However, such confidence was proven to be foolhardy, as the Kaiser’s faction managed to turn the tables upon their rivals and stabilize the country’s economy while also wiping out their internal political enemies in one fell swoop, distributing the confiscated property of the vanquished to more profitable holders. Kaiser Henrik, over the course of his rule, has also reconquered the lands of Fealinn and Felbach which broke away in the aftermath of the Emrean Rebellion, despite aggravating some of the protectorates in doing so. To the terror of the continent, and the pride of the Imperial peoples, the Grossreich once more appeared to be in ascent. The resumption of the great days, of Imperial primacy and prosperity, appeared to be just over the horizon, unless a sudden crisis were to threaten the realm…

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November 8th, 1932

The kingdom of Halmeggia has exploded into civil war. Anarchist agitators, united with other anti-regime factions, have risen up against the Royal Family and captured much of the country, militants leaking over from the chaos of neighboring Vitelia. The Royal Army of Halmeggia was taken completely off guard, and the capital of Helmez was rapidly transformed into a bloody inferno. The Royal Family’s home, the Castle Delamil in the countryside of Helmez, has been besieged, the rebels hoping to capture, and likely kill, the royal family.

Halmeggia has been a close friend of the Grossreich for some time, despite being a pacifistic nation whose military is more akin to a police force, and better trained for parades than for war as more time is spent on polishing helms and buttons than cleaning their guns. Possessing fertile farmlands, when the Emrean territories were lost, food was frequently imported from Halmeggia. Such imports have only grown as a terrible grain blight devastated the 1932 harvests, a massive impact to the Reich’s already much reduced food industry. With efforts devoted to developing the military and war industry, land development to potentially combat such a crisis has been insignificant. Lingering fear of the Reich has meant that one of the few countries willing to sell mass grain shipments is Halmeggia; and with the sudden uprising, there is a serious threat that such shipments may cease, as the Wintergrain planting season would be impacted and existing food stores and production damaged or halted. Worse still, neoconfederationalist agitators are yet another detractor of the Reich; were they to gain power, there would be no hope of food shipment resuming.

Kaiser Henrik of the Grossreich, in an attempt to save this regional ally in this time of sudden crisis, has deployed a special team to rescue the royal family and evacuate them from the country. This force is a picked formation of elite fallschirmjager, paratroopers, as well as a company from the experimental Luftpanzer Battalion: a group trained in utilization of the daring new concept of air transportable armored vehicles. With the success of the fallschirmjager in recent small scale conflicts, military theorists in support of the formation of the Luftpanzer project are watching this operation frantically, to see how their pet project performs in the field. All other eyes are wary of the experimental formation’s untested nature, and hope that they will be effective…or at least not drag down the rest of the operation, as the lives of the Royal Family depends on everything going right…

>>2813651
>Luftpanzer Quest #1 tanq !lDotVqD7Ro
>pic
>>2813653
>>2813656
Yo, where's Richter von Tracht at?

Colonel Talmeier, tactical commander of the Luftpanzer Battalion, sat with his arms crossed in the flickering light of Meeting Room A, facing his attendant commanders. The Captain of the Parachute Company, Captain of the Glider Airlanding Company, the numerous staff officers and advisors, though not all in attendance, had been easily located. One commander, however, was absent. Talmeier tapped his finger on his broad, bulky arm, thick and hardened from years of hard service and carefully maintained to keep strong despite his age turning his hair white. The stern expression on his face was a well-practiced restraining of frustration, though there were few things that surprised him anymore.

“In the midst of a national emergency, following a direct command from the Kaiser himself,” Talmeier growled, “Captain Reinhold Roth-Vogel is not only late, but cannot be found at all. I wish that I was surprised, yet,” the old colonel looked over to a staff sergeant, oddly by himself among all the groups. “I am so utterly lacking in surprise, that I prepared a contingency plan just for this case. Staff Sergeant Dolcherr.” The young NCO saluted stiffly, the glint of his round spectacles hiding his eyes. Unlike the other troopers in the room who wore the red sienna of the Fallschirmjäger, the NCO wore a dark leather pilot’s jacket; the uniform of the Luftpanzer crews. As the Luftpanzer Battalion was technically an air force unit, its tankers took on the personas of ace pilots. “Besides serving as his advisor, you know the Captain well, yes?”

“Yes sir.” Staff Sergeant Dolcherr’s voice was light and airy, a tone of purposeful restraint and amicability. “We’ve known each other for…a long time. We served together in Felbach and afterwards, along with Lieutenant Bartholomeu.”

“And the Lieutenant, is…”

“At the barracks, sir. I checked before you summoned me.”

Talmeier relaxed some. “Good. We both know that Lieutenant Bartholomeu is too alike the Captain to not be worried about in a time like this. Staff Sergeant. You know where the Captain is likely to be? Go and find him. I don’t care if you have to drag him out by his heels, the Kaiser will not suffer this brand of nonsense in this hour!”

The staff sergeant saluted and turned on his heel. A staff car was forthcoming, and though it was beaten up and dirty, it was plenty good enough for the job by Dolcherr’s measure. The barracks and airbase, as well as the warehouses, laboratories and test grounds that made up the development grounds the Luftpanzer Project called home were left behind, and the harsh illumination of the army base turned to starlight before the soft yellow glow of the small adjacent city took prominence. Streetlights and the odd neon sign gave a much homelier atmosphere, a small reason of a great many reasons for many a soldier on break time would retreat to this place to relax, carouse, and be generally irresponsible. To look for a single soldier up to mischief here would be to look in a forest for trees; there were too many distractions with as many customers looking to be diverted. However, Staff Sergeant Douran Dolcherr had known Reinhard Roth-Vogel for sixteen years.

They had lived in the same neighborhood, grown up with the same people, and for as long as he could remember, Reinhold was finding bold new ways of getting them both into trouble, with Dolcherr finding a way out of it once Reinhold (and to be honest, Dolcherr as well) had ceased finding the trouble enjoyable. From a boy, to a man, junior officer to a captain, Reinhold had a knack for finding trouble, and it was little effort for the bespectacled, quiet staffer to find where he had gotten off to; largely because Reinhold couldn’t resist bringing him along at least once. No searching would be necessary; Reinhold, for certain, would be…

>…At the newly opened nightclub he’d found. It burst with loud music, strong drink, and dancing; three things Reinhold could never get enough of. If Dolcherr was particularly unlucky, Reinhold would have drunk himself into a stupor, which would make returning him to the Colonel rather interesting. (+2 to Lackadasicalness)
>…Visiting the seedy brothel that Reinhold kept dragging Dolcherr to for one excuse or another. Reinhold liked his women cheap in price and loose of character, though he preferred to spend as little as possible when philandering. Such was why he was ever in need of “backup,” as disinterested as Dolcherr was in the rewards offered. (+2 to Rakishness)
>…Getting into a brawl at the dingy, dusty place he’d gone to with Dolcherr for the sole sake of finding some fun enemies. For him, drinking was only the sideshow; the main appeal was pissing off somebody so bad there’d be violence. (+2 to Abrasiveness)
>…Throwing his money into the only gambling pit he hadn’t been banned from. His luck was rather suspiciously good, though he’d never been caught cheating. Win or lose, though, he always had a difficult time stopping while his pockets weren’t empty… (+2 to Brashness)

In case it wasn't clear, Reinhold Roth-Vogel is "you."

>>2813681
>In case it wasn't clear, Reinhold Roth-Vogel is "you."
>>2813660

Hey, in case you've seen my other quest, this takes place in the same universe, but with different characters in a different place.
>Do I have to have read Panzer Commander to understand what's going on?
If I'm not being a complete hack, no, you won't have to. This is intended to stand on its own.

My twitter is @scheissfunker for any updates, schedule changes, or whatever. There's no miscellaneous info for this quest yet, but if it comes up, then I'll have a link to a pastebin for it.

Also, in case there's any questions about setting stuff or what's going on or anything the player character should or might know, feel free to ask, and if your guy knows, then I'll answer it to the capacity he knows it.

>>2813660
Far away from here. The best place for any dirty traitor dog of the Archduchy.

>>2813695
>Far away from here. The best place for any dirty traitor dog of the Archduchy.
>replied just after my other reply
>>2813691
Well that makes my post moot. Will we be seeing Richter von Tracht again, or his quest?

>>2813702
Yes. After this one.
This one's meant to be sort of an interlude. A short break away from Panzer Commander, and it'll be short; maybe five threads at most. After that it's back to Richter.

>>2813681
>…At the newly opened nightclub he’d found. It burst with loud music, strong drink, and dancing; three things Reinhold could never get enough of. If Dolcherr was particularly unlucky, Reinhold would have drunk himself into a stupor, which would make returning him to the Colonel rather interesting. (+2 to Lackadasicalness)

>>2813695
is this other quest of yours just war focused ?

>>2813722
Not really. It's more about the Commander than the Panzer, if you will.

>>2813681
>>…At the newly opened nightclub he’d found. It burst with loud music, strong drink, and dancing; three things Reinhold could never get enough of. If Dolcherr was particularly unlucky, Reinhold would have drunk himself into a stupor, which would make returning him to the Colonel rather interesting. (+2 to Lackadasicalness)

>>2813681
>>…Visiting the seedy brothel that Reinhold kept dragging Dolcherr to for one excuse or another. Reinhold liked his women cheap in price and loose of character, though he preferred to spend as little as possible when philandering. Such was why he was ever in need of “backup,” as disinterested as Dolcherr was in the rewards offered. (+2 to Rakishness)
Let's get all the womanizing out of our systems here so there's no temptation when we go back to Richter.

>>2813900
Don't you just want to lick Anya's abs?

>>2813903
This is exactly what I'm trying to avoid.

>>2813739
What about the Pantsu?

>>2813903
Why yes, yes I do. I hope it's not influencing my vote.

>>2813681
>…Visiting the seedy brothel that Reinhold kept dragging Dolcherr to for one excuse or another. Reinhold liked his women cheap in price and loose of character, though he preferred to spend as little as possible when philandering. Such was why he was ever in need of “backup,” as disinterested as Dolcherr was in the rewards offered. (+2 to Rakishness)

I am also thrilled Richter is not in Halmeggia right now.

>>2813681
>…Getting into a brawl at the dingy, dusty place he’d gone to with Dolcherr for the sole sake of finding some fun enemies. For him, drinking was only the sideshow; the main appeal was pissing off somebody so bad there’d be violence. (+2 to Abrasiveness)

>>2813681
>>…At the newly opened nightclub he’d found. It burst with loud music, strong drink, and dancing; three things Reinhold could never get enough of. If Dolcherr was particularly unlucky, Reinhold would have drunk himself into a stupor, which would make returning him to the Colonel rather interesting. (+2 to Lackadasicalness)

There was no doubt whatsoever in Dolcherr’s mind that Captain Reinhold Roth-Vogel would be at the newly opened nightclub in town, a place calling itself the Window Place. It was an obnoxious place, with loud music, strong drink, and dancing; three things Reinhold could never get enough of. It announced itself on the street it resided on, dim during the day, but with its neon so bright at night that it seemed to drown out the rest of the block with its glamour. The parking was awful, as could be expected; it had taken on a certain popularity with the youth. The Captain was rather young for a captain, at twenty four years old; it wasn’t that he hadn’t served with valor, but he also happened to know the right people, and had been in the right places at the right times. One person especially being the famous ace pilot, Alphonse Falkenstein. A famed ace in the Emrean Rebellion, but also in the Fealinn and Felbach conquests where volunteer pilots had lent their might to the small nations’ air forces. Falkenstein had struck down sixty eight enemies over his career; one of the highest scoring aces in the world. Despite his upward climb through the ranks, he had never ceased taking on frontline fighter missions. A recommendation from such a celebrity anywhere, but especially in the air force, was practically a commandment from the Judge Above himself.

Dolcherr received a curt nod from the doorman, who didn’t get in the NCO’s way as he stepped through the door and waded through the dancing couples as a jazz band played an upbeat tune with volume that could be heard even on a busy airfield. It didn’t take long to spy the Captain, making his home at the bar, silhouetted against lines of brightly colored drink bottles lit by lights under them to form a sort of kaleidoscope of liquor. Dolcherr began to push his way towards him…

“Look, baby,” you said to the babe beside you; you’d been explaining yourself for a good five minutes now, and she’d ever been an attentive listener. What a good girl. “You can’t just be anybody and get where I am, yeah? It’s not just about having things happen to you, it’s how you deal with that stuff. You gotta have the ups to go with the downs, or you turn into one ‘a those stuffy middle aged men with a wrinkle for every drink you didn’t take, every smoke you didn’t light, and every one night relationship you didn’t make a move on. You know what I’m saying?” With your fourth glass of ocean blue absinthe swirling in your hand, you looked lazily to your right, putting on the most suave smirk you could muster. It was a real hit with the ladies, especially after they had enough drinks in them, and you’d bought enough for this broad to…

“Good evening, Captain.”

To your right was your advisor, Staff Sergeant Douran Dolcherr. He wasn’t sitting; he was standing, and he most certainly wasn’t the pretty young lady you had been trying to woo. You looked over, then past him and behind you. “…Evening, Doll. What’d you do with the girl I was going to dance with?”

“What girl?” Dolcherr asked, sounding confused. “You were alone when I arrived. Somehow, you are not as intoxicated as I thought you would be.”

“Not nearly as much if I need to be if there’s no girl here anymore,” you grumbled, “Come on then, I’ll buy you a few drinks. It’s on me.” You raised your glass of blue fire towards him. “Get some of this stuff. I don’t know what it’s called, I just asked for some of what she was drinking.”

Dolcherr leaned in towards you and murmured something, then looked at you seriously as though you’d heard a word of it.

“What?” you slurred at him.

Dolcherr responded by dragging you up by the arm and leading you towards the door.

“Hold on!” you complained, weakly resisting, “It’s not even near closing time, there’s so much left to drink, so many loose young women to dance with!” Your Staff Sergeant did not care for your pleas.

“Captain,” he said as soon as you were outside. The night was cold and lacking in girls in short skirts; how dreadful. “We have been called to mobilize. It’s a national emergency.”

“What’s a national emergency is how much we need to get you laid.” You sputtered drunkenly. Not that drunkenly. “It’s not too late. You know that we’re practically a tourist attraction for the ladies here? The jacket does wonders.” They got a little disappointed when they were told you weren’t a pilot. You got a little disappointed when they said they didn’t know what a Luftpanzer was. Tragically, equalizing your disappointments rarely worked, so you just told them you were a pilot.

“Captain,” Dolcherr repeated, still calm, but even in your current state where it was difficult to walk without stumbling, you could tell he was starting to get annoyed. “We’re being made to mobilize by direct order of command, as well as project leadership, down from the Kaiser himself.”

Well. That helped your attentiveness, as you snapped to attention, before nearly falling over, catching yourself on the staff car your NCO was leading you towards. “The Kaiser?” you asked weakly. “Shit. I figured it’d be another month before we were that level of hot shit.”

“A revolution has sparked in Halmeggia, and it has progressed with shocking speed,” Dolcherr explained to you as he opened the door for you and pushed you into the car. “Unrest has been brewing for some time,” he continued as he went around to the driver’s side and sat, “But not at the level that would make a popular revolt a serious risk. It’s quite strange, and we’ve been called to assemble in response. I was not told the mission. Colonel Talmeier will probably inform you directly.”

Oh, great. Colonel Talmeier. That old buzzard’d surely chew you out for this one. What a fantastic night this would end up being. “Look, Doll,” you started, as he turned over the engine and put the car back on the street. “It isn’t that bad for me to be like this. We weren’t going to have maneuvers for another week, every man needs his time off.”

“Reinhold,” Dolcherr said, still looking straight ahead, attentive, to the road, as he raced out of the city; hasty but not in a way that betrayed your aide’s ever calm and level demeanor. “What on earth are you doing trying to solicit women at a club?”

“Nobody told me there was a national crisis and that the Kaiser needed us, not before you came around,” you bristled.

“Not that. You know what I’m talking about.”

Did you? Oh.

“Feeehh,” you blew up into your face, letting the huff turn into a wheezy sigh, “Come the hell on.”

“Herr Falkenstein doesn’t know you’re up to this, Judge be merciful, but Linda certainly does.”

“Oh for God’s sake,” you leaned back and threw your arms behind your head, “I haven’t had enough drinks for this shit.”

“If you had any more drinks you’d be laid out flat.”

“Exactly.” Linda Falkenstein. Alphonse “Golden Vengeance” Falkenstein’s young daughter. Four years your junior and growing into just as good a pilot as her father had been at her age. Energetic, driven, and proud, both her and her father expected the two of you to marry. She’d never hidden her intent to court you, and Linda was not a woman who accepted it when things didn’t go her way. Tomboys never went quietly into the night.

“Is this because of her?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Now you were getting annoyed.

“There is a national emergency, one we are likely being called to address, and when we are supposed to be in fighting condition as elite troops I have to drag you out of a nightclub with alcohol running down your chin. If this is the root of the problem, then it cannot be allowed to interfere with your combat readiness.”

>I’ll be fine. What, am I not allowed to play around every so often? I’m still young, Doll. That won’t last forever. I’ll settle down when I damn well feel like it.
>So what if Linda knows? Childhood friends or not, she’s got no say in what I do or who I go for. I’m a free man, God damn it. If she wants on this ride she can wait her turn and share with all the other girls, there’s no ring on my finger yet.
>You know how it is, Doll. That’s Alphonse Falkenstein’s daughter, Falkenstein! I’m no good for her, not really. Not my fault that she doesn’t see that yet. If she knows, all the better. Maybe it’ll set her head straight for once in her life.
>What Linda doesn’t know won’t hurt her. The knot’s not tied yet, I’m getting my kicks in the meantime. Be a mate, won’t you keep her nose off the trail? I promise I’ll behave once we tie the knot. Eventually. Maybe.

>>2813681
>>…At the newly opened nightclub he’d found. It burst with loud music, strong drink, and dancing; three things Reinhold could never get enough of. If Dolcherr was particularly unlucky, Reinhold would have drunk himself into a stupor, which would make returning him to the Colonel rather interesting. (+2 to Lackadasicalness)

>>2814241
>>You know how it is, Doll. That’s Alphonse Falkenstein’s daughter, Falkenstein! I’m no good for her, not really. Not my fault that she doesn’t see that yet. If she knows, all the better. Maybe it’ll set her head straight for once in her life.

>>2814241
>>You know how it is, Doll. That’s Alphonse Falkenstein’s daughter, Falkenstein! I’m no good for her, not really. Not my fault that she doesn’t see that yet. If she knows, all the better. Maybe it’ll set her head straight for once in her life.

>>2814241
>>2814241
>You know how it is, Doll. That’s Alphonse Falkenstein’s daughter, Falkenstein! I’m no good for her, not really. Not my fault that she doesn’t see that yet. If she knows, all the better. Maybe it’ll set her head straight for once in her life.

>>2814241
>>You know how it is, Doll. That’s Alphonse Falkenstein’s daughter, Falkenstein! I’m no good for her, not really. Not my fault that she doesn’t see that yet. If she knows, all the better. Maybe it’ll set her head straight for once in her life.

>>2814241
>I’ll be fine. What, am I not allowed to play around every so often? I’m still young, Doll. That won’t last forever. I’ll settle down when I damn well feel like it.

You clicked your tongue and looked up into the night, the stars dark because of the city light. “You know how it is, Doll. That’s Alphonse Falkenstein’s daughter. Falkenstein! I’m no good for her, not really.”

“Linda has a completely different opinion on that matter.” Dolcherr replied neatly. “As does her father, the esteemed Alphonse Falkenstein.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that she doesn’t see sense yet,” you snapped a retort, “If she knows, all the better. Maybe it’ll set her head straight for once in her life.”
Dolcherr peered over at you for a moment, eyes thin behind his spectacles. “So is Herr Falkenstein also so terribly mistaken about you?” You stayed silent on that. “The selectiveness of your self-aggrandizing has been ever a puzzle to me.” The Sergeant went on after allowing you that space to respond.

You had something to say about that next thing, though. “What? Nah, I’m pretty good. Look at me, right? The jacket, the rank, I’m not old and shriveled up, not shellshocked, have this nice dueling scar?” You traced your finger on the familiar ridge on your cheek; dueling was technically banned, but that didn’t keep secret dueling clubs from popping up solely for the sake of inflicting aesthetic wounds on one another. “It’s just…you know, Linda’s not some random broad or lonely chick at a bar. There’s plenty of women out there for me, and Linda’s not one of them. She deserves somebody principled.” You punched Dolcherr in the shoulder, “Like you, maybe? Eh? Heh heh.”

Dolcherr said nothing to that, and instead went directly to business. “If we’re going to be doing anything about Halmeggia ourselves, and I suspect that we will, that means the first combat application of the Luftpanzer.”

“Luftpanzer II,” you corrected, “Most of our Luftpanzer Is got wrecked practicing ADR, yeah?”

ADR stood for Aus Dem Rucken; Out of the Back. It was a rather self-explanatory and literal term; a Siglin-Marconi SiMa 102 five engine heavy transport would fly low and slow to the ground; a difficult task only suitable to be done by skilled pilots, and once they were skimming the dirt, a crew would throw parachutes out of the open ramp of the plane, and the chutes would drag the tank out of the plane, on a pallet, where it would slide across the ground. There had been problems with actually parachuting a tank from a height properly, so some hotshot pilots had suggested the solution, and made it work well enough. Of course, the tank was dropped unmanned; it would be absurd to be in the thing while it was dropped. It wasn’t perfect; the ideal way to do it would be to just land the transport and drive the tank out, after the paratroopers secured an airfield, but it was a method. Gliders were being developed for airlanding the Luftpanzers, but they were still being flight tested. If you were going anywhere tonight, there wouldn’t be any fancy new big gliders.

“Hm. Perhaps. But there are still some Model Ones in reserve. The amount of Luftpanzers that even exist hardly allow for us to be picky if we were to take losses.” That much was true. Each Luftpanzer was practically custom made, and there were only enough to equip one company; the company that you commanded.

“I hope we don’t have to use them,” you groaned, “Rickety shit boxes.” It was clear ever since you trained on them that the vehicles weren’t meant for actual combat. As far as you were concerned it was a mercy that many of them had fallen victim to being shoved out of the back of a plane.

-----

It wasn’t much time before you’d been carted back to the Luftpanzer Project Headquarters; ungraciously. Maybe some of the booze had vanished from your mind, but not enough for you to walk properly again. Damn it all, you should have picked a place further away. Better yet, the Halmeggians should have gotten their shit together. What the hell was up with that, anyways? Something important enough for the Kaiser himself to activate your unit, naturally.

“Captain Roth-Vogel!” Ah, shit. There was the colonel. “You’ve been enjoying yourself tonight, I see.” He had his hands clasped firmly behind his back, though you knew they were likely balled into fists.

“Alright,” you leaned on the car, feeling dizzy, “I can explain…”

“Explain later. Lieutenant General Beyerlein is holding an assembly for the whole unit.”

“Lieutenant General? Agh…” Beyerlein was the head of the whole Luftpanzer Project. If you had been holding him up, you were really freaking screwed. “I’m on my way. Sir.”

Colonel Talmeier had been waiting for the last part. He nodded curtly and waved you along, following close behind. You kept your pace up in case he decided to boot you in the rear for being too slow.

-----

The Luftpanzer Project Commander, Generalleutnant Beyerlein stood at the head of the massive but dimly lit meeting room, ready to address the assembly before him. He was a young general of the air force; young for his rank, that is, being scarcely fifty three years old. He had a storied past of being a cavalry officer, a pilot, and in the final days of the disastrous Emrean War, he led a tank formation. His history well explained his support of the Luftpanzer program, though the actual research and development was led by the Chief Engineer Doctor Hallevasse. Said doctor stood stiffly beside Beyerlein; as far as you knew, the Doctor was a charismatic man, but he still seemed nervous.

You and Dolcherr took places beside one of your platoon commanders, Lieutenant Roland Bartholomeu. Fair, and slightly shorter than you, he had a dueling scar like you did, but it cut across his forehead; it wasn’t a very good looking scar, to be honest, and he hadn’t tried for a second one.

“Did you go out drinking without me?” Bartholomeu hissed back at you, “You dog. You’ll owe me a round after whatever this mess is.” You only made a slight groan of disapproval in response. “At the very least you weren’t whoring. I’d really have to beat you for leaving me out of that.”

“Gentlemen,” Beyerlein announced, and the quiet chatter in the room silenced immediately, “The Kaiser has a mission for the Luftpanzer Project. The Kingdom of Halmeggia, an ally to our nation, whose royal family are dear acquaintances of our Emperor, has recently been afflicted by anarchist agitation, which has as of just last night exploded into an outright revolt. Neoconfederationalist militia claiming to fight for the Revolitionary Army of Greater Vitelia have seized the capital, and have besieged the Royal Family’s castle. The protectorates have chosen to be obstinate, and in any event our forces are the only ones able to respond quickly enough to this event. Before we move to briefing of your officers, I must inform all of you that this mission is expected to be extremely risky. We are using new technology, untested tactics, and have little reliable intelligence. However, we are not trusted with execution of this task merely because we are the only hope, but because you are skilled specialists and veteran fighters. I have confidence in your success, but I cannot force you to go if you do not wish it. Only volunteers will be accepted on this mission. If you have obligations that would be put at risk by your passing, family or friends, or simply do not wish to go on this mission, you may stand and leave at this time.”

Some men got up, bowed reverently, and departed, but not many; perhaps a dozen and a half at most, and none rose from your unit; those of the Luftpanzer Company were proud of their equipment and training, their status as pioneers of military history, and spoiling for the chance to prove themselves. You were no different from the rest in these regards, though perhaps you’d already proven yourself in one war. One war where you, Dolcherr and Bartholomeu had come back, but one other hadn’t…

“All who remain volunteer for this mission? Good.” Beyerlein’s gaze remained on those who stayed, a mighty host still. “Officers, go to Meeting Room B. Your commanding officer for this mission, Colonel Talmeier, will brief you on this mission and its details.”

File: lpq_opmapgeneral.png (184 KB, 1206x1200)

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The officers who went were of your Luftpanzer Griffon Squadron and the LPP Fallshirmjager Raven Company. They and you were who were currently present, though you knew at the time that a mission like this would involve the LPP Fallshirmjager Pelican Company, who were the glider unit. The gliders were at another base, and their entry into the fray would thus be delayed, though not by too much, hopefully. You hoped other aerial support would find its way into this mission as well, in the forms of fighters and bombers. Apparently a few recon flights had already flown over, as you noticed hasty maps and drawings overlaid on blown up photographs as you arrived at Meeting Room B, ahead of your lieutenants.

Colonel Talmeier traced lines with a stick on the wall that the plans were projected upon. “The first objective is Santi Arrofini Airfield, a Halmeggian airbase capable of landing heavy airlift craft. Reconnaissance has identified it as lightly guarded for now, and since securing it will mean that more combat drops will not be required, Santi Arrofini Airfield is the primary objective of the operation’s first phase. In case securing this airfield becomes unviable, however, alternate landing zones have been identified for AuDRuck deployment of Luftpanzers and glider landings. In either case, as soon as forces are combat ready, they are to move as quickly as they can to the Royal Family’s castle, rescue the Royal Family, and extract back to Imperial territory. The airfield would be the ideal start and end point of this operation as flying out the royal family would be much quicker and safer, and the alternate LZs can theoretically have a reconnaissance plane land and take off in them for smaller scale evacuation. However, you must be prepared to fight all the way back to the Reich if need be. After all, with how little notice we have had and the questionable state of legal and diplomatic affairs, we may not be able to count on having air superiority as would be ideal. If air transportation of the royal family cannot be guaranteed to be safe, it will not be attempted.”

Talmeier waved a hand, and the assistant changed slides. The Colonel then continued to direct things along, stick in hand tapping the screen being projected upon with every point. “Intelligence regarding the situation has been extremely imprecise. The primary enemy that has been identified is irregular militia, and if that was not bad enough, there are already rumors that police and army units have thrown their lots in with some faction or another, throwing away their allegiance to the Halmeggian crown and parliament. It will be quite difficult to identify friend or foe that is not of our formations, however, we haven’t the time to gather the ideal amount of information."

"It will be up to you, the officers, to make the proper judgment calls. Attempt to minimize unnecessary casualties if you can; we don’t need to make any resentment towards our nation in this uprising worse. Signaling and code is as per Exercise B1 Standard, and pamphlets will be provided to you as of…now.”

Colonel Talmeier had been peering at the door, and an assistant stumbled in with a box stacked high with the little books. She was a cute woman with large round glasses and a clumsy demeanor, but nobody would dare look at her for more than a moment; she was the Colonel’s daughter and even thinking an unclean thought towards his kin in his presence would be to brave hellfire.

“Your uh…the books, sirs!” The secretary saluted uneasily and, after being dismissed with a nod from her father, she scampered back out the door once more.

“I’ll screw her cross-eyed if it’s the last thing I do,” Bartholomeu whispered from next to you. You would be inclined to agree, but Colonel Talmeier’s eyes pierced you like swords whenever you got even close to the dorky little tart.

The Colonel may have sensed Bartholomeu’s intentions, because he glared over, but continued. “Intelligence is extremely lacking, however, part of the reason we chose Santi Arrofini Airfield is because it is close to the location of some trusted intelligence operatives. One you are on the ground, make contact with these operatives. Their information and advice will be crucial to the success of this mission, both in identification of terrain and discerning friendly and neutral factions from hostile ones. They have been alerted of this operation, and will seek you out. They will present themselves with the code phrase, ‘Lovely night to fall in love.’ Since you will all be uniformed, your other codes will be by B1 Standard.”

Who the hell had thought up of that corny code phrase? You thought.

“You may all thank Captain Roth-Vogel for tonight’s code phrase,” Talmeier said smugly.

Goddamnit, when did you say that? Maybe you did need to drink less.

“Luftpanzer crews will drop with the Fallschirmjäger, and crew their vehicles once they have been deployed. As the landing site has been selected for its sparse enemy presence, the drop loads will be light for low opening, so that you spend less valuable time floating down. Your weapons will be dropped after you. Remember not to engage with the enemy if at all possible until you secure them! I should hardly need to remind you that a sidearm is not a proper battle weapon.”

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The colonel laid his stick in his hands and sighed gruffly. “I will not lie to you all. This mission is extremely foolhardy, in my opinion. However, with the plan kept simple, we have the greatest chance of success. I doubt that things will go smoothly, but as long as we hit each stage of the plan with speed and aggression we should accomplish the mission with minimal casualties. Now, unless there are any questions, I will have you relay these plans to your men. You will have an hour until the call to board planes goes out. Have all men check their parachute packing and inventories.”

>Any Questions/Clarifications?
>That’s all

For an idea of your equipment, the Grossreich Fallschirmjager armaments consist of what would be equivalent for a normal infantry unit, though the rifles are somewhat shorter. Each rifleman has a 5 round 8mm Semiautomatic Kronerwerke Model 1914 KarRifle, with a clip fed internal magazine. Each squad of twelve carries three Model 25 Automatic Rifles, which are heavily modified Model 1914s with heavier barrels, extended and removable magazines, and, naturally, fully automatic fire. In addition, 8mm Esterfabrik Model 1930 Submachineguns are part of the arsenal, as well as (not pictured) single shot 14mm antitank rifles and both defensive fragmentation and offensive concussion grenades, one of each which is allocated to each trooper in a standard landed loadout. Each Fallschirmjäger company, both the parachute company and the airlanding company, have an 8cm mortar platoon, but in the case of the parachute platoon they do not drop with their mortars and shells.

As far as for your own company’s equipment, you are equipped with the Luftpanzer Mark II, which is protected against fragmentation and small arms fire from all angles, and up to 12.7mm fire from the frontal arc, with the turret resistant to 20mm cannon fire. There are two models of Luftpanzer Mark II; one has a 3.7cm anti-tank cannon, while the other carries a 10cm heavy close support mortar-cannon (pictured), itself able to fire shaped charge munitions made to destroy fortifications, but which are also effective against armor. Such munitions are in short supply, though, compared to high explosive, white phosphorous (for marking, but can also be used for smoke, and…other things), and shrapnel shot.
Halmeggian equipment tends to be a mix between older Reich equipment, relatively new Reich equipment, and Vitelian military equipment from before Vitelia became wracked by civil war. Further details are murky at this time.

Also right there is a Grossreich of Czeiss Luftwaffe Fallschirmjager and a Luftpanzer Commander. I've neglected to do any pictures but when I do it'll probably be important to know what your guys look like.

>>2814753
I assume that the paratroopers will stay and secure the airfield while we rush towards the castle unless they have transportation of their own? Other than that nothing really.

>>2814769
That is correct. They're keeping the way out open, considering that there aren't currently plans to airland trucks.

>>2814771
Naturally, this could :^) change, but the base plan is to hit hard and fast enough that anybody on foot won't be keeping up anyways.

>>2814753
>>That’s all
Also it'll be hilarious if the IO sent some other poor officer to Halmeggia.

>>2814753
Where do Apfelwalddorf and Reichsport fit in? Escape routes?

>>2814961
That is the case, yes. In the event that the airfield isn't able to be held, or evacuation cannot be continued, whatever, then those are the two routes towards either the coast, or the western border with the Reich. Neither is ideal.

>>2814976
Last resort: Pretend to be tourists.

>>2814976
Oh yeah: Do the Royals know we're coming?

I'm around now. Update soon, and we'll be going from there.

>>2815034
They do, yes.

“No questions?” Talmeier looked around the room, “Good. Remember, one hour. If the planes aren’t lifting off soon after that then I will personally strangle the air crewmen. Move!”

-----

The officers of the 1st Luftpanzer company had been assembled; Yourself, your aide, Dolcherr, and your three lieutenants that made up your platoons; Lieutenant Bartholomeu, Lieutenant Covacs, and Lieutenant Fischer. In the full formation, the lot of you would be using 17 tanks; which would be all but one Luftpanzer II in the whole of the inventory, not counting the test carriages. You’d fought with Bartholomeu before, in the Felbach war. That wasn’t a long war, it had been won handily, but it hadn’t been pretty for either side. Covacs and Fischer were also veterans of that war; much of the Luftpanzer Project Battalion’s leadership were. With the Kaiser’s army continuing to expand, it was a good time for military careers.

You relayed Talmeier’s briefing to your officers, as well as you could with the simple material you were given.

“This is too little intelligence,” Covacs muttered, ever the pessimist. He was from Dhegyar; usually a rather upbeat brand of people with perhaps excessive loyalty to the Kaiser for some reason or another, you didn’t know really, but you’d met enough to know that Covacs was a special case. “We may as well be jumping into darkness and hoping that it isn’t a pit.”

“Come on, Covacs, where’s your sense of adventure?” Bartholomeu put his arm around the scraggly, smaller man, “Did it shrivel up and die for lack of nourishment?”

“I’d rather not go on an adventure into my death,” Covacs muttered, “All that I am saying is that we had best find these intelligence operatives soon after we land. Not knowing who we’re supposed to be fighting robs us of any sense of initiative.”

“With how quickly this situation has proceeded,” Fischer observed, “There is undoubtedly chaos. Compared to potential opposition, we are likely a cliff by a sea in a storm. So long as our commanders are decisive, we will drive this darkness before us as a torch.” Fischer was cool and collected, and older than the rest of you, at 32 years old. He was an enlisted man who had gone through officer academy by request of a superior at one point or another, and he dabbled in poetry; hence his love of metaphor. Where Covacs was thin, Fischer was stocky, and he wore a full beard and mustache as long as regulations would allow and not a millimeter more.

“A rock in the storm, huh.” Covacs didn’t share the group’s confidence, but he wasn’t the sort to insist on dragging everybody down. “Fine.” His eyes remained half closed and suspicious, thinking, considering.

“We’re jumping with Raven Company,” you brought up again, “Not like we aren’t used to humping it, but they’ll probably ask us to help take the airfield. Captain Wolschald certainly won’t let us sit pretty and wait for our proper gear in a country tavern.”

“You’re so certain of that?” Bartholomeu asked.

“If we happen to blow off course and hit the dirt right by a bar, I can’t promise that our rendezvous won’t be delayed,” you teased back, “But the wind’d have to be mighty particular. The only person jumping with me is Dolcherr, and he already yanked me out of one place.”

“You’ve been purging the alcohol from your system quite well, Captain.” Dolcherr chimed in. “It would be a shame for you to ruin such good progress.”

“It’s fled in fear of having my ass kicked by the Colonel. It’ll come back for the plane ride and I’ll piss it all out while I’m floating down.”

“Not going to try and piss out the side of the plane again?” Bartholomeu asked mockingly.

“Can’t promise I’m not drunk enough to try.” Shit, you really did need to visit the facilities, though. “Gonna take care of that. Get the company squared away, I’m betting that if I’m not early the Colonel will flay me alive.”

-----

The planes waiting for you on the runway weren’t the big five engines that would be taking your tanks; no, these were trimotors, general transports, each able to carry about a squad and a half of people, crates of weaponry, everything needed for an airborne operation, and its sustainment. Roads were the arteries of war, but for paratroopers, the entire sky was a path. Fallschirmjäger tactics had been well proven in Faelinn and Felbach, but this would be the first operational use of them combined with the Luftpanzer; for your sake, you hoped it would go well. It wouldn’t be cool to be known as the person who messed up this new system for everybody. Not that you felt pressured; the spirits probably helped with that, admittedly.

One could comment that the division of your company among another one was rather unusual; but your company also wasn’t meant to be a fighting force outside of the use of the Luftpanzer, so for all intents and purposes you were being escorted by the paratroopers until the tanks landed. They were sure to rub it in your face, too, but they wouldn’t be so smug when they got left in the dust. Your role was certainly the moneymaker. The Halmeggian royal family…did they have any cute princesses? You hardly knew, keeping tabs on royalty wasn’t your interest; not like you’d ever have a drink with a king in a bar. Funny as it was to think about, one could, with the Kaiser. Henrik was unlike any who had come before him, and kept a connection to the people he ruled over. You’d seen him a few times, and sure, he had plenty of guards, but he never seemed like he needed them. The guard was more for the guards’ peace of mind, seemingly, than Kaiser Henrik Von Zeissenburg’s. Maybe after all this was done you’d personally request a tall cold one with his majesty, maybe with the princess or whatever of Halmeggia in your arms too. Think like a winner, right?

Old Falkenstein would certainly be pleased, but…if you saw him, you’d have to see his daughter, too. There went that good mood.

As the call went out for everybody to line up and load up, you saw weary fighter pilots and air crews spinning up the twin engine long range escort fighters. They looked utterly miserable; not actually attached to the Luftpanzer Battalion or their transports, they’d probably been forcefully drafted into this operation. You and your people might be able to shut your eyes on the trip over; they wouldn’t be able to.

It was just like a drill or an exercise, theoretically. Only this time, for the first time in a while, you’d be actually fighting. It was a funny feeling; you didn’t mind the violence really, something that had surprised you back when you’d had your first battles. It wasn’t anything personal between you and the enemy, it was just that you’d rather walk out than them. You knew you’d be heading into another battlefield at some point, that was the way the world was these days, after all, but it still felt like slipping into an old set of clothes. A beat up, well-worn and dusty coverall, not like the sleek uniform and leather jacket and cap you actually wore. The itches were familiar, and so was the metaphorical bunching up around the ass. Something your body felt even though your brain was still plenty well buzzed.

“Captain.” Dolcherr said from behind you, the only companion from your company you’d have on this drop. “I took the liberty of having a letter delivered in the interim, to Linda.”

“That’s nice.”

“A letter from you.”

“…Damn it.” You sighed roughly, “Why? I would have done it if you brought it up.”

“No, you wouldn’t have.”

“Hmph.” You crossed your arms and scowled, “So what did you say in my name? Any promises I ought to be aware of, so I can make sure to break them?”

“I merely told her that you were going on a dangerous assignment. It would be wrong to depart without her knowing where you went. What if something happens to you? For somebody who claims to be a lady’s man, you can be-“

“Doll, Judge Above, it’s not some girl, it’s Linda Falkenstein. Whatever. We’re boarding. Don’t bother me about this on the flight, alright?”

Dolcherr said nothing as you both climbed aboard the plane.

-----

All was dark save for the red lamp that illuminated the cabin, and the rumble of the engines was loud even inside the plane, but the doors were closed so at the very least the gale of wind wasn’t completely deafening. The turret gunner sat lazily at the bottom of his station. You were still within the Reich after all, and no enemy fighters would be coming for you. Not that the single machine gun would do much other than make the gunner feel better to shoot at a potential threat. The Fallschirmjäger sat all about you; the wise ones did their best to sleep, as they wouldn’t be getting any for quite a long time.

“Hey. Captain Roth-Vogel, yeah?” One of the paratroopers said across from you, making his voice loud to speak over the drone of the engines, “Was wondering. You Luftpanzer guys were air force, yeah? Not army? So you’ve just started tanking, yeah? What did you do before then?”

>You had done “tanking” before, actually. As part of an airfield security division, not that that had made your job cozy. Turned out that glorified checkpoint guards had as much fighting to do as anybody else.
>You had been a glider pilot. Not having qualified for fighter planes, you hadn’t been considered a real pilot. Not that that kept you from sometimes calling your company a squadron.
>You’d been a paratrooper, too, same as the other fellows in the plane. It was just that now you wore a different uniform.
>Actually, you had been in the army, albeit not as a tank crewman. You had led a reconnaissance platoon, and your connections with Falkenstein had secured you your current position, along with your acquaintances.

>>2816439
>You had been a glider pilot. Not having qualified for fighter planes, you hadn’t been considered a real pilot. Not that that kept you from sometimes calling your company a squadron.

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>>2816439
>>You had been a glider pilot. Not having qualified for fighter planes, you hadn’t been considered a real pilot. Not that that kept you from sometimes calling your company a squadron.
>tfw ywn be a real pilot

>>2816439
>You had done “tanking” before, actually. As part of an airfield security division, not that that had made your job cozy. Turned out that glorified checkpoint guards had as much fighting to do as anybody else.

>>2816439
>You’d been a paratrooper, too, same as the other fellows in the plane. It was just that now you wore a different uniform.

>>2816439
>You had been a glider pilot. Not having qualified for fighter planes, you hadn’t been considered a real pilot. Not that that kept you from sometimes calling your company a squadron.

Still gliding in a sense. Just very quickly down.

>>2816439
>>You had been a glider pilot. Not having qualified for fighter planes, you hadn’t been considered a real pilot. Not that that kept you from sometimes calling your company a squadron.

“What’d I do before now?” you echoed the question, “I did what we’re about to do, only better. I was a glider pilot.”

“Glider pilot.” you heard the transport’s driver from up front call back mockingly, “Watch out, all of you parachute pilots, we’ve got a real flyboy here.”

“Ah, shut up,” you called back. It was true, though. Not that piloting a glider was easy or anything, and you had been damn good at it, if you would say so yourself; the three times you’d done it, not one landing hadn’t been a happy one, though the last one was a little closer than you’d like it. No powered craft pilot ever respected a glider man, though, and you had felt similarly disappointed when you didn’t have the physical qualifications to be a fighter pilot (your eyes were slightly too weak); that was what you had really wanted, but alas.

Linda Falkenstein was too good a woman and a pilot for somebody your level, was what you’d thought ever since. Was a Luftpanzer commander good enough, though? Perhaps that was to be seen.

“Sort of funny you’re coming with us then, huh,” the paratrooper who had asked you the question said, “I would have expected you to be with Pelican Company.”

“Command thinks we need to be first on the ground, I guess. I can’t blame them. You’d be pretty bad off without us around.”

The paratrooper recognized the joke and smirked slightly. “Yeah, we can’t perform unless we’ve got an audience to show off for, after all.”

Small chatter continued for a bit, but the first chance you got, you stretched back and closed your eyes. Morning wouldn’t be coming for a while yet, after all.

-----

You were helpfully woken up with a shake by the paratrooper next to you. “Drop’s coming up in about ten minutes, five even, maybe.” He informed you. Apparently, violated the airspace of the protectorates had gone off without a hitch. They wouldn’t let ground troops through, they’d likely be pissed about the Kaiser just flying troops over them, but their fault for being vague with whatever wording they’d justified their pettiness with. “Wind’s pretty bad right now. Hope it won’t be a problem.”

“Maybe it’ll clear up in record time. Freaking night drops.” You’d done plenty of maneuvers with night drops, and the darkness alone never failed to make things much more difficult, let alone the wind that was around today, apparently. Granted, it was the best time to drop, theoretically, since anti-aircraft and fighter capabilities were similarly diminished, and you didn’t sign up in the service in order to be comfortable, did you? “Hey, valet,” you shouted up to the pilot, “Make sure you drop us at least twenty klicks away from our landing place, yeah?”

“I’ll be glad to drop you right now, glider boy!” came the response.

You smiled slightly to yourself and leaned back. Good for everybody to be confident. This would be easy as pie. “Opening the door, then?”

“Knock yourself out.”

You got up and went for the door in the flank of the plane, pulled it open (always had to put your weight into that son of a bitch), and shoved your head out to look at Halmeggia. The little lights of villages and towns spread below you along slight wisps of cloud; it was a rather clear night, the pretty sort where in a countryside like this, you could see all the stars in the universe. If you had better eyes, that is.

Suddenly, a bright light.

“Hey!” you shouted back to the pilot, “I think they-“ A crack thundered somewhere above you, and you recoiled back inside the plane. “Flak!” you shouted out in warning.

“Yeah, I heard!” The pilot responded, “The hell, how do they know-“

Then there was a much louder boom.

You were falling, and you scarcely remembered why; your ears were ringing, and you could feel, not hear, the wind rushing past. A sudden yank that almost dropped your guts out of your arse; you had remembered to pull on the cord and let the parachute fly out…from the looks of it, right before it would have been too late. What the hell had happened?

Your transport plane had been split in half by a flak shell; you saw it front half tumbling forward, lacking its tail. Where you were at the head of it, you must have been knocked out of the plane right as it got hit. Were there any other parachutes? You looked around and saw a comforting amount; but you were being blown around all over by the wind. The conditions were crappy, but there hadn’t been much of a choice; this operation was planned on the spot, and time had been of the essence, still was. If the weather wasn’t going to agree, you had to deal with that…even though that weather was why a terrible start had become even worse. You watched the transport pitch further, further, until it crashed into the ground far away in a plume of bright flame. The pilot had been a bit of a jerk but you hoped he’d gotten out, along with everybody else. Dolcherr...well, he was the sort who would make it out of this sort of thing without a scratch. He'd be fine.

Out of all the planes to get blown out of the sky by a lucky shot, by AA gunners that shouldn’t have been ready to shoot for them, let alone know who they were affiliated with, it had to be the one carrying you. One of the most important commanders for the operation. Just your luck that the Judge decided it was time for you to pay for your licentious times. Though you weren’t dead quite yet. You looked down as you drifted, and saw the place where you were about to land. A bit of woods, with a cleared space in the middle. Did the Judge think you’d paid enough, maybe, to land in the nice spot?

Apparently, yes. The ground was firm, and cover was all around; you’d had some luck with your landing at least. You’d landed close to a small tree, among a copse of similar foliage too low to trap you (had you not had the fortune to land beside rather than in them) while being tall enough to hide well in. After the cords of the chute were cut away, you took a quick look about before packing and concealing the parachute. No need to give whoever might be coming any clues as to where you might be around. Too late, as it turned out, as you heard voices, saw the beam of an electric torch searching about, and scrambled around a tree away from the threat. There were all sorts of things to think about to consider, rethink, plan; but for now, you needed to survive.

The two who had come looking spoke in heavily accented Imperial; Halmeggians were close enough to the Reich to speak the Kaiser’s Nauk, thankfully not far west enough to be speaking the language their Imperial was muddled with, though you knew enough Vitelian to get by.

“One of them came down about ‘ere. Who da fuck’re dees gomps?”

“I dahnno, the commandah said to gettem, so we’s gonna gettem, see?”

Just your luck for your plane to go down in flames; the weapons crates were supposed to drop with the people, but your plane had been shot down, and the crate had likely plummeted down and crashed somewhere far to the east. For now, all you had was a knife and your sidearm; a nine millimeter automatic pistol. Experience and common sense had ensured it had been loaded and had a round chambered right after you had hit the dirt; you could defend yourself. Other than that and the knife, a decent sized one with a blade as long as your hand and made to take a beating…no rifle, no grenades, and the only things too useful otherwise were a pocketwatch and a set of binoculars, somehow neither of which were broken (for once) from your landing, as well as the map in a leather case, hastily made from aerial photographs and printed mere minutes before the operation began. A peek around the tree, to look at the bearers of those voices…

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“I don’t see nuthin’. If he landed here dere oughta be a parachute, yeah? I don’t see anythin’.” A young, rough looking man in civilian clothes, well illuminated in the moonlight. He held a rifle in his hands.

“He dropped close to here, saw with my own eyes. We gotta keep lookin’, we’ll find somethin’. Let’s split up and look.” The other man, dressed just as commonly, with a weapon that looked like a machine pistol, from the extended magazine and the stock affixed to it. From the angle you saw him, you could see that he wore an armband on his right arm; it was red and yellow, with the red stripe up top. A bit more looking confirmed the other person wore a similar band. It was obviously an identifier of some sort, but what did it mean?

“Split up? You kiddin’?” the rifle bearer sounded incredulous.

“You some kinda pussy? We’ll cover more ground.”

“Go fahck yasself. You just wanna say you’s the one who did all the work when we get back to commander.”

“If that’s wrong then find ‘im yosself,” the machine pistolier snapped back, “I ain’t gonna be slowed down by you and yous bum leg.”

Even though it was a bright night (perhaps early morning even), you still had the advantage of darkness. An ambush was ideal, and easy to do; though maybe it would be better to wait for them to split up. Certainly you were a good enough shooter that you were confident you could take them both down with pistol shots before either could return fire, but the eruption of gunfire might alert closeby allies. If you waited for them to separate, you could stalk one, and dispatch them silently with your knife, maintaining your current status of being undiscovered. Both of them had weapons that you’d very much appreciate getting your hands on. Who were these people, though? They were wearing civilian clothes, so discerning their allegiance was impossible. All you knew was that these people with the red and yellow armbands did not like you.

>Follow the rifleman, and dispatch him.
>Stalk the pistolier, and take him out.
>Ambush them right now and shoot them both.
>Best not to risk things alone; you could escape without being detected. Retreat for now.
>Other?

>>2818408
>>Follow the rifleman, and dispatch him.

>>2818408
>>Follow the rifleman, and dispatch him.
If we're confident enough in our stalking skills to be able to knife him then maybe we can grab him and ask him some questions at knifepoint.

You kept behind your tree until the pistolier went off of his own volition; the rifleman sighed heavily, and went off in another. You did your best to keep quiet, and to have something in between you and him for as long as possible, in case he turned around. You’d done plenty of drills for taking out sentries quietly; in the Felbach War you’d stuck a knife in somebody, just like this guy was going to get a knife in him, unless he cooperated. Who the hell knew where any of your allies were, let alone where the intelligence operatives you were supposed to link up with, and you needed to know something. Even if this guy was a complete sack of shit in whatever organization he was a part of, he would at least know more about where you were and who was who than you did.

You pulled your knife quietly out of its sheathe, point out, and practiced the motion you might have to do a few times. Into the side of the throat, then tearing outwards. It was an ugly as hell way to kill somebody but it worked really quick, so long as you didn’t do what you did the first time and make the mistake of having your hand in front.

>Roll up to 3 sets of 1d100, averaged, to successfully stalk your prey. DC is roll under 70 to succeed.

Rolled 90 (1d100)

>>2818552

Rolled 36 (1d100)

>>2818552

>63- Close, huh?

With the season being well into autumn, there was no shortage of twigs, sticks and rustling leaves to avoid, but the night was windy and there were spaces to move within that natural noise. Right as you were almost on top of him, though, you stepped on a stick, which cracked ever so slightly.

“Huh?”

Well, you didn’t have to be perfect. You leapt forward and clasped a hand over the rifleman’s mouth before he could turn around, and held your long knife to his throat.

“Hey baby,” you said quietly, “Pretty night out. Having a walk? Ah ah, don’t try anything,” you poked him in the neck with your steel as he tried to wriggle out of your grip, “Do anything I might not like and I’ll cut your throat, and while you’re drowning in your own blood I’ll peel your balls like grapes. Not going to judge if that’s your thing, but I’m gonna presume you’d rather not have that happen? Don’t drop the gun, don’t say anything, just keep real quiet if you like living.” The man had frozen in terror, and did exactly as you said. “Good man. Now, I’m going to take your rifle, alright? There you go, just let me take it.”

“What do-“ the man tried to whisper but you hissed at him and poked him with your knife again.

“Shut up. Don’t say anything unless I ask you to. Alright?” The man whimpered, but followed your instruction. “Glad that we have an understanding. Now, I’m going to take you over to a nice private place where we can both talk, hopefully without being interrupted. And you’re going to tell me everything I want to know. If I think you’re lying or fucking with me, I’ll gut you on the spot. Got it?” The poor man nodded quickly. “Good.”

>Interrogate your prisoner; anything you want to know, you can ask, but this guy doesn’t seem very high up on the ladder, if he’s on a rung at all.
>Who are you people? Are you enemies of the Grossreich?
>Why were you looking for us? Why did you shoot us down?
>Have you caught anybody else? Anybody like me, or who came down from that plane? Where are you holding them?
>These are sample questions; of course, you can ask whatever, but these are just hints for how to start.

>>2818646
>>Who are you people? Are you enemies of the Grossreich?
>>Why were you looking for us? Why did you shoot us down?
>>Have you caught anybody else? Anybody like me, or who came down from that plane? Where are you holding them?
Also ask him about his commanders and also where is our current location

>>2818646
>>Who are you people? Who are your allies and who are you fighting against?
>Where is your unit based, and how many of you are there?
>What were you told about your mission tonight, and how early did you know about it?
>Do you know if you or anyone else from your unit captured anyone, and if so what were they supposed to do with them?
I'm sort of hoping to avoid directly identifying ourself as from the Grossreich or a downed paratrooper in case that effects his answers. For all he knows we could be anyone and that's probably for the best.

>>2818646
>Who are you people? Are you enemies of the Grossreich?
>Who is the baddest mütterfucker in your group?
>Got any tanks, armored cars, how many antiair units?

After you led the man to a quiet part of the woods, at a pile of rubble that might have been…well, something, at some point, you sat him down and pointed his own rifle at him, lazily. “Alright. Ready to talk? And yes, that means you can actually say something.”

“Y-yes.”

“Fantastic. So first of all, who are you people? Who are you fighting with, and against?”

“Uh.” The man seemed uncertain, “I’m wit…the Revolutionary Army of Greater Vitelia, I think dey’re called?”

Jackpot. The big band of jokers who were planning to overthrow the Halmeggian throne and legitimate government. No question about if they were your enemies or not. “Neat. So that armband, right there?”

“Er, yeah. We wear ‘em, so we’s know whos we all are. Dere’s not really u-ni-forms for everybody, so only de people who came ovah from Vitelia have ‘em.” You gestured to the man to elaborate. “Well, uh, da uniforms…dey’re uh…sort of dull, gray…greenish things? And dey got caps, most of ‘em. And whateva helmets dey can get but painted like da clothes’s color. Dey all have de armbands anyways.”

“Man, you really don’t want me to kill you, huh?” you joked, “Helpful guy. Anyways. Where is your unit based, and how many of you are there?”

“…Unit?”

“You know. Your platoon, company…whatever you call a bunch of yourselves.”

“We’s just de Birlau Volunteeas, we don’t really gots a name for ourselves. Dere’s…I donno, twenty of us from Birlau, de village? But dere’s a lot mora dem Revolutionary Army people, both dere good people and volunteers from other places. I don’t know how many of ‘em, but enough that they’ve sorta…well, made everybody around here fight for ‘em or stay out of da way. Dey give you money if you fight for ‘em, so…”

“Alright. Cough it up then. No, don’t really, I’m fuckin’ with you, I don’t want your money. Next thing. I heard you talking to your buddy that you were looking for people who parachuted in, people who came down from that plane that got shot down. Want to explain why? When did you first get told to keep an eye out?”

“Uh. See, uh.” The captive strained to remember, it seemed, before resuming. “It was a real funny sorta deal. We gots told that a buncha planes would come around, and dat the Revolutionary Army dragged some big ol’ guns to shoot ‘em down with. Dey wanted to send up planes, I heard, but the Royalists blew up all ‘a da planes in some raid they did a bit ago. At da one at Santo Arrofini.”

So they knew you were coming, and for a fair while at that; possibly from the moment you were mobilized, but how in the world would that have happened? You must have frowned at that, as your prisoner suddenly looked fearful. “Right. What sort of gear does your Revolutionary Army of Virgins or whatever have, then? Tanks? Armored Cars? How about those big guns from earlier, how many of those you got?”

“Uh. I-I dunno. Dere’s a few tanks and cars, I guess? Dat’s de sorta stuff the proper guys’d have. Sorry! I’m just some guy, ya know?”

It had been a bit of a stretch. Perhaps somebody higher up would know. On that subject, “So who’s in charge then? Not of your group of twenty or whatever, he’s small time as far as I’m concerned. Who does he answer to?”

“Uh, de Primo Capitano, dey call ‘im. Primo Capitano Lagotto. He’s in charge of de guys on da eastish part of Santo Arrofini grounds.”

Oh boy, a fellow Capitano, but this one was Primo. You were jealous already; the Reich didn’t have an equivalent rank. “So I’m east of Santo Arrofini? About how far?” you asked.

“I dunno, maybe…nine, eight kilometers? It’s ovah de rivah, goin’ west.”

Crap. That was a ways to go through enemy held territory. The drop point was on the other side of this river, to roughly to the north-northeast of the airfield to itself. “Overheard you and the other fella talking about your commander saying that you had to get anybody who’d come down, so say if you did find said somebody, where’d you have taken them? You know if anybody else was found? Any idea why you’re looking for them anyways?”

“Uh, straight ta da Primo Capitano.” You made another helpful gesture with the rifle. “Uh! Uh, yeah, he’s at da…dis mill near da river, about dataways.” He pointed off in the direction, “His fahward command post or somethin’. It’s green and gots guards about it, and an armored car. Close to da bridge. Why we was doin’ it…hell if I know. Cause we was told ta?”

That about covered it, then. Anything else this guy knew probably wasn’t that helpful. “So.” You grinned at your captive, and he didn’t seem to like your expression. “Who’s the baddest motherfucker in your group? Is it Capitano Supremo or whatever?”

“What?”

“Just seeing who my competition is.” You’d gone through most of what you wanted to ask, now it was just time to figure out what to do next. You were alone in enemy territory and your closest allies were either captured or scattered all over the place. It might not have been a great idea to stick around, but could you affect a push towards the landing zones without more firepower than just yourself? You’d have to give some thought to what you planned to do next…

>What will you do next?

Also, for addendums for whatever your plan is,

>Let your captive loose, but not before feeding him some misinformation. (Of what sort, and what is your actual plan?)
>Your prisoner’s got a decent jumper and armband. You’d be borrowing those, that would let you pass through enemy territory undisturbed. Though if he was left alive he might mess up your attempt to infiltrate. (Leave alive or not?)
>The other survivors of the plane going down couldn't be too far, and the people searching weren't being too discrete about it. Maybe you should go hunting for patrols; kill a few insurrectionists, help a few friends?
>Other concerns or supporting plans of action?

>>2819153
>Your prisoner’s got a decent jumper and armband. You’d be borrowing those, that would let you pass through enemy territory undisturbed. Though if he was left alive he might mess up your attempt to infiltrate. (Leave alive or not?)
Murder his ass.

>>2819153
Ask the guy if they have any passwords to recognise other groups besides the armbands; also if there's any other groups besides them looking for us.

>>2819153
>Questions
Who have you been fighting out here? Is it just the Royalists?
Nothing further after that.

>The other survivors of the plane going down couldn't be too far, and the people searching weren't being too discrete about it. Maybe you should go hunting for patrols; kill a few insurrectionists, help a few friends?

We're gonna need help, no matter what we do.

>Kill him
Sorry buddy, rakish rogue has gotta rakish rogue. Maybe if it was just us that came down around here.

Take his armband at least, you never know it's dark and helps to have something for quick identification. I doubt it'd be enough to fool someone but it's more than nothing.

>>2819153
>The other survivors of the plane going down couldn't be too far, and the people searching weren't being too discrete about it. Maybe you should go hunting for patrols; kill a few insurrectionists, help a few friends?
Leave him unconscious

There were a few more queries you thought of. “Who have you been fighting, anyways?” you looked at the rifle, then to your prisoner. “Just the army? Who are fighting for the throne, I guess?”

“Huh? I mean…I guess, maybe. Most a’ dem’ve been people callin’ demselves da Self Defense Leagues. Just normal people I guess, but dey wanna be left alone. Dey know what dey’s doin less than I do, so they’s got to be told roughly what’s best, right? Other ‘an dem, the guys I hear’ve been doin’ all the trouble are guys under de Duke Alfonso Di Vitelstadt. Buncha dem noble guys joined up with ‘em, I gots told.”

“I didn’t hear the army listed as one of the people you’re fighting,” you observed.

“Well, de army and da police guys, ‘ey all sorta…went dey’s own ways. Revolutionary Army has some army and police, so does de Duke, and de SDL, all over ‘a place.”

What an incredible pain in the ass mess that sounded like. How would you be able to tell who the hell was who? Maybe they all also wore armbands or whatever to identify themselves, but somehow that seemed like something that would be too good to be true. “One last thing,” you asked, “You have any passwords? Things you say to recognize your friends and all?”

“Well, we all know each otha, so uh, nah. Boss’d know for bigger stuff.”

Should you believe that? Perhaps not, though given that these were hastily drafted militia from the sound of it a lack of professionalism was to be expected. “Any other groups looking for us, then?”

The prisoner nodded. “Da local guys from de villages like me’s, yeah. Somethin’ about us bein’ too new for da real fights or dat sort.”

Well, whoever was in charge of Revolutionary Army forces wasn’t an incompetent when it came to what troops to allocate to where, you supposed, but it was just their bad luck that the place that wasn’t expected to be a hard battle would be against the hardest men of the Reich.

“…Can I go?” the prisoner asked, “I’ve told ya all I can….”

“Sure, sure,” you said, “Take off that jumper and your armband, though.”

The prisoner complied, but as he was pulling his jumper over his head, you reversed the grip on your rifle, and cracked him across the head with the butt of it. The prisoner went down in a heap, still tangled in his clothes. “Sorry fella,” you said to the unconscious body, as you pulled the jumper the rest of the way off, the armband too. “It’s not like I want things to be this way, but I’ve got a mission, and if I don’t try to pull it out of the toilet a lot of my countrymen’ll get killed. I’ll make it up to you after I have my sins weighed, alright?” With everything off of him that you needed, you pulled your knife out and slid it between the downed man’s ribs, until you pushed through the tough muscle of his heart. If your clubbing didn’t mortally wound him, this would ensure he’d never rise again.

This was something that was best left out of whatever news or histories would come, you thought as you wiped your knife on the ground and took rubble from the pile nearby, giving the man a rough burial.

-----

Your jacket was rolled up and kept under your arm, your cap bound as well in the package. The dark leather jacket by itself wasn’t particularly identifying, but the emblem on the cap and belt certainly were. The belt, though, could be reversed so that the buckle faced inward. Perhaps you could take it off, but that would make keeping your sidearm handy a chore as its holster was attached to that same belt.

With the red and yellow armband of the Revolutionary Army of Greater Vitelia on your arm and the dead man’s jumper warming you, you were suddenly feeling a lot better about your chances, and were making your way about in a rather relaxed manner, searching for your allies disguised as a search party member yourself. If any insurrectionists came too close they’d probably realize something was up, but until then you looked too different from your comrades to spark too much suspicion. Though you hoped your allies were perceptive enough to see through the disguise; they had spent the flight with you for a quick refresher in case they didn’t recognize you well enough already.

Which way were they, you wondered. They had to be close, considering where you all had come from, but you had been knocked a fair distance from the rest of the lot. Once, a staff car passed along the dirt road you were walking along, with a group of fighters in it. You waved; they didn’t give you a second look. It seemed the Revolutionary Army didn’t think much of their peasant conscripts. So much the better for you.

Rolled 2 (1d3)

The search went, and went; wandering for five minutes, you tried to subtly signal to any allies by whistling the anthem of the air force; it wasn’t a widely known tune, but anybody from your unit would have been familiar with it. To anybody else it would most likely just sound like some made up ditty.

Movement in the woods to your right. You turned and looked…

>1 is a Militia patrol. 2 is a Revolutionary Army Soldier patrol. 3 is a Fallschirmjäger.

Oops.

File: lpq_scene2.png (168 KB, 505x600)

168 KB PNG

A group of three men in drab olive uniforms, dull enough to be mistaken for gray at a glance, emerged from the woods, one holding an electric torch. They all looked bored, disinterested. One had a submachinegun, the other two had rifles. The sort of look you recognized as being the put upon expression of getting the shit work.

“Hey, you,” the lead one demanded, “Where the hell are you going? Where’s your group? Didn’t you hear the directive?” The asshole was speaking in Vitelian, and you had to take a moment to process what he said; it’d been a while since you heard it. Your response was delayed enough that the leader gave an annoyed look to one of his partners; one who spoke New Nauk, and without an accent, thankfully. A local, perhaps?

“It’s dangerous to be alone, comrade,” he stepped up closer, “There are soldiers of the Reich prowling these woods. They are greatly skilled in combat, and not to be trifled with. Several of you have been killed wandering around by yourself like you’re doing.”

All of them were relaxed in posture; either your disguise was surprisingly convincing or they didn’t particularly care to meet and greet their less militarized allies. Were you daring enough to try and quick draw on them, like some frontiersman from a cheesy movie? Or maybe you should play along for now? Maybe even get them off your back by blowing them off and letting them leave you to your doom, if they might get in the way.

>Shoot them!
>Try to dump them off, they’ll be a bother if you stick around them.(How?)
>See if you can worm your way into their group, maybe you’ll learn more? And they won’t expect a bullet in the back if they find a friend.
>Other?

>>2819924
>>Try to dump them off, they’ll be a bother if you stick around them.(How?)
>"K-killed? They didn't tell us anything about Reich soldiers...my buddy and I thought we would cover more ground if we split up...oh shit, I gotta go find him!"

>>2819985
Supporting

>>2819985
supportin

>>2819985
Supporting

These people would be nothing but trouble if they hung around you too long. The way you were doing things, you’d ideally be alone until you found at least one other person from the plane. So you had to break from these people somehow; needless recklessness should do it.

“K-killed?” you adopted a fragile tone, “They didn’t tell us anything about Reich soldiers…my buddy and I thought we would cover more ground if we split up…oh, shit, I gotta go find him!” You dashed off down the road; there was another small wood up ahead that you could dive into up there, where you could likely slip away.

“Hey! Get back!” the leader called in Vitelian, “God damnit, don’t just stand there, go after him! We’ll be fine.”

You peered back over your shoulder and the rifleman who had spoken to you in proper Imperial tongue had started taking off after you. Well, you thought, if they wanted a chase they could have it. After all, you doubted their physical regimen was as grueling as that required to be in the Fallschirmjäger, and by extent the Luftpanzer. You led him on, on, down the road further than you expected to go and into another set of woods.

“Would you stop for a moment!?” the tiring Revolutionary called out from behind.

The pace was slowed, but only a bit. Time had come for you to begin looking for your “lost buddy.” Should you call out? With what name? Well, not like any of your names would be known anyways.

“Douran!” you called out, “Where are you!?”

“Hh…hh…” you heard the panting Revolutionary Army soldier trotting up from behind, and you turned around to look…and saw a familiar sight, hiding behind a tree, pistol pointed straight at your heart. His eyes narrowed in focus, then widened as he recognized your face. Roth-Vogel? He mouthed, but his eyes flicked to the side as your pursuer stepped forward. “Are you done…yet...you…” The rebel had kept his head on a swivel, and he had spied the Fallschirmjäger squatting by the tree.

There was a moment of stillness, before in a blur, the Fallschirmjäger changed targets, and while the rebel was fumbling for his rifle, the paratrooper shot the man four times in the torso. The enemy staggered backwards as he was shot continuously, until he fell backwards and splayed out, a wheeze escaping his mouth as he tumbled over.

“Captain!” the paratrooper hissed, “What the hell is with that getup? I almost shot you!”

“And I’m very glad you didn’t,” you nodded towards him, “It would have been embarrassing. Though you know you just told everybody around that we’re here and looking for trouble, you know?” The paratrooper rolled his eyes at you. “So is it just you?” you asked.

“No. Halzi! Come out, it’s the Captain.”

Another paratrooper, with a thinner face, rose from further ahead. His leg had been fitted with a crude splint, and he limped over to you and saluted. “Corporal Halzi, Captain. Good to see you again.” It was the same trooper who you’d spoken with briefly on the plane. “I got caught in a tree,” Halzi explained, looking down at his lower right leg, “Had to cut myself free and I landed badly. I think it’s sprained, not broken, but…I’m rather slow at the moment.” He stumbled over and picked the rifle, as well as spare ammunition clips, from the felled enemy. “I don’t suppose you have any idea what’s going on, do you, Captain?”

“I have some clues,” you said, “I don’t like where they’re leading. So far though, the important parts are that the guys with these armbands,” you pointed to your own stolen one, “Are the biggest boil on our asses at the moment. They’re the guys who shot our plane down, and are sweeping about trying to clean up what’s left. They’re the fabled Revolutionary Army of Greater Vitelia, whatever the hell Greater Vitelia is.”

“It’s a concept that Vitelian whackos like to parade about,” the paratrooper who hadn’t yet introduced himself said, “Something about reclaiming land that belongs to Vitelian peoples. They must have decided Halmeggians are Vitelian people, somehow.”

“Some have funny enough accents to fool me,” you mused, “So I drifted off, but how did all of the rest of you get apart? I thought you looked like you came down close enough together.”

“We were looking to,” Halzi said, “But there was a group waiting for us right as we touched the ground, a big one. We had to scatter right away. Alter and I thought we’d gotten away clean though, when you suddenly charged in with that guy on your tail.”

“I see. Anyways, my plan. What I think we should do is-“

“That guy. Dolcherr, I think his name was?” the one called Alter spoke up, “He got hurt pretty bad by a piece of something when the plane blew up. Saw him land pretty bloody, I don’t think he could flee like the others. I’d guess he got caught.”

Dolcherr? Wounded? Captured? It seemed somehow impossible, but if what Alter said was true…could you afford to be distracted by that, though? Yet Dolcherr was your friend, a group of people that was now steadily dwindling…you shook your head. “Right. Thank you for informing me. But for now, my plan is…”

>…Get the hell out of here. We’re a good eight or so klicks from the drop point, and we need to get over there as soon as possible. We’re no good isolated over here.
>…Raise as much hell as we can. We’ll get all our guys together and try and draw what attention we can. These people knew we were coming, and the more people we can divert from screwing with the main landing, the better. Our people will come get us with time.
>…Try to be sneaky and clever. I’ve got a disguise, the two of you look the part, I can “take you prisoner.” That’ll let us get close to the big cheese, and we can really mess with these screwballs’ heads if we bite off the head of the snake.
>Other?

>>2820295
>>…Try to be sneaky and clever. I’ve got a disguise, the two of you look the part, I can “take you prisoner.” That’ll let us get close to the big cheese, and we can really mess with these screwballs’ heads if we bite off the head of the snake.

>>2816439
>You had been a glider pilot. Not having qualified for fighter planes, you hadn’t been considered a real pilot. Not that that kept you from sometimes calling your company a squadron.>>2820295

>>2820322
Wrong vote?

>>2820295
>…Try to be sneaky and clever. I’ve got a disguise, the two of you look the part, I can “take you prisoner.” That’ll let us get close to the big cheese, and we can really mess with these screwballs’ heads if we bite off the head of the snake.

>>2820481
Yes I'm a lazy autist who copy pasted the wrong option by accident.

>>2820295
Sneaky

>>2820295
>…Try to be sneaky and clever. I’ve got a disguise, the two of you look the part, I can “take you prisoner.” That’ll let us get close to the big cheese, and we can really mess with these screwballs’ heads if we bite off the head of the snake.

Will also likely lead to where our comrades are being held.

>Other?
Can the wounded Halzi walk? A large part of this depends on him being mobile.

>>2820654
>Can the wounded Halzi walk? A large part of this depends on him being mobile.

He can walk. He can't run, quickly, at least.

>>2820290
>>…Try to be sneaky and clever. I’ve got a disguise, the two of you look the part, I can “take you prisoner.” That’ll let us get close to the big cheese, and we can really mess with these screwballs’ heads if we bite off the head of the snake

Rolled 3 (1d3)

“…try to be sneaky and clever,” you declared, “I’ve got a disguise, the two of you look the part, I can “take you prisoner,” as it were. These people are taking you lot to their commander at a mill near the river where he’s set up a headquarters, so this plan’ll let us get close to the big cheese. We can really mess with these screwballs’ heads if we bite off the head of the snake.”

It was a daring idea to say the least, but to make up for such an incredible fumble at the very start, this operation needed at least an equally incredible fortune; best to help turn one into the other. Smiling as you proposed that plan, and striking a thumbs up, helped you think it was less absurd than it was. Your two co-conspirators looked…skeptical.

“Screw it,” Alter sighed, “Everything’s already gone tits up as is, how much worse could it possibly get? Let’s try this.”

Halzi didn’t share that resigned faith. “What if it goes wrong and we have to run?”

“I’ll carry you,” you offered, “It’ll be a piece of cake. You’re Fallschirmjäger, aren’t you? We aren’t trapped in the midst of the enemy, the enemy is trapped with us. If the rest of the landing went only a quarter as bad as ours did, then our guys need a lot of help. Nothing like throttling the command of a whole company or whatever sized element this local commander has under him. Whatever a Primo Capitano is supposed to have command over. Just make sure you keep in a submissive posture, and…oh, throw your pistols in this,” you laid out your rolled up leather jacket, and the increasingly beaten cap within, “When the shit hits the fan we’ll be shooting as quick as we can.”

-----

You marched your “prisoners” back down the path, seeing every so often if a fork would take you west, towards the river and the mill. It didn’t seem right to head straight west through the woods; even if you ran into some “friendly” Revolutionaries, you had plans for getting rid of them at the last moment, if you didn’t feel like just getting rid of them while it was convenient.

>Encounter: 1 is Militia, 2 is RAGV, and 3 is more Paratroopers

As you went along, still smiling to yourself (it was a real enough smirk, though it would be convincing for your disguise, too), you heard a whispered Psst! and you looked to your side. From behind a tree, you spied yet another paratrooper.

“Captain Roth-Vogel?” he hissed, “What in the world is with that getup?”

“It’s local fashion this season. Care to join us on this lovely evening stroll?”

“You look like you’re taking Alter and Halzi prisoner. A trick?”

“A devious one if I do say so myself. Care to join the prisoner party? I’m afraid I don’t have any more costumes like mine, unless you want to seek some out.”

The paratrooper thought about it, but shrugged and mockingly raised his hands and walked out in front of you. “Oh, right,” he divested himself of his sidearm, “Would be odd for a prisoner to be armed, wouldn’t it.”

“Depends. These people seem to be of variable competency.” You took a bit of time to explain your plan, before ending with a question. “You, did you happen to see Staff Sergeant Dolcherr? We were separated in the whole shebang.”

“Afraid not, sir.” The paratrooper said, “Haven’t seen that guy since we were on the plane. I sort of fell out of the back when the…back fell off.”

You wandered about, near lost at times, and ever so slightly moving around areas where the searching beams of torches looked for you and your allies, until you found the path’s route by river and, looking up and down it, rather easily found the mill where you’d find Capitano Primo Supremo, Lagotto, your unwitting quarry.

A decent guard manned hastily constructed fortifications around the command post, with sandbags piled up in embankments facing out all ways. As you approached with an air of triumph, walking slightly off to the side so that it would be seen that your prisoners were being escorted, one of the sentries called for you to halt; you did, of course, obedient militiamen that you played as. You’d never been too fond of theater, but you were starting to see the appeal of it. You took a closer look at the place while you waited, sticking up your allies all the while. Near the mill itself was a tank; quite an old one. You’d guess it was a sort from either the time of or just after the Emrean Revolution; it was small and clunky, with a large tail structure and a little turret with but a machine gun in it; likely a Vitelian copy of a famous Emrean model, that somehow survived this long and made the journey all the way here. Whether the Revolutionary Army had brought it over or if it was originally part of the varied Halmeggian arsenal, you had no clue. The crew loitered outside of it, apparently not concerned about any sudden attack; the machine gunners manning two positions looked about the same in demeanor. Only the sentries seemed to be alert and ready for anything. The Vitelians had little respect for you yet, and that would have to change.

“Hey, you,” one of the sentries pointed at your person. You pointed to yourself innocently. “Yeah, no shit, you. Who are you with?”

Oh, God damn it. “Ahh….Bre, Birlau. That bunch.” You felt your collar sweating as the sentry seemed to think, and consider.

Finally, relief. “Alright. We’ll send a healthy reward to your group, and a commendation to Tachendich. Go ahead and hand those people over, we’ll take ‘em to Lagotto.”

Uh oh.

>Actually, I want to come with. That won’t be a problem, right? (You might want to include a few more convincing appeals)
>Trust the paratroopers to do the job on their own. They can do it, can’t they? The interior HQ couldn’t be too heavily manned.
>It was fun while it lasted. Shoot him and book it.
>Other?

>>2821667
>>Actually, I want to come with. That won’t be a problem, right? My boss got a message for Lagotto, told me to deliver it personally.

>>2821667
>I'm not letting these guys off that easy. One of these bastards killed my buddy before I could capture them. I should at least get to turn them over to Lagotto myself. Maybe he'll let me "interrogate" them a little.

I spend 2 months consuming 45 threads-worth of nothing but Panzer Commander in my spare time and when I'm finally finished, what do I see? A goddamn Screamer sidestory

>>2820295
Also voting for sneeki breeki

>>2821751
Refresh the thread you've had open for 2 days while you're at it holy shit

>>2821710
Seconding

>>2821710
Supporting

>>2821710
I like this

>Other?
Are the paratroopers secretly armed?

>>2821751
>Screamer
?

>>2821710
>>2821861
+1

>>2821892
British Army slang for a Paratrooper

>>2821861
Sort of. Their knives are concealed, and the jacket bundle you're "forcing" them to carry has all their sidearms rolled in it.

Anyways I'm writing now. Pretty late I know.

False anger flashed on your face, and you bit your lip. “Hold on a minute, I’m not letting these guys off that easy. One of these bastards killed my buddy before I could capture them. I should at least get to turn them over to the Primo Capitano myself, maybe he’ll let me have a bit of revenge for my trouble.”

“I don’t give a shit.” The sentry said firmly. A real hardass, and a pain in the neck right now. “Who the hell even are you, demanding that shit? Get the hell out of here before I bring this up with Tachendich later. You should know the deal, we pay you, you don’t give lip. You’d be screwed without us around.”

“Tenente,” another man came up from behind, another in the olive uniform with the red and yellow band on their arm.

“What? This guy isn’t special. Cocky piece of shit.” The Lieutenant asked irritably. They had switched over to Vitelian, either ignorant or uncaring of you hearing them.

“Just let him through. Who cares if he wants to come through? People like you treating the Halmeggians like shit’s just gonna make them go over to the goddamn Duke, you idiot.”

“I don’t like this shithead. Henrik’s attack dogs scrounging through the woods, taking bites out of us and fading into the night like phantoms, and some idiot bumpkin shows up with three of them in tow? Something’s wrong here. I’ve the mind to have this guy detained.”

“Don’t be a fucking retard. Are you going to look this gift horse in the mouth? We’ve only got one of them and they were wounded. A pilot or something, he won’t talk. What the hell is the grand plot going to be, the three of them, unarmed, take out this whole post? You’re full of shit. I’m taking them along and if you’ve got a problem you can go eat shit.”

“When we get fucked, I’ll be sure to make you pay.”

“What the fuck ever. Go jump in the river. Hey, you.” The Revolutionary more sympathetic to your false plight beckoned you over, “Come on. I’ll take you to the Capitano.”

That was close, and you kept an eye on the Lieutenant as he stared at you, on your way towards the mill. You’d kept your poker face the whole time while they yammered on in their western tongue, but damn. Maybe you should have worked a bit harder for disguises; it was pretty suspicious that you all by your lonesome captured three paratroopers. You’d have to work on that story in case anybody decided they were curious about that. Maybe you could say you were just delivering them for the rest? Ah, you’d cross that bridge when you came to it.

The threshold was crossed into the Mill, and you saw the Primo Capitano sitting at a table and a wooden stool, the front of the mill being some improvised office. Four people, either staff or guards, all armed like they were the latter but working like they were the former anyways, were scattered about the tight interior. The commanding officer’s uniform wasn’t much different from that of the other soldiers of the Revolutionary Army of Greater Vitelia; his was less ragged, some braiding was on his cap, but otherwise his wear was as cheap as any of the others’. In a rapid exchange of Vitelian that you had difficulty keeping up with, the man who escorted you told the First Captain what had happened, who you were, and that you had wanted to bring them here, and maybe something else. The Captain nodded, gave a curt reply, and saluted with a stiff arm, first outstretched, then bending it towards his head. The aide gave a similar salute, and left the lot of you there.

“So,” Primo Capitano Lagotto leaned forward to peer at you closer in the dim oil lamplight. He was a bony faced man, probably about as old as you were. Apparently the Revolutionary Army put one on a career fast track like you had. “Very good. We haven’t been getting anything out of the one prisoner we had. Nothing we wanted, anyways. You wanted something as well, yes? Who are you?”

“I’m Reinhardt, with the Birlau volunteers.” You’d echoed that enough in your head now.

“Alright, Reinhardt. I’m quite happy to see you, you know. This night hadn’t been going very well for me, until you appeared. Thankfully, it’s going even worse for that idiot Mariano across the river, so the sooner I can have this small problem resolved, the sooner I can put another feather in my cap in helping him out…oh, don’t mind me. Simply rambling. You wanted something?”

>Yeah. I want you…to die! [Start fighting and wing it, this’ll be enough of a surprise you might even make a clean escape?]
>I’d like you to let me, er, “Interrogate” one of the prisoners. This one I have carrying that bundle right there. Some privacy would be nice, of course. [Delay the attack; two can become three, then four, and you’ll gradually take over the mill.]
>I wanted to talk, really. Maybe discuss a few things, maybe some sort of promotion from being a volunteer. I really like the, uh, look of your people and all that. [An alternate plan; the paratroopers, once stored away in whatever improvised prison they get shoved into, free themselves and quietly break out. The silent option, where you keep the main room distracted.]
>Other?

>>2821958
>>I’d like you to let me, er, “Interrogate” one of the prisoners. This one I have carrying that bundle right there. Some privacy would be nice, of course. [Delay the attack; two can become three, then four, and you’ll gradually take over the mill.]

>>2821958
>>I’d like you to let me, er, “Interrogate” one of the prisoners. This one I have carrying that bundle right there. Some privacy would be nice, of course. [Delay the attack; two can become three, then four, and you’ll gradually take over the mill.]

>>2821958
>I’d like you to let me, er, “Interrogate” one of the prisoners. This one I have carrying that bundle right there. Some privacy would be nice, of course. [Delay the attack; two can become three, then four, and you’ll gradually take over the mill.]

>>2821958
>I’d like you to let me, er, “Interrogate” one of the prisoners. This one I have carrying that bundle right there. Some privacy would be nice, of course. [Delay the attack; two can become three, then four, and you’ll gradually take over the mill.]

“I’d like you to let me, er, interrogate one of the prisoners. This one I have carrying that bundle, right there, in particular. Some privacy would be nice, of course.”

Lagotto, despite claiming his gladness, seemed more bored than anything. He waved a hand. “There are spaces we have prepared that one of my men will lead you to. Your request for privacy, however, whatever that implies, is something I cannot grant though. Less that I mind what you practice, and more that each of these men has proven to be extremely dangerous. You will not be allowed to remain in a room with one without backup.”

You could have pointed out that you came here with all three, but as the first Kaiser Alexander once said; if the enemy is making a mistake…

Apparently while these people didn’t doubt your combat capability, they were complacent when it came to your tactical sense. Perhaps they thought your main objective, given how mismatched your numbers and arms were, would be to escape, not to dive straight into the belly of the beast. Nice of them to consider that you might do the more intelligent, cautious option. Yet you still had booze in your blood and fire in your heart, and sometimes their input helped more than hurt that lump between your ears when it came to taking the enemy off guard. Where these guys were complacent, you and your men would be driven.

Yet you had to acquiesce to the Capitano’s demand. “Alright,” you feigned disappointment, “Just one though, right?”

“Right. Armed.” Lagotto gestured to one of the men leaning against the back wall, who had appeared from somewhere while you weren’t watching; apparently there were more men here than you thought. Lagotto gave a short order in Vitelian, and his man nodded, and beckoned for you to come along after he bound all of the “prisoners” with twine. He carried a Vitelian make of submachinegun lazily in his hands, a magazine’s presence suspiciously lacking from underneath it. That would likely be amended soon if he had any brains whatsoever.

Though maybe you could delay that a bit. “Hey,” you asked as you were both going along towards the back rooms of the mill, your “prisoner” obediently following in front, “That’s a neat gun. Mind if I have a look at it?”

The revolutionary thought about it, perhaps more than he needed to, before handing it over. You looked it up and down, before handing it back as soon as the man became uncomfortable about being disarmed. “Cool. So how high up do you have to be before they give you one? I’m well,” you lifted the rifle you’d stolen, “You know. It’s alright, but it’s just not me.”

“Is…not you?” This man apparently had trouble with Imperial. “…Yes..?”

Should you betray that you knew Vitelian well enough to communicate? No, it didn’t seem necessary. “When do I get one of those?” you tried again, pointing to the submachinegun.

“You don’t?” the Vitelian oaf was still confused. “You, in!” he barked at Halzi, the paratrooper you had selected. He went in after, then you. A wooden chair sat among others, and the trooper decided now was the time to load his gun; perhaps to make more threats with.

He was being quick about it; you could interrupt him, but the door was still open. If you didn’t take him down quick enough, he could raise an alarm, and things would be really screwed. If you shut the door then attacked him, there’d be less chance of the game being revealed, but he’d also probably have the gun ready to potentially fight you with. The last option you thought of, was of simply playing along with Halzi until your minder was distracted, or you could think of some other way of dispatching him. The time to decide though, was now.

>Take the man out immediately, before his gun was loaded. Quick and brutal, you had to strike while the iron was hot.
>Shut the door then attack; you were in close quarters, you could make your way around his gun.
>Keep up appearances for now; an opportunity would appear. [Elaborate on what your plan to take care of the guard will be.]
>Other?

>>2823092
>Shut the door then attack; you were in close quarters, you could make your way around his gun.
Do we need to roll ?

>>2823172
If you start a fight, I'll call for a roll then.

>>2823092
>Other?
Try to get the guard to lower his gun and cooperate in a water boarding torture, that actually turns into a stabbing accident before actual torture happens.

>>2823092
>>Shut the door then attack; you were in close quarters, you could make your way around his gun.

>>2823092

>Keep up appearances for now; an opportunity would appear.

Start asking questions, with the intent of feeding misinformation, they try to knock the guard out without him suspecting. Hopefully that leads to even more chaos later down the line.

>>2823092
>>Shut the door then attack; you were in close quarters, you could make your way around his gun.
He shouldn't find shutting the door to be too suspicious so we should be able to get the jump on him and stick a knife in his throat before he can do anything with his gun. We have to kill the people in this outpost as quietly as we can because as soon as they hear gunfire the sentries outside are going to besiege us. Ideally we should kill everyone quietly then sneak out.

>>2823092
>>Shut the door then attack; you were in close quarters, you could make your way around his gun

With a glance to the enemy, and a glance to the hall, you reached out a hand and closed the door behind you with a slight thack. Clack-Chack. You assumed a pouncing stance just as your new enemy charged the bolt of his submachinegun. In one swift motion, you yanked the fighting knife from your trousers and leapt at the Revolutionary Soldier, whose eyes widened as you flew at him. Time seemed to slow as you saw him bring his gun around. Probably too late; hopefully too late. His mouth was open, ready to call out. It was down to your skill and plenty of luck for this to go perfectly…

>Roll up to 3 sets of 1d100, averaged. DC is roll under 40 or perfect success, 60 for partial.

I thought I'd have more to write but I didn't. Real stacked update here.

Rolled 60 (1d100)

>>2824496
So a 1 would be perfect here ?

Rolled 6 (1d100)

>>2824496

>>2824509
Low roll, yes, for roll under.

Thank you RNG Gods

File: CQC.png (2.57 MB, 1582x1496)

2.57 MB PNG

>>2824496
Remember the basics of CQC BOSS!

One hand splayed out towards the gun and the other thrusting your knife home, you buried your knife into the center of the young soldier’s throat. The other hand caught the bolt handle of the submachinegun and thrust it backwards; the momentum carried the both of you to the wall, where you both lingered for a moment, still, as the only sounds was the ever so slight clack of the unfired shot bouncing off the ground, and your enemy’s thin, wheezing gasps as they struggled to suck in air. He reached a shaking hand to his neck, pleaded with his eyes, until you showed the best mercy you could and slashed out the side of his throat. Blood sprayed onto the front of your clothes, and you took the submachinegun from his grip as he sank onto the floor.

“Judge above, Captain,” the paratrooper gaped at you, “What on earth was that? How did you do that, I thought he would fire off a shot for sure…”
You smiled at him, an unnerving feeling to do that after killing a man. “I’m just that good.” You weren’t that good; it had been a complete fluke. You’d grabbed for the gun and somehow the Judge smiled upon you and you’d grabbed the one part of the gun that would render it useless. When fortune regarded you, though, you found that it unhealthy to acknowledge her presence. You cleaned your knife on the dying man’s clothes, closing his eyes with your free hand, before going and freeing your partner in crime.

“We’ll have to wait,” Halzi advised as he loosed his hands from the cut twine, taking the proffered submachinegun, though he also retrieved his sidearm from your jacket-stash and shoved it back home in the formerly empty holster. “There were similar looking rooms to this, but we were first here. The other guys won’t be in the right position yet.”

That much was true. Yet your patience was thin with your blood up like this. You busied yourself instead by dragging the body away from the door; if the pooling blood leaked under the door, somebody would come busting through shortly no doubt. Halzi in the meantime kept his ear to the door. He confirmed one door opening and shutting, then another. Then another. A third one?

“Another prisoner, perhaps,” Halzi guessed. “Did they say anything about already having one or did they bring somebody new in after us?”

“They said they had captured a pilot,” you told Halzi.

“Huh. Well, not to concern you, Captain, but, you Luftpanzer people with those jackets look a hell of a lot like pilots, outside of the planes.”

That was only natural; Luftpanzer crew’s leather jackets were identical to pilot’s jackets, due to being such without normal identifying markers. There was only one other Luftpanzer crew on that plane, though, and it was Dolcherr.

“So how do we do this?” Halzi asked, “We each take a room, or we both go in for each one? Loud or quiet?”

>We’ll both go into each one. If they’re treating the others like they did for you, there’ll be two on each, and I prefer the odds to be in our favor.
>One of us for each other room. I think we can count a paratrooper and another paratrooper with his hands tied behind his back a match for two of these wannabe soldiers. Knives, still. Be quick and cool.
>We’re going loud. One mistake and we’re finished, just bust in and blow the guards away, then we rush the command room. Our guys can free themselves and come up after.
>Other?

>>2824601
>>We’ll both go into each one. If they’re treating the others like they did for you, there’ll be two on each, and I prefer the odds to be in our favor.

>>2824601
>We’ll both go into each one. If they’re treating the others like they did for you, there’ll be two on each, and I prefer the odds to be in our favor.
>Quiet? We'll see...

>>2824601
>>We’ll both go into each one. If they’re treating the others like they did for you, there’ll be two on each, and I prefer the odds to be in our favor.

“We’ll both take each one,” you said, “if they’re treating the others the same way they treated you, they’ve got two in each room. I’d prefer the odds be in our favor.”

“Two on two?” Halzi asked, turning an eyebrow.

“No, three on two, except one has his hands tied behind his back. And that one with their hands tied could take the other two any day.”
Halzi’s mouth formed a thin line. “If you say so.”

“We’ll start with knives,” you said, “but if you think you’re gonna die then use your gun. I want us all to make it out alive, even the guys walking with a limp.” Halzi didn’t think your jab was very funny. “Keep that subgun on your back, too.”

Halzi nodded. You went out first, peeking about for any wandering enemies, before gesturing for Halzi to follow you out. You pointed to the door you were about to breach, counted to three on your fingers, and then pushed through, quietly and with deadly purpose.

>Roll 3 sets of 1d100. The first, for the door being opened without alerting the guards too much, is a DC 40 roll under, 60 for partial. The other two DCs are roll under 60 for partial, 40 for perfect as before, but if the first DC check is perfect, then the other rolls are autoperfected. If it’s partial, then the other rolls get a -10 bonus. No averages this time because…well, because.

Sorry that this short one took a while to post, I got sidetracked pretty bad.

Rolled 39 (1d100)

>>2824779

Rolled 9 (1d100)

>>2824779

>39- Autoperfect

The door was well oiled, surprisingly light; it must have not been an original piece, because it fluttered open with barely a creak; the most perceptible thing might have been the movement in the air, but neither of the guards noticed it as they spoke lowly in Vitelian; something about how long they would have to watch the prisoner before somebody came. Their watch was about to end, as you very slightly delayed your movement to account for Halzi’s new gait; the paratrooper facing your side of the room wisely kept his eyes down. Your enemies not even aware of your advance, with a single, efficient stab, you opened one man’s neck with a reverse grip stab. The blood was such that he must have lost consciousness in but a moment. It was so quick that the other man barely noticed before a hand came over his mouth, and his life was ended as well. You looked at your hand and noticed that it was drenched with blood; you must have looked like a monster, though Halzi had come out cleaner.

“I wasn’t expecting things to go this well so far,” the paratrooper, who turned out to be Alter, muttered as he freed himself and picked a submachinegun off of the ground and checked to see if it was loaded and charged, grimacing at the fact that it was wet with spilt blood that he touched by accident. You helped yourself to one as well; you were now all perfectly armed for a close quarters brawl, if it came to that.

Three killed; There were at least five total in the mill, and you doubted that Lagotto would leave himself alone. So if there were two in the other room, you had no doubt that there was at least another two with Lagotto, if not all four from before who had never left their previous posts. Still plenty outnumbered, still plenty of space for things to go wrong.

Which things immediately did.

“First Captain Lagotto!” you heard the rude Lieutenant from earlier shouting outside the door, and with a crash coming from a pair of halls away, you heard him storm in. “Where on earth is that Halmeggian? He should be detained as soon as possible, I just know it. My gut’s never lied to me before, and that guy reeks of shit. There’s too much that’s suspicious.

“Calm down, Lieutenant. I allowed him to have some time with a prisoner, with one of the guards as well. All of the other prisoners are isolated, and with two guards each. Except for the pilot, who’s half dead. He only has one. There’s little to be concerned about."

The Lieutenant gave a dismissive vocalization. “Bah! I’m going back there to check myself. Nobody ever listens to me when they should. Come on, Brando. Have that gun ready.”

They started tromping down the hallway.

“Couple of guys are coming,” you relayed to the two Fallschirmjäger with you.

“What’s the plan?” Alter hissed, shouldering his weapon.

>We all take the last room, with knives. Then we wait in the first room for them to check in, and we stick them with knives. See how long we can keep this silent jig up.
>Screw it. It’s time for things to get loud now. Shoot up the last guards around the last guy, get him free, and get ready for a bloodbath.
>I’ll take the last room with Alter. Halzi, you stay out here and as soon as they come around the corner, light them up.
>Other?

>>2824828
>>We all take the last room, with knives. Then we wait in the first room for them to check in, and we stick them with knives. See how long we can keep this silent jig up.
If we can take out some of the outside sentries in here while staying quiet then all the better. Just makes things easier when we eventually have to leave.

>>2824828
>We all take the last room, with knives. Then we wait in the first room for them to check in, and we stick them with knives. See how long we can keep this silent jig up.
Why stop while were ahead? We clearly seem to be OUTCLASSING these guys for now and were making "good" time.
>>2824831
Yes

>>2824828
>>We all take the last room, with knives. Then we wait in the first room for them to check in, and we stick them with knives. See how long we can keep this silent jig up.

>>2824831
Actually, an addendum: instead of all three of us trying to cram into the last room together, Halzi should stay in this second room and if anything goes wrong, either in the last room or in the first room when we ambush the two guys coming, he should be ready to jump out and gun them down. That way we're never all trapped in one room.

“We take the last room, knives,” you said quickly, quietly, “Then hide in the first. They come in, we stick them. Quickly now. Halzi, you stay in second room, be ready for trouble, soon or sooner.”

Off quickly you went, save for Halzi, who went off to hide in the second room as you said. He wouldn’t be as quick as you and Alter anyways. Hopefully, the Lieutenant’s shouting hadn’t made this last set of prey wary of any guests.

You and Alter got to the door, each with knives in hand, and pushed through the door. If this could go just like the first time, then things would be perfect, but if things went wrong…it was time to think of a get out plan real quick.

>Roll 3 sets of 1d100. The first, for the door being opened without alerting the guards too much, is a DC 35 roll under, 60 for partial. The other two DCs are roll under 60 for partial, 35 for perfect (slight awareness bonus thanks to LT), but if the first DC check is perfect, then the other rolls are autoperfected. If it’s partial, then the other rolls get a -10 bonus.

Rolled 14 (1d100)

>>2824857

Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>2824857
>>2824860
>WELP, I think they are still outclassed O_O
>Still going to roll if its needed

>14-Autoperfect. Again.
>…Stop that.

Once more, your entry was unnoticed; though this time, even though the door was heavier and your entry actually less silent, the paratrooper being held prisoner noticed the door creaking, and launched into a prepared coughing fit. The last words of the man you took down were “Would you shut the hell up?”

Your right upper side was now thoroughly coated in gore; the last time things had been like this…it hadn’t been because things were going well. But now was no time to reminisce. The last paratrooper was freed with a swipe of a knife, and before he could arm himself he was pushed back along.

“No time!” Alter hissed, and you all scurried out, around, and back into the first room, to lay in wait. You were striding in just as you saw the shadow of the Lieutenant loom from around the corner.

The room with you three paratroopers inside was so quiet you could practically hear each other’s pounding hearts.

Toomp Toomp Toomp.

The heavy steps of the Lieutenant came down the hall, and when you expected him to barge through the door…instead, he shouted at it. In Vitelian. “Lackwit! Open up if you’re in there, and keep an eye on that shithead you’re babysitting!”

…Aw, crap.

“Say something this instant!”

>Knock on the other wall and signal to Halzi to shoot these people down; after that, it was go time.
>Do your best to snap out and stab the Lieutenant and his escort; your wins weren’t because of Lady Luck, you were just that good.
>Sit, and wait. He’ll come in and investigate.
>Other?

>>2824870
>Dyour best to snap out and stab the Lieutenant and his escort; your wins weren’t because of Lady Luck, you were just that good.
WE ARE THE HUNTER, NOT THE HUNTED. THEY ARE PREY TO US NOT THE OPPOSITE.

>>2824870
>Do your best to snap out and stab the Lieutenant and his escort; your wins weren’t because of Lady Luck, you were just that good.

>>2824870
>>Knock on the other wall and signal to Halzi
>Do your best to snap out and stab the Lieutenant and his escort; your wins weren’t because of Lady Luck, you were just that good.

>>2824870
>>Knock on the other wall and signal to Halzi to shoot these people down; after that, it was go time.

I guess we can't keep the act up anymore since we're covered in blood.

>>2824876
Are you voting for both? Or is it to break possible tie?

>>2824892
In case we fuck up we need Halzi to gun them down.

>>2824895
I see, signal Halzi to get ready while we try to kill them. Not bad, I must be thinking too high of the past achievements. Adrenaline or some crud,

Creeping over to the other wall, you knocked upon it, doing your best to signal to Halzi that it was time for him to make an appearance. Then, you pointed to the door, which would be pulled open from this time, and signaled to Alter to yank it open on your signal.

A tense moment. “That’s it, I know something’s-”

Halzi’s door crashed open, purposefully. “Hey!” He shouted.

Immediately you signaled, and Alter ripped open the door; you were already jumping out of it, towards the Lieutenant and his escort, who had been surprised by Halzi and had snapped their attention to him. Their weapons were lifted, but in the wrong direction.

Your arm extended out, stiff and straight, a lance with the fighting knife as its point, towards the Lieutenant’s chest. His eyes had snapped back towards you, and he was starting to move backwards, throwing off your aim for his heart. This guy was a quick, one, was he?

>Roll up to 3 sets of 1d100. Roll under 50 for partial success, roll under 20 for perfect.

>>2824899
Rolls averaged, I forgot to add.

Rolled 100 (1d100)

>>2824899
>For the Kaiser?

Rolled 65 (1d100)

>>2824899

>>2824906
FUCK FUCK FUCK

Well time to go loud after this.

Rolled 56 (1d100)

>>2824899

We legit cant make the roll anymore i am sorry everyone...

>Roll-74 Average – Failure

The Lieutenant’s lean turned into a leap, and you barely nicked his blouse.

“Cornuto! I knew it!”

As you had missed, you’d gone off balance, dangerously vulnerable in front of the other gunman, who had looked over in alarm at you, but had put his attention back on Halzi. He raised his gun, and-

KRAHKRAKRAKRAKRAH

Halzi loosed a burst from his submachinegun at point blank range, and blew away the Revolutionary who had been getting ready to shoot him. The revolutionary, in his death throes, pulled down his own trigger, and rounds skipped all about, sending you all recoiling. The Lieutenant stumbled, then sprinted, down the hall, shouting all the way.

“Alert! Enemy! Enemies inside!

Halzi tried to spray another burst down the hall, but the Lieutenant ducked around the corner and the bullets meant for him splattered into the wall.

“Fuck!” Halzi swore as he stumbled forward, hopping in an odd gait because of his sprained ankle.

“Come on!” You shouted, picking up the downed gunner’s weapon and passing it to your third trooper, who took it up eagerly, stripping the ammunition carrier off the enemy as well. “We need to move!”

>Give chase, and assault the main room before the enemy was ready. Speed was paramount, and the most valuable objective was still vulnerable!
>Retreat and try to find another exit. Escape was the primary objective now, and the main entrance was sure to be crowded soon.
>Run up to the second floor; the main threat was from the outside, and if you managed to make them the first casualties in the fight with some surprise shots, maybe you could stand a chance of taking out this place and being able to make a break for it.
>Other?

>>2824929
>Give chase, and assault the main room before the enemy was ready. Speed was paramount, and the most valuable objective was still vulnerable!
We still have a chance. After this we GTFO

>>2824929
>>Give chase, and assault the main room before the enemy was ready. Speed was paramount, and the most valuable objective was still vulnerable!
Tell Halzi to go find an exit;with his ankle it's not like he can keep up with us.

>>2824929
>>Retreat and try to find another exit. Escape was the primary objective now, and the main entrance was sure to be crowded soon.
Would there happen to be a grenade on any of the downed enemies? If so we should toss it into the main room but otherwise we should find a window or side door and get the hell out of here before the sentries outside can react. If they surround the building and trap us in here we're fucked.

Also did we miss a room? Where could that half-dead pilot be?

>>2824929
>>2824959
Oh ya! Whatever happened to that?

>>2824959
>>2824963
>Also did we miss a room? Where could that half-dead pilot be?

There were three doors; the room must be elsewhere, along with one of the remaining guards. There wasn't another hall; a flight of stairs went up at the end of the hall you were in, but there were two other branches from the main entrance and "hq office"- on presumably to the center of the mill, the other to whatever could be on the other side, but likely similar spaces to the ones you'd already encountered, since the part of the mill you're in at least appeared roughly symmetrical from the outside. From the angle of the roof, it's not very likely that the upper floor is very architecturally complex.

>>2824970
Ah, I guess they're keeping him in another part of the building for some reason. Well, assuming we want to rescue him I still think our best bet is to escape the building and plan a new attack from there.

I ended up being conked out all day, sorry. I'll resume things tomorrow at around 2PM EST.

>>2827195
Its fine bro! Have a good day it happens. One step at the time is the way to go see you in 14 hours.

“Corporal,” you pointed to Halzi, “See if you can find another way out of this dump. If this goes tits up I want to have an option besides fighting or dying. Everybody else, follow me! We’ve got to hit them while they’re still off balance.” As you were explaining this, you frisked the downed soldier who had accompanied the Lieutenant, hoping in vain that he’d have a grenade, even though most of the Revolutionary Army soldiers appeared lucky to have complete uniforms. Your hand ran across something hard in a burlap bag on his belt, and you inverted the bag; a glass bottle filled with an amber liquid rolled out, cracked on the bottom from its impact with the ground, but otherwise intact, not spilling its contents. It had no matches, but an odd feeling length of paper around it; on a section of the paper was a stamped guide in Vitelian.

Shake well before throwing. Throw with force against hard surfaces to ensure proper breakage. Do not remove from protective bag until ready to use; will ignite upon breakage.

A petrol bomb, apparently. Well, it was better than nothing, you supposed. Good thing that the crack wasn’t leaky…yet. You took it, along with the bag it came in, cutting it free from its former owner. Not that you planned on keeping it long, but just in case, right?

The Fallschirmjäger were hot on your heels as you sprinted back down the hall, checking briefly around the corner and seeing the shadow of the Lieutenant staggering round the other corner back towards the main room. ”Come to papa, you western mongrel!”, You wanted to taunt him with, but you bit your eager tongue and led on instead.

With a breathless leap you cleared the distance to the next corner, and with another quick look around the corner, you spotted the Lieutenant tearing a subgun from one of the freshly alerted guards. With a snap turn, he sprayed it in your direction; you ducked back just in time, feeling shards of brickwork sting your face as bullets shattered the edge of the wall next to where your head was.

“Seems they’re ready for us,” you said coolly as your allies hugged the wall next to you.

“We’re channelized,” Alter said gruffly, frustrated. “Bet you all however many of them are pointing their guns over here, anybody not moving in to trap us.”

“Now now,” you smiled at the paratrooper, “I’ve got a great idea. Well, an idea.”

>Have the troopers suppress the end of the hall with blind fire, just long enough for you to dash out and pitch the petrol bomb into the main room; wood floors, dust, and plenty of paperwork scattered about; it was a fire waiting to happen, even if you didn’t splash anybody.
>Have the men keep the enemy tied down here with their presence; you’d see if you could find another way around to try and flank them.
>Abandon this plan; you had to get out, now. Retreat back to whence you came and go in Halzi’s direction.
>Other?

>>2827931
>>Have the troopers suppress the end of the hall with blind fire, just long enough for you to dash out and pitch the petrol bomb into the main room; wood floors, dust, and plenty of paperwork scattered about; it was a fire waiting to happen, even if you didn’t splash anybody.

>>2827931
>Have the troopers suppress the end of the hall with blind fire, just long enough for you to dash out and pitch the petrol bomb into the

“I want you two to start throwing hatred down that hall right there,” you gestured to the side, “Don’t expose yourself, fire blindly. Just get their heads down so I can run in and throw this bad boy.” You removed the bottle from its sack once more and gave it a hearty shake.

“I thought you said you had a great idea.” Some smartass muttered.

“Less lip more shoot!” you chastised, as you ceded your position to the trooper whose name you didn’t know, Alter sighing heavily and moving to the back wall.

The trooper at the corner stuck his gun around the corner and loosed one burst, then another. Under that curtain of fire, Alter leaned out, then stepped aside and popped off singular shots, one after another, in a well-disciplined fusillade.

“One behind the tipped table!” he told you, “Go!”

Ducking behind him, you hugged the right wall and bolted as far down the hall as you thought you could get away with running back and forth to. Ahead was the room, only a section of it visible, though. It looked like everybody was hiding for now, though you could see at least one man peeking, who saw you dashing forth, but he dared not rise. The table Alter was mentioned obscured whoever was behind it, though a few holes had been knocked into it all over. Papers still floated in the air, and the floor was covered in flammable looking garbage. You slung the firebottle as hard as you could for the room ahead, seeing if you could stick the thing by the knocked over table and the pile of junk beside it.

>Roll up to 3 sets of 1d100, results will be averaged. Perfect success is roll under 30, partial is roll under 70.

Rolled 48 (1d100)

>>2828000

Rolled 56 (1d100)

>>2828000

Rolled 90 (1d100)

>>2828000

Rolled 61 (1d100)

>Roll Average- 65 – Partial Success

You didn’t watch the petrol bomb arc through the air; you tucked and rolled, anticipating fire coming your way, and looked up just after the sound of glass shattering, and a whoosh of flame, a wave of heat. Shocked yelps came from the large entry room, but when you looked at where you hit, it was against and in front of the table; the fire was spreading quickly, but as you sprang back up, a Revolutionary also rose and readied his submachinegun in your direction, braving the cover fire for but a moment to try and get the target before him.

>Enemy roll- DC 40 roll under, degree of success by 10

>>2828036
Is there any reason you use low rolls instead of the regular high ones ?

Getting shot at was never something you had gotten used to, and you flew back across the hall as quickly as you could. Bullets cracked above your head as you ducked down just in time and slid on your feet around the corner, jumping back around it just before the next burst tore apart the wall behind you. Your blood still pounding in your ears, you allowed yourself a victory stretch; alarm was spreading among the enemy; you would wager that fire would be consuming the mill in minutes, even with its brick walls.

“Alright,” the other fallshirmjager (whose name you really needed to learn) breathed as he ducked behind the wall again, dropping a magazine out and replacing it as Alter continued with his sporadic shooting, “So we started a fire. What now?”

To be honest, you had been expecting this to go better, but it wasn’t like anything had gone wrong yet. Now that the two sides were fighting you hadn’t noticed anybody from either side going down at all; your positions were too solid, too defensible, for either of you to attack the other effectively. However, your side wasn’t rapidly catching fire.

>Stick here and keep the pressure on; the enemy would have to move soon if they didn’t want to get burned, and they’d be flushed out.
>Keep one man here and flank around with two others. The most logical next step for the enemy was to either try and escape or flank around, and the latter would be deadly.
>Delay here some, but retreat back down the hall. If you couldn’t break through, there was no point in lingering.
>Other?

>>2828052
Only War influence, but the relevant aspects sort of flew the coop so it's more tradition at this point.

>>2828056
>Keep one man here and flank around with two others. The most logical next step for the enemy was to either try and escape or flank around, and the latter would be deadly.
>Also, learn the name of the other fallshirmjager, we are a team for the Kaiser's sake and he is part of it!

>>2828061
Supporting

>>2828056
>>Keep one man here and flank around with two others. The most logical next step for the enemy was to either try and escape or flank around, and the latter would be deadly.

>>2828061
Supporting

“Alter, stick around here,” you said, passing him your spare magazines for the submachinegun, “Uh, you, you have over your mags too. We’ll pick more up from the bodies on the way. We’re going to see if we can make our way to that other hallway in this place, and get behind them.”

“How do you know that you can make it over there from here? What if they don’t connect, or it's blocked?”

“Honestly,” you admitted, “I’m just really hoping they do because that’s what would be really convenient right now. If they don’t, I’ll figure something out.”

Alter fired another burst around the corner. “Fine. Be quick though, they’ll figure out real quick-“ He shot a few more rounds, “That I’m by myself here, and they can always go forward instead of back. Or out, if they want to get shot.”

You nodded quickly, and you and the other paratrooper went off on your mission to flank around. You ducked into the room you’d left in a hurry earlier to strip off the magazines off of the dead, during which you asked the man his name.

“Huh? Oh, it’s Vang.”

“Vang?” you echoed, “Like uh…shit,” You snapped your fingers trying to remember, “That guy who was the Kaiser’s buddy’s, Loch’s, buddy, or something?” Edmund Loch was some old philosopher bloke that you wouldn’t have paid much attention to if the Kaiser didn’t sing his praises so much. Real divisive figure, as you’d heard plenty about whenever people you drank near started talking politics.

“Yeah. My father was his cousin. Visited once to see him, found a girl he liked.”

“Neat,” you said, throwing the man you now knew as Vang a magazine pouch, “Small world, I guess. Hope we aren’t killing some relatives of one of our guys here.”

“Somebody in the Project would be Vitelian?” Vang asked breathlessly as you both made for the door.

“Hey, Vang was from Naukland, that’s just as goddamn far, might be farther, I don’t remember. C’mon, break time’s over. Time to win some medals.”

From outside, you heard the rumble of an engine, and the unmistakable sound of tread being pulled over wheels. The tank from outside, moving about now. Damn, you’d been sort of hoping against hope you could somehow take that thing yourself, but that bolt was cast. Vang and yourself charged up the stairs, to a broad and great storage cellar. Barrels and spare parts and tools clogged the space, and you could see smoke coming up through part of it, behind a pair of great big pillars that held the mill shafts, where in more peaceful times grain would be being ground into flour. Dark and congested, you kept a careful eye out for any ambush in waiting.

One set of stairs appeared to lead out the back, you took a curious look down, and saw a paratrooper peering back up.

“Captain,” Halzi waved, “I checked, way out the back here. Wasn’t anybody there yet but that’ll change real soon. We leaving?”

“Not yet,” you hissed, “Stay there.”

You did your best to tread lightly, but doing so with proper haste was hard, and though the shots still being exchanged were difficult to tell apart from your man and the rest, you knew that every moment you spent not doing something was a few more bullets shot, and a few more towards running dry in such an intense firefight.

You spied a pair of other ways down, though. At the other end of the attic, there indeed was a flight of stairs, but there was also an alternate route, a ladder that would go into the main milling room, where perhaps there was also another way into the main entry; you’d seen one door that might have been such. Perhaps that would be the less expected route of flanking? There was also a glass window that could be opened; this was only a second floor, so maybe that could be an alternate escape route…or maybe another way to flank.

>Stick to the plan, go towards the stairs
>Go down through the millshaft room
>Do something crazy and leap out the window
>Other actions?

>>2828168
I know time isnt on our side, but safety first!
>Other action! Peer through the window? Can we see anything?
>If we CANNOT peer through the window because I am still a little confused at the layout of this Mill (slowly figuring it out)
>Stick to the plan, go towards the stairs

>>2828195
Yeah should have mentioned, the window faces out the back, and yeah, you can look out of it.

>>2828195
>>2828208
Cool, then I will keep my vote for window and wait for other Anons to decide what we do

>>2828195
Worth a try

>>2828168
>Other actions?
Take the alternate ladder route, flank them within the building instead of risking the chance of encountering the enemy tank outside.

>>2828168
>>Go down through the millshaft room

Motioning for Vang to move towards the downward passage that led to the millshaft room, you took a detour to peer out of the window, keeping well and close to the wall in case anybody decided to look up. No need to look into the moonlight; an electric torch was burning across the back of the mill, and frantic Vitelian shouting was snapping back and forth.

“Block the back! Block the back!”

The tank, small and old as it was but still lord of a battlefield of men alone, chugged around the corner and made for the rear entrance, looking to block it with its bulk. If only you had your Luftpanzer; a good hit from the ten centimeter mortar cannon would burst that rickety old junk heap like an overripe fruit. What you’d do about it for now though was a complete mystery. What was certain was that it would at least kindly wait outside instead of joining the melee inside; looking out told you that the enemy wasn’t plotting on breaching the back, but instead merely restricting exit. Some good information to know. Keeping low still, you stopped briefly by Halzi, and calling a brief, curt warning before returning to Vang. Vang signaled with hand motions what he’d seen below; the room seemed dark and empty. All clear, seemingly. You nodded and descended the ladder with a pair of hanging hops down, before turning towards the door and shouldering your gun; light streamed from the crack below the door, and heat as well.

The door began to swing open away from you as Vang hit the floor, and without hesitation, the paratrooper chewed apart the wooden door with his submachinegun, before kicking the door the rest of the way open, throwing away the Revolutionary who had expired trying to secure an escape. Before you was the First Captain Lagotto, taking cover behind his desk; the table from before no longer had anybody hiding behind it. At least two other people would be in the room, but you couldn’t see them from your current position; presumably they hugged the wall to the right, where they would be in optimal cover against Alter’s suppression.

>Shoot the Captain, then move in and take his position to finish the rest of the opposition
>Demand the Captain’s surrender
>Lead the charge in and attempt to subdue the Captain; the others would be a hassle to deal with, Vang can shoot them as he follows you.
>Other?

>>2829007
>>Shoot the Captain, then move in and take his position to finish the rest of the opposition

>>2829007
>>Shoot the Captain, then move in and take his position to finish the rest of the opposition
We meet again Captain Lagotto...

>>2829007
>Shoot the Captain, then move in and take his position to finish the rest of the opposition

“Hello captain,” you aimed your weapon, and held the trigger down for a pair of seconds. Dust blew out of the shocked Primo Capitano as a third of your gun’s magazine plugged into his body, and that same surprised expression was frozen on his face as he was knocked backwards and sprawled over the floor. No time was wasted as you leapt out to capture his former position, and squatted behind his desk, seeing the two remaining men in the room against the other wall. From the position before they had been unassailable, but now, as their wide eyes betrayed that they knew too, they were lined up, with no cover, lined up like they were about to be executed by a firing squad.

It was too easy; pathetic, really. They were so surprised, so consumed by sudden hopelessness, that they barely turned their weapons before Vang tore apart one with a burst of automatic fire, and you dispatched the other one. They had fought well enough from a position of strength, but the moment the tables had turned they had become as feeble as sheep. Overconfidence was venomous, but contempt for this enemy had fully solidified as of now.
Vang moved on to the other corner to the hallway beyond, looked down it, and motioned that it was clear.

You nodded back. “Alter!” you called down the other hall, “Come join us, won’t you?”

Alter ran up, edging around the expanding flames, which had taken hold and were spreading even more quickly than you had anticipated. Flaming shards of carbonized paper blew about, and it was already near intolerably hot in the room. You didn’t plan on staying more than another few moments, but weren’t sure if even that could be tolerated.

“Damnit, Captain,” Alter panted as he looked down at the stricken form of Captain Lagotto, who stared weakly back up with cloudy eyes, his breaths small and weak, too feeble to even plead for life with the ten bullets embedded in his torso. “How are we going to get out? I was figuring we could take him hostage, there’s way too many outside for us to fight off and more’ll be coming every minute with the amount of hell we’ve raised here.”

“I wasn’t planning on a hostage situation,” you replied confidently, “The longer we stay, like you said, the worse it gets, and I don’t think we could have made a good deal out of it. If we need somebody in the next minute we can just grab that lieutenant, wherever he ran off to.” You looked at the main entrance, and you could immediately tell that if he had gone out the front, it certainly hadn’t been a recent affair.

“Captain!” Vang called to you, “Enemy!”

You snapped your gaze around to the hallway, and did see a pair of foes, walking leisurely down the way, weapons at the ready, but not trying to shoot, or take cover. One was the Lieutenant, and in front of him, he held a bloodied, familiar form, with a pistol presumably to his back. His body had been wounded, face beaten, and his spectacles were gone, but the person misidentified as a pilot…was actually a Luftpanzer crewman.

“Cap…tain…” Dolcherr croaked, voice dry and strained.

“Release that man right now!” your voice blasted down the hall, “Or I swear to the Judge Above that I will make your final moments in this world worse than whatever hell you get pitched into afterwards!”

“Shut your fucking mouth!” the Lieutenant spat back. The other man with him was shaking, teeth chattering, as your men did their best to assume combat positions despite the horrible, burning heat and building smoke. “You all still have a chance to live. Surrender immediately, and none of you will die. This man will even receive proper treatment. Refuse, and I kill this man.”

“I said,” you snarled, raising your gun, “Release him! Now!”

“Reinhold!” Douran gasped, “Shoot…through me! Dead…man…”

“Silence!” the lieutenant hit Dolcherr over the head with a blow from his unarmed hand and your vision flickered scarlet. “Dogs of the Reich! You have nothing to negotiate with, your lives mean nothing to us, and our own cause is noble enough that we do not fear your pathetic threats, no matter how savagely you act upon them! I say for the last time, drop your weapons and surrender, and you will be allowed one last chance at mercy!”

Your teeth ground against one another. Each of your heartbeats felt like an eternity passed in between them. Shoot through me. Dead man. The lieutenant hid himself well behind Dolcherr, only sticking his head over so he could shout at you; the only real way you could dispatch him without harming Douran was to make the difficult shot for his head, and if you missed…a friend since childhood, a steadfast ally for years, the cool, collected head that had always been there to reign you back, to dig you out…could you repay that by not doing your best to save him? Could you lose another friend when this time, you could save their life?

>Try to kill the Lieutenant without harming Dolcherr
>Acknowledge Douran’s request, and shoot through him. He was already beyond saving.
>Lay down your arms and surrender; you couldn’t trade Dolcherr’s life, not for this.
>Other?

>>2829064
>>Try to kill the Lieutenant without harming Dolcherr
I really don't want to do this but I don't trust this Vitelian asshole as far as we I could throw him. More likely they'll torture or gun us down if we surrender.

>>2829064
In case it wasn't obvious, of course...the first option will require a really difficult roll to be made.

>>2829068
Yeah.I mean if the others would rather stand down feel free to vote so.

Do we still have any petrol bombs/Molotov cocktails?

>>2829071
You do not.

>>2829064
>>Try to kill the Lieutenant without harming Dolcherr
EAT A DICK CLOWN

>>2829073

Safe to assume our squad mates have nothing in the explosive/fire category too, right?

>>2829075
That is the case.

>>2829076
BTW, How many enemies are down there? And how many friendlies?

>>2829077
There are two enemies down the hall; the Lieutenant, and one guard, holding Dolcherr hostage. Alter and Vang are with you, while Halzi is at the back exit of the mill. You do not know for sure how many enemies are outside, but roughly twelve to twenty would be a safe bet, not including the tank and its crew, or any potential reinforcement.

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>>2829078
This is fine, we are fine and I refuse to go down without a fight
>Sweats profusely
>Pic very related
We can take them!... Right guys?...

>>2829081

We're Paratroopers, eh, Paratankers... We're meant to be surrounded regardless.

>>2829083
I really want to find a way to hijack the tank now... since ours is nowhere in sight...

What real option was there? If you surrendered, what reason did you have to believe these people would treat you as they said they would? Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to shoot Douran, either…when your shaking sight picture wandered over him, your blood froze. Finally, for an instant, you steadied; the gravity of this was felt by mind and body, and you resolved to try for the impossible boon. You never settled, never compromised on something that mattered you sincerely didn’t want to do; to do anything other than grasp greedily for the best would be to make a hypocrite of yourself.

The Lieutenant's head was lined up in your sights and realization washed over him for a sliver of an instant. You pulled the trigger and hoped Lady Luck hadn’t abandoned you yet.

>Roll up to 3 sets of 1d100, best of 3, roll under 20.

Rolled 53 (1d100)

>>2829101

Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>2829101
PLZ RNGESUS WE NEED THIS

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>>2829101
>>2829103
>>2829106
Its all up to you next poster...

Rolled 54 (1d100)

>>2829101

File: TOO MUCH SWEAT.jpg (33 KB, 426x341)

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>>2829103
>>2829106
>>2829109
F

It was too much.

Your hopes were high as you aimed, but your enemy knew your gambit, and you hadn’t been quick enough. Your shot went wide, grazing the Lieutenant’s ear, and in response he fired his pistol into Dolcherr’s back.

…

Bartholomeu was still recovering from his wounds, and Dolcherr had given up his time to let you attend the funeral, such as it was, with Linda Falkenstein. You hadn’t known Isaac Grabb for as long as Dolcherr, but he had been by your side for years nevertheless. He had been shot and killed far away; unlike you and Dolcherr, but like Bartholomeu, he had been in a different group, where you couldn’t cover one another, protect each other. It had been naïve to hope that Bartholomeu’s wounding would be the unluckiest thing to happen to the lot of you; you hadn’t found out until it was time for victory parades. While the Reich celebrated, few mourned for Private Grabb, and his family, as poor as it was, would not have been able to afford the costs for this ceremony had it not been for Falkenstein. The man had looked as though he’d lost a son, and Linda, a brother.

It was over, and most had left, save for you and Linda. Even now, her dress was boyish, though it was still in mournful black. She wasn’t the sort to cry; her dark eyes were fixed in anger, her short, bunched black hair pushed over her eyes; she was furious, yet there was nobody she could be angry at.

The Vitelian who had nervously been the only backup the Lieutenant had fell in a hailstorm of bullets. You didn’t hear his shout over your own, though the fear in the Lieutenant’s eyes as he struggled to raise his pistol to you was something you relished while you could.

“Why weren’t you there!?” Linda demanded, her voice cracking, “Why wasn’t anybody there?” You’d already given your excuses, your justifications. She was repeating them out of despair, and denial, and you knew she wasn’t really blaming you, but she had no other way to ease her pain. “Shit for brains…” she cursed at the headstone, “All of you are shit for brains, every single one of you going off to the most dangerous God forsaken pit you could wander off to, the only one I couldn’t follow you to.”

“I’m sorry.” You said, again.

Lina looked at you, still angry, still hiding her grief behind a mask of rage. “You have to do it.” She pointed into your chest, “I can’t come with you, so promise me that you’ll fight twice as hard, so this never happens again. You say you can do everything else, can you at least do that?”

You looked into her eyes, which had begun to plead, and gripped her hand forcefully in your own. “Of course I can.” Your smile was broad, and confident, the sort that Isaac Grabb had always told you was like seeing a light in the darkness when things were at their worst.

The Lieutenant’s blood spilled all over your hand as you cut open his belly. His screeching as you pulled out his guts was barely audible.

“Marry her, then,” Douran Dolcherr said to you, over a drink in the booth you both sat in. “Do you really think she’ll accept anybody else? After all the two of you have been through?”

“I’m not good enough,” you murmured into the table, the glass in your hand woefully empty, “She doesn’t know what’s good for her.”

“The only one who thinks that is you.”

“Really?” you looked back up at Dolcherr, “You know me, and you think Linda’s not off her rocker? Come on. I can always trust you to be honest and to tell me when I’m being stupid anywhere else, but whenever it comes to things between me and her it’s like you turn stupid all of a sudden.”

“Such faith in me. So why does it falter now? What happened to the Reinhold Roth-Vogel who insists that he’s the king of lady killers? Champion of athletics, the one who can do anything, and insists that with a smile?”

“Because I’m not really that man.”

“Captain!” Vang pulled you off of the Lieutenant, who was wheezing thinly as you were busy eviscerating him further, “Enough!”

“Judge above,” Alter muttered as he drew his pistol and gave the dying Lieutenant mercy that was ill deserved. “Great. What the fuck do we do now?”

“Douran…” You knelt down to your staff sergeant, your best friend, the man you could always count on, for years, who looked weakly back up at you. As you reached for him, you noticed that your hands were covered, soaked, with blood. You supported Dolcherr, raised him up, and checked his back. With a strain of your cheeks, you tried to will a smile onto your face, but your mouth wouldn’t move.

“C-captain,” Douran said weakly, “No time. They knew…we were coming. Because of a traitor. They were told…by people we trusted. No other way for them to know.”

“Don’t speak,” you pleaded.

“Captain-“

“Would you shut the fuck up for one fucking minute?” you snapped at Alter, “Don’t speak. We can get you-“

“Rein…hold. Dead man. Told you to shoot me. You didn’t.” Dolcherr smiled, “Good man. Stupid man.”

“Captain,” Alter repeated, “We’re going to be surrounded. If the tank is out back like it sounded like it was heading, and the front here is on fire, our only way out is through the window, and-“

“Surrounded…” Dolcherr repeated, and you were listening to him and him only. “Have…plan. Throw me…out window. Distraction for a moment. A moment you can use…to do something. Tank has poor vision, one gun…a chance, if turned the wrong way, towards a dead man…”

A moment of quiet.

“We have to, Captain,” Vang urged, “I don’t like it but somebody has to be a distraction, or else we’ll just be walking into our deaths. There’s no other ways out, are there?”

“You can be your own god damned distraction,” you said hatefully.

“Reinhold,” Dolcherr grabbed you strongly by the collar, with what little strength he had left, “I am a dead man. Linda loves you. This is the only way out, and you must…survive. If you have ever trusted my judgment…then listen to what I’m saying…now.”

>…Fine. I’ll do it. But only because there’s no other way.
>No, wait, I can think of something else…(What?)

>>2829148
>>…Fine. I’ll do it. But only because there’s no other way.

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>>2829148
>…Fine. I’ll do it. But only because there’s no other way.
I trust you buddy... Good luck with the Judge... (1 last bro handshake while we do it)

>>2829163
+1

>>2829148
If we're using him as a distraction, we should rush the tank or just try to take out the gunner from the window.

How close to the backdoor is the tank parked? Would it be possible to just jump on top of the turret ourselves and have the other paratroopers support us?

Going to be heading to bed but before that;

>>2829170
You haven't seen, but when it was moving around it sounded very close. It wouldn't be a poor assumption to assume they're trying to block the back exit with the mass of the tank itself, which would obstruct the outward opening door. As for the window, it was offset about halfway between the rear exit and the other set of stairs, so it would be quite a leap to try and make it to the tank, at an odd angle, as well, to the degree that it wouldn't really be advisable.

>>2829170
>>2829174
So we now have "confirmed" (Still some doubt) that the tank is in a dumb emplacement. The besr super optimal and convenient scenario (considering that this is RNG based and that low rolls are the key) is that we distract tank (and possible goons) with Dolcher still alive, run out the back exit because the tank is stupid and moves, hijack tank (rolls and remember the goonsquad), kill all enemy targets, Dolcher lives (somehow) we live, find other fallschirmjagers who were too pussy to continue the mission (hopefully a super doctor) and continue with the mission with a man who is VERY MUCH WIA.... WE NEED HOPE

>>2829148
>…Fine. I’ll do it. But only because there’s no other way.

I wish I could think of anything else.

“Fine,” you said, voice feeling like you had to dredge it from the bottom of a lake, “I’ll do it. But only because there’s no other way.”

Dolcherr smiled slightly up at you. “Reinhold…I’d rather see you…smiling…in what time I’ve left.”

That was an impossible feat. Even more unthinkable was not even trying, though. You thought of a joke entirely inappropriate for this context, but it was all you could think of. Your mouth creaked open into your best attempt at a goofy grin; “I guess you’ll want to have that drink I offered about now.”

Dolcherr nodded, and with that, you lifted him up, pressing the pistol from his killer into his hand before nodding then to the rest of the paratroopers and making a dash for the stairs.

“I will see you again,” Douran said feebly.

“Do me a favor, when you get there,” you said as you stomped up the stairs, “I’ll be leaving a trail of broken hearts, so I think my sins’ll be pretty weighty. Put in a good word to the big guy above for the philanderers, will you? You’re probably a favorite of his.” To Vang, “Open that window. Once I toss the Staff Sergeant out, everybody be ready to hang and jump out.”

“What about Halzi?”

“I’ve got a stupid plan,” you said, “He’ll be taken care of. Where’s the tank?”

“Blocking the door, it looks like.”

Halzi came up the stairs from the back entrance. “It feels like it. Tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t give, and it only opens one way.”

File: lpq_scene3.png (315 KB, 800x600)

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Quiet as a ghost, Vang had opened the window. “Ready, Captain,” he said softly.

You gave Dolcherr’s hand one last squeeze. “Hope you don’t mind posthumous medals.” It was a struggle to keep upbeat, but you’d have years to make up for it. Dolcherr only had moments. “Goodbye, old buddy.” With that, you ran forward, and pitched Dolcherr out of the window as hard as you could. Sounds of alarm followed as, while in the air and after he hit the dirt, you heard the pistol he held being fired. No time would be wasted; you immediately vaulted over the window, hung for a moment, then let yourself drop to the ground, submachinegun slung, but your own sidearm drawn and ready for action the moment you landed.

In front of you was the tank, and a Revolutionary Army soldier with a machine gun; you recognized the model, it was one that was invented in the Reich that spread over the world since. The tank was swiveling its turret over to the sound of Dolcherr popping his pistol off; one of them would likely shoot him. Dolcherr was dead; you had accepted that. So when the tank’s machine gun fired, you thought of nothing but of your attack.

You pointed your gun at the Machine Gunner and pulled the trigger; once, twice, three times. He crumpled over, and you moved on. There were other enemies, but there was only one that was the most vulnerable in this time. The tank, its turret turned the wrong way, and you too close to it for it to do anything about you. The driver must have alerted the gunner, as it was beginning to turn back; this would all be up to how quickly you could close this distance…

>Roll up to 3 sets of 1d100, best of, roll under DC 50 for perfect, 70 for partial.

Rolled 59 (1d100)

>>2830843
Fast as fuck boiii?

>>2830876
Faster.

>>2829183
+1

Rolled 88 (1d100)

>>2830893

We got one last roll left come on can an Anon please stand up?

Rolled 9 (1d100)

>>2830843

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>>2830918
Good job homie

>>2830952
If we had this roll yesterday maybe Dolcherr would have survived baka

>>2830975
>Riperino Dolcherr TT_TT

You couldn’t say for sure if it was your strength, your barely contained fury at your loss, or simply the necessity of action, but before you even realized it you were climbing on top of the tank, over the hull, and around back; it was powerless, now. All you needed was for the enemy to have been neglectful enough to not lock the turret hatches. You climbed around back of the turret and yanked on the doors on its rear; they flew open, and you beheld the terrified crewman’s face only long enough to press your pistol against his head and snuff out his life. Even as you did this you grabbed the corpse by their clothes and threw them out of the turret, which you promptly occupied, crouching down into the crew space and finishing off the helpless driver as well, before pushing them out of the driver’s hatch as well. This was your tank now. You didn’t know what the Halmeggians or Vitelians called it, but you knew this tank as the Emrean AdG Zephyr, and you’d seen a few of them back in Felbach; seen them taken, reused, just like you planned to take this one for your own. The Zephyr’s first action under your service would be to lend its machine gun to your cause, and drive off what remained of the enemy out back here.

The Revolutionaries had seen what had happened, and most had wisely fled, but one brave soul had pulled out a petrol bomb from his waist pouch. Too far away, and too slow, he was shot to pieces, the bottle in his hand fractured by a round and setting the body aflame as it fell. You looked down the little vision port, in the flame of the night and the light of the tank’s headlamp, for Dolcherr, and found him. He lay on his side, still, and you knew the truth of it but didn’t want to accept it.

The night had gone eerily quiet, save for the far off sounds of gunfire, and war. There was fighting to the west, of course, but more oddly, there was heavy sounding fighting to the north as well. Potential allies, perhaps? Or merely two sets of enemies fighting against one another?

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A knock on the turret, and you opened it for the paratrooper that you spied through the rear vision port.

“Captain,” It was Vang, “Can we move this thing? I don’t think Halzi can make the jump like we can, not with his leg like it is.”

“We can. Do you know how to drive a tractor?”

“Err…I lived in the city.”

“Alright. What about Alter? Or anybody we have who was in your squad?”

“…We can drive cars.”

You peered down at the driver’s position. “Yeah, that won’t work. I’ll drive, then. You at least know how to shoot a gun, anyways. Turn that crank there that way to turn left, the other to turn right. Make sure you’re always looking out every which way for anything that might be coming.” You slid down to the driver’s place and, after letting Vang get into place, you drove forward, out of the way of the rear exit.

“Captain,” Vang said to you, sounding restrained, “I saw that guy, Dolcherr, he got hit a few more times. I think-“

“Staff Sergeant Dolcherr is dead,” you told him, and yourself. “He fell in the line of duty. The most we can do for him now is make it to the unit so we can tell his story, and maybe his family will be sent an Imperial Cross for Heroism when all is said and done.”

“What about his body?”

Before you could answer, Halzi crashed through the door, and Vang greeted him, shortly followed by Alter rushing up after his descent from the mill.

“I’m not sure how we survived that mess,” Alter panted, “It’s all thanks to the Staff Sergeant. We’ve gotta leave though, right away. I’ve the feeling our luck’s about to run out if we aren’t moving real soon.”

“Right,” you said, “Vang, trade places with Halzi, let him stay in the turret. You other two, get on the back here, even if this thing’s not souped up like I think it is it’s still a quick little bugger. We can get out of here lickety split.”

>Try to head west and over the main bridge to Santo Arrofini; it would probably be well guarded, but if your allies were doing well like you thought they were, they’d be attacking that bridge and it would be the best place to find them.
>Retreat back north, and try to find more of your allies; anybody you found you could take further north, where maybe you could make a pact with what was possibly fellow foes of the Revolutionary Army of Greater Vitelia. It would be easier than potentially attacking a bridge.
>Take the tank only as far as you need to get some distance between you and this place, then ditch it in the river and swim across. You’ll sneak back to your main contingent.
>Other ideas?
Also
>Retrieve Dolcherr’s remains
>Leave him; a dead body will only be a burden

>>2831145
Sorry, if we retrieve Dolcherr's remains were exactly are we going to put the body?

Also does this tank have a radio? Maybe we can eavesdrop on the enemy to figure out where our allies are.

>>2831145
>Retreat back north, and try to find more of your allies; anybody you found you could take further north, where maybe you could make a pact with what was possibly fellow foes of the Revolutionary Army of Greater Vitelia. It would be easier than potentially attacking a bridge.
>Retrieve Dolcherr’s remains
>>2831157
Also curious

>>2831157
By default it would be on the back of the tank, unless you wanted to stuff him inside it. Either way it would be rather crowded.

>>2831161
It does not. It's a rather primitive sort of tank, and even if it was a type with that as standard equipment, from what you've seen of the Revolutionary Army of Greater Vitelia, their equipment tends to lack the fancier flairs.

It wouldn't be out of the question for there to be a radio somewhere on the command post, but staying around and looking for it would be quite risky given the attention you've drawn.

>>2831166
Okay then supporting>>2831164

>>2831145
>Try to head west and over the main bridge to Santo Arrofini; it would probably be well guarded, but if your allies were doing well like you thought they were, they’d be attacking that bridge and it would be the best place to find them.
>Retrieve Dolcherr’s remains

>>2831145
>>Try to head west and over the main bridge to Santo Arrofini; it would probably be well guarded, but if your allies were doing well like you thought they were, they’d be attacking that bridge and it would be the best place to find them.
>>Leave him; a dead body will only be a burden

>>2829148
Just caught up. Boy.... that was a tough one, we should make a demiphantom and trade it for Dolcherr.

>>2831145
Put him on the back of the tank.

>>2831145
>>Try to head west and over the main bridge to Santo Arrofini; it would probably be well guarded, but if your allies were doing well like you thought they were, they’d be attacking that bridge and it would be the best place to find them.

Leave Dolcherr, but take his jacket and some other personable or identifiable items

>>2831434
Supporting

>>2831145
>Try to head west and over the main bridge to Santo Arrofini; it would probably be well guarded, but if your allies were doing well like you thought they were, they’d be attacking that bridge and it would be the best place to find them.
If the bridge is too entrenched to cross, we should cut north and try to cross with potential allies in Apfelwalddorf.

>Retrieve Dolcherr’s remains

“I’ll be right back,” you said to the paratroopers, “Last chance to pick up anything before we leave.” You pushed open the driver’s hatch and climbed out, and headed towards Dolcherr’s body. Without giving him a further look for any further indignities inflicted upon his body, you lifted him over your shoulder. “You’d probably think this was dumb, and that I should just leave you,” you said under your breath, “But I’m not having the last thing I do to you be throwing you out a damn window.”

None of the men questioned it when you put Dolcherr on the back of the tank, though the troopers who had to ride edged away from the body. They had picked up various bits of gear from the dead all about, including the field caps and loose blouses. They could make a decent impression of the Revolutionary Army soldiers; the shirts were even still the wrong sizes. Their helmets and the upper halves of their uniforms were stashed in the tank in the meantime, to be donned once more when you finally reached friendly places again.

Reinforcements didn’t arrive, thankfully, in the time you spent. Whether it was because of lacking leadership fixing the soldiers in place or greater confidence in the positions the remaining garrison held, you couldn’t say, but you were thankful to have even a moment’s peace to press the tank back into gear and drive it back from whence you came. You’d have to double back around, but it would be for the best to go down a different road from the one by the headquarters outpost. There was no way to know precisely how much chaos had been caused, but having gotten so far it wouldn’t hurt to take a few more careful steps. When you had the opportunity to, you discarded the bloody jumper and your ruined gloves; your black shirt, normally worn underneath the Luftpanzer leather jacket, would do well enough on its own, from inside of a tank.

The night grew quieter, in spite of the racket the beaten up old tank made; the sort of quiet that one identified with temporary peace. Had you managed to slip away, you wondered, as the dirt road you traveled upon began to repeat itself, and the sparse trees loomed inward. What a dark and dreary night this was. What a wretched country to have such worms wriggling about in it. What a damnable past few hours it all had turned out to be. If you’d had known-

“Captain?” Halzi said from above, “There’s-“

You blinked, and the scenery snapped into a different place. A trio of Revolutionary militia were walking down the road, and had fixed their gaze on your tank. You drove past them.