The now armored man nodded to himself. “It’ll do. Still, ten men in storm suits, a few dozen ragamuffins, almost that fish tin tank, had Loch gotten his way? I wish I could say this’ll be a piece of cake, given all the effort put in to get all these toys over…ah, got a light?”

The small man took out a match, struck it upon the shoulder of his fellow’s armored carapace, and proffered it. The armored man lit his cigarette, and breathed it in, deeply, before letting fog exude from his nostrils.

“Pretty unfair, isn’t it?”

“The so-called toys?” the small man scoffed, “Would you rather not have them?”

The large man in armor let his head tilt; a rather disarming stance considering the figure his wear cut. “…Well, yeah, but no. I more meant all…this. Y’know?”
“This is the only way the new world can be made,” the small man replied simply.

“I know, I know, but…sheesh.” The large man sagged, but then stiffened, then turned towards the door. Steps came rushing down the hall, and soon, an old leathery dog of a man turned the corner, panting heavily. The work boss of a local mine.

“Is it…almost…time?” he demanded between heavy breaths.

“Almost,” the slight man replied.

His heavyset fellow gave a loud and long sigh, but said nothing until the interloper had run off once more. His assistant made for a large suitcase, but he held up a gauntleted hand and went over himself, squatting down and unlatching the box with a soft pop, and admiring the dull sheen of the blackened machine gun, broken into several pieces, within.

“At least one thing’ll never change,” he said. The scarf blocked it out, but he was smiling.

-----

You are Lieutenant Richter Von Tracht, officer of panzers for the Archduchy of Strossvald, and, for a (hopefully) temporary period, for the Republic of Vang. Thoughts of warfare had fled your mind as of late though. Your fiancée, Maddalyn Von Blum, had finally been returned to you this day. She hadn’t come back perfectly intact, her eye that had been cut out had been restored, but the way it spun freely of its own will made you suspect that, despite Maddalyn’s uneasy assurances, what inhabited the hollow was little more use than the new space there before.

An eyepatch had been placed over the odd eye, and now you both had gone out to eat. The establishment you had chosen had had you sit upon the floor, cross legged, with Maddalyn seated in the space between. It was odd to be so close to her and not smell fragrance as was usual, but it was probably for the better, since the food before you now held the tantalizing scent only meat could; meat you’d not eaten for quite some time, since the destruction of any canned rations you’d had back in the treacherous mountains you’d gone through.

However, Vitelian tradition demanded that the spouse eat first, the restauranteurs demanding that their guests follow their western ways, possibly for the exoticness of it. The exotic quality had worn off rather quickly on you, though, when it came time to actually eat.

Though the plate of spiced, sauced lamb chunks with delicate shavings of brightly colored tubers looked like not nearly enough to your aching belly, the person whom it was meant for stared at it with something approaching fear, as she turned slightly to look at you the best she could in her current position.

“Richter…” Maddalyn murmured, “I don’t…I don’t think I can eat all this…I’ll burst!”

“Strong, healthy children, dear,” you said to Maddalyn as you stroked her hair, feeling her relax at your touch.

“Er, children, s-sure,” Maddalyn’s voice fluttered, uncertain.

“Also, I can’t eat until you’re done.” You speared a chunk of gravy laden lamp and wiggled it in front of her mouth, “So open up.”

Maddalyn grumbled some barely audible protests, then opened her mouth with an “Aah,” a sound that had been pulled up with incredible effort for how brief it was, only for her bite to be lifted over her head and placed into your mouth instead.

“…This is actually really good,” you said while still chewing. It was so tender that the lamb fell apart after the first bite, and the sweet flavors that had sunk into the flesh burst onto your tongue for a blissful moment before the intensely savory sauce covered the sweetness.

“Hey!” Maddalyn squeaked, bringing a closed fist down on your thigh, “That’s not how it’s supposed to work, you bully…”

“It might defy the spirit of this song and dance, but I’m going to help you eat this,” you reached with the fork to spit more lamb, “I can’t have you bursting, after all.”

“Well,” Maddalyn still held indignancy in her voice, “As long as you don’t forget that I’m hungry too. Ackpth!” That had been the sound of you bopping her on the nose with the fork’s contents, and doubtlessly covering it with gravy. “Jerk!”

Once you had gotten that bit of horseplay done, Maddalyn had solemnly asked you to tell her how you’d come here, since you hadn’t had the chance to when you met earlier.

You ate your dinners slowly as you told her the tale, and she listened intently, sometimes thinking to raise a question or rename something you’d apparently dubbed incorrectly, but otherwise remained silent. When you’d lapsed into lengthy sections, she would nab the fork from you and forego Vitelian traditions entirely slowly picking apart the plate. You got to the part where you’d assaulted her in Todesfelsen, and she drove a sharp elbow into your side.

“Don’t talk about that, especially not here!” she hissed.

“I just wanted to see if you were paying attention,” you excused yourself. After that, though, there had been little left to tell.

Once you were done, and Maddalyn had long ceased eating, still having fit far more than she claimed she would, Maddalyn asked softly, “So what happened next?”

>”Then, Maddalyn Von Blum found herself whisked to a private room and somehow divested of her clothes.”
>”I’m planning on going to this battle we’ve been leading up to. I’ll have you far away from that, I assure you.”
>”Who knows? The evening is still young. There’s still some fun to have before I go and get myself killed.”
>Other?

>https://pastebin.com/UagT0hnh
>past threads in pastebin. Twitter is @scheissfunker for announcements and some other bullshit

>>2200763
>>”I’m planning on going to this battle we’ve been leading up to. I’ll have you far away from that, I assure you.”

>>2200763
>”I’m planning on going to this battle we’ve been leading up to. I’ll have you far away from that, I assure you.”

>>2200720
>”I’m planning on going to this battle we’ve been leading up to. I’ll have you far away from that, I assure you.”

“I’m planning on going to this battle we’ve been leading up to this whole week,” you said in response. “I’ll have you far away from that, I assure you.”

“I don’t think so,” Maddalyn interjected sharply. “You’re going to rescue me, again, and then expect me to sit nice and safe while you dive headfirst into a battle alongside…not even an army, but a knocked together band of rogues?”

“We’ve already discussed this before…” you said, some darkness creeping into your voice, but Maddalyn wouldn’t have it.

“Absolutely unacceptable!” Maddalyn’s voice reached a high, shrill point, then came back down. “You even told me how you’d been wounded, how others have been wounded, how could I tolerate leaving you out of my care after hearing about that?”

“Last time I brought you to an unsafe place, you were-“

“Fooled! Kidnapped, yes!” Maddalyn cut you off again, “Confident as you are that you aren’t charging off to your grave, I don’t happen to share that sentiment!” She turned in place and let her legs over the side of your thigh so she could look you fully in the face. “I still don’t know what you see in me, the money’s not worth so much that any sensible man would dive into here for that, not when you could just collect your dues owed to you from poor circumstance, and court a better woman. That’s not the point, though, the point’s if, if you went and died, who would I go to? How many men have seen so much of something in me that they’ve saved my life twice? If I’m harmed, then so be it. I will not stand idly by and do nothing but cower when so much that is precious to me is at stake!”

Maddalyn wasn’t crying yet, but her eyes were moistening as she lectured you. It was true that you lacked for crew; Hans, the radio operator who Maddalyn would replace were she to come, was cross trained in all roles and could fill any place needed elsewhere, and Maddalyn knew secrets about your bizarre piece of war gear that it would certainly be easier to have her do than for her to explain, but was that worth putting her into danger once more? The presence of Maddalyn’s eyepatch had well enough burned into your conscience, and imaginings of worse wounds began to trickle into your mind. What if she couldn’t heal herself? What if the price was an arm, or a leg? Would it be more honorable to respect your wife’s wishes, or to deny her passions and keep her away from any place where she could be harmed?

>My opinion has already been stated, and it is final. I’ve made it this far, and I’m still alive. I’ll still be alive after this.
>Fine. I’ll accept, but there had best be enough of this talk of your well-being not having any worth. I’ve had enough of people I care about being maimed because of me.
>Court a better woman? Like who? I don’t want a shell crashing into your pretty head, dear. Please consider my feelings on this, it’s not as if I’m not deciding whether or not to take you on a coin flip.
>Dear, if we're going to cause a scene, I have better ideas of how to do that. [Blow off her concerns til later]
>Other?

>>2201235
>>Fine. I’ll accept, but there had best be enough of this talk of your well-being not having any worth. I’ve had enough of people I care about being maimed because of me.

>>2201235
>Dear, if we're going to cause a scene, I have better ideas of how to do that. [Blow off her concerns til later]

Not necessarily a hanky panky distraction but this isn't the place for this talk.

If she really wants to help us then making more of spells would be the tickets, healing especially.

Wasn't one of the compnents for a stitch spell virgin's blood? May wanna save the wedding night until after we get back to Strossvald.

>>2201235
>>Fine. I’ll accept, but there had best be enough of this talk of your well-being not having any worth. I’ve had enough of people I care about being maimed because of me.

>>2201235
>Fine. I’ll accept, but there had best be enough of this talk of your well-being not having any worth. I’ve had enough of people I care about being maimed because of me.
>Speaking of maimed people. Do you think your magic could remove scars?

“Fine,” you agree to Maddalyn’s demand cautiously, “I’ll accept, but there had best be enough of this talk of your well-being not having any worth. I’ve had enough of people I care about being maimed because of me.”

Maddalyn looked almost as if she didn’t expect you to agree, but she steadily closed her eye and smiled slightly, wrapping her arms around you. “Th…thank you, Richter.”

“You keep on about how you don’t know what I see in you,” you held her in return, “But what do you see in me, then, out of curiosity?”

“Well,” Maddalyn straightened up again, before taking her arms off of you and knitting her hands together. Her thumbs toyed with one another as she said, “That’s easy. You’re brave, strong, you do all sorts of things even though I haven’t given you anything, you don’t call me a monster or a freak, and I really like it when you kiss me…”

“I didn’t realize not calling you ugly names was praiseworthy, but I’ll accept it,” you muttered, “I certainly sound like a saint from your words.”

“Well, no,” Maddalyn tightened her hands together, “You’re also needlessly stubborn on certain matters on top of all of that, and you have a habit of rambling. I also don’t like it when you grope my butt.” She noticed an exploratory hand approaching and undid her hands to swat yours away. “Playing smart aleck isn’t very charming either.”

“I’ll need an explanation on one of these character flaws,” you said.

“I just don’t like it when you do it,” Maddalyn said while turning away, “It’s…crude.”

“What is? Playing smart aleck?” You said, like a smart aleck.

“I should have expected that answer,” Maddalyn puffed as she crossed her arms and turned about again, laying her back into you. “So will you say something to me in return, now that I’ve loosed all of that? I only know you favor me because of what you do, it couldn’t be for the fame, or money, it’s certainly not my body…the only thing I can think of is if it’s because you think…you’re…supposed to…” Maddalyn suddenly fell quiet, but when you prompted her, she acted as if she hadn’t spoken that last bizarre theory. “I-I guess it’s the magic, huh?” she said with unusual cheeriness, “Not many people who can do that, huh?”

“Speaking of that,” you led on, “can that magic heal scars?”

Maddalyn turned once more. “Hm? I guess it’s been a long time since I last explained it, but, no. If a body’s wounded a certain way for too long, the presence adjusts. Your presence is sort of like a reflection of yourself, and a wound is a part of you, in a way. If you don’t get to it for a while, your presence changes, and nothing can be done, at least, not the way I do it.”

“How long is ‘a while?’” you found yourself asking.

Maddalyn noticed that you were looking at her eyepatch as you said this, and her face washed over with dismay. “It, uh, depends.” She finally stammered out. “On a few things. My eyes have little ones in them, so they’re not the same. There’s no need to worry.” She didn’t remain on that topic any longer than she had to. “So…is it the magic? I can’t really think of what else it could be.”

>Sure. It’s the magic. If you asked anybody where else I could find a bona fide witch, nobody would know.
>We’re getting married. Isn’t it better to make the best of that? You’re fretting too much over whether you’re good enough or not, I don’t see the point.
>I’m secretly into little girls. Don’t tell anybody, though.
>Other?

>>2201979
>Are you afraid that I'm only doing all this because of a sense of duty of some kind?

>>2201979
>Are you afraid that I'm only doing all this because of a sense of duty of some kind?

>>2201979
>Are you afraid that I'm only doing all this because of a sense of duty of some kind?

>>2201979
>Are you afraid that I'm only doing all this because of a sense of duty of some kind?

Once she gained her eyesight she spent too much time reading up on magic instead of knights and princesses. She's living a white knight fairy tale right now, can't she just enjoy the moment without letting her trust issues get in the way?

We'll have to set up a bookshelf with romance novels when we get back.

>>2202252
She can only read handwritten text. Well need to hire a scribe to reproduce some choice literature for her.

>>2202562
Can you believe it, that a blind little girl didn't have any relatives or even a nanny or governess who read her stories?

A fucking tragedy is what it is.

Alright, I'm up, and writing now.

>>2202986
She's probably had stories read to her, since by her own admission her father used to dote on her. She just has the self esteem of an oyster without a pearl, who wouldn't think they'd be the subject of that sort of story. Or a subject of a story that's nominally about panzers and commanding, for that matter.

>>2203075
We'll find her an action novel with a strong female role model, then hire someone to transcribe it so she can read it as often as she wants without anybody knowing.

>>2203075
I think that Richter would definitely take the opportunity to present himself as a famous Strossvaldian folk tale hero who vanquished evil to rescue his fair maiden. He sure isn't shy about it and especially not if it teases Maddy however inappropriate it is.

I also have zero patience or understanding of people with low self esteem and have no idea how to deal with her when she is like this.

I hope one of you guys is less autismal and manage to do something about it

“Are you afraid that I’m only doing all this out of some sense of duty?” you asked Maddalyn, in spite of her attempts to deflect from that theory that she’d brought up, only to cast down soon after.

Maddalyn said nothing, only squirming uncomfortably and making a thin, pained cough.

“Maddalyn?” you addressed her once more.

“I’m sorry,” Maddalyn’s voice cracked, “I shouldn’t have said that, I didn’t mean anything of that sort…” The noble girl huddled closer into herself as if she’d become twice as thin and frail as she already was, “Please, don’t be angry with me, it’s just…”

A great inhalation followed by an even longer exhalation was your measured response. “Let’s finish eating, first,” you proposed after that, “This is something to be discussed on a stomach that isn’t half full.”

-----

With both your appetites sated and the server satisfactorily paid, you led Maddalyn away from the Vitelian mobile establishment. Her mind was set on unhealthy things, you could easily tell, the idea to take her to the old tailor turned fortune teller sprang to mind. It was all in fun, anyways; fortune telling remained happily in the realm of party tricks and hocus pocus, rather than the increasingly expanding definition of myths and monsters as of late. Your sunset haired spouse had become unsettlingly less affectionate, as she trailed behind you instead of clinging to you. This was amended with a quick snatch around her narrow waist as you dragged her up beside you, eliciting a shocked “Eep!” from her.

“Now what do you think you’re doing back there?” you questioned her as you pulled her against you.

“I’m sorry…” Maddalyn said again.

“Enough apologizing. I want you to speak your mind.”

“I just…” Maddalyn fidgeted with her hands, staring at the ground. She felt tense, like a spring under a boulder. “I don’t know what anybody could like about me, it doesn’t make any sense, to be so nice to me. I’ve said it so many times, now, but you don’t seem think it’s important.”

“Perhaps it isn’t,” you suggested gruffly.

“…I think it is.” Maddalyn said meekly, in a whisper barely audible in the sounds of the neighborhood and passersby.

“Maybe I see more in you over time, than what you think of yourself right now.”

“I think you’re ageing a pot with wine or milk in it, without knowing what’s inside,” Maddalyn quoted a proverb with melancholy.

“Well, I know there’s not much milk in this pot,” you swung your other arm in and poked her chest. The slap you anticipated never came, and Maddalyn kept her attention on the dirt. “I’m not saying that as a bad thing. You’re plenty fine, even if you’re smaller than other girls.”

“Other girls…” Maddalyn trailed off, “I taste bile in my throat whenever I think another woman glances your way,” Maddalyn said heatedly, gripping the hand poking her breast with both of her own hands, possessively, “You are mine, and mine alone. By right! But…” Maddalyn’s expression softened and she let your hands slip from hers, “But…if that were not so, if you did not own me, as I own you, would I have any hope? If I were not the daughter of a duchy, the apprentice of a sorcerer, but a poor, blind, skinny wretch? I look inwards to see if I am anything but what the circumstances of my birth had made me…” Maddalyn shrank inwards, “…and I see naught but an utterly revolting creature staring back, such that I would prefer if I saw nothing at all. I’m frightened…so frightened, that even though your hold on my heart is firmly anchored, I only have the loosest of grips upon yours...”

That finally explained her willingness to let herself die in the old laboratory, you thought with dread. Her view of herself was so ugly, that she had presumed that, when she hadn’t known you for long, that anybody would leave her to die instead of doing what you had done. You knew from her journals, despite her claims that they weren’t entirely truthful, as well as her own word, that she didn’t expect anybody to come for her here. Yet she still insisted on this view of herself! She had caused a terrible accident, yes, but that had all been dealt with, no? No, this sentiment seemed to be deeply felt, its source being even before recent events.

>I would have to be an idiot to throw you away after what I’ve done, wouldn’t I? I’ll need to take you to the medics with the beating you’ve given yourself.
>You’re a silly woman, you know that? You’ve been around people who dislike you for too long. That’ll certainly change.
>What, are you secretly Kaiser Alexander reborn, to see a monster inside you? Do you have something to tell me?
>I heard one thing from that downpour of self pity, and it was “Oh Richter, please, kiss me like the Emreans do! I can’t wait any longer!”
>Other?

>>2203271
>You’re a silly woman, you know that? You’ve been around people who dislike you for too long. That’ll certainly change.

I wonder if there's anything we can do to normalize her relationship with her father. You know, short of removing her spooky eyes.

Princess carry back to camp?

>>2203271
>You’re a silly woman, you know that? You’ve been around people who dislike you for too long. That’ll certainly change.

Now that you aren't being kidnapped anymore, maybe you can be with people you like. I know Jorgen missed you terribly.

“You’re a silly woman, you know that?” you told Maddalyn playfully as you scooped her up, lifting her by her knees. Maddalyn flushed scarlet and her hand darted under her, and she gave you a murmured scold before you realized why. “Right, dress, sorry,” you readjusted things so you clamped her dress to her legs as well, “Anyways, you’ve been around people who dislike you for too long. That’ll certainly be changing.”

“…I suppose…” Maddalyn admitted slowly.

“You aren’t being kidnapped anymore, I assure you, so maybe you can stick around people you like. I know Jorgen missed you terribly.”

Was it Jorgen? You briefly thought your memory was failing you, and you realized your mistake when Maddalyn frowned. “Who’s Jorgen?”

“The loader.”

“I thought that was Hans.”

“…Whatever, that just means you need to meet Jorgen proper. Interesting man, Yaegir, from up north. Good with a battle axe.” You quickly moved past your mistake. “Bad with words.”

“It’s remarkable how your crew has two people like that,” Maddalyn commented, having accepted her place in being carried, “Isn’t it difficult?”

“They understand me, and the tank commander is the brain anyways,” you explained to her, “As long as they do what I say and they fill in the gaps in my thinking with instinct and training, everything’s fine. Most commanders hardly socialize with their crews, anyways. Even in my platoon, I’ve only seen Lieutenant Von Metzeler interact with his crew like I do. Divisions between the nobility and the peasantry, and all.”

“Hmm…” Maddalyn took that in as you both went along, “Why do you think that is? That you and your second are different, I mean.”

“I couldn’t say for the Lieutenant,” you were wary of theorizing anything certain about his family’s character, given how shady it was, “I can only presume he’s like me, in that he’s grown up around the lower classes at some point. The Von Tracht manor…it’s more a large house, really, it seemed large when I was young, but when I visited other places, I realized how small it was by comparison. The plot of land around it is small too, and father makes his trade in law, so many smallfolk come by with claims, in addition to his larger cases.”

“I knew you were a Ritter,” Maddalyn said; a Ritter was low nobility, without territory bequeathed to them by a lord or the archduke. The Von Trachts were once a Freiherr family, denoting a sort of baron who had no obligations, financial or otherwise, to their senior nobility, but that had changed. “I didn’t realize that your father worked as a…tradesman.”

“It’s not so bad.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Maddalyn stirred, “I just thought the name, you know, would confer…”

“Maybe once. Not anymore.”

“So,” Maddalyn changed the subject, “Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

The next stop was the old fortune teller’s place, and Maddalyn was immediately skeptical of the pile of old rags, under which hid the crooked nose of an old crone.

“Is that a person?” she wondered to you.

When she said that, the woman awoke with a snort, and rose to become a veritable pillar of robes and tassels. “Who? Oh, you again. This the wench?”

“Wench!” Maddalyn gasped, “I beg your pard-“

You cleared your throat loudly. “Yes, this is my fiancée.”

“Only one reason you could be here again, I think,” the old lady said in a scratchy voice, as her talons snatched towards Maddalyn’s wrist and dragged it towards her face. Maddalyn yelped in surprise, but couldn’t back away, being trapped in your arms. “Calm down, calm down,” the old woman said as though she was handling an unruly feline, “Let’s see what your hands tell me.”

“You’re a soothsayer?” Maddalyn asked, ceasing her struggle suddenly.

“You’re the first to think that in ages,” the old woman lamented, as she peered down her long, warted nose. “Oh, dear,” the old crone coughed roughly as she gripped Maddalyn’s hand, tracing its lines with a long claw, “I can’t read your future from these hands, they’ve got too much crud on ‘em. New crud on top of old, thick, slimey, like a body left to rot. Maybe come and try again later, when you’re something more than regrets.”

Maddalyn said nothing to that, only twisting into you with discomfort, making a sound of dissatisfaction. “Hrrrmm.”

“You want me to try for something deeper, it’ll cost ya.” The fortune teller said firmly, letting Maddalyn’s hand fall from her grasp as her gnarled hands vanished back underneath the heap she inhabited.

>…Well, we can’t leave on that. Sure, I’d like a second opinion.
>I think not. We just came here for the fun of it, not for any guidance. I thank you for your business.
>Crud? What do you mean? Was that meant to be something cryptic or are you messing about?
>Other?

>>2204226
Crud? What do you mean? Was that meant to be something cryptic or are you messing about?

>>2204226
>…Well, we can’t leave on that. Sure, I’d like a second opinion.

We've already determined that Maddy is going to be a mire of doubt and hand wringing until she saves the entire country or something so we're gonna have to ante up if we want something more substantial.

>>2204226
>>I think not. We just came here for the fun of it, not for any guidance.
>I've changed my mind since last time, however. I want a reading for myself.

>>2204226
>Crud? What do you mean? Was that meant to be something cryptic or are you messing about?

>>2205125
I don't really want a fortune told since it's almost guaranteed to be true no matter how outlandish it is.

With our luck, we'll climb the highest mountain and challenge Morgoth to a duel before the end of the year.

>>2204226
>…Well, we can’t leave on that. Sure, I’d like a second opinion.
>But how is coin supposed to clean up fortune-muck?

I've just binged the entire quest.
Magic was a mistake
This entire gorillion thread expedition into Sosalia because of plot was also a mistake
There are more threads without mention of tonks than there are under our command
You write and draw gud, though, pls gib moar tonk on tonk action

>…Well, we can’t leave on that. Sure, I’d like a second opinion.

Sorry folks, it'll be a few hours before I'm updating. Game night and all.

>>2205949
What kind of mistakesbut yes

>>2204226
>>Crud? What do you mean? Was that meant to be something cryptic or are you messing about?

>>2205949
Did you also read the original run?

>>2205949

this whole quest was a mistake

>>2206656
Yeah, I was initially surprised when I saw a thread after such a long time, but found out it had been rebooted. I miss old tonks, felt like it had a more personal touch, what with looting tonks and whatnot

>>2206535
I feel as though you're adding too much things into the story that detract it from being about a man commanding tanks, and more "man who has to deal with stupid bullshit both magical and mundane, and way too much time wrangling dumb broads and their exasperating tendencies to make life difficult for absolutely everyone." I mean we've spent around 20 threads on this expedition, and are only now coming into the decisive battle; we've spent more time rescuing Maddy than we have doing our actual military jobs. I swear to God if Maddy doesn't suck our dick after this, Strossvald doesn't give us enough medals to give us back pain, and that magic bullshit doesn't go away for a long time I will be severely butt devastated.

>>2206866
I just want muh prewar-early war fantasy tonk action

>>2205949
There's a great lack of tonks but it's still a great wartime character drama. I like vehicular manslaughter as much as anyone, but I like this arc more than the previous one.

I have House & Dominion for big battles, it's nothing but torpedoes, missiles and beamspam and in an entire week's thread you get maybe 10 lines of actual dialogue.

>>2206884
To be fair, you go to H&D for spreadsheets and macro decisions. It stopped being small scale character focused a long time ago. Although the recent arc is shaping up to be more character interaction heavy than previous arcs.

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161 KB JPG

>>2206881
Yeah the pacing could have been much quicker, some entire threads have been about things that happened in the span of one hour and nothing else. We've been going from day-to-day instead of skipping to the important parts. I enjoy all the character interaction but the downside is that we don't actually move forward. We could have had the big battle and left for home five threads ago, but then we might have missed out on teasing the retard!

>>2206909
I'm still catching up, been reading for 4 months and just got to the first thread on qst. I think TSTG is afraid of or simply incapable of writing dialogue and character interaction. Even Sonia's character is entirely in the player discussion and almost none of it actually translates into his posts.

Have a picture of the republic's refugee camp as an apology for all the black bars.

Hey, I'm free now, sorry for the wait. I'll be writing now.

>>2206881
I really appreciate that you bring up these concerns. A lot of the time, I'm not sure how well things are received or how popular the direction taken is. I do agree, that I've been goofing around too much, but something I didn't like about the prior version was how many fights didn't have much to any context. I prefer for battles to not happen a lot for the sake of them having weight, I may have gone overboard in the other direction, though, when there's hardly any fights at all...

I'd also really rather not have the female characters be exasperating, but I like writing deeply flawed people. I guess when you're doing nothing but chatting with them about their issues, instead of being given the opportunity for them to show their strong points, it's a natural conclusion to make. I'll have to try better in the future.

>>2206951
Well, they mostly aren't refugees, and are more accurately migrants, but with the war in the east it certainly wouldn't surprising for quite a few to come around.

“Crud?” you asked quizzically over Maddalyn, “What do you mean? Was that meant to be cryptic or are you messing about?”

“I wasn’t telling no fortune, no,” the old bat let her knobby hands forward again, “I meant just what I told ye. It might not be gunk you can see, but it’s there all the same. So I can’t read her, not that way, ‘least.”

“…Well,” you took in what little was actually say, “we can’t leave on that, then. Sure, I’d like a second opinion, though I don’t see how coin will get rid of whatever this fortune muck is.”

“The process is long and annoyin’,” the crone snapped at you, “and cash, like a stiff drink, is a good salve for that crap. You see?”

“I see,” you relented, putting Maddalyn carefully down upon her feet so you could dig around for the money, dropping the demanded Valstener currency into a waiting claw. The babushka sniffed at the money, then beckoned you both in. She waddled with the weight of her pile of cloths still upon her, though when she reached the back of her place, where a small pot furnace glowed, hot coals sleeping in its belly, she thrust her arms out and yanked them all off at once. She was dressed as a normal Vyemani woman would be underneath, but it was still shocking to see her actual form. Her whole body was like her hands and nose; deeply wrinkled wherever there wasn’t sharp bone, with skin more like that of a beaten horse hide than a person’s. A mighty series of cracks echoed through the place as she bend her neck, her arms, then her fingers.

“Most might think I’m a crackpot,” the old biddy groaned as she rummaged through piles of junk, almost drowning herself out with the din of clanking and shuffling, “youngin’s do that, no matter the time, ‘n they’ll see it done to them eventually. Serves ‘em right. Underestimatin’ the value of a lived life, that’s seen much, felt much. The best fortune telling comes from just looking and knowing, see.”

You let her ramble, saying nothing as you and Maddalyn glanced at one another in shared befuddlement.

“O’er a lot of years of dealin’ with all sorts,” she went on as she pulled out a pair of odd instruments that looked like feather dusters, “You learn there’s only so many sorts of basic person. A sort of feel, like a song. Even the same person singin’ the same song, that song’s different from another time.” She picked out a box of something, dabbed some of it onto her finger and tasted it, before promptly spitting it back out with a nasty, hacking cough. “Missy,” she addressed Maddalyn without turning around, still messing about with other things in the junk pile, “How much does loverboy know about you?”

“…Er,” Maddalyn shifted in place, “About what?”

“He know you’re a murderer?”

Maddalyn grimaced, not looking at you. “Yes,” she admitted. “But, I didn’t-“

“Don’t matter,” the old bat said, yanking a final piece out and admiring it, “The thing is you think you’re a killer. I’ve been in this garbage dump for a while, missy. I’ve dealt with more killers’n you could count. You’ve got the stink of em on your spirit, plain as day. Killin’, torturin’, all this stuff that, unless you’re a rare sort, you come to regret someday. Some people’ve got no choice, but round here? All sorts who certainly did have it.”

This must have been the “gunk,” you thought to yourself as you kept looking ad Maddalyn, though you said nothing, since misery was creeping into her face, and you weren’t feeling much like thinking about this overly spiritual nonsense beyond that.

The old woman shoved a stick into the furnace, until it began to burn with a vaguely familiar sweet smell, after which she trudged back and handed the smoldering incense to you. “Wave it around under her nose. Make her breathe it. No, don’t pass it to her, she needs to keep her hands down. Speaking of, you, take that jacket off. Don’t give me that look, you’re not naked under there, your arms need to be uncovered.”

You took an inquisitive sniff of the burning matter. “Is this…blackflower?” your voice rose at the end with surprise.

“Sure,” the old woman said flatly, “a bit of that, some other things. ‘Snot enough there to do what you’re afraid of it doing. Her mind needs to be taken off of herself, blackflower’s good for that.” The old woman drew a screen around the lot of you, pulling on a cord so that the only light came from the orange luminescence of the furnace. “Do it, already. I’m old, I can’t keep this up long.” With that, the old woman began murmuring what sounded like a ritual song, spoken in the rolling tones of Vyemani, a tongue that flowed like a stream, if the speaker wanted it to. She danced about steadily, waving the feather dusters about and lightly brushing Maddalyn across the arms and shoulders, whisking about in a circle around you as you nervously drew lines of herbal smoke about your fiancée’s face, who for her part, sat tolerantly still.

Maddalyn’s eyes began to grow heavy; it must have been the blackflower, steadily putting her to sleep. You wondered, briefly, if the effect on her presence was what-

The old crone’s eyes flashed in the middle of your thought and she struck Maddalyn hard across the wrist with one of the instruments she held. Maddalyn’s eyes flew open and she yelped, her hand clamping down upon the place she’d been struck, blood welling up underneath her grip.

“What are you…!” you almost shouted but the old woman shushed you.

“Shaddup,” she scolded as she knelt down, prying Maddalyn’s hand off her arm and putting her own gnarled hand in its place, while twisting her wrist with the other hand, and reading her palm once more. “…Much better…desire, deep desire, but fear almost as deep. Crawling down the dark path, dreading the end, but already having seen it. You know the promise of treasure is empty, yet you venture again. Why? Only you may tell yourself.”

“Y-you…” Maddalyn gasped shrilly, “You cut me!”

“Peace, pleasure, pain, all are primal feelings, so much less complex than guilt,” the old woman fetched what you had presumed to be a normal box, but was now obviously a kit with gauze in it, as she wrapped it about Maddalyn’s new wound after splashing it with iodine, “A person reduced to a simpler state is easier to read.”

“So I paid you to dance about and lay into my fiancée with a razor?” you asked, half in jest, but also in anger.

“It will be gone after a pair of days, it’s hardly deep. You’ve gotten what you asked for.”

…Well, considering the nature of fortunes, you couldn’t really complain.

“If that’s quite all, you can scram,” the old crone said, rubbing powder between her fingers. “…Ah, a moment. I’m about to wash the blackflower from your missy’s mind, but you were carrying her in such a way…it isn’t any of my business, but all I will say is that this powder is hardly easy to get, and if you’d make my life easier by taking advantage and playing whatever stupid games kids play these days, then it’s no skin off my back.”

>I’m all about saving trouble where I can. You won’t have to do a thing, now, farewell.
>What sort of man would I have to be to drug his own spouse? Snap her out of it.
>Ask Maddalyn what she thinks (although this was a weak dose, it certainly had some effect. Seems it’s effect on her is more the sleep inducing one)
>Other?

Also

>The Iron Hogs representatives might be finished with bothering Signy. Do you want to bother them about anything?
>Von Neubaum returned recently from the mission you gave him to stir trouble in your name. If you wish to speak with him, say so.
>This is an evening before a big day, and the bars have been appropriately stocked for a sendoff, some of the brothels reopened. Obviously the latter isn’t in your interests, but if you want to get smashed, then you can.
>Other?
>You may do two of these things.

>>2208218
>>What sort of man would I have to be to drug his own spouse? Snap her out of it.

>>2208218
Also:
>The Iron Hogs representatives might be finished with bothering Signy. Do you want to bother them about anything?
-Just pop by and see how the meeting went.
>Von Neubaum returned recently from the mission you gave him to stir trouble in your name. If you wish to speak with him, say so.

>>2208218
>>What sort of man would I have to be to drug his own spouse? Snap her out of it.

If she really wants lovin' she knows who to ask.

>The Iron Hogs representatives might be finished with bothering Signy. Do you want to bother them about anything?
Let's see if Signy purchased their services and how we can integrate them.

>Von Neubaum returned recently from the mission you gave him to stir trouble in your name. If you wish to speak with him, say so.
Hopefully he kept the heat off of us, even if Maddy is safe and sound now.

>>2208335
Supporting

>>2208218
>What sort of man would I have to be to drug his own spouse? Snap her out of it.

>The Iron Hogs representatives might be finished with bothering Signy. Do you want to bother them about anything?
Spare parts. Do they have spare parts to our models of tanks?

>Von Neubaum returned recently from the mission you gave him to stir trouble in your name. If you wish to speak with him, say so.

“What sort of man would I have to be to drug his own spouse?” you asked, offended, “Snap her out of it.”

“If you say so,” the fortune teller flicked the power into Maddalyn’s face, and she recoiled, coughing and hacking. “Now get outta here, least til you bring somebody even more messed up in.”
-----

That visit, despite telling you quite a bit, didn’t set Maddalyn in a very glad mood. She felt better after you had deemed her to be incapable of walking and had scooped her up again. Whether it was because of the visit to the fortune teller or not, Maddalyn was much more affectionate coming back from this point, cuddling close into you and murmuring only half intelligible things that demanded no response. Mutterings from those who passed wondering whether the two of you were trying too hard went unheeded.

You deposited Maddy at your tank once you’d gotten back to camp. “I’ve some business to take care of,” you told her, “I won’t be long.”

“As long as it’s not another three weeks,” Maddalyn scooched further up the mudguard and rested her hands on her dress, “I’d be afraid you’d forgotten about me.”

She’d thank you, you thought, if she knew you were about to go catch up with one of your junior officers, Von Neubaum. Von Neubaum was well educated, but dry in manners and sarcastic to the point of being grating. His dull intonations didn’t help that much, it was like speaking with somebody who’d rather do anything than talk to you, and unsurprisingly extended interactions with Von Neubaum, even back in the academy, had been unheard of.

“Junior Lieutenant,” you saluted Von Neubaum, who lazily saluted back in a manner that would have him shouted at, were he an enlisted at home. “How were your…escapades?”

“Lieutenant.” Von Neubaum said back, in his usual tone that was somewhere between a mumble and a sigh, “Would you be disappointed if the fictional character I played did a few things that wouldn’t be polite to bring up.” The look of concern that creeped onto you was met with apathy. “Or maybe they’d just be too boring. Parts of this place are a lot duller than rumors make out to be.”

“…But you did cause trouble, yes?” you asked.

Von Neubaum let his head fall back as he looked at you askew, “Were you bothered by whoever that guy was again?”

“No.”

“You’re welcome.”

You looked back at Maddalyn, more or less unharmed since Von Neubaum had gone out, then back to your officer. “…Thank you,” you said rather belatedly, “Whatever you did, it worked out well.”

Von Neubaum, from you experience, was never one to show much grace, but he bent slightly forward as he said, “I made sure to enjoy myself, for whatever that’s worth.”

“Well, er, good.”

You didn’t have Von Neubaum go into detail as to how he went about providing smoke for you, but he was willing to share tidbits of information that he had found out, including how far word had spread of the mobilization here, as well as the dispositions of the territories he had visited. It was reassuring to hear that, in spite of there being knowledge that an army was being raised here, none knew where its target was, and nobody had appeared to guess the truth, that the goal was Todesfelsen, instead speculating that it wouldn’t travel far. You noted, however, that throughout your talk, Von Neubaum glanced off to the side from time to time, looking somewhere for a reason you couldn’t think of.

“If that is all,” Von Neuabum asked with the faintest bit of hopefulness, “I have to reacquaint myself with this beastly machine you’ve assigned me.” He referred, of course, to the T-15. Having willingly taken the position as a spare crewman rather than an officer, you had nonetheless put him to use along with the spare crew you’d picked up. The T-15 was a utilitarian machine, a blocky design typical of Caelussian hardware, but it was nonetheless sturdy and well-armed, and disconcertingly quick considering the two other traits.

Thinking about that, after you’d parted ways with your recently returned officer (much to his unapparent pleasure), you felt the need to reassure your own machine in your head. There, there, you ran a hand across your m/32B’s hull, Just because it’s got a bigger gun and thicker armor doesn’t mean it’s better. When you looked back to Von Neubaum, you had to do a double take, since all of a sudden a trio of young women had sprung from nowhere, and had swarmed the listless officer. The noble paid them little mind as he collected his scattered attendants and had them perform routine inspections for his sake, though you could hear the loud cooing of the girls even from where you were.

You heard Maddalyn scoff unappreciatively when she crept around the side of your tank, as she beheld what you looked at.

>Not at a choice selection yet, rest will be later. Got up in the middle of the night and hashed this out, rest will be after I'm done sleeping.

Sorry for the wait, got roped into a lot of hurry up and wait.

Karmic punishment for this quest I guess.

Will be updating soon.

The next task you took up was that of finding out about the Iron Hogs, whose representatives had arrived, delivering Maddy as they had.

A mercenary band hailing from east Sosaldt, further even than Todesfelsen, which had been founded by one Hell Gitt. There was no doubt in your mind that this character was once your wayward uncle, Heller Von Tracht, not that you had any particular proof of that, but too many coincidences lined up for that not to be the case. Alas, despite potential past relations, that meant nothing in a place where money and guns were king, where the importance of ancestry and tradition were left back in the homes Sosaldtians abandoned. Still, the nobility of Heller’s blood and (debatably) noble character must have drawn a better sort around him, if what you’d seen of the mercenaries was any indication.

It wasn’t difficult to find the man calling himself Illger (also referring to himself as Phoenix, or Cockroach) and his crews, and his vehicles; they had been directed to stay at what was once an outdoor shed for storing vehicles, the former inhabitants now mobilized and scattered about the city to their constituent units, leaving an oddly spacious wake.

“Oh, you,” Illger noticed you entering, and the rest of his man faced you in turn, “How goes it?”

“Well enough” you answered, “Are you employed?”

“Yep!” Illger hopped down from his P5-21E; that he had referred to by the nickname of a long nosed puppet from folklore, instead of its model designation. “I expected somebody…completely different, but hey, she offered to pay, so we’re to fight after all. Payment…pending.”

“Pending?” you repeated.

“One of her help said we’d get the money in cash form,” Illger shrugged, “I told ‘em credit costs more, but they didn’t seem to care much.”

“Surely you don’t just take credit from anybody,” you said warily.

“Nah, usually never, without sufficient collateral,” Illger waved his finger, “Your boss offered herself, so she’s coming with us when we go back. Really didn’t sit well with the pretty boy aide, but it’s not like we’re gonna mistreat her, or nothin’.”

You weren’t sure if you liked the sound of that, either. Regardless of whether she was a figurehead commandeered by Loch or if she had more authority than you wagered, it wouldn’t have been good for her to vanish just before a battle. “So you’re taking her back to…wherever you’re from? Before the battle?”

Illger shook his head and laughed nervously. “No, no, one of us crews is going back to share the good news, the other keeps your boss in their hands. When we shape up for a fight, we leave some of the breachers with her, just for insurance, and once the fighting’s done we whisk her away for a vacation. Everybody’s happy.”

Was that really satisfactory, though, you thought.

>Having the leader of the republic as a hostage to a mercenary band was madness. You were almost certain that Signy couldn’t be talked down, but perhaps the mercenaries here could…
>It was Signy’s life, she could do what she wanted with it. The republic could survive a brief hiccup; it wasn’t as if the money wouldn’t be forthcoming, with Wossehn on your side.
>Signy was too valuable, but these men’s concerns were valid. Perhaps you could offer an alternative deposit?
>Other?

"Soon" my ass

>>2210848
>Signy was too valuable, but these men’s concerns were valid. Perhaps you could offer an alternative deposit?

Offer some gold as collateral then take it back after the battle.

>>2210848
>Signy was too valuable, but these men’s concerns were valid. Perhaps you could offer an alternative deposit?
>Other?

Well gee if they're willing to hold onto people as hostages we DO have Maddy available, who wants to go rescue her again after this?

Alright, alright if we really want to replace Signy then we could offer up some of our tanks as collateral. No I don't like it either but I don't think we have enough gold to put down for a whole unit of Iron Hogs.

It has to be something worth the equivalent of a national leader.

I'd honestly much prefer
>It was Signy’s life, she could do what she wanted with it. The republic could survive a brief hiccup; it wasn’t as if the money wouldn’t be forthcoming, with Wossehn on your side.
If anons don't vote for the tanks.

Honestly if Wossehn wasn't willing to fork over the cash for buying back Signy then this entire Republic experiment was a farce from the beginning and Signy would probably be far safer trapped with the Hogs then left to the mercies of the remaining Republic gangs.

>>2210848
>Let's speak with Signy first
We don't even know how much she owes and how she can repay it.
That being said, I don't like the option of Signy being hostage, mostly because of the potential damage to her reputation and authority.

So I've abused my sleep schedule and, though I intended to update before I took a nap, it seems like my writing's just in the drain right now. Well, further in it.

Anyways idk if you want the vote still open while I go remedy that and rest my head, but the impression I get is that you sort of want to try and negotiate for now, so unless there's major exception to that we'll do that when I get back.

>>2210848
>>Signy was too valuable, but these men’s concerns were valid. Perhaps you could offer an alternative deposit?

We have to talk to her first either way. She is the leader of a republic, we aren't in a position to intervene or interfere. Second guessing her decisions every time isn't doing wonders for her self esteem either.

We can offer some of our tanks, I think that's fair. We can write it off with Intel or the quartermaster when we return as heroes. Or just say that they were stolen or destroyed, whatever.

Alright, I'm not completely dead now. Writing, and again, apologies for the wait.

Helloooo, what is this quest about?

>>2213508
A man with a tank whose fiancé, who didn't like being born blind, inadvertently put him on the radar of a super Wizard. Being a true gentleman, Richter puts his fiancé in his tank and brings her to the front lines where she gets kidnapped. Approached by Intel spooks they fund him to desert with his unit to go behind enemy lines to rescue her and 100 other hostages. He is now in a different country and due to an old acquaintance got involved in the founding of a republic. This is a problem because he believes in monarchies.

It was obvious to you that Signy was too valuable to the Republic to be used as a hostage like she had arranged, but one couldn’t blame these men for being wary of debtors, especially in a country like this. Perhaps though, you thought, you could arrange for another sort of payment.

You train of thought stalled on what you could use, though. You had the remaining gold, certainly, but the reserve of metal had grown rather thin with your investment in the Riverman’s future; even before you had taken out a considerable chunk of the war chest you’d been entrusted with, Schweinmann, the administrator for the Iron Hogs that had shown up to Lord Wossehn’s party, had emphasized how much the services of his legion would cost, and the indication he had made was that, while you may have once had the gold to offer as collateral, you no longer had such any more.

…Wait, though. You had plenty of valuables, didn’t you, especially to a mercenary company.

“Can I convince you not to take Miss Vang?” you asked Illger, “I want to trade across, you can take something else.”

Illger frowned as he looked back at you. “…a trade? No offense, but I don’t think you’ll pull anybody more valuable out of your hat.”

You beckoned and led Illger out of the warehouse and towards your camp. “You have an appreciation for elusive armored vehicle, I know, at least you company does,” you told him, and the mercenary immediately understood, though he wasn’t excited.

“Well hey, we can afford to be a bit picky right now, we don’t want rusted up guntracks even if you’ve got a hundred ready to fly off the shelf, or more accurately, out of the trash bin.”

“Oh, trust me,” you said confidently, “these pieces make most armor look like trash bins themselves.”

When you presented your platoon’s vehicles to Illger, there was a worrying moment where he was utterly unimpressed.

“m/28s, straight from Naukland’s bargain bin,” Illger muttered, then peering at the more modern gear, “m/32s, probably close to the expiration date for a god damn rebuild, Smitty hated that one we got, couldn’t even find another for scrap since all the ones for easy sale are worn out old shit, and they all break at the same places…” Your heart began to sink when Illger narrowed his eyes, and suddenly saw something he hadn’t expected, from the sound of his voice. “Hang on a sec. Is that a 4.7 centimeter gun?”

“It is,” you said, your confidence returning.

“Nah,” Illger walked around the side, head tilting sideways as if to deconstruct some illusion, “There’s no such thing as an m/32 with a 4.7cm, that Archduchy gun is too big.”

“It’s rather cramped on the inside,” you admitted, “but it does fine. I can show you, if you like.”

Illger followed you, but slowly, as he noticed more differences. “Two centimeter plates, maybe three,” he muttered, “What madman put more weight on this thing, but on the other hand, this must be a tough piece of work. The armor’s almost half again as thick in places, if not double. Factory work, too. Where did you even get this? This isn’t some Arsenal South hackjob.”

Illger was close by you as you pulled open the turret door, and showed him inside. Both of you were surprised to see Maddalyn, though, nestled in the bottom of the turret basket, holding out a hand dripping with blood while holding a slip of slightly yellowed paper against the floor.

“Ah….er…hello?” Maddalyn tried and failed to seem like she wasn’t doing something extremely strange.

“…I’ve seen worse things when I’ve cracked open a tank,” Illger said hurriedly. He let himself in and marveled at the interior of your tank while Maddalyn scuttled off to the front of the tank. “I see,” he said to himself, and his gaze fell almost immediately upon the Hellfire shells stashed in the turret ring. “…the hell sort of shot are those?”

“Training aids turned to art projects,” you said. It had been a long prepared excuse, developed back on the trail in East Valsten. The explanation, you and your crew agreed, was just silly enough to seem like ungarnished truth.

Illger thankfully accepted this explanation, paying no further attention to the deadly weapons. If he were to actually investigate them, he’d find that the markings would betray that these shells were absolutely not training aids.

“Where’d you even get these?” Illger said again, drawing a finger across some of the machining inside, “this is really new. Most of the thirty twos we see are at the ends of their ropes, basically useless without a rebuild. Tracks are pretty damn worn, though. Have you been driving this long?”

“A few weeks,” you answered truthfully, “Gone maybe…five hundred kilometers with them.” You shaves a couple hundred klicks off your actual estimate for that figure. M/32s, you’d learned in basic, even before academy, tended to last about eight hundred kilometers before they needed to be send back for refitting. With the extra weight of Von Blum model m/32s, you would wager that your tanks, despite being new, had gone far enough that they were indeed nearing the ends of their ropes, if they weren’t at them already.

“Five hundred klicks in a few weeks? You’ve certainly been moving. That’s further than we push our own gear in a busy month, usually.” Illger said with reverence. If only he knew the truth.

“Is it a deal, then?” you hurried along as you exited the tank, “Two of these…the other two, not this one, and in exchange you don’t cart Signy…Miss Vang, off.”

Illger thought about that for a good, long minute, before giving an acquiescing grunt. “Eh, sure. We can take these off your hands after the fight. Though I dunno if we’ll let you buy ‘em back…also,” he snapped his fingers, “I’m looking at those other two. I don’t think you take me for a fool, but I’ve got to be safe, you know?”

-----

You had sent Illger on his way, after that, who had left satisfied. Of course, you weren’t quite done yet. Dandy as this plan might have seemed, you had to get it through with Signy. Perhaps you should have done that before, but…well, nothing was in writing as of now.

The town hall was a flurry of last minute checks, and it wasn’t hard to find Signy stepping up and down the offices, demanding questions that, judging from her mood, more often got responses she liked than not. She looked confident and determined, like a general seeing an easy victory before them. Certainly not like somebody who might be taken hostage for debt reasons.

“Signy,” you muttered in her ear, and she turned to you. With a point to the side, Signy understood what you wanted, and led you away from the hustle and bustle, whereupon she patiently heard you out.

“You found out about that, huh,” Signy said with resignation, almost annoyed, “Probably heard Loch wasn’t happy about it either. Well, if he was so fond of my father, he’s know this is exactly what he’d do. Resources of the state are subject to administration, but the only person a ruler has any right to use as a bartering token is themselves. Loch’s theory. Not Loch the…” Signy blushed, “…handsome man, er, I mean Edmund Loch. The political philosopher.”

“How much overlap is there anyways?” you felt yourself having to ask. Loch was almost certainly not the man’s real name, and considering his protectiveness of Signy, the name must have been chosen for sentimental reasons.

“Not much, unfortunately,” Signy sighed and rested the heels of her hands on the nearby windowsill, leaning against it. “I read Loch, studied him,”

“I’ll bet you studied him.”

Signy blushed again, “Okay, stop that.” Once you’d held up your hands in surrender, she went on. “We’ve both read the same man, but we got…different messages from the same words, somehow.” Signy paused, then continued to the subject at hand. “I presume you’re here because you disapprove of my decision. It’ll be very temporary. I expect to clear the deal with Lord Wossehn on the march tomorrow, actually. I’ll only have to be followed by goons for a few days, it’ll all be fine.”

>I don’t think it’ll look good to your followers to be held hostage for any length of time at all. I can offer my tanks instead, they’re machines, valuable in terms of money but not in politics. Wouldn’t that be a better choice?
>I appreciate the brave and noble stride you’re trying to cut, but don’t you think this is a bit much? I don’t think defying pretty Loch is a good idea, either.
>I’m just making certain that you’re sure on this. After all, what if Wossehn takes advantage and sets you adrift? This is Sosaldt, after all.
>Other?

>>2213508
This >>2213546 is accurate.
Also a bunch of people were shot or blown up, not as many as you'd think, and there's also an ugly creepy girl.

File: look, alright she may not(...).png (516 KB, 755x805)

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>>2213631
>I don’t think it’ll look good to your followers to be held hostage for any length of time at all. I can offer my tanks instead, they’re machines, valuable in terms of money but not in politics. Wouldn’t that be a better choice?

AFTER the battle. And we high tail it straight to the border if for whatever reason those tanks get smashed.

>Also a bunch of people were shot or blown up, not as many as you'd think, and there's also an ugly creepy girl.

HEY, SHE IS NOT UGLY.

>>2213631
>>I don’t think it’ll look good to your followers to be held hostage for any length of time at all. I can offer my tanks instead, they’re machines, valuable in terms of money but not in politics. Wouldn’t that be a better choice?

>>2213546
Uh... okay.

“I don’t think it’ll look good to your followers to be held for any length of time at all,” you expressed your concerns to Signy in a hushed tone, “I can offer my tanks instead, they’re machines, valuable in terms of money but not in politics. Wouldn’t that be a better choice?”

Signy paused for thought. “I can’t demand that you do that.”

“You don’t need to demand it, I’ll do it if you agree to it.”

Something in Signy obviously wanted to find a point to protest at; perhaps at the notion of fleeing from duty, but you had caught her off guard by offering to do it for her. She hesitated, but finally nodded. “If you want to do it, then go ahead. That’d be…a great help. Although…” Signy put a hand in her jacket pocket and sighed, “It still feels like I’m stealing from you. Don’t…try to explain to me that it’s not, or anything. I’ll figure it out. After we win.”

After that, there was little left to take care of, other than Signy inviting you to a last minute tactical meeting that Loch planned to have to finally tell all of the leadership what was going to happen. Signy wished you luck on your dealings, blissfully unaware that you had already concluded them.

Back at camp, in the hour wait while the final meeting was planned, there was an air of familiar apprehension. You spied Von Metzeler wearily shaking his head as he looked over his beaten up vehicle. Illger had identified the damaged recoil mechanism at a glance, yet, he hadn’t been very concerned about that. You guessed Smitty, whoever that was, had the facilities and parts to fix it somehow. Von Metzeler’s vehicle had also been the first to suffer from mechanical troubles, and though it was still starting, you couldn’t help but dread that you’d lose it on the march. You had other vehicles, but putting a Strossvald crew into the other vehicle, which amounted to a howitzer in an armored box on a T-8 chassis, was downright irresponsible. The armored car had been leased to Bat Company, along with a truck.

Your vehicles had been repainted from the flat, light grey of your cover identity (itself painted over yet another disguise) to the colors of the Republic. Since what had formerly been known as the Guillotines had the overwhelming majority of armed vehicles, the Republic’s motor pool as a whole took on their colors. Your tanks matched this now, freshly bearing a deep, chocolate hue. You wondered to yourself, ever so briefly, how soon it would be before your platoon would proudly bear Strossvald Blue once more. The unit identifiers, a pair of ones next to a hollow yellow box, bothered you as well; as far as you were concerned, you were still a part of third company, fifth platoon of the Von Blum 1st regiment of Panzers.

You heard Hans call your crew to gather when he saw you returned, including Maddalyn, though not by her name. Your fiancee’s fingers were still running with red; likely keeping herself occupied crafting spells.

“Now, since shorty’ll be taking one of our places, figured it only fair that we decide,” Hans pulled a set of red sticks from his pocket, one of many sorts of representative currency used for betting locally. One local vice your men had been allowed to pick up had been gambling, and the platoon now knew so many games they could play a different one every hour and still not tire. “By drawing lots.” Hans held out his fist, full of the red sticks. “I broke one of these, and that’s the short one. Whoever draws the shorty gets to ride with Von Humorless over there. Course, the boss doesn’t get to draw. Doesn’t work that way, you can probably guess, neither does the princess.”

You wrapped your hands around Maddalyn’s waist and lifted her into the air, eliciting a surprised yelp from her. “Well, shoot,” you said with mocking defeat, “seems like I drew the short one anyways.” This elicited a few chuckles, none, of course, from the offended suspended girl.

Your crew wordlessly drew lots after that, and, to the surprise of more than a few, Hans was left with the only stick left, all of the others clearly of uniform length.

“You know,” Stein said, peering at his red token, “I would have counted on you messing with this somehow.”

“Funny comin’ from you,” Hans elbowed your gunner, “Clutching two or three lucky charms while you’re grabbing for one. Did you pick up a few new ones? Judge above.”

Jorgen clapped Hans on the shoulder, “Aghh, taake caere aff lautnant bore.” The Yaegir had tucked into his store of spirits earlier this night, which made his speech even less understandable than normal. The blow to Hans’s shoulder was rough enough for him to drop the stick he still held, which clattered to the floor. The RO quickly knelt to pick it back up, but not quickly enough for you to see what the trick had been. The short stick’s existence, it turned out, had been too readily assumed.

While Hans continued towards Von Neubaum’s sparse crew, accompanied by two others of your crew in a continued conversation, you were left with Malachi and Maddalyn.

“Kommyyndahrr,” Malachi did his best to address you in the proper language, he raised a heavy, gloved hand and pointed at Maddalyn. “Alltemmgonh, smeyllstund wynncrieye. Yeiunoukess. Bad man. Kyessstundy hu waned. Haveno sen inweegs, staurfinierr.”

You and Maddalyn processed that, and though you still were piecing it together, Maddalyn interjected, “Well, don’t tell him that..!”

Your mysterious driver turned about and started to shuffle off, “Jesdonnstenkup tahhnk.” He left you and Maddalyn in relative solitude.

>…So what did he say? Because I didn’t catch a word of that except for whatever a tahhnk is.
>Well, I don’t know why I’m hearing it from one of my crew and not you, but it seems I’ve forgotten to give you something since you got back.
>What a crass suggestion. I’ll let you get back to preparing your magic then, dear.
>Other?

>>2214310
>>…So what did he say? Because I didn’t catch a word of that except for whatever a tahhnk is.

>>2214310
Jesus Malachi is probably slurring even more than he needs too on purpose. All I got out of that was "Don't stink up the tank." Probably.

>…So what did he say? Because I didn’t catch a word of that except for whatever a tahhnk is.

We'll leave it up to Maddy. A tank cabin is not the most romantic location for a rendezvous.

>>2214305
Gah, Richter, you're an asshole, you know?

>>2214310
>Just embrace and kiss her
It was embarassing enough to have Malachi say it. Maddy won't ever say it herself, despite wanting to.
Basically, I want option 2 but without smartassiness.

>>2214310
>>…So what did he say? Because I didn’t catch a word of that except for whatever a tahhnk is.

>>2214584

The fuck did he say?

>>2214310
>>…So what did he say? Because I didn’t catch a word of that except for whatever a tahhnk is.

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>>2214584
I'm surprised Malachi felt compelled to tell us to get on with it. Just do it, Richter.
>>2214616
From what I can parse "They've all gone, and you still haven't kissed Maddy, even though she wants it."

>>2214616
"All them gone, small??? want|went cry. Y u no kiss. Bad man. ???? ?? ????. Have no seen in weeks, ????"

Illiger mentioned a smithy... isnt that the name of hans’ Big titted older sister? If so maybe he would like to know just in case

>>2214675
Nice find!

“…So what did he say?” you asked Maddalyn, “Because I didn’t catch a word of that, except for tahhnk.”

“…I don’t know either,” Maddalyn said hesitantly, “Well, er, so…” She sidled up to you, only to back off. “…Never mind.”

“What?” you asked her back, “Go ahead.”

“…Well, it’s about the battle coming, and all,” Maddalyn said quickly, as though she wanted to say something else, but had come up with this on the spot, “You’re here for all the people who were kidnapped…I guess, as a card in the war back at home,” Maddalyn wrinkled her brow, “I wonder how that’s going…maybe it’s already over. The war in 1929 was about done in a few weeks. Have you heard any news?”

You hadn’t heard much, besides rumors and trickles. Sosaldtians dealt little with the minutiae of international politics. You hadn’t heard the war had ended, so it very well could have been wrapping up. You gave this positive line of opining to Maddalyn.

“It’d be nice if you didn’t have to go off to war again between this and…well, our wedding,” Madalyn mumbled the last word, as if it were somehow an uneasy subject. “There’s a whole army here for this battle, though. Surely their stakes aren’t in Strossvald’s citizenry?”

“No,” you replied, then explained the Republic’s formation, and the ideals Signy wanted it to have. You included your fair share of skepticism for how much respect the Republic’s constituents had for such lofty dreams of a bastion of democracy.

Maddalyn wasn’t so cynical, oddly. “The Archduchy was born out of a collection of nobles who wanted change. They wanted the rights of their ancestry back, and the traditions of old to be respected once again, the history of their peoples, their culture. I don’t know much about Sosaldt, but if they didn’t care at all about the idea of this republic, I don’t think they’d offer their lives, would they?”

“Maybe so,” you let that thought sink in. From a purely cynical point of view, these were people who abandoned their nations, their history and their identity. There were good people among them, but their foundation since abandoning their homes to live here had been one of greed and violence. It was difficult to think that sort had the fortitude to craft a nation, let alone one governed by the masses. Republics had failed in places much more civilized than here; the system of governing, for all its boons, was terribly fragile, unlike the rule of lords. Instead of going through all that, though, you merely finished with, “They do have one thing the Archduchy also had in its foundation. The steel of Von Tracht.”

“Tracht,” Maddalyn corrected.

“Well, yes,” you admitted, “No Von until Archduke Strossvald drove out the Imperials. No more titles to stick on my name, tragically.”

It had gotten quite dark, and the city’s few lamplighters were finally finishing their business touching off the scattered poles, infrastructure from an era before the country had gone wild, dutifully maintained by whoever wished to be a lamplighter, much like how many occupations outside of “gang member” worked around this country. You checked your watch, and the time to meet with Loch was fast approaching.

“I’ve got to go,” you told Maddalyn, “I’ll be back later.” You waved to her, and she waved uncomfortably back as you left.

You were suddenly struck with the feeling that you were being thickheaded, and realized why soon after.

“Actually, wait a minute,” you turned about, “I forgot something.”

>Give Maddalyn a peck
>Drag Maddalyn into a corner and really lay into her
>Stand around and wonder aloud if it was something Maddalyn wanted, in front of her
>Other?

>>2214675
"Smitt" is Stein's last name. It's admittedly an incredibly common last name, but Stein's older sister did run off to Sosaldt, according to Hans, and she was also said to be quite the mechanical genius...

>>2214690
3 jokingly then 2, but why drag her to around a corner, there's fine.

>>2214690
>Give Maddalyn a peck
>Observe her reaction
>Depending on the reaction, drag Maddalyn into a corner and really lay into her

>>2214700
This, but, it really doesn't matter what her reaction is.

>>2214690
Choice is as per >>2214700
As for Stein's sister, may be worth asking Illger.

Maddalyn flinched ever so slightly as you laid your hands on her shoulders, crouched down, and touched your lips against hers for but a moment, before parting away and looking into her face. She blushed and blinked at you. Your fiancée said nothing for some seconds, before what softly came from her mouth was;

“Uh…well…I thought you’d be a bit…” Maddalyn stroked her cheek with a finger and smiled awkwardly, “Well, like last time.”

“That can be arranged,” you let your hands slide down her arms, and pulled her towards the shadow of a stray building's corner. “Although...just a moment.” You raised a hand and slipped Maddalyn’s eyepatch from her head, so your eyes could properly meet. There was no odd movement, no disconcerting difference in attention; both eyes were squarely on yours, as was proper, and you tried not to think about how this was only because the girl’s attention on you was as strong as the creatures’ in the wandering eye. Maddy licked her lips hopefully as you took some time to plan your attack, staring into those sky hued irises, locks of flame-like hair dancing in front of them from above.

The rehearsal in your imagination set you in the right mood for when you pressed your mouth against Maddy’s once more and got to work.

Maddalyn’s jacket was in the way, and while you teased her lips with the tip of your tongue, you pulled at the clasps of the black and blue wool jacket. Despite the difficulty you had at first, lustful motivation helped you accomplish your goal with tolerable haste, and soon enough it was fully open down the middle. With no more than a thin shift obstructing the barely perceivable slightness of Maddalyn’s bosom from you, you ran your fingers down the thin cloth of her undershirt down her chest, while squeezing her around the waist with your other arm. Maddalyn’s arms remained at her sides, and though she was more than accepting of your advances, it somewhat sullied your mood to see that, once again, she wasn’t reciprocating; only moving to what you did.

You moved back a bit for a few breathes. Maddalyn’s eyes stayed shut, until she half opened them to peer at you. A low whisper came, thin and high pitched, “Why are you…don’t stop...so early...”

And so you went forth again, forgetting how lax Maddalyn had seemed a moment ago. You ran your hands up her chest, down her back, and then under her bottom. No direct protests came this time when you gripped her taut derriere as tightly as you could muster, though a discomforted squeak came from between you and Maddy’s lips. No matter, you thought as you released and ran your hands back up her hips and around her waist, before lifting her up and leaning her into yourself. Maddalyn’s breath was hot and heavy on your face as you ended that particular kiss, and a trail of drool dripped from the corner of her mouth. You didn’t mind, yet, that she’d dripped spit all over you as well. You were focused on other things, like how big of a hickey you could plant on her neck. Maddalyn squirmed and moaned softly as a light bite turned into a deep kiss just below her ear.

Even in the chill of the autumn night, Maddalyn’s skin began to grow clammy, and her undershirt was growing damp as you continued to make out with her, and you soon moved down to her chest, kissing her on her bare skin as well as through the fabric, it growing translucent with sweat and saliva and clinging to her form in a very pleasing way. Maddalyn made a pleading croon as you spent more time down there than she wanted, so you went back up to kiss her on the mouth again, and when you looked into one another’s eyes once more, she said in a barely audible utterance, “I love you,” which prompted you to kiss her more furiously than before, pressing her against you so hard that you felt her ribs creak, and-

A loud clearing of a rough throat shattered the night behind you, and you froze. Maddalyn remained in a daze while you set her down and turned about to see Loch’s shadow, Rune, brushing dust off of his clothes.

“I came to check if you were coming,” Rune said flatly. “I hardly expected you to be occupied. Set your woman loose and get moving. You’re late.”

With that, he turned on his heel with a disapproving snort and began to leave. Maddalyn had woken up by now, and had wrapped her jacket back around her, holding it tightly closed with one hand, and she hung her head as she watched Rune step off.

“Hey,” you put a hand under Maddy’s chin, lifting it up, and kissed her softly one more time, “Was that fun?”

Maddalyn smiled warmly, eyes brighter than you’d ever seen, and nodded energetically. “Sorry for getting you in trouble, but…yeah, it was a lot of fun. Although maybe…let’s not get caught next time…”

You clicked your tongue in agreement before giving a parting wave. Maddalyn’s farewell gesture was much less nervous, and moreso flirtatious this time, fingers wiggling as she held her hand up.

“Von Tracht was busy delaying the council in favor of having relations with his woman in the middle of the street,” Rune explained roughly as you both entered the room in the town hall where the meeting was taking place, which thankfully had far fewer people to hear those words than you expected. The attendees were all seated around a long table, surrounded by stools.

“Having relations? In the open?” Loch repeated, leaning on a hand and looking amused, and not annoyed at your tardiness at all.

“We were only kissing,” you grumbled as you found yourself a seat at the table and fell into it.

“Now then,” Loch spoke on, not heeding you anymore, “since there will be nothing that can be deployed to impede it, and all of the necessary pieces have fallen into place, I will cease being so coy about the plot to orchestrate Todesfelsen’s fall.”

You involuntarily leaned forward as Loch said this, and he smiled at your reaction in the way he often did, closed mouthed and sly like a fox finding a chicken coop in the night.

“As we speak, the home guard faction of Todesfelsen is plotting to rise up,” Loch announced, “With the suspicious death of their favored candidate, they heard rumors, found information, were even told by loose lipped “foes” that this was a plot to destroy their influence upon their own home. With some help in organization, they will be attacking the fortification in the heart of the city, the assault spearheaded by ferocious volunteers…armed with the best that I could get them. I do sympathize with your frustration in not knowing the plan, dear Lieutenant, but I prefer to not rant about my plots until absolutely nothing can stop them.”

“Interesting,” you allowed, “absolutely nothing can stop this plan, though? You’re certain of that?”

“Terribly so,” Loch said, winking, “The city will fall into chaos as the uprising begins, and while the Death Heads and the most troublesome bands, the ones with all of the best equipment and mechanized capability, are trying to deal with their militias rising up…the Army of the Republic will appear and challenge them. Suddenly, they are caught between a vice that will squeeze them into pieces.”

“Though some small skirmishing will likely begin soon,” Rune elaborated, standing at the end of the room and leaning against the wall, eyes moving all about, “The greater uprising, and the capture of the fort, will not begin, or be completed, until our army is just over the horizon. Timing will be critical, and when we arrive we cannot afford to be tempted by negotiations, lest the enemy use the armistice to deal with their internal troubles. The only acceptable outcome is for the enemy to lay down their arms and surrender, or to be routed and defeated. For better or worse, to best utilize their mechanized equipment, the most sensible tactical decision, and thus the most predictable, is for them to sally out to meet us.”

“Fighting will be inevitable,” Brucker said from the other end of the table, “While the scales are weighted greatly in our favor, we must still win as quickly and brutally as possible. Preserving the lives of our own would be ideal, but the fighting may require substantial sacrifice in order to inflict the necessary despair upon our foes. You, your troops, and the Army of the Republic as a whole, will have to throw away any civility you have. Fight like beasts. Nay, like devils.”

“You…” your mouth fell open without you willing it, and you straightened, pride welling from underneath you. Fight like beasts, Nay, like devils, had been Von Hohenholz’s message to his troops just before the climactic battle where he held off the tide of the Emrean counteroffensive in the closing days of the Emrean War. “Of course,” you said resolutely.

“As much as I would love to theorize,” Loch took control of the field once more, “We will know little of our enemy’s disposition until we arrive. We will have little time to scout the place of battle, and less time to figure out what we will do. Make no mistake, I have full confidence in our victory, Miss Vang,” he smiled at Signy, who nodded dourly, tapping her finger against crossed arms. “But it will undoubtedly be a right mess at the beginning. Have faith, in your servants, in me, and in Von Tracht and his friends, and we will be crowned with laurels by the hand of fate, rather than poppies.”

“We march at the arranged time?” you asked, and Loch raised a hand to Signy, who nodded.

“Ten hours from now, Von Tracht, the army will be awoken and will prepare to set out to war” Signy addressed you, “Sleep well. We will be leaving an hour after wake up call.”

>No option select as of yet. Will be in next update, which will be in a few hours or so, depending on how long this nap is.
You guys picked the worst kisser of the whole lot.

>>2215040
>>2215043
Oh my God this is a blue board what are you doing stop

>>2215057
We will train her a lot

>>2215057
Yes but it will be MAGICAL!

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>>2215040
>>2215043

I don't think we ever did tell Signy that Maddy was back

I have risen from my grave now.

>>2215086
There was no handholding so it's fine.

>>2215833
...yeah, you're right. Priorities, I suppose. Easy enough to remedy.

There were only a few basic questions after that, and then deliberation between Loch’s band of vagabonds. You finally informed Signy that Maddalyn had been returned to you; it had slipped your mind, embarrassingly, though not unfairly considering the circumstances. As much as you would hate to admit it, your inability to do anything about Maddalyn’s captivity combined with your role in the new Republic Army had meant your mind was far away from your fiancée whenever dealing with Signy.

…That sounded rather bad in your head. Well, hopefully you’d made it up to Maddalyn now.

Signy’s reaction was rather muted, as well, though she had so much more on her mind than you did, and her relationship with Maddalyn was little better more familiar than she would be with a stranger; earlier, she had failed to even correctly recall her name.

Then you asked if you were needed further, and were told, not particularly. So you excused yourself to spread the news.

Upon returning to the camp, you briefed your officers and crews all at once on the situation. Your platoon officers; Von Metzeler, Krause, Von Walen, Von Neubaum, and Von Igel, as well as their crews. Bat Company, led by Captain Honnrieg. All were present, attentive, and when you finalized the briefing with a (modified) Strossvalder army slogan and a salute, you were greeted with a forest of salutes. The reaffirmation of the caliber of your comrades, of the Archduchy’s soldiers, cleansed any doubt from your mind concerning the battle to come. It would be violence beyond any fight you had before that you could pretend was a hard fought battle, but nevertheless you knew you would come out the victor once more.

It was all in the spirit. Logically, you knew that even in what had been a perfect ambush in the mountains, your force had sustained damage and casualties. Some of Bat Company still bore the marks, and even though two severely wounded were not much in a war, among twenty soldiers there was a noticeable absence. It couldn’t help but flash through your head that you would have to be astonishingly lucky to have the same results as last time, let alone better.

>Was there anything you wanted to clear up with your soldiers?
>You were certain of your capabilities and what you had to do; all there was to do was wait.
>Other?

>>2216511
You'll just find a way for her to become depressed about not being to first to know!

>>2216594
>Other?
Timeskip to the battle

>>2216594
>You were certain of your capabilities and what you had to do; all there was to do was wait.

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Update soon.

Picture of the Iron Hog's tank that I forgot to post earlier when it was relevant. It's a big fella.

>>2217091
Nice drawing, does the Archduchy have tank destroyers of our own?

With nothing else to take care of, the last hour of the night before you ordered everybody to sleep was filled with quiet conversation. Nobody was in the right mood to gamble; it was bad luck to do so before an uncertain fight. Expenditure of good luck was a matter to be taken seriously by more than a few, especially those such as your gunner who invested more than most in charms and tokens to aide their fortune.

Emma was let out of her can, and told to remain in Rostig, in case the soulbinder she saw earlier still haunted Todesfelsen. Despite Poltergeist’s foreboding warning, there wasn’t any reason that whoever this new guy was would stick around once fighting proper began. It wasn’t as if you planned to start launching your hellfire shells here of all places.

Emma noticed Maddalyn as you explained to her that somebody, even if it wasn’t you, would be back for her. “Oh!” she chirped, “You got your bitch back!”

Maddalyn heard that comment, and she turned just enough to give the sprite a sneer of disgust, curling her lip in an expression that lacked any subtlety.

“Ooh, the evil eye, I’m positively flattered.” Emma began to float off before you could scold her, “Good luck,” she said in a more sympathetic light, “If you die, you’ll probably go off trying to find a body for yourself before me, after all!” The ghost flew away then, though you could hear something from her that indicated that she wasn’t as accepting of the matter as she showed.

A chew of your diminished supply of blackflower wads was a luxury you allowed yourself tonight. You could do without some bizarre dreams on this particular night, you decided, and with some cajoling some reinforcement was added to your bedroll in the form of Maddalyn. She hadn’t been entirely keen on the idea of such a display of affection in front of others, but it didn’t take much insistence to wear down her defensiveness.

It had been a fun idea when you first thought of it, but now that your fiancée was sleeping next to you, feeling awfully small and thin as she buried herself in the crook of your arm, you felt an odd discomfort; perhaps it was the blending of what should be peacetime frivolousness with the night before certain battle. Sosaldt had been odd like that before, but somehow, this felt even stranger. It was paid only a little mind before you cleared your mind and drifted to sleep.

Maddalyn tossed and turned in her sleep, waking you up in the middle of the night. Terrified utterances slipped from her lips, and she cringed in her sleep. Tightening your hold on her did little to calm whatever nightmares tormented her, and you lay awake for a long time, unsure of what to do. Sleep was a tactical necessity, after all.

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Time came to wake, and then to march. No piece of your equipment was left at home; even the self-propelled gun you had captured was taken, despite it having no crew assigned for now. You’d figure it out on the way.

>Current Platoon: x3 m/32-47B, x2 m/28-25, x1 T-18, x1 T-8 SPG (reserve)
>Bat Company: eighteen soldiers, two combat medics, the captain, x1 PzA-19 Armored Car
>For now, one of the Iron Hogs tanks is sticking with you, having been attached to you by Republic Higher Army Command’s decision. Illger remained with your group, the other leaving to get their allies for the battle. x1 P5-21E

Some of your trucks had been donated to the Republic, but you kept two to transport your force’s foot soldiers. Fuel and ration supply, after all, was to be handled by the new logistics companies.

The mechanized forces went first. The Army of the Republic lacked the necessary mechanization to transport all of its troops, much like most armies, but in order to maintain speed, the mechanized component, including you, would bound forward to Wossehnalia which was close to Todesfelsen, and your staging point. After scouting the route, your tanks along with the 1st Republic Armored Battalion would remain there with their “grenadier” attachments while any available transports ferried troops in a fifty kilometer relay.

The march went smoothly, for the most part. Breakdowns still occurred, but the lessons of the death march you’d put the 1st Battalion on days ago had taught important lessons, and mechanics with whatever parts they could scrounge from over the republic were constantly on hand to mend temporarily crippled armor, and the battalion arrived at its destination mostly intact, with only three vehicles suffering enough strain to have been forced to be left behind. Impressive, given the shoddy quality of the majority of the vehicles. Light armed “guntracks” made up well over half of the battalion, with the better armored and armed vehicles occupying positions of platoon leadership. This would still make the battalion’s firepower against unarmored formations satisfactorily devastating, but against rival armored units…well, that’s what you, as well as the new tank destroyed platoon made up of modified old m/28s, were there to take care of. Bat Company also had access to Anti-tank rifles. All the other parts of the unit had to do was avoid contact if they ran into something they couldn’t take care of, and you made sure all of the officers of the battalion were informed of this.

On the bright side, armor piercing machine gun belts had been procured for many of the guntracks, even if it was only one for every three of them, it was still preferable to nothing, and it would serve against any tankettes or armor with similarly thin plating at a close range.

Bat Company was trusted with collecting information about the terrain, and as Honnrieg left with his most trusted men, you couldn’t help but be concerned with whether news of your movements had reached Todesfelsen yet. It was almost impossible to conceal the presence of a whole battalion of soldiers, let alone an army on the move. You’d simply have to hope your speed was such that the enemy wouldn’t be able to plan very deeply. If estimates were correct, after all, the Death Heads had four “armored” battalions to your one, and likely with a higher proportion of better quality vehicles. Wossehnalia stood on its political and financial power, not military; if the Death Heads were to attack you here, it would be a desperate struggle while you were isolated from the bulk of your forces. Loch had proposed that the rebellious home guard, which made up near a third of the Death Heads’ armed manpower on their own, would distract a portion of the enemy when the battle began proper, but the time where you were moving everything up had been admittedly a vulnerable one.

You assured yourself that if you didn’t have a bit of luck now for this basic step, this would have never really worked out in the first place.

Such hopes were shattered when Honnrieg came jogging back over to your temporary command post.

“Two platoons of armor,” he said quickly, “Bunch of light looking gear, but panzers nevertheless. They were about five klicks out from the city, and they were heading this way. I don’t know if they caught word or not, or if this is just a routine patrol and they aren’t gonna get close to Wossehanlia, but if they get close enough and are looking for something, our cover’s blown.”

This end of the operation was your responsibility; the other leadership was moving the army over. The decision was yours, and there wouldn’t be time for anybody else to come up and survey the situation themselves.

>I see. I’ll take my platoon out and give them a warm welcome, if you’ll take the tank destroyers and keep any of them from getting away.
>We can’t go out and fight them, in case they have radio relays set up. Them disappearing will be suspicious, too. We’ll just have to hope they don’t come close and find us.
>Maybe we can dissuade them. They might be reasonable people, and we happen to have a box of gold. (Other sorts of coercion can be tried as well.)
>We can’t betray the fact that we have a battalion of tanks here, but perhaps we can pretend to be bandits, or irregulars. Bandits with anti tank rifles aren’t too uncommon, right? We can drive them off.
>Other?

>>2217222
Armored tank destroyers are around, but not a standard, more of a regional preference depending if a battalion's sponsor wants to have them as part of their tithe, and Strosstadt's factories, for example, do not make them. Dismounted anti tank cannons and normal tanks have been suitable for Strossvald's purposes thus far. Despite fears of heavy armor from the Grossreich, the Imperial Gate and the mountains it is set in make enough of a barrier that Strossvald High Command considers any conflict to take place there, where armored combat is unfeasible anyways.

Armor development is on the cusp of the whole armor-cannon caliber arms race where tank destroyers would become more common, theorists argue, though relatively few militaries accept this line of thought when it comes to practical change. Netilland is largely equipped with what could be considered tank destroyers, but Netilllians refer to them as turretless tanks rather than TDs, and they are used as such. The preference, it is said, is because of a perception that they are not needed, and because it makes manufacturing much simpler and cheaper. However, there has already been plenty of experience showing the flaws of using such vehicles in such a way.

Your current loader, Jorgen, was a crewman on what could be referred to as a turretless tank; the m/25K Kanonen, which was a Naukland design that had the main gun in the hull with a heavy machine gun turret up top. That particular design didn't get much traction, though, and is one of several models of tank that were scattered throughout the world as secondhand military equipment.

Which means you might see a few here, considering, not that it's a massively intimidating vehicle, being rather aged and a bit of a large scale experiment. Its armament is similar to that of the VPw-7s you fought in Valsten.

>>2217268
>I see. I’ll take my platoon out and give them a warm welcome, if you’ll take the tank destroyers and keep any of them from getting away.

>>2217268
It's a damn pity they painted our tahhnks the colors of the Republic otherwise we might have been able to bluff them as grey gunners.

>I see. I’ll take my platoon out and give them a warm welcome, if you’ll take the tank destroyers and keep any of them from getting away.
>Other?
Set up a shitty ambush in the most likely direction they are coming from. If it isn't single file then it may be better to form a line.

What's their formation like?
Are they coming in fast?
Does the terrain have low hills we can hide behind till they get closer?

>>2217410

“What formation are they in?” you asked of Honnrieg, “Are they coming in fast?”

“A file,” Honnrieg answered, “And no. They at least aren’t arranged for a fight, for now.”

“I see,” you contemplated, “How about the terrain? Are there any advantageous positions we can take close to them, or where they’re headed?”

“Defilade that a man can squat in isn’t uncommon near here, and there’s some ditches good for vehicles further up,” Honnrieg told you, “These lands are mostly good and flat, though, and the direction they’re heading in isn’t an exception. If you come at them in tanks, you’re probably not going to be able to hide from them and wait, unless your cans shed a couple meters.”

>Information for the better of an informed decision, not a resolution yet, in case any changes want to be made.

>>2217569
Hull down in the ditches; that should at least offer protection from where the shots start flying. Also any way to ID what models we're facing? If they're all light tanks pretty sure we can trash them.

“You didn’t happen to see what sort of armor they were, did you?” you asked Honnrieg.

“Couldn’t recognize them,” Honnrieg answered, “Looked like Netillian, but different. Different enough that it’s something else, though they look like Two centimeters and three point sevens, probably wishes and dreams for armor against what we’re packing that isn’t a plain rifle. Seen the sort of thing before, though.”

“Oh?” your curiosity compelled you to pursue that train further. “What are they?”

“There’s a group in Sosaldt that calls themselves Arsenal,” Honnrieg explained briefly, “Arsenal South, in particular, that works out of the big rich coastal cities. They refurbish vehicles, fabricate arms, trucks, tanks…they don’t push out as much as Strosstadt’s factories, from what I hear, but it’s enough to keep the engine going around here. Since they do all sorts of work, a tank from them could just as easily be a chimera of all sorts of different parts that they made fit together from junk, or it could be a new make that’s a copy of something else, they’re like those Guntracks we’ve got hanging around us, but a step up in quality. Better junk to work with.”

“I see.” Sosaldt was as curiously interesting as it was ugly. “Whatever they are, we’ll go and give them a warm welcome. I’ll set out with my platoon, and I’d like you to get the tank destroyer platoon and swing around wide so we can box them in. We can’t have them getting word back to their friends, and two platoons bitten out of the enemy’ll be a nice early victory.”

Honnrieg smirked. “I’ll get it done. You’ll be fine with not having comms for a bit, right?”

You nodded. Tragically, most of the Republic’s tanks had no long range radios, and if Honnrieg were to stay undetected he would likely have to stray out of the relatively short range of the infantry radios you had brought. It wouldn’t be more than an inconvenience though, you suspected.

After informing the rest of the battalion what you were doing, you mobilized your platoon, and set quickly out. Once you had gone out of the city, however, you slowed your paces to a crawl. Roaring tank engines and clouds of dust would tell the enemy plenty from afar, without even seeing you for themselves. Thus your progress was slow, ponderous, and you scanned the surroundings for signs of the enemy as your m/32 crawled forward, so slowly that a man could walk with it, the engine merely chugging along.

“Richter, I mean, Commander,” you heard Maddalyn’s voice, distorted from the throat microphone’s lacking finesse in transmitting voice, “Von Walen’s spotted something. He says it might be a kilometer away. Bearing west-northwest, moving north.”

“Confirm that.” You said to Maddalyn, as you looked in the direction you’d been told. After she did, you said to yourself, “Why north..?” You hadn’t spotted them quite yet, but had they turned away, or were they merely covering more ground? After some more searching, you spotted the enemy. They were distant, and even through binoculars it wasn’t easy to identify them through the dust. Not only was there their own kickup, but a disturbance had been threatening to turn into a bluster ever since you arrived at Wossehnalia, an event that would set the whole region into a swirl of grey and tan fog.

If you were to attack, you would have to decide now. Honnrieg was beginning to go outside of the limits of his radio set.

>Pursue them; you should whittle down the enemy however you can.
>Let them go. They’ll swing around you, no need to risk alerting the foe.
>Try to follow them without being detected for as long as possible.
>Other?

Fighting will come tomorrow.

>>2217724
>>Try to follow them without being detected for as long as possible.

>>2217724
>Try to follow them without being detected for as long as possible.
If they swing around the city they could happen upon the infantry ferries, and that would be a catastrophe.

>>2217724
>Try to follow them without being detected for as long as possible.
Form up to prepare to blitz or a drive-by for encirclement.

>small mistake, I said they were west northwest in the last update, they’re east northeast. I can’t explain why I mixed it up.

“Tell Captain Honnrieg that we’re going to follow these guys for as long as we can, and see if we can tell if they’re going anywhere.” you instructed Maddalyn over the intercom, not bothering to hook into the set proper, “In case we lose communications, he’s to shoot only if they see us and either flee or come and get us.
”
While the Death Heads weren’t traveling speedily, they were making no attempt to keep hidden either. They would certainly be going faster than you, though since they were going north, you thought it possible that you could remain at a less detectable speed, by taking advantage of differing angles of approach. As you ordered the platoon to adjust course, you hoped that this patrol was routine, or that their destination was distracting enough to keep them from detecting you. In this terrain, if you could see them, it was no more difficult for them to potentially see you, and at this range if they were to spot you before you had a running start, even a ponderous tank could escape to reinforcements; judging from the clip they ran at, these enemy tanks were far from ponderous.

Fifteen tense minutes of slow stalking passed by, the enemy kept at a distance where they were scarcely more than dark splotches to the naked eye while your tanks crept beside them at a carefully measured pace. Yet, you were steadily losing them as the angle of pursuit shifted; you could only hope Honnrieg had a better approach, having swung northwards.

A cursory glance through binoculars revealed a sight that made you tense up and order the platoon to halt. A form popped up through the upper hatch of one of the groups’ tank’s turret, and seemed to scan the surroundings lazily.

>DC 40 roll under for enemy, rolled by yours truly

Rolled 47 (1d100)

And here's the spot check. Keep in mind this system isn't straight pass or fail; this comes in degrees.

You breathed a sigh of relief as the observer passed their gaze over your position, before leaning back in the turret and looking towards their path once more. Their vision must have been unaugmented, and more importantly, they must not have been expecting threatening opposition.

The platoons continued northwards another fifteen minutes, yours and the foe's keeping a careful, if unintentional on their part, distance, and Honnrieg reported seeing what he theorized the enemy patrol’s goal to be, his voice crackling over the radio.

“Village up ahead. Not much of one, but they’re smack in between Todesfelsen and Wossehnalia. Two platoons is a bit big for a normal patrol; ask me, I think they’re trying to show strength, maybe to these folks. Damned if I know if it’s a shakedown for protection, a visit, or what, tho. These little settlements didn’t register much on any briefing I’d seen.”

In any case, whatever business the Death Heads were up to couldn’t have been good.

>Intercept them and encircle them before they reach the village
>Continue to follow them and investigate what they’ll do (Requires dodging another spot check)
>Order Honnrieg to get to the village first and prepare an ambush
>Other?

>>2218905
Can Honnrieg get in without giving himself away to the villagers... Or set up somewhere close outside? I am thinking that these men might just disembark when they reach the village. Honnrieg in a flank ambush in their most likely retreat and we bumrush them as soon as they step out, kill their engines or continue on. I doubt they care about collateral so if they are fit for fight är should not engage were they can hide in the streets.

Anyone thoughts?

A lot of ifs, maybes and assumptions... If the others think it's a bad idea count my vote for a simple and straightforward encirclement.

>>2218905
>>Order Honnrieg to get to the village first and prepare an ambush

>>2218905
>>Order Honnrieg to get to the village first and prepare an ambush
>>2218947

Sounds good to me.

>>2218905
>Order Honnrieg to get to the village first and prepare an ambush

Anon's idea of hitting them when they pop out of their tanks is good. Good chance of the village eating the worst of it though.

>Not dead yet!

Having hooked yourself into the radio when Maddalyn told you the message was complex, after you heard the Captain out, you thought a moment before replying, “I understand. Can you set up an ambush position close to the village, or are they too close?”

“I can try, no promises,” Honnrieg said with a bare minimum of caution, “ There’s a few scattered huts and light defilade to get in, not that it’s enough to help; these things aren’t much shorter than your normal m/28.” He referred to the fact that the “tank destroyers” were heavily modified m/28 hulls with rough gun shields forming open casemates over 4.5cm guns, originally anti-torpedo ship guns from destroyers with a healthy amount of armor piercing capability (though not as great as your 4.7cm guns on your m/32s; there was a sizeable difference in propellant), due to the ranges they once had to fire at. Once, they had been doled out to separate companies, but since your platoon had concentrated, the decision had been made to concentrate their firepower too. This would ideally be a good first bloodying for their crews. “Wait for your signal to engage?”

“Yes. I want to see if they dismount when they get up to whatever their deal is here, and if they do, that’s less tanks to knock out, and more crews we can keep pinned down with the threat of our guns.”

Honnrieg made an affirming grunt. “This village is inhabited, just so we’re clear. Any militia’s not wearing a usual sort of uniform, and they’re not looking keen on hiding. Maybe this is a routine visit, or they think nobody’d come knocking down their door for whatever reason, but once the shot starts flying people’ll get hurt. Just wanted to make that clear.”

“We’ll be exceedingly careful with our aim,” you reassured the Captain. The village would be occupied by the enemy, so it wouldn’t be criminal to fire upon it with the intent of destroying your enemy, but then again, did they even know that they were at war? You shook your head and knocked on your scalp. This was Sosaldt, they hadn’t signed any treaties, they were exempt from the rights such treaties guaranteed! They probably would never have agreed to any in the first place.

Keeping a close eye on the enemy platoons through binoculars, you had Maddalyn keep you updated on Honnrieg’s progress, since he was further still from you than the enemy, though that would not be the case for too long. To her credit, Maddalyn made a surprisingly capable crew member, somewhere, she had learned most of the military terminologies she had been ignorant of in the past. You couldn’t help but slyly wonder if military intellect was transferable through kisses.

You were still out of efficient gun range for most of your platoon’s weapons when the Death Heads drew close to the village, one platoon keeping up a column into the little collection of buildings and stopping, while the other formed a defensive hedgehog perimeter outside of them. It was purely out of habit, you could tell, but the chances of you being detected by approaching had just increased dramatically.

You considered your next action.

>Have Honnrieg open fire immediately as soon as the enemies dismounted and put some distance between themselves and their armor; you had to have the first shot, even if your own platoon couldn’t share it initially. (Easy DC spot check to avoid)
>Have Honnrieg wait for your blitz; as soon as the enemies saw you coming at speed, all guns in range would loose havoc.
>Try to keep it quiet, and close to range with all cannons if you could. The first volley could very well be the last this way. (Hard DC spot check to avoid)
>Other?

Also, for your platoon’s firing orders,

>Fire when the order is given to engage, even beyond effective range. The imprecise nature of this sort of firing means collateral damage is likely
>Wait until within effective range to stop and fire, decreasing the likelihood of stray shots veering off target
>Perform an all-out charge, firing on the move. Firing on the move, due to irregularities in terrain, suffers from great accuracy penalties, but moving keeps the enemy from having a consistent range on you when they fire back.
>Other orders open to suggestion here as well

>Keep in mind that, since they're in a village, even minute misses will hit something, so it's entirely possible that collateral damage is an inevitability. Such is the reality of war.

>>2220014
>Have Honnrieg wait for your blitz; as soon as the enemies saw you coming at speed, all guns in range would loose havoc.
>Wait until within effective range to stop and fire, decreasing the likelihood of stray shots veering off target

>>2220014
>Other?
Have Honnrieg fire as soon as their tanks turn to engage us, this way he won't be their initial target and their weaker armor will be facing him.

>Wait until within effective range to stop and fire, decreasing the likelihood of stray shots veering off target

Although I say this less about preventing collateral damage and more because we have a history of missing.

I think our tanks have thicker armor? And we'll at least have the advantage that our first salvo won't be striking just their front plates if they're surrounding the lead tank.

>>2220153
>I think our tanks have thicker armor? And we'll at least have the advantage that our first salvo won't be striking just their front plates if they're surrounding the lead tank.

While you don't know exactly what model of tank these things are, if they aren't some local frankenstein creation or a customized design, you can tell they're of quite a light design.

This sort of design is the sort you can have almost full confidence of being immune to from frontal fire with m/32s. m/28s are also resistant to that level of firepower from combat range, and the T-18 is practically a bunker on treads. Suffice it to say, you're not concerned about taking much damage from these things so long as you don't try to get into a knife fight.

>>2220148
>>2220153
Supporting. No point wasting ammo at long range if we're not going to hit anything.

>>2220014
>>2220148
Supporting this

Sorry about how long the delay is, but it turns out that what I thought would work, isn't really working out for me. I'm just too anal retentive about having models, so sorry about the delays because of that. I'll do my best to be back on proper posting timings tomorrow instead of having huge gaps. Probably will help that I'll have my sleep schedule back on track after I throughly buggered it early this week.

Local QM doesn't have combat in so long that he forgets how to do it, none are surprised.

Battle initiates in two hours.

Rolled 49 (1d100)

A brief plan of attack was concocted, and you ordered your platoon forward at speed once more. You would make your more durable tanks the obvious target, forming a distraction for the destroyers to take advantage of.

The m/28s, while normally not much swifter than the m/32s, had worn much less than the m/32s and were thus outpacing the rest of the platoon, whose acceleration and speed had suffered due to mechanical stress (save for the captured equipment, of course, though that hadn’t been in the greatest shape either). That was fine, you opined to yourself; the m/28s’ guns had less of an effective range, and the only enemy around, from appearances, was the one right before you. A small split in formation would be acceptable.

All that needed to happen now was for the enemy to notice the colossal target you were painting upon yourselves.

>enemy spot check, DC70, roll under

Rolled 56 (1d100)

As could be expected, the enemy spotted you very quickly, as you could see from the gesturing of the silhouettes. However, they didn’t seem to know who you were or why you were around, though the guns were laid in precaution. Their disposition was more curious than wary, though; the crews that had left did not seem to be in the process of being alerted, having gone off with some of the villagers, and you were allowed to close further. Was it because your coloration could be mistaken for the differently hued but equally dark grey-black of the Death Heads’ vehicles, or was it a simpler mistake of assuming that nobody in the area but their allies had armor, or perhaps it was that you were brazenly driving in their territority, and the locals wouldn’t dare to do so?
You were almost at combat range, and they still loitered.

>Further enemy spot check, DC 70, roll under, as you close in

This delay brought to you by hand cramps.

Update soon, I swear.

>>2221881
No worries tanq.

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Once you’d closed to combat range, the danger had been realized, and the alarm raised. A puff of smoke from the enemy followed by the bursting of three shells upon soil off to the side of your forward m/28s denoted a warning shot. Little would they know that you were hardly mistaken in your trespassing here, and plenty spoiling for a fight.

Close enough now to properly identify the enemy with binoculars, you recognized what you were facing, or rather, what the things you were facing once were, or perhaps was intended to mimic. The suspension and hull were near identical to that of a common Netillian tankette, the NfK-5. A swift, lightly armed vehicle, NfK-5s made up the bulk of Netillian light armor, in spite of their obsolescence, for the reason that they were cheap to fabricate and maintain, variants taking roles as wide as anti tank vehicles with 25mm cannons in place of the usual machine gun, to tractor haulers for towing.

These particular modifications appeared to be NfK-5s with their hulls extended backwards, and with a turret placed atop it. The report of the enemy’s guns combined with its rate of fire almost confirmed that it was a 2 cm cannon; a weapon completely unsuited to fighting your tanks at anything but point blank.

NfK-5s were so lightly armored that it was common for Netillian crews to be wounded by armor piercing rifle rounds, let alone anti-tank munitions, but nevertheless it was time to test that armor in person, to see if it was anything like you thought it was.

More accurately, it was time for Honnrieg to test it first, since he had been given the order to attack as soon as you were fired upon.

>give me four rolls of 1d100 for Honnrieg’s command to hit, requires roll below 50 for hit. Lower numbers mean better hits, if applicable. 49 is still a decent strike, for example, not a glance.

Rolled 34 (1d100)

>>2221974
Time to see how much we hate wooden houses.

Rolled 91 (1d100)

>>2221974

Rolled 2 (1d100)

>>2221974

Rolled 81 (1d100)

It's alright to roll more than once if you feel like it, just preferably once per post.

Anyways I'll roll for last to get it out of the way.

Rolled 20 (1d100)

>>2221974

>>2222094
Oh dang it

>>2222098
I'll say that player rolls supercede mine.

Preferably not so often as a get out of jail card, but...

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Delays! Sorry.

>34
>91
>2
>20

The initial volley was far better of a success than you expected from your uneasy allies, though you were willing to chalk that up to the Captain’s influence. Having been an officer under Heller Von Tracht, you didn’t doubt he had a misplaced expertise in gunnery.

The shots passed through the enemy’s armor as if it wasn’t there, which could have been a good or bad thing; the ideal situation was for the shell to crash through armor and spray shards of metal about everywhere, but a clean penetration through the whole tank could reduce the amount of said shards. The shells, despite their gun’s naval origin, were locally made and thus had no bursting charge, but if they did then the complete penetration would have been worse, since the shell would not have detonated inside the vehicle where the most damage occurred.

That said, they were good hits through the hulls, in one case, a carefully placed shot skewering two tanks and leaving the shell bouncing off the ground in a tall arc. Just beyond that shell, an explosion of gore had coated a small house; hopefully a dismounted enemy, you didn’t have time to confirm it. It was time for your own shots.

>If you want to place your shots, say where, otherwise the aim point will be the turret mass.
>You may also want to use a different sort of shell, to say so, just write it in. m/28s have armor piercing shells and fragmentation shells (though a 25mm fragmenting projectile is practically a small grenade in strength), the m/32s have high explosive and armor piercing high explosive shot, and the T-18 has no AP, but plenty of 75mm high explosive shot, as well as smoke shot.
>Other actions are also permitted, but shooting may be most prudent.

>>2222201
Load HE for everyone; if their armour is as paper as it is our AP rounds will just over penetrate. The splash damage could possibly get some of the dismounted people as well.

>>2222227
Works for me, looks like their armor can't hack it.
If we are confident the lead tanks are combat disabled we may want to aim for the tanks behind them.

Although let's have one m/32 aimed at the center tank with the figure exposed. He looks like the leader and fired the first shot, take out the leader and the rest may panic.

>>2222245
Thinking about it we are likely to cause tremendous fire damage to the houses. I am willing to accept this, despite the horrific implications and the murder we will commit.

>>2222255
To be fair AP shells will also do plenty of damage. Imagine how many wooden houses one shell could go through.

>>2222201

If the frag/explosive rounds are going to penetrate their armor anyway we may as well aim for the center of the hull to give ourselves a larger target.

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“Tell the platoon to load and shoot with High Explosive if they can,” you said, retreating into the safety of the turret as two centimeter fire began to crackle about, the one of the enemy’s turret gunners desperately firing upon you; the one that had fired first, presumably the leader, and the target of your particular aggressive ire in this next volley. You weren’t sure what he hoped to accomplish, but it did let you know that the shells had caused less damage than it appeared; high explosive, however, would not overpenetrate.

None of the other tanks were returning fire, and you saw no attempt by enemies to reembark. The attack from the flank instead of you must have been quite a shock, on top of the present shock of your force coming from nowhere and attacking for what must have seemed like no reason.

“…Er,” Maddalyn said uncertainly over the intercom, “Junior Lieutenant Krause…thinks that Junior Lieutenant Von Neubaum should not fire, because of the size of his tank’s gun. He stated that unnecessary damage could be avoided that way…”

>Very well. They’re already beaten anyways. This is just a formality.
>Reiterate to Junior Lieutenant Krause that was an order.
>Say nothing.
Also
>Roll 2d2 and 2d100 for deviation, one 2d2, average of up to three 2d100

>>2222303
The 2.5cm fragmentation rounds most likely won't penetrate. NfK-5s, while thinly armored, are relatively proof against fragmentation at a minimum, especially the small sort that the 2.5cm rounds would inflict.

>>2222327
>>Very well. They’re already beaten anyways. This is just a formality.
Instead have him re-position so his front is facing the town from another side, both so he can get an alternate view of the enemy behind and just in case we do need him to fire.

If we manage to knock out the leader hopefully it really will be a formality.

>>2222327
>Very well. They’re already beaten anyways. This is just a formality.
Also let the m/28s fire AP then;if they've already loaded, then fire it into the dismounts.

Rolled 2, 2 = 4 (2d2)

>>2222340
Fug I forgot to roll.

Rolled 91, 68 = 159 (2d100)

>>2222327
Also rolling.

Rolled 49, 16 = 65 (2d100)

>>2222327
And one more roll for good measure.

Rolled 11, 12 = 23 (2d100)

>>2222327

Rolled 95, 37, 37, 30 = 199 (4d100)

“Very well,” you allowed, “They’re already beaten anyways. This is just a formality. In lieue of stopping to fire, he can begin a flanking maneuver.”

“Okay!” Maddalyn chirped, only to correct, “Er, yes.”

If you assumption was right and your target was the leader, you counted on the rest of the enemy giving up. If they chose to resist anyways, it wasn’t as if it would give you trouble, but hopefully the decapitation of their command would make the rest of this skirmish an easy mop up.

“Fire!” you ordered as soon as Stein proclaimed that he had acquired the target. The shell, despite your best hopes, did not hit dead center, but skipped visible off the edge of your target and plowed into the rear of an unmanned tank behind it.

The rest of your platoon opened fire…save for Von Neubaum, of course.

Von Metzeler’s damaged recoil compensator must not have been the only part of the cannon damaged; either that, or his gunner was terrible distracted. His shot went between targets, and knocked down a shoddy house with its explosive charge. Splinters bounced about the scene as a cloud of dust obscured whatever was inside, the roof falling in to bury it all.

Every other shot found a proper target, with every stricken vehicle being rent apart by an explosive charge or perforated by a 2.5 cm shot. After that volley the foe’s fighting spirit melted away; either that, or they were waiting for you to have to reload. All hatches were opened on the remaining tanks, and the surviving crews scattered into the village, many clutching small wounds about themselves. The tanks that did not disgorge survivors had been bent too badly by shellfire to possibly have anybody still up for a fight inside them.

You had defeated the enemy, that much was clear, but would you pursue them? After all, there were many in that village, and if you let them be or went back for reinforcement first, they could get away, possibly warn their friends of what could be coming, if the sound of battle didn’t alert others already.

Ah, but there was the rub. If the enemy had radios, they could have warned their friends anyways, and more could be on the way; if they were smart, more than you could handle. If that was the case, it would be best to turn and run for now.

>Go investigate the village and root out the survivors of the enemy patrol
>Go back to the city, after firing upon and destroying the rest of the enemy vehicles.
>Wait and see if the situation changes
>Other?

>>2222430
>>Go back to the city, after firing upon and destroying the rest of the enemy vehicles

>>2222438
>>2222430
Actually while we do that get someone (maybe Honnereig's men) to briefly check if they have radios in their tanks.We should bug out quickly after that though.

>>2222430
>Go investigate the village and root out the survivors of the enemy patrol
>Also try to rescue any survirors under the ruins of that house

>>2222469
My reasoning is this: if they don't have radios, we must prevent them from notifying the rest. If they did notify the rest, we'll have to serve as a bait to distract them from the infantry ferrying operation.

>>2222430
Just caught up. Umm arnt they Grey Gunners? Did we just massacre mercs?

We have no infantry support so going into the town doesn't sound like a good idea, all those vehicles are out of action, we should fall back to our command. If they get a response force out that's good, their going to the town and out of Todesfelsn which means the 5th coloumn could have an easier time, we also have the opportunity to either ambush the response force or attack the city with them away.

>>2222529
Freelance mercenaries are a pale grey, Death Heads are dark grey, almost black. While they haven't been depicted before now, the characters have seen their vehicles and know their colorations.

>>2222538
Bat Company is in the village themselves right? We can ask them to clear out the survivors first.

>>2222540
It isn't Bat Company; Captain Honnrieg is the only member of that here. The people who went out were your platoon and the tank destroyer platoon, which is made up of Republic Army "soldiers."

If you wanted to go into the place on foot, every tank in your platoon has weapons for dismounted crew in the form of carbines, pistols, and a submachinegun, and the Republican crews, being not so much crews as fighters who are somewhat mechanically inclined, are similarly armed albeit without the automatic weapons.

If you want to get Bat Company themselves there's the option of sending somebody or getting somebody to take your tank and its larger radio set to contact the battalion command post in Wossehnalia. It wouldn't have to go very far to do so, either, since the flatlands don't offer much interference and you're not too far out anyways.

>>2222556
Noted, then let the Republicans in the village deal with the stragglers first while we destroy the rest of the vehicles.

>>2222558

Seconding. Have the Republic crews clear the town while we check the vehicles for radios and scuttle them. If they do have radios we should hurry and set up a watch for in case they called for reinforcements.

Apparently I'm secretly a corpse because a short nap turned into a seven hour coma.

Will be writing as soon as I get up all the way.

With a click you hooked yourself into the radio set, after asking Maddalyn to get Honnrieg’s attention.

“Excellent work,” you said first, “We’re following them into that village and rooting out the rest of them. I don’t want any stragglers laying low until we leave and then running home with news.”

“I don’t know how good these Death heads are,” Honnrieg answered back, “If they’re anything like the clowns in the mountains we dealt with, this won’t be much of a problem. Can I count on reinforcement?”

“We’ll be maintaining the position of our armor, each with a driver and gunner only,” you said, “One radio for if they notice anything.” This was of course in reference to Maddalyn, who when not encased in an armored shell was extremely vulnerable. She was simply too lacking in physical strength and size. “They’ll support us by fire in case our hosts get a second wind.”

With that, you gathered your slapdash foot force to support Honnrieg with and moved towards the village. If you were assaulting this place as an infantryman, you would have been extremely nervous due to the lack of cover, but you expected not to be fired upon with machine guns, or anything, unless one of your defeated enemies was far bolder than could reasonably be predicted.

Alas, the maneuver suffered no such greivances, and you were able to meet up with Honnrieg in the village. A bolt of cloth had been thrown over the mess made of a person that had been hit in the initial round of firing, though it had soaked up much blood, making it rather ghastly to behold.

“Don’t look under that, Lieutenant,” Captain Honnrieg said to you, noticing you regarding it, “It’s not pretty.”

“Was it one of them, or...?”

“Villager,” Honnrieg said, “From the look of it, was behind this one tank that got hit, overpenetrated and killed them. Nothing that could have been done.”

You had seen the event from an angle that told you that that wasn’t true; the round that had killed this person had been a stray round that’d found no target but this hapless bystander, though you weren’t sure whether you should say that. It wasn’t as if this person had been aimed for, after all; the precise nature of the accident could stay murky.

“We should dig through this and see if anybody’s under there,” you stepped up to the shack that had been knocked down, the wreckage still undisturbed, “Lieutenant,” you addressed Von Metzeler, “Could you handle this?”

Von Metzeler responded with a curt nod, and began to assign his men to clear the place. You assigned your other officers to get to work preparing to scuttle the enemy tanks. While the enemies lacked scuttling charges, you guessed, tanks tended to be rather flammable, and fire had a way of effortlessly destroying whatever it took if allowed to flourish.

“This place is pretty small, so we’ve run through all the streets, didn’t find anybody. I’d wager the stragglers went into the houses.” Honnrieg continued to brief you on the situation. “The villagers haven’t come out yet for the most part, and anybody we found we detained. Can’t have anybody dressing up and leaving, after all, but clearing houses is ugly work, even worse in a place full of civvies. That’s Cauldron business.”

The Cauldron Honnrieg referred to was the border principality on the convergence of Netilland, Strossvald, and Sosaldt. It was an exceptionally dangerous place for Strossvald, suffering from infiltrations of paramilitary groups near constantly, both Sosaldtian bandits as well as insurgent cells all but openly supported by the Netillians. No reasonable officer with knowledge of the place sought an assignment there, but it admittedly was a good training ground for troops, because of its dangers.

“So we’re kicking down doors, then,” you concluded. Or rather, the Republicans would be, if you didn’t want to catch a round as soon as you walked in to a place with somebody who didn’t want to be captured. “Have the villagers you’ve caught been cooperative?”

“No,” Honnrieg said with mild frustration, “They don’t know who we are or why we’re here. From what they’ve let slip they’re actually friendly with this gang we’re hunting down.”

>They have to have a mayor or an elder of some sort. Let’s see if we can reason with them, and have them convince everybody to come out.
>If they support the enemy, there’s not much we can do. Let’s set up some teams and knock down some doors while we’ve still got the initiative.
>Maybe we don’t have to do any raiding. If these people are together, we can grab some hostages and negotiate from a position of even greater strength. It’s not pretty, but it’s not like I expect to have to give any additional motivation.
>Other?

>>2224396
>>If they support the enemy, there’s not much we can do. Let’s set up some teams and knock down some doors while we’ve still got the initiative.

Find a soldier with a strong voice and let him shout out who we are and our purpose. Keep raiding so the combatants don't have time to set up our get disguises. It's for all our best if the village knows who will be in charge from tomorrow on.

>>2224396
Well shit if they are actually on the Death Head's side then it will take too long to round them all up by busting in and too risky to our people.

>They have to have a mayor or an elder of some sort. Let’s see if we can reason with them, and have them convince everybody to come out.
>Maybe we don’t have to do any raiding. If these people are together, we can grab some hostages and negotiate from a position of even greater strength. It’s not pretty, but it’s not like I expect to have to give any additional motivation.

Grab some folks, inform the Elder that we'll trade them right back if they flush out the Death Heads. If he quibbles tell him we're taking them with us instead.

Announce in general they we aren't executing prisoners but we are leaving with some people one way or another.

If he is still uncooperative we ride out because we'll have wasted enough time already by that point and drop off the hostages an hour so away from the village.

Two questions tanq:
Did we kill the leader?
How long did Loch estimate the ground pounders would take to arrive at Wossehnalia?

>>2224396
>>If they support the enemy, there’s not much we can do. Let’s set up some teams and knock down some doors while we’ve still got the initiative.

Will let this lie another half hour, then start writing.

>>2224643
>Two questions tanq:
>Did we kill the leader?

Not of the group you observed; he fled into the village. It's possible that he's only the leader of his individual platoon, and that the patrol leader is someone else, as well.

>How long did Loch estimate the ground pounders would take to arrive at Wossehnalia?
The entire movement is supposed to take half a day or so, maybe less. They'll be trickling in until then, and the move is about a sixth of the way done at most, since you haven't been here for long. Suffice it to say it'll be a while before everybody's ready to form up and move in.

“If they support the enemy, there’s not much we can do,” you decided, “We’ve already made a fantastic first impression, so let’s set up some teams and knock some doors down while we’re still on a roll.”

“Well then, leave that to me,” Captain Honnrieg cracked his knuckles and his neck in turn, “I’ll just say though, I’m expecting a few people shot on our side, so we’d best be ready for that.”

You nodded solemnly, though you had the mind to keep counting on your luck.

“Hey, boss,” Hans nudged you. Though he had been temporarily reassigned to another crew, you were still Boss, he had reasoned. “Got something with the radios in those tanks. Good and bad.”

“That they have radios at all is presumably the bad part.”

“Sure,” Hans shrugged, and then went up to one of the idle tanks and knocked on its hull, “Budget ones, though. Most of these only have receivers. The only set with a transmitter’s in what I guess are the leaders’ tanks. One in this group, the other in the group we shot up. Good part of that, though; like I said, they’re budget, which means they definitely can’t talk to Todesfelsen. Worst possible case is that they have a relay system set up, though I can find that out, if you want, if you give me a bit with a set…”

“Do it.”

Hans smirked. “I’ll do my best impression of a stuck pig.”

In the meantime, you had the Captain take the man with the loudest, most intimidating voice, to announce your presence and intentions. The fellow he picked was a fellow so tall that he looked like somebody had stretched a normal person like taffy, and whose voice was low and deep as a stone in the sea.

“Awright errybody!” He bellowed out, “We here are soldiers of the Army o’ the Republic of Vang! We’re here to spread freedom an’ democracy, and to bring justice to yours strick’n folk! Any o’ you Death Heads ough’ to give up now an’ quit fightin’, else we mays have ta shoot ya dead! The resta ya, don’ get in the ways, you won’ regret tha…change in ways.”

“Sort of a Netillian democracy that’s being spread from that sort of talk,” you murmured to the Captain, who smirked at you.

“Better that than what’s here, maybe. Netillians don’t deal in slaves.”

“Perhaps,” deciding the chance for scathing criticisms of the eastern neighbor could come later. The first house was stacked up upon by four men with carbines, and you strode up with Honnrieg to observe, a ready hand on your sidearm.

“Knock knock, it’s Democracy!” one of the breachers called out. When no response came, under Honnrieg’s strict and harshly whispered instructions, the biggest brute among them planted a boot on the flimsy door and knocked it down while his fellows covered the space that was left. After they went in, they swiftly came back out, pushing out a terrified young woman who couldn’t have been older than sixteen.
“Nobody but this broad,” the leader of the impromptu team told Honnrieg.

“Did you check in furniture? Floorboards? Under the bed?” Honnrieg snapped back, “That was a damn fast search.” The Republic soldier paused, then motion for his men to go back. “They do their best, at least,” Honnrieg sighed to you. “So, miss, you want to tell us anything?”

“W-why are you here?” the slip of a girl demanded, still frightened to the edge of her wits. She was a decently attractive young woman, though her face was dirty and her hair uneven and sticking out, ungroomed. “Don’t hurt me!”

Despite Honnrieg’s coaxing nothing could be gained from the young woman, and the interrogation was interrupted by cries of alarm and the sharp report of pistol fire from another section of the village, out of your sight.

“God damn it,” Honnrieg muttered, “Let’s hope that’s a siege and not a counterattack.”

>Offer to go to the situation and help deal with it with reinforcements, in case it is something bad.
>Leave all the breaches to the Republicans, you don’t want to risk losing any of your own
>Step up the pace, and start leading your own people on separate searches. You’d be more spread out but would cover more ground.
>Other?

>>2224991
>>Leave all the breaches to the Republicans, you don’t want to risk losing any of your own

File: 724724824588.jpg (168 KB, 1440x1080)

168 KB JPG

>>2224991
>“Knock knock, it’s Democracy!” one of the breachers called out.
Magnificent.

>>Offer to go to the situation and help deal with it with reinforcements, in case it is something bad.

Time is of the essence, even without them calling in for backup and we've already seen the Republicans are...new to this.

>>2224991
>>Offer to go to the situation and help deal with it with reinforcements, in case it is something bad.

>>2224991
>Offer to intimidate any resistance with tanks. Threaten to level or shoot up any house that doesn't surrender.

>>2225688
Sounds ok

Will be resuming in an hour, going with reinforcing allies and offering to use intimidation with the threat of nondiscriminatory violence.

“I’ll go help them,” you offered to Honnrieg, “I’ve got an idea for anybody else with this sort of idea, too. Get some of your people to get your tanks.”

Your plans in motion, you grabbed the two crewmen you’d brought with you; a pair as fierce in battle as they were incapable of linguistics. They were also easy to pick out, being a stout man in wrappings and another who held an axe, built both for striking as well as throwing, in one hand. A pistol was in the other as to not give in completely to northern woodsman custom, but you had a feeling that one weapon would be readily used before the other.

Being comparatively the least brutal of your particular team, you hoped to make up for lacking in their strength with the submachinegun you now lifted off of your back by its sling, charging a round into the magazine. A Messer Submachinegun was a nasty weapon that you’d never liked much, its sharp recoil and light weight making it jump about and spray its rounds all over even with the steadiest of holds, but it couldn’t be denied that the rate it spat out lead wasn’t a boon in this environment.

The lot of you arrived at the scene, accompanied by another of your teams, though in your opinion they were much less intimidating than your fellows. It helped that, as far as you knew, both of your men were seasoned veterans, Jorgen of a past conflict in Strossvald, and Malachi of…you didn’t know what, but he certainly didn’t fight like somebody who’d only seen a little bit of battle.

The Republic breach teams had moved away from the door of the offending compound, that appeared to be a large house of sorts with long outcroppings to the flanks; perhaps a town hall of sorts. A pair of wounded lay behind a shack to your right, one clutching his arm and the other doubled over, whimpering.

“They’ve killed me!” He moaned, both hands clenched on his chest, “B-breathe…I can’t breathe!”

“Gevumehdet,” Malachi mumbled, gripping your submachinegun. You let it go without even thinking, and Malachi raised the submachinegun to his shoulder and held down the trigger, raking both sides of the door with a long, rattling series of bursts. A single cry of pain emanated from within, and Malachi handed the gun back to you. “Noutawk.”

It wasn’t unreasonable for you to presume you were the one in charge here, was it? Nevertheless, you cleared your throat and made your announcement. They’d be given the spiel one time, then if you had to, one of the tank destroyers would repeat the message more firmly.

“It’s over, you know!” you shouted to the town hall, standing defiantly before it and watching for anybody in the windows, “There’s no way you’re getting away, so surrender peacefully and we’ll forget that you’ve shot my men!”

Rolled 91 (1d100)

You were answered with a dull glint of steel creeping out of the darkness in the window, which popped off sharply at you…
>Enemy DC 40 to hit, rolling under. Roll a d100 to dodge, or at least attempt to. Needs to beat enemy roll to succeed completely.

>>2227450
...Sure okay, never mind, then. Sheesh.

The shot had obviously been hurried, and it cracked by your foot, skidding off the ground a good two meters in front of you. You hadn’t even tried to make yourself a hard target, you thought with disapproval as you were whisked away to cover.

“Kommanderr,” Jorgen hissed to you, whirling his axe in his hand, “One wahrrd, Ahll kellem all.”

>No need to be so bloodthirsty just yet, northman. They’ll have a change of heart when they see our tank destroyer coming up.
>You have my blessings, though you’re hardly going alone. All of us will charge on my mark.
>They don’t want to surrender, fine. No need to go in, though, we’ll knock that pile of junk down with the tank gun.
>Other?

>>2227467
>>No need to be so bloodthirsty just yet, northman. They’ll have a change of heart when they see our tank destroyer coming up.

>>2227467
>>No need to be so bloodthirsty just yet, northman. They’ll have a change of heart when they see our tank destroyer coming up.

One tank round into that window, assuming it won't demolish the entire place with one shot. If it would then bring the destroyer up and we tell them the next one is blowing the whole place up.

>>2227467
>>No need to be so bloodthirsty just yet, northman. They’ll have a change of heart when they see our tank destroyer coming up.

“No need to be so bloodthirsty just yet, northman,” you tried to cool your wild loader off. These wouldn’t be very valuable prisoners if they were butchered, after all. “They’ll have a change of heart when they see our tank destroyer coming up.” You thought to peek around the corner for a moment, but thought better of testing the rogue taking potshots again.

“It hurts..!” the stricken Republic fighter you had retreated next to gasped. You hadn’t brought any medical personnel, and had no idea how badly hurt he was other than that it was in fact a bad hit. The amount of blood alone leaking through his tunic was proof enough of that.

While there weren’t any medics here, and the closest trained personnel that could treat this were press ganged doctors (doctors, albeit ones without a license, or ones who had certainly been discredited in the past for malpractice) in Wossehnalia that would eventually be brought up, you did have a magical cure-all. Maddalyn had prepared four healing tags, which she referred to as “Stitch” spells. Despite being mere cloth or paper tags, they were time consuming to prepare, and she insisted on privacy when created them, ostensibly for the purposes of maintaining focus. From what you’d seen, one of Maddy’s Stitch spells had considerable healing effect, albeit on a localized area, and it would be perfect for the wound this man suffered from…

One of the m/28-45 tank destroyers rumbled around the corner, and it advanced down the path towards the besieged hall, its rough gunshield giving it invulnerability against any shooters from the from with nary but small arms. Its commander peered over at you, tipping his cap. “Big boss man said you needed steel and cordite.”

He was given a sharp nod, as you stood back from the wall and pointed down the road. “There’s a sniper in that two story, second floor, center window. Put an explosive shell in there and that should quench their will to fight.”

“Aye aye, one crack shot, coming up.” The commander with the loose attitude relayed the target to his gunner. The way these vehicles had been arranged, the commander doubled as a loader. “Easy shot for the two-kill, aye?” Then, over the side, “Cover those virgin ears!”

You barely had enough warning to do so before the cannon erupted, spewing a great cloud of dust over the street and blowing it over everybody beside the vehicle. You and your crew had kept your kerchiefs over your faces, but the Republic soldiers on foot couldn’t help but launch into coughing fits as they covered their faces, swearing in surprise. Jorgen tapped you on the arm twice, before springing into a run, him and Malachi leaving you in the dust for a moment while you thought for a second that lasted forever, before sprinting after them, attempting to outpace them. Taking the lead, you stacked up on the door and gestured to your crewmen, taking the lead. God knows that Jorgen would have likely charged brazenly into the building itself, wicked axe at the ready. Thankfully, his brutality was not overshadowed by discipline, and he put himself against the wall, followed by your driver.

“Had enough yet!?” you challenged loudly, “We can knock this whole damn house down, if you like! Drop your weapons and get the hell out, or we’ll bury you alive!”

A pregnant silence followed, interrupted by the echo of whispers, then the trudging of defeated feet. Six men eventually came out, all wearing the black uniforms with white piping of the Death Heads. One pair was covered in dust and debris, small cuts dripping blood down their faces, which bore the hollow look of a vanquished foe who was still trying to figure out what had happened.

“Good,” you said to them, submachinegun trained on them, “Any more of you?”

“…Nah.” One said to you a bit too slowly.

“I don’t believe you,” you said immediately, the deception altogether too thinly veiled. Some intimidation would certainly be called for, albeit not the sort that you would honorably follow up with, but you didn’t think you would risk having your bluff called after shooting a cannon into a window.

>[No Prisoners] Last chance, cheeky prick. You make everybody surrender, or all of you get shot. No funny stuff, no negotiations, do it or else. If we kick a door down and one of you is inside, we don’t think about what to do next.
>[Scorched Earth] You think I won’t knock this whole village down? Try me. We’re going to search this place, and the moment we see anybody, we torch it. Same for every house. You, your villager friends, everything, unless you march out in a nice parade formation and sound off all you’ve got.
>[Play nice] Keep your hands behind your heads, and you won’t be hurt. We’ll be searching this building, now. Anything you’d like to tell us for being so kindhearted?
>Other?

>>2229841
>[Scorched Earth] You think I won’t knock this whole village down? Try me. We’re going to search this place, and the moment we see anybody, we torch it. Same for every house. You, your villager friends, everything, unless you march out in a nice parade formation and sound off all you’ve got.
They might not crack but the villagers might pressure them if the actually think that we'll burn down their houses.

>>2229841
>>[No Prisoners] Last chance, cheeky prick. You make everybody surrender, or all of you get shot. No funny stuff, no negotiations, do it or else. If we kick a door down and one of you is inside, we don’t think about what to do next.

>>2229844

If we're going to threaten them with war crimes I think they would be a lot more concerned about themselves being destroyed than the village.

>>2229841
>[No Prisoners] Last chance, cheeky prick. You make everybody surrender, or all of you get shot. No funny stuff, no negotiations, do it or else. If we kick a door down and one of you is inside, we don’t think about what to do next.

>>2229841
[No Prisoners] Last chance, cheeky prick. You make everybody surrender, or all of you get shot. No funny stuff, no negotiations, do it or else. If we kick a door down and one of you is inside, we don’t think about what to do next.

>>2229844
Calm down Genghis

Part of officer training was, naturally, resisting coercion. A noble officer of Strossvald showed no fear, after all, and in being forged into that steel, one indirectly learned the potential fears of a foe.

…Well, at least, you remembered that from somewhere. More than a few officers you’d seen had been quite capable of displaying, and being influenced, by panic and uncertainty. Perhaps it was more difficult in practice than in theory.

Practiced or no, this unfortunate Sosaldtian, by their look alone, was not repeating any mantras of showing naught but steel before the enemy in their minds, and you were set to take full advantage of that.

“Last chance, cheeky prick,” you snarled while poking his chest. You felt something stiff and rigid underneath; body armor, like your prisoner from the same organization you took in the mountains had? He had said then that only leaders got this armor, so this man must have been the leader. Convenient. “You make everybody under your command, all of you hiding out in this village, tell them to surrender. If you don’t, you get shot. No funny business, no negotiations, do it or else. If we kick a door down and one of you is still inside resisting, we won’t think about what to do next.”

The Death Head officer couldn’t hide his nervousness, and he shook like a leaf as he sputtered out, “F-fine, you win. I’ll tell everybody to stand down, but…if they don’t listen, don’t shoot us, alright? I’ll tell who won’t go quietly, okay?”

“Damn right you will,” you kept your threatening posture, “Starting off then. Who’s left in this building? Tell them to come out.”

“Fine, fine!” the Death Head whimpered. He was rather pitiful for an officer, you thought, oddly so, even for a band of bandit-mercenaries. He followed your directive nevertheless, and a group of villagers filed out. Of particular notice was a woman with a boyish look and a long gash just under both eyes, a wound just a hair short of blinding her. She was also dressed in men’s clothes, despite clearly being a woman, to put it bluntly, though perhaps that was simply how they did around here.

“Any more? Are we going to find anybody you forgot to mention when we search this place?” you said, poking the man in the chin with your pistol. Your finger was safely off the trigger and the hammer was not cocked, but the message was received nevertheless.

“J-just one, this one woman,” the leader shook some more, “You’re…you know, she thinks…you understand, she doesn’t want to be taken captive, she’ll be waiting in there for you, and she won’t give up…”

>If that’s the case, we’re not going in. You are. Drag her out, you know what’ll happen if you don’t.
>We aren’t slavers, like you are, I’ll have you know. She’ll come out, if she’s reasonable.
>Fine by me. We’ve made our ultimatum, you’ve repeated it, there’s nothing left to say.
>Other?

>>2229997
>>We aren’t slavers, like you are, I’ll have you know. She’ll come out, if she’s reasonable.
If not get them to drag her out.

>>2229997
>>We aren’t slavers, like you are, I’ll have you know. She’ll come out, if she’s reasonable.

>>2230004
Supporting

“We aren’t slavers, like you are, I’ll have you know.” you spat bitterly, “She’ll come out, if she’s reasonable.” Of course, if she wasn’t, you thought to yourself, you knew who you’d send in after her. “Where are they in there?”

“The er,” the officer stammered, “the study, the second door left from the stairs. You won’t miss it, it’s been shut up tight.”

You gave a satisfied grunt and led your companions into the house.

Despite all sorts of fixtures having been knocked loose from your attack on the place, the dwelling was quite opulent for the land it inhabited. Decorative carpets laid over a dark wooden floor, crowned with well-crafted furnishings, themselves adorned with all manner of the leavings of living were what awaited you in a cozy living room-foyer that reminded you distantly of your own house. Sunlight filtered through closed curtains of a sort perforated like lace, painting dancing patterns of light, which intermingled with the light orange glow of oil lamps hung around the room. Your group’s weapons were kept at the ready nevertheless as you wound your way through the room, towards the stairs that lay in the back. It was a house that demanded to be talked about, but no words passed between you as you all crept up the stairs, waiting for any chance of a trap or a desperate ambush.

None came. All of you were just as safe, and just as tense, as you had been when you walked into the house when you came upon the door of the study, helpfully labeled in brass upon the door. With hand gestures, you signaled to Jorgen and Malachi that you would all stay outside the room. Nods of understanding were agreed, and you slowly turned the doorknob, and pushed it into the room, the hinges creaking as it slowly swung open.

“M’am,” you couldn’t help but default to a more honorific way of referring to a woman, despite her mercenary leanings, “Your fellows have all surrendered. You come out too, you won’t be hurt, nobody will sell you into slavery. You’ll just be held for a short time while we convince the rest of your group of the merits of democracy.”

“B-back! Stay back!” came a high, cracking voice, certainly not the sort you’d expect from a rough and tumble bandit. “I’ll shoot you!”

“I wouldn’t recommend that,” you said warily. Malachi, on the other side of the door, made a gesture that you didn’t understand, then went towards a room at the end of the hall. A pregnant silence lingered until Malachi came back, holding a hand mirror. He held it at an angle away from himself, into the room.

“Whiimmy, pyussi,” Malachi murmured, and when you squinted at him in confusion, he tried again. “Nahshooterrrr. Eyshee….,” he gestured to you and tossed over the mirror, “Yeeulahk.”

You did, and what you saw was surprising. The young woman was crumpled in a heap on her legs, backup up against the wall with her legs askew. Her chest rose and fell in hysterical breathing, and tears streamed down her face, staining black eyeliner down her cheeks. The pistol she held was barely even aimed; more lightly held like a protective ward against an evil spirit, as if the look of it was meant to be its strength. Her uniform, though identical to the others’, was quite loosely fitting, and the cap slid so low on her head it blocked an eye, threatening to tilt off her head entirely. What you saw of her hands were smooth and unusually lacking in marks of labor, and her short brown hair was decorated with ribbons; rather unsoldierly.

>I’d really rather not kill a cute girl like you, dear. Put that down and come out here.
>Hey, sweetie, you’re awfully lonely looking in there. Do you want some company?
>Blitz the room; she won’t be able to hit any of you with her loose aim.
>Other?

>>2230091
I’d really rather not kill a cute girl like you, dear. Put that down and come out here.

>>2230091
>>I’d really rather not kill a cute girl like you, dear. Put that down and come out here.

>>2230184
>>2230280
Anons. She's afraid of getting raped.
And that line is exactly what a rapist would say.

>>2230091
>"What the hell, did they start to conscript random people in Todesfelsten? She didn't even turn off the safety."
>Then storm the room while she's checking the safety.

>>2230091
>I’d really rather not kill a cute girl like you, dear. Put that down and come out here.
You will be treated fairly as a prisoner of war, you have my word as a noble and a gentleman. No more harm will come to you.

>>2230290
Anon is right, if she really isn't any good with a pistol she'll check it, she's hysterical and in no right mind to be reasonable.

>"What the hell, did they start to conscript random people in Todesfelsten? She didn't even turn off the safety."
>Then storm the room while she's checking the safety.

>>2230091
>>Blitz the room; she won’t be able to hit any of you with her loose aim

Richter's had pretty good luck with being shot at, I don't see any reason for that to change here.

>>2230579
Changing my vote to this

>>2230579
Yeah this will probably work. Malachi or Jorgen could throw furniture at her. Being hit by a chair is sure to either make her drop the gun or give us the second it will take to reach and apprehend her.

The looseness of the uniform, the uncertainty of the demeanor, the lack of seemingly any training, there was something fishy about all this. However, all of it appeared to be genuine in this young woman’s case, and the good thing about fear was that it left one’s mind open to…influence.

“What the hell,” you commented loudly to your allies, “did they start to conscript random people in Todesfelsen? The safety’s still on!”

While you were serving this bluff, Jorgen gave a short series of simplistic hand signals to Malachi; with their shared lacking in speaking fluent New Nauk, you had to wonder if it was more or less effective than speaking with one another.
The girl’s eyes widened as you laid out your lie, and her eyes snapped down to the gun, turning it sideways and searching its exterior for the safety lever. As soon as her eyes were off the door, you gave a quick turn of the finger, Go.

Jorgen dashed around you, axe raised and ready to throw, to your alarm. Before you could tell him otherwise, the weapon left his grip. Your dread turned to understanding as the axe was tossed sharply towards the ground, spinning upwards in a slow, threatening, but ultimately simple to avoid arc. It did its job of terrifying the girl into scrambling to the side, where Malachi had quickly positioned himself. With one hand he crushed the gun bearing hand in his grip, eliciting a shriek from the young lady, while in succession he drove his other fist into her chin, cutting off her voice as she sank into the ground like a sack of potatoes. The whole thing had taken a little more than four seconds.

Your adrenaline steadily came down as you chastised your driver. “It’s not very gentlemanly to strike a lady in the face, you know.” Malachi only shrugged silently as he lifted the girl over his broad shoulder and tilted his head towards the door. You weren’t quite done yet, of course, as you and Jorgen checked the rest of the rooms anyways, but when all of you had gone back out the way you had come you were confident of having found everyone who could be found.
The girl’s time being unconscious was brief, and she was thankfully much more reasonable after waking up. Unusually so, even, in that once she had realized she was restrained, she had solemnly looked at the ground and sighed; rather muted compared to what she had been like just a minute before.

“I’ll be taking this guy,” Honnrieg had come shortly after the tank destroyer had, and grabbed the leader of the band that had been holed up in the house, “We should be done here soon, with his help. In the meantime, I’ll be sending back a vehicle with the wounded, though if I were to gamble on it, one of them’s not going to make it. They’ve lost an awful lot of blood, and it’s in the lung.”

>We’ll have to try anyways. Go ahead and get them moving.
>No, that one won’t have to go anywhere. I have something for them. [Cure with a Stitch spell]
>Other?

>>2231329
>No, that one won’t have to go anywhere. I have something for them. [Cure with a Stitch spell]

We have to keep it quiet, just us, Maddy and Honnreig. Assuming it works we'll have to swear the injured man to secrecy. I know we may need it later but we can't just let the guy die.

>>2231329
>>No, that one won’t have to go anywhere. I have something for them. [Cure with a Stitch spell]
It's an awful waste of something so precious but I don't want Richter to be the kind of person who would let an ally die simply out of stinginess.

>>2231563
>>2231384

Tactically it's a waste but what the hell, let's be Good Guy Richter and score some karma points. Seconding.

“No, that one won’t have to go anywhere. I have something for them.” You said calmly. Honnrieg only peered at you in confusion. “Leave them where they are,” you insisted, “I’ll be back.”

It was a bit of a run, but you made it back to your tank in good time and rustled up Maddalyn. She wasn’t physically fit enough to run back to the village at your pace, you knew, so you hefted her on your back and did your best to explain the situation on the way back.

“But,” Maddalyn murmured uncomfortably, “That means…we’ll only have three of these left, four, if I spent all the rest of the time before the fight…that’s not enough for…” Maddalyn trailed off, “No, I guess that’s fine.” She gave a little yelp as you bucked her forward, knocking her against your back.

“We aren’t going to be hit, remember?” you said good naturedly, “With that armor and my good luck, we’ll come out without a scratch.”

“Hmmmrrmm…” Maddalyn muddled as she rested her chin on your shoulder.

She was set down on her feet once you drew near to the place the wounded man lay. He had grown rather pale, and his breathing was ragged and shallow. Honnrieg and another comrade stood over him, the latter with much more concern on his face.

“You have to go,” you told the man who was presumably acquainted with the other, and though he opened his mouth to protest, a sharp look from Honnrieg sent him packing without a word. “If you’ll help me carry him,” you motioned to Honnrieg next, and you lifted the man by his arms and legs and set him down inside of the hut, now vacant, so Maddalyn could have privacy for this ritual. Maddalyn hadn’t given much mind to the threat of the Oblitares, when you’d told her about them, and that might have been because she never intended to make her magic a public showing anyways.

The room was well lit by sunlight, and the Republic soldier laughed weakly when Maddalyn knelt over him, as she explained the process for the benefit of Honnrieg. Given what Honnrieg had seen in your company, it was natural that he simply nodded with understanding at being told the most bizarre things; you were more concerned about the republican being taken aback.

However, the Republic soldier was too faded to mind the oddness being told. “Heh heh…you’ve got a big fat hickey on your neck, that’s the last thing I’d expect to see on somebody like you…”

Maddalyn looked sharply away, then back to the man, her face still red with embarrassment, before drawing a spell tag from her pocket and beginning to gnaw on her thumb.

“Damnation, shorty, doesn’t that hurt?” Honnrieg cringed, “I have a blade if you really need to draw blood.”

Maddalyn shook her head, and when her mouth left her digit it was already running with red. “I’m used to it,” she said softly, “And, I’ve…suffered much worse.” She painted the tag with her blood in the center of the odd pattern at its top, and you watched a familiar display of sparkling mists drift out of seemingly nothing, with Maddalyn stirred lazily with a finger.

“Is this…am I finally dyin’?” the Republic soldier asked.

“No.” Maddalyn said firmly as she drew the cloud into a trail around two fingers and pushed her fingers into the bloody chest wound. The soldier gasped, as if suddenly coming up from underwater, and both you and Honnrieg watched in fascination as the copper jacketed bullet was spat out from his chest, and the blood on his tunic crept back into his body, until nothing remained of the wound save for the trauma it inflicted on the man’s clothing. The soldier patted his hand against his chest, and sat up straight in disbelief.

“…What?” he ripped open his tunic and pulled down his shirt, “What?”

“Not that much blood got back into him,” Maddalyn stood up, “I think he’ll still be weak, but there shouldn’t be anything left of what was killing him.”

“I don’t…” the soldier steadily came to understand what had happened, “Girly, I dunno how I can repay you, but…”

“Not telling a soul will be payment enough,” you interjected, “You blacked out and when you woke up it was gone. All your friends, they hear that, and anybody else, you don’t tell them you were shot. Understood?”

“S-sure,” the soldier got up, and Honnrieg shooed him out.

Once he had left, the captain turned to you.

“I have to say, Lieutenant,” Honnrieg couldn’t help some wistfulness making its way into his tone, “I’ve lost men before, lost men much closer to me for certain, but this is the first time I’ve seen fortunes change so suddenly. I’m not sure how to feel about that, in spite of all my years.” He looked to Maddalyn then, who had begun to fidget, “I suppose it’s best if I don’t ask any questions, then.”

Maddalyn nodded shallowly.

“Alright,” Honnrieg sighed, “It wouldn’t be the first time I’m not privy to information. If it’s anything like other secrets I’ve found out, I’m probably better off not knowing anyways.”

That handled, you escorted Maddalyn out of the hut and visited the prisoners with her in tow. Some of the prisoners, and a few of the civilians, were visibly surprised at her showing up here.

“…Richter?” Maddalyn asked you, “These are the people you’ve taken captive?” You confirmed this, “What about the ones in disguise?”

“Disguise?” you repeated stupidly.

Maddalyn nodded, and pointed to the woman with the scar under her eyes, those same eyes flashing in fury as Maddalyn pointed an accusatory finger. “I recognize her. She’s an officer, even if she’s trying to pass herself as a man.” As the accused tried to keep her frustration in check, Maddalyn became more and more smug.

>Well, I’ll be damned. Care to explain yourself, officer?
>How can you be so sure? This other man seems rather official to me. Not that I don’t believe you.
>Is this woman a bully? Should I bully her for you, dear?
>Other?

>>2231738
>Is this woman a bully? Should I bully her for you, dear?

>>2231738
>Is this woman a bully? Should I bully her for you, dear?

Don't talk shit bout mai waifu.

>>2231738
>>Is this woman a bully? Should I bully her for you, dear?

“Is this woman a bully?” you mused to Maddalyn, creeping your hands down her waist from behind and seating them just above her hips, so the supposed bully would know just who she deigned to make an enemy of, “Should I bully her for you, dear?”

“I don’t know…” Maddalyn put a coy finger to her chin, “Were you a bully, Anya? Did you call me names and push my head underwater, or are we just the best of friends, and you’re just jumping at any chance to help me out?”

The woman with the scar across her face scowled. “Goddamn runt,” she muttered, “What the hell are you doing here of all places?” She brushed her light, fluffy, neck length dirty blonde hair back from her face. Its looseness made it seem like she had to do that a lot. “You’ve got shitty taste in girls, you know that?” The rude, now revealed officer chastised you.

A smile crept across your face. “I think she’s jealous,” you whispered in Maddalyn’s ear, and she giggled like a schoolgirl.

The woman’s hearing was better than you accounted for, and she shot back, “Jealous of what? That she’s a scrawny runt? That she’s titless? Or should I be impressed that she’s a colossal bitch?”

Maddalyn must have just been the queen of first impressions. “I don’t think I like the way you’re referring to my fiancée,” you warned her.

That earned an unexpected hoot from the woman. “You’re getting married to that? Good Goddamn, I knew her family was loaded but if I were a man it’d only take me an hour to swear off riches forever. You have to have a mistress hiding somewhere.”

“So who do I have the immense displeasure of speaking to?” you asked dourly.

“Toon Boss Anya Nowicki,” the woman with the scar sneered defiantly, “Who in the sweet mother of fuck are you supposed to be? Are you actually the Republic of Fang or whatever the hell they call themselves? I thought the Hogs had gotten a makeover and wanted to start shit again when I saw those rides, but no, it’s Commander Babyface and the Shit Taste Brigade.”

For calling somebody “babyface,” Anya had a rather youthful face herself, though otherwise she was built like a gymnast, strong and lean. It was easy to notice that the clothes she wore were made for somebody smaller, since the lack of proper sizing made it easy to discern her build. She would have been fair if it wasn’t for that smarmy look she kept putting on, even though she had been defeated. Despite being a prisoner, she had kept on the front foot and was demanding answers from you! What arrogance.

>I don’t think I like your attitude very much. If I were in your position, I’d try to start being helpful.
>…I’m not in the mood for this. Fix your manners right now or we start beating answers out of you instead of asking.
>I’m utterly enchanted. It sounds like you want to be having this conversation over tea, if I do say so myself.
>Other?

>>2232665
>>…I’m not in the mood for this. Fix your manners right now or we start beating answers out of you instead of asking

>>2232665
Punch her in the face. Undignified, but hell she's asking for it

>>2232689
Simple and direct, I like it.

"Normally I wouldn't hit a woman but I'm pretty sure you aren't one. You certainly have bigger balls than every other Death Head here."

>Other?
Question her about what her group was doing here.
Ask about the routes of other Death Heads patrols, especially any more heading this way.
Ask when her group was supposed to report back in to their commanders.

Finally make sure they all understand that while we're not eager to kill prisoners being cooperative will improve the odds of their short and long term survival.

“…I’m not in the mood for this,” you pushed Maddalyn behind you, “Fix your manners right now, or we start beating answers out of you instead of asking politely.”

“Oh yeah?” Anya smirked, “Is daddy going to break out the belt, or does he have to troll about a schoolyard first to get all hot and bothered?”

Well, that was the final bit of motivation you needed. It was ungentlemanly to strike a woman, let alone with your fist, but as you cocked your arm and she didn’t so much as flinch, you had a good feeling that this wretched wench had this a long time coming.

>roll 1d100, taking first

Rolled 32 (1d100)

>>2232766

Sorry guys

I bow my head in shame

>>2232785
Lower is better. This is fine.

Your fist crashed right into Anya’s mouth, knocking her on her ass. Anya gave a pained grunt, and swore quietly. Blood dripped out from her now split lip.

“Aw, yeah, daddy,” she said in heavy, mocking arousal. “Does it feel good to whack a girl in the face while you’ve got her stuck up with guns? Should I take off my clothes?”

“Normally I wouldn’t hit a woman,” you squatted down in front of her, “but I’m pretty sure you aren’t one. You certainly have bigger balls than every other Death Head here.”

“Aw, a compliment,” Anya spat a bloody wad on the ground to the side, “You’re such a sweetheart. And sorry to disappoint you, but if you’re interested in a set of balls you’ll have to twist your own. You think I’m lying, go ahead and check, you pig. Go ahead, while that bitch is watching, I want to see the look on her face when you realize how good you could be having it with literally anybody else.”

>If projecting your issues with your family will make you answer my questions, so be it. (Ask the formerly listed, along with any other ones)
>Strike her again, then interrogate more directly
>You’re done with this. Leave her to Honnrieg if she wants to role play, he’s at least near the right age.
>Other?

>>2232825
Let Malachi and Jorgen rough her up a bit more.

>>2232867
>>2232825
Also maybe we can get the Captain's advice, considering he probably has lots of experience interrogating these kind of people.

>>2232825
>If projecting your issues with your family will make you answer my questions, so be it. (Ask the formerly listed, along with any other ones)

If she continues to be intransigent then let the others knock her out and ask the next senior looking Death Head. We are wasting time there while their reinforcements could be on the way.

Actually there's another quesiton either for them or Hans
>Did they have a radio? And did they call for help?

>>2232867
This

>>2232825
>Other?
Just fucking shoot her in the gut and leave her to bleed out, don't waste any more time talking to her.

>>2232825
>Send Maddy away
>Question another Death's Head while others are roughing Anya up in his full view
I think an effective method of interrogation would be to crush her under a tank thread very slowly, feet first.
I'm also horrified I came up with this, so let's limit ourselves to a beating.