique. Can you add some flamethrowers to it?” Typical. “Ah whatever, just show it off to me.”

You sigh. “Fine, but you’re going to have to help me into it.” She nods, moving with you to the Striker. You push a few buttons on the side of the legs, and they quickly fold upwards into the standing position. Burnie helps you in, and immediately you feel your legs meld right in. You feel your tail pop out of your tailbone and…

> Rattle like a diamondback rattlesnake.
> Wag like a bloodhound
> Flutter like an emu
> Other

>>41919209
>She almost places her helmet upon your head as well. Quite big for you unfortunately. It hangs right over your eyes.

So, how loli are we?

Question, how slutty are the girls in this quest? I could go for some sluts right now

>>41919235
> Flutter like an emu
Cute

>>41919235
> Rattle like a diamondback rattlesnake

>>41919235
>> Other
Racoon?

>>41919235
> Rattle like a diamondback rattlesnake.
I don't think I've heard of any snake witches.

>>41919235
>Flutter like an emu

>>41919235
Is snaketail legal? Snakes don't really HAVE tails as such.

File: MH3G-Hungry_Deviljho.png (349 KB, 583x444)

349 KB PNG

>>41919235
>Other
Big fat pickle tail of rage

>>41919235
> Rattle like a diamondback rattlesnake.

>>41919329
Headwings are legal, this isn't really the thing to get technical about.

>>41919235
> Flutter like an emu

>>41919300
>>41919378
Either of these

Raccoon before Deviljho if it comes with cute lil bandit eyes

>>41919248
Hopefully not loli at all, just small

>>41919248
We're not, we've just comically tiny and frail.

Like GS himself.

>>41919386
Well headwings ARE pretty silly...

>>41919452
Yes, but they are also canon.

>>41919445
In that case I'd rather have a mouse tail.

>>41919486
Emu master race

File: Shinobu_profile.jpg (84 KB, 1280x720)

84 KB JPG

>>41919437
>hating on lolis

>>41919235
>> Flutter like an emu
We are death.

>>41919486
>not wanting a big ol fat lizard tail that's as big as us
Plebes, the lot of you

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163 KB PNG

>>41919567

>all that samefagging
Emufags be scum

>>41919588
There's four votes for emu and three for rattlesnake. I don't think your conclusion follows the facts anon.

>>41919235
>> Rattle like a diamondback rattlesnake.

SNEK WITCH.

>>41919641
It's obviously someone just trying to stir shit like >>41919264. Probably same guy even.

>>41919668
Let's not get paranoid anon, I think it was probably a joke.

>>41919691
Given said posts only started after thread was linked in spooky, probably not.

>>41919724
Mentioned, not linked, and it was one post. Pretty sure the samefag thing was meant in jest, as was the response.

>>41919235
> Flutter like an emu

>>41919235
> Flutter like an emu
hahahah that war was funny

>>41919235
>> Rattle like a diamondback rattlesnake.

>>41919235
>Rattle like a diamondback rattlesnake.

SNEK GURL

>>41919235
Okay, looks like we're tied again, so I'' switch
>>41919324
to
> Rattle like a diamondback rattlesnake.

>>41920302
There's no way GS hasn't almost finished the update by now anon.

> Flutter like an emu

“Awww, that tail of yours is just adorable…” Burnie pinches it with her fingers, giggling a little.

You slap her hand away. Your tail rattles loudly. “Stop that!” you hiss. She quirks her brow. “… Lieutenant.” She helps pull on your arms, and you grunt as they meld on start flexing and moving about. Just gotta warm yourself up.

Captain Kelly walks over. “So this is your Striker, yes?” You nod, looking down on her. “Interesting design. What chassis is it?”

“It’s built off of a Liberion T26 chassis, same chassis they’re using for a heavy tank design,” you say. “I guess they’re not really confident in it if they’re allowing a prototype to be used as a prime mover.”

“I see.” She taps her fist gently against her leg. “Seems sturdy too. You ever see combat?” You shake your head. “I see. Well, give it a walk to the other end of the hangar. Let’s see how fast you are.” Really? Yes! Finally a chance to show your skill! You pull up your leg and start stomping to the other end of the hangar!

…

You’re barely a couple of meters there. Captain Kelly checks her watch. “Is that as fast as you go?”

You nod, trying to force your Striker to move faster. “I can push it!”

Burnie chuckles a little. “It’ll be obsolete by the time it gets there.”

“Shut up!” you yell. You hear a rumble out in the distance. Captain Kelly and Burnie look out of the hangar door. And in come a pair of Strike Witches. “What’s happening!”

“Jeb.” Captain Kelly motions to the Liberion with the Marine cap. “What’s going on?”

“Roy’s coming in! It’s a Supercarrier!” A what? “It just appeared out of the clouds!” A Supercarrier!? This far from the Hives!? That's impossible! You thought things were supposed to be going good against the Neuroi!

[1/2]

>>41920405
> Flutter like an emu
>Your tail rattles loudly. “Stop that!” you hiss.
I don't get it.

>>41920432
Mistype. Rattlesnake won.

>>41920405
“Orussians are dispatching Sturmoviks but we’re sitting ducks without more air support!” says the bespectacled Karlslander. Oh. Oh. Neuroi are coming! Finally! A chance to show your skill!

“Alright, action stations!” Burnie and Captain Kelly run to their Strikers, a Sherman Crocodile and a Churchill AVRE respectively. They meld into their Striker Units with lightning speed, and speed out of the hangar with their two partners as well.

Oh.

They just left you here.

Huh.

> Go find a weapon!
> Follow them and help!
> Go observe the battle from a safe distance!
> Other

>>41920498
> Go find a weapon!
Can't help much without one!

>>41920498
>Go find a weapon!

Shiiit.

>> Other
>stock up on spare ammunition for the other witches

>>41920498
>Go find a weapon!
We're slow and a complete newbie, don't want to slow them down, but we can at least help defend the base.

>>41920498
> Follow them and help!

>>41920498
> Go find a weapon!

Unarmed we're worse than useless

>>41920569
Oh, that's actually a decent idea anon. We can even deliver in-air.

>>41920569
Might as well.

>>41920569
>>41920498
This

>>41920498
>>> Other
>>stock up on spare ammunition for the other witches

So, yeah, as well.

Too late for me, good luck with the rest. Don't die anons!

>>41920498
> Go find a weapon!

> Other

“They need ammo!” you yell. Okay, think. They need ammo. Ammo for their weapons. You believe it was an M2 or maybe an M3 Flamethrower. That needs fuel. That Jeb was using a shotgun. Then you need 75mm shells for the StuG III Striker for that other witch. Oh boy, oh boy, this is going to be your first time in combat!

You bust out of the hangar, looking around. Drones are already bolting through the skies, spearing through clouds and the air. Soldiers are running to cover, shooting up at them. Tanks are rolling out of their hangars, their AA MGs opening up into the skies. The Neuroi can walk down on the amount of ammo they’re putting up out there. You quickly bolt towards the armory, or what you think is the armory considering the huge amount of underdressed soldiers crowding around it.

You push past the crowd and then slam your armored hands on the counter. “Give me ALL the ammo you have!” you shout.

The quartermaster looks up at you. “Um.” He points behind you. “There’s a line, lady.” You look back to see soldiers shoving past you and grabbing guns and cans of ammo. “What ammo do you need?”

“I need tank shells, I need shotgun shells, I need flamethrower fuel, I need whatever Captain Kelly uses for her weapons. Quickly!”

The quartermaster drops down several cans of ammo. “There you go!” You pack it all up into a basket on your back with your spare arms. “Get moving!” You start roving down the runway as more tanks spill onto the area, firing at the incoming drones. They respond back with blasts of lasers, slicing and splitting apart hangars and materials.

[1/2]

>>41921575
[2/2]

And out in the distance you can see it, the Neuroi Supercarrier. You’ve heard stories of one particular Hive, a Hive that likes to salvage discarded equipment and use it as some perverted mess of technology mixed with Neuroi alienness.

But the fact that such a Hive could turn the HMS Hermes, a Britannian aircraft carrier sunk in the ocean and then raise it from the ground… Well, goes to show how far they’re going to go with the salvaging.

You try to speed towards the witches, they’re already in the snowy hills beyond probably fighting in the trenches. You hear IL-2 Sturmoviks scream overhead as they fire airbursting rockets at incoming drones.

Your heart is pounding. Your hands are shaking. You can feel the sweat run down your legs.

Goddamn it feels so good!

“Hey, watch out!” yells a soldier. Huh? You look back to see a drone rushing at you. Oh. It crashes into you, knocking you over. You see double for just a brief second, and feel a weird taste of blood in your mouth. But overall, you’re well-built. You’ve had worse than a drone crashing right into you. You quickly get back up and keep on rolling.

These days you wish your Striker was faster.

“Hey you!” yells another soldier. “Help us out!” He knocks on your Striker leg. “We gotta get the big guns undercover before the drones smash ‘em!” You look out to see the exposed artillery guns, with men desperately trying to wheel them into the hangars.

But, the Witches need their ammo.

But, the guns!

Ah!

> Save the guns
> Bring the ammo
> Other

>>41921595
> Save the guns
Tell the men to get the ammo to the witches.

>>41921595
>> Save the guns

>>41921595
>Save the guns

>>41921595
> Save the guns

>>41921595
>Save the guns

This is what we're good at. Sadly.

>>41920464
D-d-do we have a venomous bite?

> Save the guns

Ah to hell with it! You drop the ammo and quickly roll along to the guns. All the artillerymen look up at you in surprise. “Stop looking at me and chain the guns to me now!” you scream. They snap of it and quickly lash some chains around your arms. Whereas they could probably get only one gun inside at a time, you’re moving them inside four at a time. It’s a bit like pulling along cans on string, but it’s better than nothing. Wheels can always be fixed and dents can be buffed out. But if a laser cuts through the barrel or the firing mechanism, there goes the neighborhood.

First the heavy mortars. Easy wheeling. Then the pack howitzers. Then the large howitzers, 105s and 152mm guns. And finally the big AT guns, the 88s and the 128mm guns. You’re barely avoiding the lasers being zapped and shot at you. Some even ping and bounce off of your armor of the Striker. That’s actually something you didn’t know about, your Striker being this heavily armored. Would explain why it’s so slow.

Finally though, the last artillery gun needs to be brought in. The Black Dragon. The Liberion 240mm gun. You quickly lash the carriage to your arms and start moving it into a hangar. Huh. It’s actually pretty light. You don’t get why people complain about it being heavy. Maybe it was just the container they ship it in.

“Watch out!” A heavier drone swoops in and slices a laser right through the barrel. It blows apart most of the ground around the hangar and knocks you out of the chains and down to the ground. Damn it! You look up at the gun. Mostly intact, but the barrel’s been sawn down to size. Damn it.

[1/2]

>>41922498
[2/2]

The Tank Witches are back, backed up by another pair of witches. You suppose this is the complete cast then. Captain Kelly, Lieutenant Burnie, Jeb, Doc, Rosie, and Bohater. “Kid, what have you been doing!?” yells Captain Kelly.

You motion to the hangars. “Saving the guns!” You quickly force yourself back up. “I lost the 240 though but-“

“You saved the artillery?” asks one of them, might be Rosie by the look of her Karlslander uniform. “That’s amazing! There must have been at least a hundred guns here!” Were there? It didn’t feel like a hundred guns.

“That’s not going to matter at this rate, that carrier’s spewing too many drones for us to fight,” says Captain Kelly. “Colonel Hessler is ordering an evacuation, we are now the rearguard.”

“We can’t run!” you yell.

Jeb looks up at you, quirking her brow. “Excuse me, Kid, but there ain’t exactly a lot tanks can do against THAT!” She motions her hands towards the ever-advancing Supercarrier, now nearly a mile away from hovering over the base. “And the air support ain’t coming!”

“The Sturmovik squadrons tell us the upper deck is vulnerable but they don’t have anything powerful to drop through it,” says Captain Kelly. “And we don’t have anything that can pull off that kind of angular shot, not while it’s this close.”

You blink. There’s got to be a way. You look over at the broken 240 Howitzer, then at the ammo boxes for it. Has to be a way…

> Improvise.
> “We can beat it, together, all of us!”
> “Captain Kelly’s right. We have to buy the Corps time to escape.”
> Other

>>41922527
> Improvise.
give me 5 minutes and a roll of duct tape.

>>41922527
> Improvise.
Time to earn that medal, Kid.

>>41922527
Pick up the lightest witch and chuck her over neuroi with the howitzer.

>>41922527
>Improvise.

Wiser heads will shoot down the truely terrible ideas.

>>41922527
>> Improvise.
Time to throw a curveball.

>>41922527
>> Improvise.
GS is back!

>>41922527
>Improvise.
Nothing could possibly go wrong.

>>41922527
>> Improvise.

> Improvise.

You blink, looking over at one of the rolling 240mm shells. “Quick, start distracting the drones!” you yell. They look at you, confused. “Just do it, I got an idea!”

Captain Kelly purses her lips, then nods. “Right, gals! Burnie, take Doc and Jeb on the left, I’ll take Rosie and Bohater on the right!” Everyone shouts in agreement, and they speed off and away. They start plinking away at the drones flying upwards, clearly out of their element in having to reach so high and aim so accurately. Tanks don’t fire planes after all.

You pick up a shell and get a feel for the weight. Not too heavy, not too shabby. You can make something out of this. Just need a good footing. You roll yourself over out into the runway. You tap into your Striker Unit mounted radio. “Captain! Are the Sturmoviks still in position!?”

“They’re holding outside of AA range of the Supercarrier, why?”

“Tell them I’m blowing them a hole!” You set the shell on your shoulder, squinting your eyes. Full mile out. Closing at a rate of 30 miles an hour. You set your hand and drive in a few baseball like seams into the shell with your fingers.

“Whatever you’re gonna do!” yells Burnie. “Do it fast!”

You run your fingers along the seams. Good, good. Like a baseball except… well more like a football actually but that’s beside the point. You lift it in your hands and over your head. From the windup. Like playing catch back in Alaska.

“What’s she doing!?” yells an artilleryman.

You give a high kick, then lunge forward. You let loose the shell harder than any ball you’ve ever thrown before. It glows blue as it flies forth into the sky on a straight, right over the Supercarrier. Then suddenly it plummets downwards into its superstructure, blowing the upperdeck apart and sending the entire thing spewing with fire.

[1/3]

>>41923560
[2/3]

“Now!” yells Captain Kelly. The IL-2 Sturmoviks dive out of the sky and drop as many bombs and rockets down the now reeling Supercarrier’s throat. The next set of explosions rocks the ship, splitting it open from the inside. It shatters in half, the bow disappearing into white mist, and the stern falling to the Earth, exploding and shattering into a million shards of black metal. The drones all disappear into white dust, almost like snow falling upon Siberia.

“Yeah!” You cheer, throwing your fist into the air. “Whooo! Get some, Roy! How about a taste of that curveball!” You pump your fist, running along the airfield to the joyful cheering and applause of hundreds of grateful soldiers. The Tank Witches all look at you in awe.

Guess you could say the curveball is your strikeout pitch.

-

-

“For the actions that have been observed yesterday, whereupon this particular witch who despite being rejected seven times for service on the frontline, managed to save a hundred artillery pieces and destroy near-singlehandedly a Neuroi Supercarrier, we award Karlsland’s highest honor. For the heroic struggle of humanity and in the name of Karlsland, honor and blood, we award you the Knight’s Cross of the Iron Cross.” Colonel Hessler, a snowy and frosty looking tank witch wraps a glorious Iron Cross around your neck. You smile, being driven near to tears. “Wear it well, wear it proud.”

The gathered crowd claps and cheers for you, standing up out of their seats. Everyone from Officers, to enlisted, to airmen, to tankers, to infantry and mechanics, all give their thanks through their celebration of you.

You could not be more happy.

Colonel Hessler leads you off the stage. “I must say, that was quite the inventive thinking. I thought for sure we were done for. But I suppose we cannot count out all of our options.” She nods to you, icy cold, then salutes. You salute back, and she quickly marches away.

[2/3]

>>41923582
[3/3]

The 1st Tank Witch Squadron welcome you as you move back to your Striker. You notice all the burn marks and dings it received from the battle aren’t healed yet. Nothing that a good bit of polish won’t fix. “Nice work yesterday,” says Captain Kelly.

“Thank you,” you say. “I uh… I mean, I do have to-“

She holds up a slip of paper. “Nope. While I could not secure you as part of my squadron…” Your face hangs low a bit. “I was able to get you a sort of apprenticeship. You will be unofficially part of the 1st Joint Armored Corps from here on today as a supply runner for our squadron.” You smile again, then look over at Burnie and the rest of the witches. Besides Bohater, they all look jovial that you’re now unofficially part of the team. “Of course, I had to fight off the Royal Farawayland Artillery, they really wanted you.”

You smile. “Well. Give it some time, Captain.” You clap your hands together. “I’m just glad to be doing my part!”

Burnie punches Captain Kelly gently on the arm, shocking her a bit. “Ha! Now who’s ready for some burgers!” Everyone except Bohater starts back to Hangar 17, chatting excitedly.

You look at Bohater, the little Polanian Witch manning the Sherman Firefly Striker. She looks at you, skeptically. “Something the matter?” you ask. She narrows her eyes, giving her eyes a point then back to you. “Hmph.”

She rolls her eyes, then notices a King Tiger that got knocked onto its side during the fight that apparently hasn’t been righted. She quickly pushes it over with one hand back to its proper position, then moves back to the Hangar with everyone else.

You blink, shocked. You thought only you had the strength for that! How!? Could this be...

A rival!?

>>41923611
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r2S1I_ien6A

That's it for tonight. It feels great to be back posting on /tg/ once again! Hopefully I get back into the swing of things or fix my current issue with unemployment. But for now, I'm here to please.

Follow at: https://twitter.com/GermanSchteel

Start rooting for the Nationals, I'm not running this again until they make it to a pennant.

>>41923688
Thanks for running, boss.

>>41923688
Thanks for running.

>>41923688
So, never. A one-shot is fine, too.

>>41923688
Thanks for the thread, good to see you back!

I don't know who the Nationals are or what a pennant is in this context, but I hope >>41923746 doesn't speak the truth.

Out of interest, any chance of more Liberty?

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54 KB JPG

>>41923808
I've gotten really into baseball since the last time I ran on /tg/, the Washington Nationals are my current team to root for. We're on a six game losing streak, we're five games behind the Mets, and basically everything about our team fucking sucks right now. Bullpen sucks, Matt Williams sucks, offense sucks, everything sucks so hard they're calling Nats park a vacuum cleaner.

Also, I actually considered Liberty getting a thread today, might try it again for next week or something.

>>41923871
Thanks for writing, hope you get a job or have a successful self-employment venture or whatever.

>>41923871
>Also, I actually considered Liberty getting a thread today, might try it again for next week or something.
Hurray~!

>>41923871
Oh. Well then. It was nice to see the tonkwitches one last time. Good to hear you're considering Liberty returning without an impossible requirement.

>>41924807
If I had set the requirement being that the Cubs win the World Series, that would be impossible.

It's not impossible yet, all you have to do is believe.

>>41923688
Thanks for the fun, boss. Nice to have you back here.

>>41924850
I believe in you getting a job more than the Washington Nationals winning, at all.