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/qst/ - Quests


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A pair of figures in tightly bound dark robes with well-worn boots surveyed the wastes of Sosaldt from near the wreck of an armored vehicle. Whose it was did not concern them- there were many strays and vagrants either displaced by this new war or trailing armies and seeking to profit in one way or another, so they did not appear out of place, though they nor their allegiances could spare a thought for this war. They had other problems on the mind beside the latest conflict between men, petty compared to their and their enemies’ schemes.

They were partners, though one did hold seniority over another, they were not master and apprentice. One of them would normally be enough to overcome most any foe, but they battled increasingly against creatures like themselves- even in what was only meant to be an observation mission, they had to take the cautionary step of not going alone, especially when the matter they investigated was one concerning what must have been an act of power much like their own.

However, they had found no enemy. Yet.

“What a damned mess,” one of the robed figures said to the other. They looked near identical save for that one wore a dark green cowl over their head and covered their face, whilst the other let their face be bared. This one, with an unkempt patchy beard and long, greasy hair. “Do you think it’s their doing?”

“No, they wouldn’t wake up Zvchelles. They’re old things.” The dark green cowled one replied, their voice raspier, near inhumanly so. “The question is if they felt it too, if somebody’s on their way.”

“That’d be a pain in the ass. Somebody’s got to handle it. The fat piece of shit must have been running around for almost a week. What could have woken it up? There haven’t been any quakes here. I asked around and nobody’s talking. Nobody knows anything. Did it just pop out of the ground on its own?”

“If it did then there’s a serious problem,” the cowled one didn’t sound like he believed that theory, “But it’d be something that’s never been recorded happening before. Zchelles don’t wake up on their own. Something has to stink enough, close enough, if the ground itself doesn’t piss them off. So what came around here doing that…”

“This part of Sosaldt is a spiritual desert. Nothing that came from here would have done it. Who else could it be but the Elders?” A pause, as both figures looked to the west. “…Feel that?”

“I do. Somebody’s announcing they’re here. Not one of ours. Should we get them?”

“Nah, I think that’d be a waste of energy. You know how the Circle is when we go after shit on our own, especially with what happened to Dawn’s Lance. Not gonna risk our necks only to get bitched at. Let them clean up this crap for us. No reason for us to get involved. We’ll just keep an ear to the ground.”

------
>>
Berkesseburg-Capital Special Prisoners Complex- 0630 AM, Earlier that day on February 15th, 1933

“Guards are changing shifts, Major,” one of four black coated armed men said from a vantage point, in an appropriated tenement building across from the square where the target of today’s operation was. Said operational area being an ugly blight on what was already a dingy and dank part of the swollen city of Berkesseburg. The Capital of Netilland drew awe for its sheer density coagulated humanity, not its architecture or quality of life. It made it easy to sink into without notice, especially Archduchy Intelligence Office Operatives.

Especially ones as valuable as TGS Assault Teams.

Taktischegruppe-Schwarz was not meant to be deployed in foreign territory, such wasn’t its original purpose at all, being meant solely for domestic operations against dangerous territorial vassals, but the Intelligence Office had evolved quite a bit since Willen had become head of the organization. To restrict the IO’s offensive capabilities abroad was silly, given its demonstrated infiltration talent. So the TGS teams here were not supposed to be here even as far as the Archduke was concerned, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. That, and the Major needed them for this. The only way the Netillian Opposition Party leader was going to get out of prison was forcefully, even if the complex’s urban location made getting close simple enough.

This leader wasn’t the Major’s first pick, but her generosity towards a subordinate had resulted in her best man getting badly wounded. It meant she had to take the extra precaution of commanding this personally. Failure would be unacceptable.

“Team Five and Six are position on their overwatch positions to the east, on our entrance and egress point,” the TGS Team Leader said in a harsh whisper to the Major, “Team One and Two have already infiltrated and given the signal that their operatives are in position. We’re ready to begin our assault on your orders.” He thumbed his VM-33 in an unorthodox grip, the gun bearing a specially shortened barrel for concealability and transport. Each team leader was equipped with a Von Muse Machine Pistol, which was already being deployed in territories throughout the Archduchy as a new issue model of submachine gun. Distinctive? Yes, but so was much of the special equipment needed for this, such as the Whisper carbines carried by the overwatch teams or the suppressed pistols every other operative carried (the primary weapons, the submachine guns were only for an emergency), the training grenades that turned out to have an ideal less-lethal effect if detonated close to an unprepared person.
>>
“If they have signaled that they are in position, start immediately,” the Major said, as she held aloft a steel mirror to one of the windows and flashed it three times inwards- then another three times in quick sequence. A response identical to the message sent was relayed, and she stood up to her full height, taller than even the special operative team leader she was standing next to. “Let’s go.”

The guards in the towers of the east side of the complex had been replaced by TGS operatives, whom were simply tasked with minding that this most important tactical infiltration was not discovered until it was too late to counteract. Elite as they were, even all of the TGS operatives with all their emergency armaments would not be able to fend off the wrath of the Capital city’s defenses, should they draw their ire and be unable to escape in time.

The infiltration went off without a hitch, however. Three holes were cut in the perimeter fence with clippers, and the two tactical teams and the Major had reached the side of the East Compound, a three story concrete building housing political prisoners, though they were only here to extract a singular one. More was too greedy, and unnecessary.

An extendable ladder was thrown up to the fire escape of the building- the tactical team was not going to waste time and the element of surprise on storming through any of the entrances. None of the personnel would be expecting an assault from above.

A few groggy service personnel were encountered upon breaching- they were dealt with using close combat techniques and rags soaked in ether. Suppressed pistols still went off with quite a pop, and there’d be actual threats to handle before they got to their target’s cell.

“Clear,” a trooper reported ahead.

“Clear to the right,” another said from an adjacent room.

“Team leader,” the Major relayed to the tactical team commander, “Recall that our extraction from the capital is on a clock. We don’t have all the time in the world. Team Four will secure our rear, extract the VIP now.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the trooper said obediently, hoarsely, “Team One, on me.”

“Engage on sight,” the Major added, “Go.”

Every other contact encountered on the way was dispatched swiftly, especially the patrolling guards, each felled with a storm of suppressed pistol rounds.

One didn’t die easily. He fumbled with his handgun and shot a few rounds towards the Tactical Team- none of them were hurt, and the Major finished him with a patient shot, but the alarm would surely be raised soon.

“Hurry,” she urged the team leader, and she strode forward coolly as the tactical team continued to advance down the hall to the objective’s holding room.
>>
The tactical team surrounded the door, pointed weapons in all directions as the team leader knelt down with a lockpick. “Move,” the Major said as she pushed the man aside, and stepped back from the door. “Hah!” She pivoted on a foot and slammer her foot into the door, flinging it open with a wrenching of steel from the hinges.

The scrawny, abused man within jumped with fright as the Major strode in. “Who in the blazes-“

“President of the Assembly, Herr Hassell,” the Major said in a clipped tone, “On your feet. Your Republic will need you soon.” A very popular man in Netilland before the coup, such an important target wouldn’t have normally been vulnerable in these times, but with the Kommissariat General and General of Public Welfare captured by Wladysaw, the internal defenses and intelligence agencies of Netilland had been thrown into chaos and disarray.

“Who the hell are you?” The man asked, though he got to his feet, recognizing rescue when it came. He had not been treated well in prison, but he was freshly invigorated by this turn in fortune.

The Major saw no need to answer his question. “In fifteen minutes, you will be moved out of the city on prepared transportation to a safe house held by Republican dissidents. You will immediately begin preparations to re-establish the elected government.” Pops from the doorway- more company engaging the TGS troopers, and from the sound of the Team Leader’s weapon crackling, they had come alert. “Move! Team Leader, get rid of those pests and follow us out. We’ve well kicked the hornet’s nest.”

-----

General der Lanz Goldfolger, commander of the Silver lances Armored Division of the Archduchy, had a lot on his mind, as any man in his place would. This was far from the most harrowing battle he’d had- that had occurred before he was even a general, even if it was with the same unit. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t be keeping apprised of events, however- even ones seemingly as small as the unusual ones that had taken place about a week ago, now presented to him by his head analyst, despite that an offensive operation was ongoing. It was important enough, it had been stressed, that he should look at it as soon as possible. In private. That same day, he was now looking through what the Analyst had prepared, in particular, a sheathe of photographs, in a dimly lit break room beside a common room that had been cleared of any other persons. Local architecture suited for quiet reviews.

“So,” the General der Lanz said as he squinted at the first photograph in the stack, “First of all. You think that this was a chemical weapon?”

“That’s all it could have been, General Goldfolder,” the staff analyst said firmly, “The next pictures have various exposure wounds, but they are remarkably similar to Flayer compound wounds. Extreme tissue deformation and chemical burning without vesicant effect, rapid onset. However…”

“However?”
>>
“There was no Flayer residue that we could find, General.”

“Unsurprising. Flayer compound decays rapidly,” Goldfolger went through the photographs slowly, slowly. “It took how long to arrive at the site, and how long for your improvised tests?”

“We still find it curious, sir. I find it curious.” The analyst shrugged, “It’d be convenient for it to be Flayer and to be done with it, however…”
Goldfolder flipped to the next photograph. “This is a Netillian tank.” The next picture. “Its interior. Covered in a residue? Perhaps that is some remnant of the chemical weapon?”

The analyst shook his head. “No. That is, perhaps, however, is something not odd? Look at that and the next photographs. We presumed that the crew had abandoned their vehicles because they lacked chemical protection-“

“Something the Netillians have not shown a lack of.” Goldfolger had fought the Netillians in force before, near six years ago, in the 1927 Netillian invasion of Baou- or, as they would call it, the quelling of a revolt, though the “revolt” had gone on quite some time before they had bothered to mobilize and respond. They had changed since then.

“Indeed, General. Even if this residue was something blowing in, there should be variable accumulation, marks on the hull or seats where the crew would have touched. Yet it seems they were there one moment, then…were not.”

“Then, the residue?”

“One of the junior analysts commented that it might be carbon dust. Charcoal, and…that seems to have been what it was, General, sir.”

The General der Lanz had no response to that, and he flipped through the rest of the pictures. “Burned husks,” he concluded from one picture, though there wasn’t much left to indicate that besides the remnants of clothing and equipment pieces, “An incendiary weapon?”

“Flame thrower tanks were present at that night’s battle, but this was not nearby those. The same carbon residue was inside. More charcoal dust. Look at the flora, as well. Reduced to ash and residue, from a radius within the enemy’s concentration.”

“So you propose that this was a Netillian weapon that found the wrong target?” Goldfolger continued to peer over the pictures, “We have not encountered it anywhere else on the front. There has nor even been deployment of Flayer. Have your men spoken with those present at the battle? Are they certain of where it came from?” His concern was clear- this sort of weapon was a tremendous threat, especially if it wasn’t even known how it had been deployed.

“It was at night, and visibility was further inhibited by smoke and lachrymator compounds necessitating the use of gas masks. None of our men reported seeing what did it, or how, just that they were thankful it was deployed at all, even by accident. Even the men wounded by the weapon’s effects.”
>>
“None of them observed a thing?” Goldfolger pressed, “Nothing at all?” He flipped to a photograph and pointed along a portion of the waves of destruction over the ground, “Look here. This washes over the trench. Yet none of our men suffered the effects of these more destroyed bodies, have they?”

“…There was one thing,” the analyst swallowed in contemplation, “Captain Sehtz was asked about the events just before that…occurrence. He claimed that a tank officer told him and his men explicitly to take cover approximately ten seconds before the event.”

Goldfolger’s eyes flashed. “Why would that be?” A pause. “Which tank officer? A Mittelsosalian one?”

“No. A Lieutenant Von Tracht. He departed soon after and returned to his unit, Fourth Company of the Reserve Battalion.”

“…That one, hm,” Goldfolger’s brow furrowed, and he scratched his chin slowly, deliberately. “That one…”

“What of Von Tracht, sir?”

“Make a note to assemble whatever we know about him. See if you can ask him directly as well, when the chance comes.” Though Goldfolger knew better than to expect a lower level officer to reliably survive for overlong. Men did not arrive to his unit without being talented and lucky, but in dire times both could be overwhelmed by the sheer peril the Silver Lances were expected to weather.

“If I may ask, sir. Why?” The Analyst was still befuddled.

“It is less him,” Goldfolger said as he rearranged the photos into a stack and handed them back to the analyst, “Than whom he has relation to. Tell me, do you know whom that man is betrothed to?”

“I confess sir,” the Analyst shifted from one foot to the other, bothered, “That I do not follow the personal affairs of ever member of low nobility to cause a slight commotion. He seems unimportant.”

“His family holds but the title of Ritter. They are, as you say, unimportant, though we know better than to judge a man by the circumstances of their birth, don’t we?” The General was of no nobility at all. “Politically speaking, however, as an acquaintance of the Archduke,” a social position that made him aware of plenty of other proclivities he preferred not touch upon in most company, even if he complained about them to his wife and sons, “I am aware of certain important people who matter to the internal workings of our Archduchy. Lieutenant Richter Von Tracht is to be married to Maddalyn Von Blum, daughter of Barnabas Von Blum. Once his favorite, as I was told.”

“What would such a minor noble do to marry into such a house?” The Analyst frowned.
>>
“The patriarch of what remains of Von Tracht did a great favor to Von Blum and the house’s heir,” Goldfolger led up front. The details were a very long story- he tried to keep succinct. He had a point to make, after all. “You might remember that two…perhaps two and one half years past, the heir to Von Blum, Bastian Von Blum, stood accused of murdering the then Crown Prince of Strossvald.”

“Of course I remember. Everybody remembers.” The Analyst thought a moment, then snapped a finger. “Ah! Right. The legal defense managed to prove quite reasonably that that Bastian did not do it. The murderer wasn’t found, though.”

“Indeed. Then, only last year, we were relatively close to the Blumlands, preparing for the operations against Valsten, there was immensely suspect activity occurring in the territory. Troubles with Imperial-backed infiltrators and sympathizers. That was supposedly handled, wrapped up. Yet, there was tell of an unusual amount…suppressed.”

“Are you thinking of issuing an order for this Von Tracht to be taken off the lines so he can be questioned, General?” the Analyst said, cocking his head after nodding thoughtfully.

“Hm? No. I am merely thinking aloud. It is not your place to do anything, remember. This is only related to if we should be concerned about unknown Netillian weaponry. The Judge Above knows they’ve sprung plenty of those upon us this bloody campaign. Any actions we take are merely to preserve this unit and its mission.” After all…Von Tracht was the last descendant of the unit’s very founders. The family had returned to their origins, finally. “I do want whatever can be gathered to be assembled, however. That does not take away from our primary mission. It is of tertiary concern for now. Record the weapon deployment as an unknown Netillian experimental munition that backfired.”

“Yes, General.”

“One more thing, while we have privacy,” Goldfolger pointed to the photos still in the analyst’s hands, “Those tanks, where are they now?”

“Men with papers identifying them with Capital affairs claimed them and took them away,” the Analyst recited.

“I should have known,” Goldfolger grumbled, now in quite an off mood, “Damn Willen. I’ll have to pen a letter telling him to stay the hell out of my operations.”

“Sir?”

“That’s all. You’ve done well. Dismissed.”

-----
>>
Buried under another identity, you trudged towards a band of people who thought you were somebody you absolutely were not. Not Lieutenant, not Kommandant, not even Fairy Boy or whatever other emasculating names Anya came up with for you, because Sergeant Anya Nowicki was Richter Von Tracht’s retinue, and that was not who you were right now, nor for this mission you were soon to embark upon.

Somewhere under the cosmetics, the brass goggles and the heavy fringed woolen scarf, you certainly looked like Richter Von Tracht, but for now all of what made up that man did not apply to the image that had been constructed and laid over top of you. Right now, you were Sleepwalker, an intimidating and fierce weapon of Strossvald’s Intelligence Office. Also, a dead man, but he walked again in your boots in order to lead a band of the IO’s more disposable operatives on an important mission, to make up their debt to Strossvald’s society through risking life and limb for its shadowy secret services. How Sleepwalker acted was up to your interpretation, apparently, but the guidelines you had been given were that he was blunt, brutal, and savage. Not somebody who had to try very hard to be intimidating.

These operatives were not like the spies you had encountered before, nor like any members of the IO you’d met. Mercenaries occupied a portion of the forces now placed under your command, in places such as fire support and staff and noncombatant roles. However, the fighting folk were condemned, largely damaged people with only a few exceptions. They had little choice but to go on this mission, and the preservation of their lives was utterly unimportant compared to the goal of accomplishing the task, which was to penetrate into enemy lines and salvage the crash site of an unusual Ellowian aircraft.

Now it was time to meet them in person. You’d read the limited dossiers on the leaders of this group- the people you were supposed to command on this mission, officers, if one were to allow them such titles. Two leaders of tank platoons, one of an infantry contingent. There were other elements too, but they were not the frontline, not the part that was labeled as disposable.

Two of them were waiting, and you recognized them as you approached with a deliberate steady pace. Eiche and Von Kalderhaus- one seemingly a plain criminal who made the wrong people angry, the other a monster. Mandel was not present, for whatever reason. You’d have to inquire after that, but you weren’t to make small talk with these people anyways. The person you were pretending to be was a frightening sort, one to fear, who suffered no courteous airs. A good fit for these people’s relationship to the IO.
>>
Straight and to the point, you thought as you stood in front of the two. Von Kalderhaus saluted stiffly, as though in reflex. Eiche was relaxed, near slouching, and he had a scowl on his plug-ugly face that made him look like he despised everything in existence. Maybe he was being punished for that, to be here alongside the other man, and in the same position as the woman. The latter a murderer of nobility twice over, the former guilty of even uglier crimes. The same amount of murders, and also, fourteen rapes. Even if this Vars Von Kalderhaus didn’t look it, with a soft, smooth face, a firm discipline in his posture, and despite his record of service, he was only as old as your fiancée.

“You already have the briefing,” you said, trying to sound gravelly, aloof. “Where’s the woman? We don’t have time to dawdle.”

“Got bored waiting,” Eiche said sullenly, “Maybe didn’t want to hang out with Von Rape here, what a surprise that’d be.” Von Kalderhaus twitched. Was that a cringe? Surely a beast would not care what they were called after the sort of thing he’d done. “Is there anything else to say?”

“No.” You answered, “Anything vital can be discussed on the way, over radio. Go to your men, we leave now. We’ll be moving down the line until we’re signaled the exact coordinates of the objective.”

“A moment, Herr Sleepwalker,” Von Kalderhaus said quickly, “I must request, that some small amount of camaraderie be shown among even…our lot. I would request that I be called by my family name or rank and not Von Rape. I will not suffer such a flippant insult, if we are to risk our lives…”

What in the world was this? He sounded like he was pleading…

Eiche’s only response was a wet snort and a spit on the ground.

>The character you were couldn’t have cared less. Ignore him and go right to your vehicle. They’d best know to get ready on their own.
>Tell Eiche to not antagonize Von Rape. There wasn’t a pecking order here. You were the only big dog, and that’s how Sleepwalker liked it.
>Remind Kalderhaus that he is obligated to absolutely nothing, and that he should grow a spine. Or else you’ll have his worthless arse tossed out. All of them were replaceable for people who didn’t bitch about being treated like the junk they are.
>Other?

Pastebin for past threads- https://pastebin.com/UagT0hnh
Twitter for announcements and shitposts is @scheissfunker

Sorry that I'm so late posting this today, even if it is the day I said I'd start a new thread. It's only been a month, after all.
>>
>>4852999
>>The character you were couldn’t have cared less. Ignore him and go right to your vehicle. They’d best know to get ready on their own.

Welcome back
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>>4852999
>>The character you were couldn’t have cared less. Ignore him and go right to your vehicle. They’d best know to get ready on their own.
>>
>>4852999
>>The character you were couldn’t have cared less. Ignore him and go right to your vehicle. They’d best know to get ready on their own.

It's not like we'd call him Von Rape anyways, don't they have callsigns that will be used over wireless that we can enforce if they continue bickering.

Loving the alternative character perspectives at the beginning of every thread btw.
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>>4852983
Viska was too good for this world.
That being said, where's my belly-up catgirl Anya at?

>>4852999
>The character you were couldn’t have cared less. Ignore him and go right to your vehicle. They’d best know to get ready on their own.
>>
>>4852999
>The character you were couldn’t have cared less. Ignore him and go right to your vehicle. They’d best know to get ready on their own.
>>
>>4852999
>>Remind Kalderhaus that he is obligated to absolutely nothing, and that he should grow a spine. Or else you’ll have his worthless arse tossed out. All of them were replaceable for people who didn’t bitch about being treated like the junk they are.
If he doesn't want to be called Von Rape then he has to earn that redemption on the battlefield. His odds of making it back are a bit better than most rapists who wander in front of a gun in Sosaldt.
>>
>>4852999
>The character you were couldn’t have cared less. Ignore him and go right to your vehicle. They’d best know to get ready on their own.
>>
>>4852999
>The character you were couldn’t have cared less. Ignore him and go right to your vehicle. They’d best know to get ready on their own.
sick trips btw
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>>4852999
>Remind Kalderhaus that he is obligated to absolutely nothing, and that he should grow a spine. Or else you’ll have his worthless arse tossed out. All of them were replaceable for people who didn’t bitch about being treated like the junk they are.
>>
>>4852999
>Tell Eiche to not antagonize Von Rape. There wasn’t a pecking order here. You were the only big dog, and that’s how Sleepwalker liked it.
>>
>>4852999
>Tell Eiche to not antagonize Von Rape. There wasn’t a pecking order here. You were the only big dog, and that’s how Sleepwalker liked it.
Big dick vote for big dick digits.
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>>4853004
>>4853034
>>4853035
>>4853041
>>4853043
>>4853169
>>4853229
Ah, bickering. A load of not any of your business.

>>4853061
>>4853233
A special reminder for the man to get with the program. He could be dead right now, if he wanted.

>>4853360
>>4853897
Quit infighting. There's an enemy out there, and you're both mud as far as I'm concerned.

Writing.

>>4853035
>Loving the alternative character perspectives at the beginning of every thread btw.
Thanks, I like to do it to keep the world wide scale, since it's not like the player perspective would know any of this, but I think I can trust people not to try and metagame knowledge they shouldn't reasonably have.

>>4853041
>That being said, where's my belly-up catgirl Anya at?
Uhhh
I'll have it done before the end of the thread this time.
Hopefully not belly up in the fish way.
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>>4853992
>Thanks, I like to do it to keep the world wide scale, since it's not like the player perspective would know any of this, but I think I can trust people not to try and metagame knowledge they shouldn't reasonably have.

IO deep state shenanigans is a trip for sure
>>
Update soon, sorry about the full day delay right off the bat.
>>
Much as you might have liked to give a retort one way or the other, favoring neither side in this considering the necessity of working together to come out of this successful, that simply wasn’t the persona you had adopted. You gave a gruff grunt, shrugged your shoulders, and turned on your heel to go get acquainted with your command vehicle. They’d have to know well enough to get to their own posts to get ready to move.

“Don’t ignore me, you-“ but Von Kalderhaus shut his mouth without you having to give a threatening glare. Eiche didn’t bother wasting any more of his breath either, and you didn’t turn your head at all as you went to the ugly metal box on treads that would be your new home for the next hours.

It wasn’t much to look at- an ugly box with radio masts and what looked like plain junk welded to the outside haphazardly in what could only be an attempt to make it look like a pile of garbage, aesthetically, not literally. The door in the side made it seem more like a hut on treads than a combat vehicle, despite the machine gun sticking out of the hull for self-defense. Its specifications included an “office,” yet you were still surprised when you entered it and found a serviceable, if cramped, booth with a seat and a desk for you, a map already spread over the table with markers on it, and other information pinned up on corkboard around the walls, as well as a radio set mounted on the other. It was almost silly looking- a small aperture was a window to the other crew’s compartment, where a driver and bow gunner resided.

“You two,” you said towards the aperture, “Get the engine running. We have to go.”

The mercenaries jumped to action with stammered apologies. Whether it was because they were caught being lazy or your new persona was that scary was hard to tell. “It’ll be right up, Herr Sleepwalker,” the driver began cranking on an unseen clanking object.

“It’d better,” you said curtly, as you sat at the desk and acquainted yourself with everything in the harsh yellow light in the cabin. There were several different markers with red flags, accompanied with a letter and number code- theoretical locations for the crash site? It hadn’t been very long since the plane went down, according to the IO, so nobody higher up knew where it was. That was the information that was to be transmitted to you on the way.
>>
Best to send out the call, then. Mandel hadn’t bothered staying to greet you like the others had, after all, so she wouldn’t know until your voice came through on the radio. What were you to call this bunch, anyways? A company? A quick consultation of a leather bound book stuffed with crusty yellow pages told you- the group organization of a band of “mercenaries” such as this was a range of generic terms and deformations of military terms. You recognized a few Anya used, but the more important definition was that the collective group was called…a group. Nice and simple. The name of such being “Red Fangs.” A naming theme likely shared with at least a hundred other small brigand-mercenary groups.

Another book had everybody’s code names. Apparently, you were given the name “Dead Man-“ how appropriate for the person you were pretending to be. Mela Mandel was “Vagrant,” Lared Eiche was “Bandit,” and Vars Von Kalderhaus was “Arson.” The act, not the actor. There didn’t seem to be any deep symbolism- they were simple noms de guerre similar to most in the region, many went by false names rather than their true ones in Sosaldt. How much that would chance with the Republic was yet to be seen.

“Red Fangs,” you said coolly into the radio set, the dials for frequencies already tuned to the “company,” “Sound off. We’re moving out as soon as possible.”

“Vagrant toon, ready.” Mela sounded distant and unperturbed, like she wasn’t really paying attention, but her response was so quick that she couldn’t be accused of not being attentive.

“Bandit toon is all set.” Eiche was no less bothered than before. He’d rather be anywhere but here, you guessed, but considering that he was in a tank, there really were worse positions he could have been in.

A delay.

“…Red Fangs,” you prompted again.

“Arson, standing by.” Von Kalderhaus said quickly, breathlessly. “The men and vehicles are in order.” No apology would be coming from him even if it was warranted. Not that Sleepwalker cared about formalities, you imagined.

“We move north immediately,” you repeated your aims for movement, “Along the route arranged.” That was to say, well behind the front lines, until it was time to divert towards the crash site, when its location was relayed. “Be prepared for a course change.”

Confirmation was elicited from all of the Red Fangs, and you were soon on your way at a decent pace north-westwards. You switched the set to the long range frequency the IO would be announcing your objective’s final location at, according to the nearest pin on the map to it. Each had a name taped around it- phrases that seemed utterly innocuous.
>>
That same map was before displayed other details of area of the front, along with lines delineating where friendly and enemy forces were. Presently, the Reserve Battalion of the Silver Lances and their support engaged this group of Netillians to the front, while the other tank regiments pressed up of either side of this new pocket. The penetration was illustrated by a sloping line from south to north west- the Netillians were collapsing inwards to maintain the integrity of their lines, but they hadn’t gone into full retreat yet. More maps were rolled up in a container in a corner, each to be used in the case you would have to venture to the specific area they were in. They were hasty affairs composed from aerial photographs, but still good to have on short notice anyways. Every predicted location for the objective to crash land in was well behind enemy lines, but that was why such a force had been allocated to you.

Would it be enough? The Netillians in this region had received reinforcement, but both they and the forces sent to help them had been getting at least as battered as your own side was, while the Red Fangs were, as far as you could tell, completely fresh. Out of everybody you’d be the most sleep deprived and hungry. At least you didn’t have to do anybody’s share of fighting proper, only the thinking.

A packet of Pervitin tablets had been placed at one corner of your table. In your own unit, the company leader Von Silbertau hadn’t authorized the use of emergency stimulants, but, the IO must have cared as much about that as they did about ripping you out of your unit. Next to the packet, though- Special Unit Usage- Code Phrase- Chocolates. So all of the combat elements had it too, hm? Not that you were any sort of authority on the subject of drugs, but you did wonder if these troops would really need such a boost.

“So, uh,” one of the mercenary crew driving your vehicle thought to be conversational, “When are we getting word on where we’re going?”

“When you get it,” you answered gruffly enough to discourage further small talk. Half of it was playing your character, but the other half was just so you could keep your head clear. It was a big crashing plane- how hard could it be for the IO to confirm where it landed, anyways? A peek out the cupola in the roof of the office told you at least one somewhat reassuring thing- fog was rolling in. It would be much harder for the Ellowians to simply bomb your objective, though when you opened up the hatch and looked outside further, even now, the Netillian and Ellowian air forces were in fierce competition for these particular skies. Even more so than they had been in the past days.
>>
Rolled 1, 2, 2 = 5 (3d3)

The radio crackled. “Report.”

“Here,” you replied quickly.

“Shrine to Vice. Out.” That would be the only message you got, and you looked through the pins to rediscover the one with that code phrase.

…Ah. That one. You announced the change in course to the Red Fangs, and their marching order, and pace…

“Dead Man,” Von Kalderhaus said after, “Are we permitted to open the chocolates?”

>Rolling 3d3 to see the objective’s and the terrain leading up to its primary terrain type, the final d3 being the objective itself. Maps and such will come after this vote- note that this is terrain for a direct straight shot route, and diverting from a straight shot route for better terrain is possible if you wish to potentially suffer delays.
1- Open Ground- Plains
2- Rolling Hills- the Normal, really.
3- Semi-Urban, or what passes for such, around these parts.
Also-
>Decide order and/or formation of your platoons. Support and their escort will always be in the rear.
>Determine pace. As fast as possible, or relatively deliberate?
>Permit Pervitin distribution?
As a reminder if needed, your force distribution is such-
Unit 1- Mandel- Two type LT-24 light tanks with 3.7cm cannon, one m/24K self-propelled gun with 8cm support gun (Platoon Command Vehicle)
Unit 2- Eiche- Two type NfK-7t medium tanks armed with 3.7 cm cannon, one of them up-armored (Platoon Command Vehicle), and a AdL-AS Belette type light tank armed with a 3.7 cm cannon.
Unit 3- Von Kalderhaus- Forty infantry, in four armored personnel carriers
You also have a pair of mortar carriers as support, but they are in the relative rear along with the salvage troops and their escorting accompaniment- you do not need to divert your three frontline units for their defense.
>>
>>4855298
>Decide order and/or formation of your platoons. Support and their escort will always be in the rear.
Form an inverted triangle more or less with the armour infront screening the APCs
>Determine pace. As fast as possible, or relatively deliberate?
Fast as possible before the fog obscures everything
>Permit Pervitin distribution?
Don't take it ourselves but for the combat people knock themselves out.
>>
>>4855298
>Decide order and/or formation of your platoons. Support and their escort will always be in the rear.
Spearhead with armor in the front. Unit 1 will form the left half of the formation and Unit 2 will form the right half with Unit 3 following them in the middle. Once we reach the hills the units should be ready to break formation and move more independently around the hills, depending on how the situation is when we get off the plains.
>Determine pace. As fast as possible, or relatively deliberate?
Fast as possible across the plains, in the hills slow down to keep together easier for concentrating firepower to take out anything that could be a problem as quickly as possible.
>Permit Pervitin distribution?
Wait to open the chocolates until the group reaches the hills, then feel free.
No urban areas, thank the Judge. Who knows what these junkies could do unleashed on a civilian population.
>>
>>4855298
>Decide order and/or formation of your platoons. Support and their escort will always be in the rear.
Eiche front, then Mandel, then Kalderhaus, then us,
>Determine pace. As fast as possible, or relatively deliberate?
As fast as possible
>Permit Pervitin distribution?
No, too early for that.
>>
>>4855298
Seconding this >>4855370
>>
>>4855370
+1
Clear the plains as fast as possible.
>>
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>>4855394
>>
>>4855370
Supporting, I wonder if the Nets defending those hills will be ordered to pull back to reach the objective first or if they'll decide holding the ground is more important.
>>
>>4855298
>>Determine pace. As fast as possible, or relatively deliberate?
Zoom Zoom
>>Permit Pervitin distribution?
No, their still fresh
>>
>>4855370
Supporting
>>
>>4855316
Inverted Wedge- Two in front, Infantry behind.

>>4855370
>>4855394
>>4855437
>>4855659
>>4856444
Normal Wedge- two echelons.

>>4855387
Column of tanks with the thicker armor in front.

>>4855316
Chocolate sounds delicious. For everybody else.

>>4855370
>>4855394
>>4855437
>>4855659
>>4856444
Delay usage.

>>4855387
>>4856202
Keep off the pills.

Of course, everybody would like to move as quickly as they can.

Writing.

>>4855394
>>4855483
Too bad you got rid of your pet before you could disgust more than one woman with it.
>>
>>4856550
>Too bad you got rid of your pet before you could disgust more than one woman with it.
Easily one of the top five hardest quest decisions made yet.
>>
Update soon, it'll be map time again, of a sort.
Which probably means it will end in far less time than it took to prepare, which admittedly was mostly right before the thread and during.
>>
“Hold off on the chocolates,” you said in response to the request, “They’re for later.” Thank goodness there weren’t any sprawling towns or villages to pass through. Strays and vagrants and looters were common enough, but they at least knew to stay out of the way. People tended to stay home in Sosaldt no matter what blew through, though. Discarded and exiled they may be, but undeserving of having criminals on stimulants roll through. “We’re going into the killing now. Get ready.”

You’d be going as fast as you possibly could while you still had the chance- the first terrain between you and the crash site was an open plain, ideal tank country with high visibility. A good place to make a penetration, but after that the maps indicated that the rolling hills that were the norm of this part of Sosaldt returned, some quite clustered together. As for the formations, the tanks were arrayed like the blade of a spear, with the infantry transports behind them. Even though none of the tanks under your command compared to your own personal mount, they still constituted a formidable force. Six tanks of any sort were nothing to scoff at.

The command segment of your force, consisting of your vehicle, the pair of 8 centimeter mortar carriers, the salvage crew, and your mercenary escorts, trailed roughly two hundred meters behind the main force. The mortar carriers could engage targets just over a kilometer away with respectable accuracy, according to the formation files. You didn’t need to cling tightly to the people doing the dirty work.

Chocolate uniformed, dusty Republic troops manning hastily dug trenches were passed on by- they were sparse, much like how the overextended and withdrawing enemy was, because the fight was not here, it was further north. The Netillians had been holding out here because of the necessity for stronger troops to force the spearheads forward, but now that you had come here with the strength you had? They’d be in for a challenge indeed.

It did not take long for a response to show itself as the Red Fangs charged forth towards enemy lines, delineated by earthworks on the open plains, though their distance and the encroaching fog made it hard to tell exactly where they were and how many of them there were, only that they were certainly not running off. Yet.
>>
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“Hey, Dead Man,” Eiche’s voice crackled over the radio, “Got tanks, low, flat looking things. Three of them.”

Low and flat? You flipped through the vehicle identification book in this office quickly. Maybe you’d steal it after this, though you were sure of what it probably was anyways. Yes, there, an NfK-7k. There were variants with 3.7 centimeter cannons, as well as 5 centimeter cannon variants. The latter would be quite dangerous to your team, and even the former were a tough target for most of your formation’s weapons. Besides Mandel’s toon lead vehicle which was armed with an 8 centimeter low velocity cannon, dangerous to armor if it used its special high explosive plastic munitions, all of the tanks were armed with 3.7 centimeter cannons themselves, and the lighter half of them were not armored to resist such.

“Distance,” you recognized Eiche’s call out.

“Five to six hundred meters. We’re in combat range.” Or at least, as far out as one could shoot and reasonably expect to hit something, without very good gun optics. “We’ll turn and face ‘em on your order.”

>Command your group. The objective is to reach the east side of the map and progress towards the crash site objective.

As the fog grows thicker, it will be more difficult to engage enemies at range, though for now, the effect is negligible. At ranges over four tiles, the accuracy of your tanks’ general armament drops off severely, and the same applies for infantry weapons over two tiles, though the Marksman modifier increases this range by one tile of 100 meters.

Your units are in groups currently, but can be split up into lone vehicles/squads if desired.

While your command section does not need to be directly with the group, and can be up to three hundred meters away and still count as adjacent for map crossing purposes, your vehicles are still very much present. It may be prudent to not expose yourself unnecessarily. Your escorts can defend you effectively against small scale infantry attack, but little else. Your mortars require a turn to prepare to fire, but can strike any area on the map with smoke or high explosive.
>>
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>>4857902
Smoke and bypass.
Infantry fights mounted.

That is if the mortar carriers can fire in a timely fashion (ie no need to deploy). Regardless the northern defensive emplacements are to far to engage us if we egress south and east. And the rocks in the middle of their line break LOS from any guns up there.
>>
>>4857951
>Your mortars require a turn to prepare to fire
Guess I cant read.
>>
>>4857902
Alright, have the tanks wheel around and face the enemy NfKs. Get the mortars ready to fire smoke rounds in front of the NfKs to blind them in preparation for our tanks rushing them. I want the APCs to maintain as much distance from the enemy armor then break for that grassy patch near the bottom of the map and check to see if there is anyone waiting there for a clever ambush. If everything goes peachy hopefully the fog will thicken enough during the fight that we won't have to worry about accurate fire from anything at the trench line.
>>
>>4857951
>>4857968
A combination of these plans should work. Smoke the enemy tanks, use the concealment of the smoke to rush our tanks up to them and overwhelm them at close range using force of numbers. Smoke the southernmost enemy positions while the tank battle is occurring. Then the company/group passes the enemy positions to the south under cover of the smoke and our tanks.
>>
>>4857902
Those are some really nice tanks, tanq.
Also poor Eiche, Jesus Christ.

>>4857951
>>4857968
I'll support these, distance is not our ally if we genuinely want to fight the NfK-7ks.
It's be better if we smoke them as the tanks are charging them, then have them change course once the smoke is thick enough. Want to try and maintain our speed if we can.
>>
>>4857951
>>4857978
Supporting
>>
>>4857951
>>4857968
>>4857978
>>4858050
>>4858093
Smoke in the face of the tanks, then in the trenches- pass along south.
Update on the way,
>>
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“Vagrant, wheel your toon over to point the formation towards those tanks. I’ll blind them with smoke, then Bandit and Vagrant will engage those enemy tanks from the front. Get in close and let ‘em have it. Arson, swing south and kill anything in that tall grass.”

“I copy.” Mandel said before Eiche, “Bandit.”

“I’m not deaf, woman. That smoke better come quick, dead man. They’ll be in firing range real soon, not that I’m that worried.” Eiche did, after all, have an up-armored vehicle.

“My unit is moving,” Von Kalderhaus said after. He didn’t have much to do yet- but you intended to make full use of the most dangerous of your troops for what good purpose could be extracted from them now.

Back to your local headquarters communications. “Mortar section. Do you copy?”

“Copy, copy,” a strong Valsten accent. Maybe East Valsten? You had no idea. “Where do you need the bombs?”

“Half a klick east,” You gave more specific coordinates, “Between where our tanks and their tanks will be in those fields. Five rounds smoke from the both of you. I want the fog in early.”

“Got it, boss. On its way.”

It would take a bit of time for the mortar carriers to lay in their targets and for the bombs to travel, but you guessed they would hit right before any shooting would start. Otherwise, you’d be finding out fast enough if these were the 3.7 centimeter or 5 centimeter gun variant.
>>
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A lull in communications. Then, as you stood on the cupola stand to get a look out, you saw the smoke billowing out in the distance among the dust clouds kicked up by the armor formations.

“Just in time, Dead Man,” Eiche said with some new appreciation in his grumpy tone. “Hey, Vagrant, let’s get in their faces.”

“Anti-tank guns sighted,” Mandel said rather than making any agreement, with a level and dispassionate tone. “To the northeast and direct east. At edge of engagement range in earthworks. Three point seven centimeter type.” More precise coordinates were approximated. “Permission to divert and engage.”

Such meant leaving Eiche to handle the tanks on his own. Perhaps he could do that, but the anti-tank guns were relatively far. They could fire, but could they hit effectively compared to the closer threat of the NfK-7ks?

“Arson is at the brush. No contacts.” Von Kalderhaus said. Nobody to the south? Well then…

>Order Mandel and Vagrant Toon to keep helping Bandit. The tanks were the greater threat.
>Allow Mandel to engage the anti-tank guns, but from far away. Distance was a better friend against such guns as these.
>Have Mandel and her toon move up to engage the guns from a proper distance. Dug in as they were, you had to be closer to hit reliably.
>Other?
Also
>What to tell the infantry to do?
>Orders for support? Remember that there is a delay.
>>
>>4858695
>>Order Mandel and Vagrant Toon to keep helping Bandit. The tanks were the greater threat.


>Orders for support? Remember that there is a delay.
Mortars suppress that anti-tank gun
>>
>>4858695
This >>4858711
>>
>>4858695
>>4858711
Solid plan
>>
>>4858695
Supporting >>4858711
>>
>>4858711
>>4858695
>>
>>4858695
>>4858711
This and
>What to tell the infantry to do?
Have the infantry move and deploy by those two big rocks for cover and see if they can get some fire onto the AT gun with the marksmen squad, have the rest of the squads move into the grass towards the trench line and harass the trench if they can but mostly they should stay in the grass and wait for the situation to develop.
>>
>>4858769
Why are we wasting time engaging this defensive line? Its not our job to effect a breakthrough here. Im against dismounting and wasting further time with static defenses we can bypass.
>>
>>4858795
My intent was not to actually storm the defensive line, but to have the infantry move to a place where they will still be relevant to the fight. The APCs would already be ahead of the tanks so if the tank fight goes well the infantry can just mount back up with the APCs and keep going and I don't think any time will be lost. If things do not go well however, I thought it would be a good idea to have the infantry in a place where they can put pressure on that AT gun.
>>
>>4858828
+1 on the AT pressure.
We gotta keep pushing.
We are running on borrowed time.
>>
>>4858711
Second. Maybe a mix of smoke and HE to both blind and suppress the gun crews would be best. Also remind our tanks that we won't waste all our mortar shells here so the sooner they knock out those enemy tanks the sooner they can move south and get out of range. That should be some decent motivation for them.

>>4858828
I'd rather the infantry spend that time clearing the grass properly rather than rushing through it to engage the AT gun, which shouldn't be a problem anyway. Especially since we know the Netillians to use those patches of grass for concealment, and getting in small arms range of the AT gun means that our infantry will also be in range of whatever else they have in those trenches, which is an unnecessary risk.
>>
>>4858711
Supporting
>>
Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>4858711
>>4858713
>>4858728
>>4858756
>>4858767
>>4858769
>>4858903
>>4858945
Tanks on tanks, mortars on AT Gun. Presumably the closer one.

>>4858828
>>4858858
Get the infantry to harass the north line.

>>4858795
>>4858903
Against this action?

Hm. Flipping a "coin." One is harassment protocol, the other is remaining more mobile, I suppose, and clearing out the open ground.
>>
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Rolled 87, 88 = 175 (2d100)

“Keep clearing out that area, Arson,” you said, “I want no surprises. Vagrant, help Bandit with the tanks. The mortars will handle the anti-tank guns.”

“Yes sir.” Mandel’s voice had no relief or disquiet about it- it was unnerving in an odd way. Hilda spoke in a similar way where she suppressed her emotions, but there was something behind that- it was odd to say, but you felt nothing from this voice.

“Delay a bit, Vagrant,” Eiche said, “I’ll go south of the cloud and you go north. No matter what they do then they’re screwed.”

You left your platoon commanders to their task and called up the mortars, giving them the location of the anti-tank guns and telling them to give them two high explosive shells and two smoke shells each. Would it have been better to concentrate on one? Perhaps, but you had the idea to smoke them out, too. They didn’t need to be destroyed, then. Even if the white phosphorous of the smoke didn’t burn them out, they wouldn’t be able to see your tanks through that, even without factoring in the mist turning into fog.
Though there’d be a small delay. A small delay you hoped wouldn’t be a mistake, as your mortars found their targets and sent the shells on their way…

>Rolling 2d100 for AT Gun attacks. One is DC roll under 55, the other is DC 25- the closer and further ones. Distance penalties increased by mild fog.
>>
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Rolled 1, 20, 99 = 120 (3d100)

The sound of guns firing- but your platoon leaders reported no hits.

“There is nobody here, Dead Man,” Von Kalderhaus complained, “I guarantee it.”

Good to know. Von Kalderhaus sounded like he’d been asked to waste his time, but the Netillians had shown their ability to use tall grasses as effective cover in the fighting a few days ago. Perhaps that was their elite, and you could hope you were not fighting them here, but you couldn’t be too careful, could you?

“Enemy in sight.” Mandel reported. “Three fixed gun types.”

“I’m coming right up on them, Vagrant,” Eiche said. “Looks like they’re waiting for us!”

The first tank engagement. The mortar rounds had gone out, and you could assume that the anti-tank guns had been disrupted, but now you’d have to depend on your tankers’ abilities, and hope against that of the Netillians. The odds seemed in your favor, but anything could happen. There wasn’t a penalty for not succeeding in this mission, but…you wanted to win, not to go crawling back to the IO with your tail between your legs. Even if these people were condemned anyways, what sort of commander would you be if you threw even their lives away?

>Given the close range of this engagement, hitting is practically guaranteed. So you’ll be rolling for initiative instead. The Netillians have an initiative bonus of 15. Mandel’s command vehicle has a penalty of 15 due to having no turret and having to move to engage (moving only one tile does not give an aim penalty). Rolls will be in order of the unit number- ie, Vagrant 1-3, then Bandit 1-3. Enemy dice here will be first against Vagrant, then the other two against bandit. Attacks are made in order of initiative rolls here.
Give me 2 sets of 3d100, Higher Better.
>>
Rolled 39, 74, 51 = 164 (3d100)

>>4859815
>>
Rolled 24, 42, 67 = 133 (3d100)

>>4859815
>>
>>4859815
F
>>
>>4859830
that 99 sucks, otoh they did roll a 1 so...
>>
>>4859821
>>4859828
1-Enemy 3
2-Vagrant 2
3-Bandit 3
4-Vagrant 3
5-Bandit 2
6-Enemy 2
7- Bandit 1
8- Vagrant 1
9- Enemy 1

Lucky you, in a way.
Updating.
>>
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The sounds of a tank battle ensued, brief, but a chaos of distant cannon and machine gun fire. The cannon fire wasn’t over yet when Eiche reported in.

“Got ‘em. One was quick as hell, my number two took a bad hit to the hull. They can still fight and move, at least.”

“That was quick,” you observed.

“The enemy was turned in different directions,” Mela said coolly, “They could not hide their vulnerabilities from every knife stabbing at them. My men had nothing to fire at but weak points.”

“Yes, yes, you did passably well,” Von Kalderhaus said impatiently, “What now? I’ve seen nobody and I’ve no reason to suspect there are any further to our east. My marksmen claim that they don’t see anybody close in that direction.”

Awfully mouthy for somebody who had not shown their worth yet.

>The active threat against you had been neutralized. Make a rush east- perhaps you could slip away before the anti-tank guns were ready again.
>Secure your flanks while you could- move to get out of range of the north gun and attack the south anti-tank gun while they were still blinded and unsteady, using your infantry.
>Eliminate the anti-tank guns from a safe distance using your tanks and mortars, deliberately and decisively. There were only two of them- you had huge superiority of arms.
>Other?
>>
>>4859842
>The active threat against you had been neutralized. Make a rush east- perhaps you could slip away before the anti-tank guns were ready again.
We're not returning the same way we came in, that's spec-ops basics.
>>
>>4859842
>Other
Silence the southern AT gun and push on east
>>
>>4859847
The best option.
>>
>>4859847
This
>>
>>4859842
>>The active threat against you had been neutralized. Make a rush east- perhaps you could slip away before the anti-tank guns were ready again.
>>
>>4859842
>Secure your flanks while you could- move to get out of range of the north gun and attack the south anti-tank gun while they were still blinded and unsteady, using your infantry.
>>
>>4859842
>The active threat against you had been neutralized. Make a rush east- perhaps you could slip away before the anti-tank guns were ready again.
The HQ element might want to either gun it or head through the grass. I don't want to be the only thing those AT guns see if they find a way to poke back out through that smoke and find that all the hard targets have left and they only have soft support vehicles to shoot at.
>>
>>4859842
>The active threat against you had been neutralized. Make a rush east- perhaps you could slip away before the anti-tank guns were ready again.
>>
>>4859842
>The active threat against you had been neutralized. Make a rush east- perhaps you could slip away before the anti-tank guns were ready again.
Pop off one more HE mortars strike at the southern gun then push on.
Time's a-wastin'
>>
>>4859842
>>The active threat against you had been neutralized. Make a rush east- perhaps you could slip away before the anti-tank guns were ready again.
Lob some more mortar rounds at the southern gun for good measure while the tanks move out of range.
>>
>>4859844
Wipe the rest of the threat out, completely.

>>4859846
>>4859893
>>4860257
>>4860332
>>4860395
>>4860418
Go on as fast as you can.

>>4859904
Have the men do their work.

>>4859847
>>4859850
>>4859855
Finish the closest gun, and move right along.

Alright then, writing, as I should do earlier in the day.
What exactly does a catgirl wear anyways
>>
>>4860661
Loincloths
Maid outfits
Silk robes
Suits
Oversized winter coats
>>
>>4860661
nothing
>>
>>4860661
>What exactly does a catgirl wear anyways
A thick coat of fur
>>
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“Keep on pushing through,” you said in a flat tone to the Red Fangs unit as a whole, “We’ve dealt with the threat. Hurry onwards east, avoid getting into more fights around here. I’ll have the mortars suppress the south gun and follow you.”

“I copy.”

“Sure, Dead Man.”

“We will reform the formation on our way,” Von Kalderhaus declared, seizing upon an action that you didn’t disagree with.

Good enough. You spoke on the frequency the headquarters section was on, which you’d relay to your vehicle’s crew as well, after. “The mortars are to fire a barrage of two shells each on the southern target I stated earlier. After that, we catch up to the rest of the unit as quick as we can, swinging south. Do it now.” Sleepwalker was declarative, not diplomatic, you tried to remember. There were no friends to make here, as far as the IO was concerned, and thusly, as far as anybody was likely concerned.
>>
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Rolled 84 (1d100)

As the shells went out, you heard a contact report from Mandel. “Riflemen, hiding amongst the stones to the north,” she said as though reading off a list.
“We have the south covered. The north is the only presence of enemy.” Von Kalderhaus said after.

“You have your orders,” you said, “They will be maintained. Keep going-“

“Anti-tank rifle fire.” Mela said, and you blinked, paused, but there was no hesitation to be had now.

>Enemy DC roll under of 25
>>
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“Ineffective.” Mandel reported, and you breathed out again. There was still some way to go, and you had a feeling this wouldn’t be the hardest it got by far.

“Good. Keep moving,” you said, and you returned to the map, though focusing on it was hard with the vehicle crew doing their utmost to haul absolute tail off road, attempting to catch up to the combat element of this company while you could claim to not be being interfered with by the enemy.

The next area was a piece of work. Hilly terrain, with sparse woods over top a few of them, and what must have been an anti-tank position facing south on the southernmost hill. A pivot in a fallback defense, presumably, as the hill to that south hill’s west had trenchworks on it too. An uphill fight through the trenches to the south, or fighting through wooded terrain going north- or, there was a valley that ran between these two obstacles, between the hills. You could aim for that, as well…or you could lose some time and swing north more, where there was apparently a village, but on rather flat terrain…

>Go through the sparse wooded hills north. They were not as thick as Ellowian forests could be by far, and thus not nearly as intimidating, though still close ground…
>This company was a powerful one. You could smash through these rear line fortifications easily. Line things up south.
>Aim to go right down the middle, south of the wooded hills, but behind the trenchworks.
>Divert northwards, for easier ground, though perhaps unwilling combatants, or noncombatants.
>Other?
Note that this is for your approach, your starting point on the next map- it isn’t an absolute declaration of the maneuver you must follow.

>>4860722
You are absolutely incorrigible.
>>4860725
As are you depending on the interpretation.
>>
>>4860777
>Aim to go right down the middle, south of the wooded hills, but behind the trenchworks.

Not looking forward to the return journey already, considering the amount of stuff that seems to be in the way.
>>
>>4860777
>>Go through the sparse wooded hills north. They were not as thick as Ellowian forests could be by far, and thus not nearly as intimidating, though still close ground…
Von Kalderhaus seems awfully eager to prove himself, let's give his infantry something to do. Readjust the formation so the infantry are screening ahead of the tanks and let's head through the cover of the forest.
>>
>>4860777
>>Aim to go right down the middle, south of the wooded hills, but behind the trenchworks.
Do we have incendiary mortar shells?
>>
>>4860777
>Aim to go right down the middle, south of the wooded hills, but behind the trenchworks.
>>
>>4860790
Supporting
>>
>>4860777
>>Go through the sparse wooded hills north. They were not as thick as Ellowian forests could be by far, and thus not nearly as intimidating, though still close ground…
Call me old fashioned, but I don't like choosing to go through an obviously fortified position if I don't have to.
>>
>>4860777
>Go through the sparse wooded hills north. They were not as thick as Ellowian forests could be by far, and thus not nearly as intimidating, though still close ground…
>>
>>4860777
>Divert northwards, for easier ground, though perhaps unwilling combatants, or noncombatants.
>>
>>4860661
Cat ears, duh

>>4860777
>Go through the sparse wooded hills north. They were not as thick as Ellowian forests could be by far, and thus not nearly as intimidating, though still close ground…
>>
>>4860777
Go through the sparse wooded hills north. They were not as thick as Ellowian forests could be by far, and thus not nearly as intimidating, though still close ground…
Considering how many anti-tank rifles and guns the Netillians seem to goddamn have it'd be nice have some cover from long range. Plus we have 2 close combat brute squads and 1 lucky squad which should help.

I'd be worried if we tried to thread the needles we'd caught between hidden forest enemies and those in the trenches that would turn to face us.
>>
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>>4860784
>>4860797
>>4860801
Thread down the valley, down in between.

>>4860790
>>4860923
>>4860943
>>4861005
>>4861073
>>4861086
Take a walk in the woods.

>>4861018
Go to town. Literally.

Update coming.
Also no heavy petting.
>>
>>4861875
Good.
Now do Dog Hilda
Bonus points if you make her a bitch.
>>
Forgot to mention-

>>4860797
>Do we have incendiary mortar shells?
Sort of. The smoke shells utilize white phosphorous, which burns very hot and gouts out thick white smoke. Things are still quite flammable in places, particularly with tall grass, of course.

>>4861891
I'm unsure if I understand the difference between a dog and a bitch in this context.
>>
>>4861910
A bitch is specifically a pregnant dog.
>>
>>4861875
Amazing job, that right there, is why you're the best boss!
>>4861891
>pregnant dog girl Hilda
>not pregnant dog girl Owl 3
>>
>>4861875
This picture is glorious. Thank you. I didn't think you'd actually draw this
>>
>>4861875
Anya does seem to like stick grenades Dirlewangya when?
>>
What was called a wood in Sosaldt was a sparsely populated sprawl of trees of varying scrawniness, alongside a few gnarled ancients that avoided being harvested through looking too ugly and invulnerable to do so. They were not like the tight fit forests of Ellowie- they did not intimidate you, even if they still provided plenty of cover for enemies to spring out of. It was still a superior choice to attacking a fortified position on a hill by your measure, and if you tried to go between, you anticipated being attacked on two sides from superior ground instead of assaulting just one contingent, though that way would have certainly been the swiftest, despite the risk. Yet, this was the way, you decided. Von Kalderhaus seemed restless, after all. The infantry could earn whatever the IO compensated them with by screening your troops in this terrain, especially considering two of the squads were explicitly trained and equipped for close combat.

On the way towards this next set of landmarks, naught stood in your way. There were encounters, but they saw your force and stayed well out of the way, or moved out, or hid. A few tankers entertained themselves by shooting shots at supply dumps or carts, and would Sleepwalker reprimand them for wasting ammunition? Probably not.

“Vehicles,” Mandel said suddenly, “Armored cars. Unknown type.”

Unknown type? “How many?” You demanded, “What direction? Are they attacking?”

“Three,” Mandel answered your questions in precise order, “Northwest. No. They’ve withdrawn.”

Three was enough to cause you trouble, and there was no doubt in your mind that this wasn’t the last you’d seen of that bunch. Were they part of a reaction, or were they investigating the ruckus you’d caused on the way in? The enemy certainly knew you were here at this point. You wondered if you were enough of a threat that the local commander would throw whatever he could scrounge up in your way, even if he didn’t know your objective. They couldn’t have guessed that it was the wreck of a crash-landed Ellowian plane, so would they think this was some sudden offensive spearhead? In such a case he’d have to stop you somewhere.
>>
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Up ahead, you saw the trees and the hilltops finally loom into view. The Red Fangs didn’t speak much, and your vehicle’s crewmen didn’t bother you any further besides telling you the vehicle’s course. The fog thickened, and you felt tense, restless. A familiar feeling now. It was too quiet- not in a normal sense, of course, the sound of engines, tread, and ground tread upon created plenty of sound, but it what wasn’t around. Gunfire close by, any boom of artillery or mortar shells striking the ground, and especially lacking was the sound of any thrum of aircraft engines dueling for the skies. At least that meant the Ellowians weren’t likely to have destroyed your objective. When the formation motored on by abandoned defensive positions, quite meager ones, you knew for sure that you were expected. By what, though. Surely you were too quick and the local forces too strained to throw something into your face powerful enough to stop you?

Time to find out.

>Plan your maneuvering. Note that fog and wooded terrain limit your visibility greatly- don’t expect to get a solid view on something until you’re right up on it, but on that token, they won’t see you, either.
>>
>>4861918
I see. Well, she is four months in, after all.
>>4862018
As is the Luftpanzer girl but, a Winnifred never struck me as a floppy eared sort...
>>4862044
>I didn't think you'd actually draw this
It was within my tolerances and it was wanted, so that's all there is to it.
>>4863043
Stick grenades are relatively standard in universe, though certainly not the only thing around. Anya could go either way with grenades- ones without handles are easier to hide in clothes, for example, even if they don't have the extra leverage she appreciates given her smaller frame.
Dirly Wang's Warcrimes Gang is a bit beyond me though, at least with that character.
>>
>>4863721
Aim to push through the woods directly east, since I'd bet the road is probably well watched. Infantry to dismount and screen for the armour. Get the mortars to fire WP into those trenches to south as a diversion/flushing any entrenched infantry out.
>>
>>4863729
Supporting >>4863733
>>
>>4863733
+1
>>
>>4863733
Good enough plan, but watch the flanks.
>>
>>4863733
>>4863788
>>4863797
>>4863818
Unanimous direct eastwards- get a screen going, give the mortars something to do.
As a side note, there aren't roads on this map, the tone variation is to highlight elevation differences, the darker parts are just particularly lower. Perhaps damper if things weren't as dry.
Speaking of, I should note that while grassy terrain is extra flammable, these forests are not particularly so without concentrated effort.
Anyways, updating.
>>
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“Advance straight east,” you instructed the Red Fangs, “I want Arson to screen the tanks. Dismount when we arrive at those woods.”

“Aye, Dead Man,” Von Kalderhaus said. Nobody objected to him taking the lead- let him have it, the others must have thought.

“Mortars,” you said, listing off the coordinates of what aerial photographs suggested was an entrenched position to the southeast, “Give me smoke rounds on that. I want a diversion.” The smoke itself wasn’t much of one, but the white phosphorous used to create that smoke on quick demand had a way of scattering itself all over the place in burning hot fragments. The toxic nature of the dense white smoke aided the unpleasantness of being shelled with it, though it wasn’t really a dedicated antipersonnel munition, it was showier than plain high explosive.

The mortars made thumping noises behind, and you pored over the map again. These woods were quite thick- not unheard of in Sosaldt, but unusual, given its drier climate. Somewhere you’d heard that clutches of trees in these lands often indicated water in the ground some ways below, either that or the trees here held on to their water so stubbornly that their sap was poisonous, but you didn’t even recall where you’d heard either. One or the other, maybe both. What mattered now was that the trees were indeed here, and plenty dense enough to hide enemies combined with the fog now plenty thick. You could see about one hundred meters or so forward, but beyond that may as well have been a grey-white wall.

“Stop us in this copse before the thick of it,” you told your drivers, “We aren’t following them into these woods so quick.”

As the command and support section came to a stop and the combat elements disappeared into the woods and fog, you made a mental note, moved markers on the map in your vehicle (strongly magnetic, to counteract the thing’s unsteady motion), and tried to peer through binoculars to see both through the fog and woods, futilely.
>>
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So instead, you looked around at the support element and its escort while the unit leaders fed you updates into your headset. Their scarves, on closer notice, had a subdued, dark red down-facing triangular pattern about them; an identifier beyond the grey jackets and dark pants (the former of which made them look vaguely Ellowian, even) that they were ostensibly Republic Auxiliaries, relatively independent mercenaries in allegiance with but not directly equipped by Mittelsosalia. Had the IO gone that far in their game of pretend, or was this a group proper? Your curiosity got the better of you.

“You people,” you said to the crew of your vehicle flatly, “What outfit are you from? Before this.”

“I uh.” The driver gulped, and the codriver said further,

“Is there one we…shouldn’t be from?”

“I don’t care,” was your response. Sleepwalker probably wouldn’t care, you thought. He didn’t seem a type for long term grudges, perhaps?

“Well, a few years back-“

“I don’t want your life story,” you cut the driver off, “I meant recently.”

“Oh.” The driver sounded both relieved and concerned at once, “Nothing, Herr Sleepwalker. Independent contracting per job. Drifting, I guess. Same with my buddy here. Signed on for…this thing.”

This thing presumably being the “Red Fangs.” “Alright.” You didn’t ask for anything further, and the crew didn’t talk to you more, though they did whisper to each other.

Suddenly, an exchange of fire ahead.
>>
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Rolled 24, 57, 60, 67 = 208 (4d100)

“My southern squads, Enemies south and east!” Von Kalderhaus reported, “Numbers unknown, but there must be as many of them, or more…an ambush. It must be a platoon!”

So it began. Yet, as you looked at the map, where were the other enemies..? Further in the woods? Where? Regardless, your troops had an enemy to fight now, and you were in place to tell them how to go about it.

>Concentrate all your forces to destroy this encounter- move everything south and right in.
>Keep moving in a relative line- Bandit would support the troops in battle right now, but the north units would continue onwards.
>Advise a retreat for the south units and maneuver your others to support them- who knew what else was ready for you to maneuver right into.
>Other?
Also, give me 2d100, one for each of the south infantry squads, for attacks against the enemies here. DC roll under 60 for Squad 2, and DC roll under 40 for Squad 4. Enemy rolls are at the top against you- DC 55 roll under for all four, first two against Squad 2, the other two against Squad 4, though Squad 4 ignores the first hit against them of any attack because of their trait.
>>
Rolled 37, 21 = 58 (2d100)

>>4864231
>Keep moving in a relative line- Bandit would support the troops in battle right now, but the north units would continue onwards.
The north units can move up to hit the flank of the enemy. Have the mortars prep to fire smoke, if the north units find another element I want that new contact smoked so the north units can concentrate more on helping our engaged elements. If there is nothing to find north mortars can smoke the southernmost infantry contacts.
>>
Rolled 75, 4 = 79 (2d100)

>>4864231
>Keep moving in a relative line- Bandit would support the troops in battle right now, but the north units would continue onwards.
>>
>>4864231
>>Concentrate all your forces to destroy this encounter- move everything south and right in.
The last thing we want is to get bogged down fighting in these woods and give more enemies time to locate and intercept or ambush us, so we should crush this resistance quickly using our superior numbers. Our forces are expendable and time is against us so there's no need for delicacy. Pound the enemy position with a mortar barrage then send everyone in.
>>
Rolled 95, 55 = 150 (2d100)

>>4864231
>Advise a retreat for the south units and maneuver your others to support them- who knew what else was ready for you to maneuver right into.
>>
>>4864231
>Concentrate all your forces to destroy this encounter- move everything south and right in.
>>
>>4864247
I'll support this, I'd just advise the advancers to do so cautiously. The Nets absolutely have more units she's in those woods.

Best case the units we are engaging will retreat and we can push in force through the woods. Unfortunately the worst is we get bogged down as more units encroach behind us while we deal with whatever is waiting in front, caught between them all.

Maybe if we get lucky and shatter these infantry it will make the Nets more cautious. Hopefully the fog is already doing that.
>>
>>4864247
>>4864269
>>4864489
Up and even.

>>4864369
>>4864485
All eggs in this basket.

>>4864471
Pull back and lead in.

Writing.
>>
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“Red Fangs, forward,” you said, trying to keep cold, icy. Sleepwalker wouldn’t feel unease at his men being ambushed, you forced upon yourself. “Get up in line. I’ll have the mortars firing south. Press on.”

Affirmatives all around, save for Von Kalderhaus, who was quite occupied. Yet, his reports sounded determined- he was not suffering a defeat in this initial exchange. Not that that meant victory- only that his force stood stiff in resistance against the foe. The exchanges of gunfire certainly indicated such well enough.

Only about a minute after the shots were first exchanged, you heard Von Kalderhaus report, “The northern contingent has encountered enemy infantry!”

So that was all the infantry engaged. If your tanks simply moved forward, they would aid Von Kalderhaus in utterly crushing them, surely. “Vagrant, Arson. Forward, help Arson wipe them out,” you said to the Red Fangs.

Things didn’t turn out that way, though.

“Something else is coming.” Mandel said calmly. “They will attempt to flank us, I know it.”

A distant familiar choomping sound.

“They’re shootin’ between us with smoke!” Eiche complained.

Of course, you thought with a frustrated grunt. “Prepare to put on masks. They might have lachrymator gas.”

“Of all the fuckin’…” Eiche began to grumble, but he cut himself off. “Shit, something’s comin’ here, too. Bet it’s some of those cars.”

You were willing to bet that too, but there was naught you could do but wait and direct the fire of the mortars, hopefully in time for them to have an effect on this battle.

“Here they are.” Mandel reported.

“Here too!” Eiche said, with significantly more alarm. “They’re fast buggers! With cannons!” He didn’t seem to have time to elaborate further on what they were, but the concern told you he considered them a threat- which meant they were a threat to Mandel as well, in close quarters such as these…

>The fighting continues among the infantry- the close combat between the armored vehicles now, though, is again more a matter of reaction than precision. Roll 2 sets of 2d100 for the north and south infantry respectively, then 2 sets of 3d100 for your tankers, first for Mandel and the second for Eiche. The Netillian Armored Cars have an initiative bonus of 10, but none of your tankers will have a penalty to theirs.
>>
Rolled 77, 18 = 95 (2d100)

>>4864649
>>
Rolled 42, 38 = 80 (2d100)

>>4864649
>>
Rolled 53, 99, 49 = 201 (3d100)

>>4864649
>>
Rolled 63, 63, 20 = 146 (3d100)

>>4864649
>>
Rolled 85, 29, 8, 26, 44, 16, 54, 6 = 268 (8d100)

>>4864652
>>4864654
>>4864655
>>4864660
Alright then- first six are for enemy armored cars, the other two are for attacking infantry- only one unit is doing so, since the others are spending attacks on munitions caster usage. Again, the first ones are higher better, while the last two are roll under, DC 55 like before. The other DCs for your infantry were 60 and 40 like before, depending on if they were cqc equipped or not.
>>
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>Initiative Order-
>Vagrant 2- 99
>Enemy Armored Car 1st Group 1- 95
>Bandit 1- 63
>Bandit 2- 63
>Enemy Armored Car 2nd Group 5- 54
>Vagrant 1- 53
>Vagrant 3- 49
>Enemy Armored Car 1st Group 2- 39
>Enemy Armored Car 2nd Group 4- 36
>Enemy Armored Car 2nd Group 6- 26
>Bandit 3- 20
>Enemy Armored Car 1st Group 3- 18

There was a terrific exchange of fire ahead of you, impressive as it was concerning, and you awaited updates from your toon leaders as weapon fire of all sorts blew up and over, then suddenly ceased, though the small arms of the infantry continued unabated.

“Goddamn shit,” Eiche swore, “They took out my third. Got two of them, though. The last one shot smoke all over somehow and ran off, sounded like something their riflemen’ve got.”

A vehicle mounted munitions caster? You’d heard of them being used on the Netillian armored personnel carriers, but that wasn’t in a defensive method such as this. “Vagrant?” you asked on the radio. “Respond.”

“I also knocked out two.” Mandel sounded strained. “The last fled in a similar manner. My vehicle was struck, and I am wounded in the arm and eye.”

Are you alright? No, Sleepwalker didn’t care. “You will continue to fight.”

“I did not say I would not.”

“If the tanks are done with their personal duels, my men require aid, Vagrant and Bandit!” Von Kalderhaus said irritably, “My second squad has taken heavy casualties, but one of the enemy flanks has been turned. With just a little more force, we can break them, I can feel it!”

>Send the tanks forward to help the infantry, then, if the armored ambush had been fended off. This fight would go on until all the enemy had retreated or been destroyed. You wouldn’t be slipping away until this counterattack was crushed entirely.
>Have your southern forces withdraw north. The south enemy infantry would be being suppressed by your mortars now anyways, and you ill needed to waste any more time fighting when you could be more quickly moving along.
>Attempt to force your way through brutishly, but quickly. The greatest threats had been dispatched, the infantry ought to mount back up and all your forces should bull through the rest of the way east, despite the risks that might entail…(Including that potentially to your Command and Support element trailing behind)
>Other?
>>
>>4864759
>>Have your southern forces withdraw north. The south enemy infantry would be being suppressed by your mortars now anyways, and you ill needed to waste any more time fighting when you could be more quickly moving along.
>>
>>4864759
I'm just glad it was cars and not more Nfk7s
>Have your southern forces withdraw north. The south enemy infantry would be being suppressed by your mortars now anyways, and you ill needed to waste any more time fighting when you could be more quickly moving along.
BUT
>Have Mandel send her tanks forward against the northern infantry, those must be destroyed utterly.
We'll need our southerly units to keep along that side just in case what escaped from the south tries to attack again.
>>
>>4864759
Supporting >>4864767
>>
>>4864767
This
>>
>>4864759
>>4864767
Good plan.
>>
>>4864761
>>4864767
Supporting the write in as well
>>
>>4864759
>Attempt to force your way through brutishly, but quickly. The greatest threats had been dispatched, the infantry ought to mount back up and all your forces should bull through the rest of the way east, despite the risks that might entail…(Including that potentially to your Command and Support element trailing behind)
>>
>>4864767
+1
>>
>>4864761
>>4864767
>>4864775
>>4864858
>>4864914
>>4864919
>>4865050
Compress back up north- keep smashing through above.

>>4864983
Try and bull your way through.

Won't be updating until late today, taking a certification class for alcohol serving today. I could probably update during it to be quite honest, but probably best not to have distracted writing rather than another delay.
>>
>>4865246
How did it go?
>>
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Von Kalderhaus might have been confident, but you were not, with the picture of the situation you had laid out on the desk before you. Your brass goggles had been permanently rolled up your head- they had begun to fog up badly. “No,” you told the disgraced lordling, “Arson, have your men to the south retreat north. Let the south go. You too, Bandit. We’re shifting north and breaking through there. Vagrant, move your vehicles forward to finish off the enemy infantry Arson’s other troops are engaging. We are affecting a breakthrough, now.”

“Yes, Dead Man,” Von Kalderhaus said reluctantly. He wanted to protest, you could tell by the resistance in his voice, but he wasn’t in a time or place for that anymore. He had a less clear idea of the tactical picture as well, surely.

“Their armored support has left. Clear them out.” You then took your headset off for just a moment, adjusted your disguise, and settled it back on again. The command and support section needed direction, so you switched to their frequency. “We’re moving up behind our tanks. Don’t dally.” With stray armored cars about, armed to be able to knock out tanks, the last thing you needed was a daring individual noticing an important vehicle in the rearguard. If they split, they were probably going to attempt to reorganize elsewhere, but you couldn’t be too cautious concerning a swift enemy with their attention on you.

From what Von Kalderhaus reported, or rather, from a lack of it, the enemy south let the squads facing them slip away. With Eiche rolling around nearby and the troops stubbornly refusing to be crushed in the initial ambush, their confidence couldn’t have been riding high. Yet, when the people from the southern front returned north, the northern enemy remaining quickly collapsed, as well. Combined with Mandel surging forward, the lone Netillian infantry found themselves with too much to even hope to fight against. Reports of them fleeing were given to you, and they were chased south, though they were withdrawing too well to destroy them during this pursuit.

Wisps of smoke blew over, indistinguishable from fog itself, as you moved forward and next to Eiche’s tanks. You popped out the top of your command box and looked over- two tanks now, one of them had been knocked out. Eiche’s other platoon mate had been damaged, its hull obviously buckled a hit that had damaged the tank badly, but hadn’t put it out of action. Only one tank loss was tolerable for now- you had to get to the objective, but also get back, though you hoped slipping away would prove easier with how much damage you seemed to be causing the Netillians here.
>>
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The question of whether they want to catch you after this would be heavily influenced by the question of if they even could. Even before this, the enemy had been worn down. The local commander would likely want to preserve or withdraw troops if he thought flinging himself against you would destroy him, unless he thought you might trap him. You had no trail, no flanking support or troops following up to exploit this, though- how quickly would that be figured out?

“Dead Man,” Von Kalderhaus said as the shooting quieted down and there was more driving than anything else, “My forward squads report that they are at the edge of the woods. They see no opposition. We can move forwards.”

“Do it, then.” No more time to waste cleaning up here- especially if there were more people in the local area than you thought and you got tied down with reinforcements.

There was still the question of watching your back, though. You were deep behind enemy lines now- and leaving behind enemies that could pursue you. Would it be better to bank on speed and direct your power forward, or try and keep an eye out back? After all, if your support element came under fire, that valuable train of engineers and salvagers and their transport, then even if you got to your objective then there’d be no point in having done so. Neither would there be a point if you couldn’t make it in the first place, though.

A look at the maps. The crash site would not be far off once you left these woods- only a couple of hills away. If it weren’t for the fog, you’d expect to be close enough to see smoke, even. Not much further to go- hopefully not much longer to worry about enemies behind you, either. Only more time to worry about enemies everywhere.

>Keep everything forward. You’ll be reaching the objective before anybody from behind reorganizes and pursues you, and anything minor, the support’s escorts can handle.
>Keep tanks in back as a rearguard. You can’t be too careful. (Whose?)
>Other?

>>4867128
Pretty easy, really.
>>
>>4867179
>>Keep everything forward. You’ll be reaching the objective before anybody from behind reorganizes and pursues you, and anything minor, the support’s escorts can handle.
>>
>>4867179
>Keep everything forward. You’ll be reaching the objective before anybody from behind reorganizes and pursues you, and anything minor, the support’s escorts can handle.

We still have no idea what's actually at the objective and we might need the firepower
>>
>>4867179
>Keep tanks in back as a rearguard. You can’t be too careful. (Whose?)
Keep Bandit as a rearguard, if those armored cars or whatever they were are part of a larger section it would be bad to have them catching up to the soft rear of the formation.
>>
>>4867179
>Keep tanks in back as a rearguard. You can’t be too careful.
Everyone's
>>
>>4867179
>Keep everything forward. You’ll be reaching the objective before anybody from behind reorganizes and pursues you, and anything minor, the support’s escorts can handle.
>Other?
Have Arson Squad 2 take the rearguard, that way if anything does chase us (looking at you armored cars) then they'll have to destroy Squad 2's APC first and give us some warning.

Cold hearted? Yes but more expendable than the Mercs.
>>
>>4867179
This >>4867466
>>
>>4867179
>Keep tanks in back as a rearguard. You can’t be too careful. (Whose?)
Bandit's
>>
>>4867179
>>Keep everything forward. You’ll be reaching the objective before anybody from behind reorganizes and pursues you, and anything minor, the support’s escorts can handle.
>>
>>4867179
>Keep everything forward. You’ll be reaching the objective before anybody from behind reorganizes and pursues you, and anything minor, the support’s escorts can handle.
>>Other?
Have Arson Squad 2 take the rearguard, that way if anything does chase us (looking at you armored cars) then they'll have to destroy Squad 2's APC first and give us some warning.
It may indeed be cold hearted but there is a lot at stake and these ones are sadly "expendable".
>>
>>4867188
>>4867245
>>4867466
>>4867466
>>4867667
>>4867681
Full frontal. Save for the whacked people.

>>4867285
>>4867621
Put two tanks behind.

>>4867417
No tanks allowed in the front of the bus.

Writing.
>>
“All tanks forward,” you ordered, “Arson. Send your second squad to the rear of the formation. They’re too depleted to fight. They’ll keep watch over our rear for those armored cars that got away, in case they return.”

That was what you said, but the implication was a little more than that. If you put something at your rear, a recognized threat, it’d be shot at first. It would give you just a little more time before you had to deal with that enemy.

Von Kalderhaus, for his heinous, degenerate crimes, was no fool. “You need a shield,” he practically sneered, like he was better than you.

“I need nothing from you.” You broke character, accidentally, and corrected yourself. “Our escort needs protection. You are here to protect them. Do not disobey me and ruin this operation, Arson.”

“…Copy that, Dead Man,” he said that last part spitefully.

“Good. Eastwards, march.”

The formation adjusted gradually as you broke from the woods and towards the next shallow hill, over it, and onto the next. This would be the next hill before you were in the area of the objective- though, something disconcerting- the fog that you were sure would only grow thicker, was now thinning. It was still thick overhead and was far from gone, but it was either going to stay this way, or was on its way out. So long as you managed to strip what you could from the downed plane, however, it wouldn’t matter how clear the skies were as you were fleeing. Without being seen at the site, who could say what you might be carrying? Maybe you were just making a deep raid. You sure as hell were far enough behind the lines to have done quite a lot of damage for the Republic and Ellowie’s war.

Over top the hill, and…well, it was supposed to be here, but you wouldn’t be sure until you were closer. Much as a telltale wispy tower of smoke might have aided you, the fog was still too dense for that. There was only the knowledge that the IO’s potential crash sites and their corrections had been very specific, so you had to trust that that plane was indeed where they said it was.

What was guarding it, you wondered. Did the Netillians place as much importance on this as the IO did sending all this all the way over here? Would the men nearby even know what this plane was? They certainly had suffered the most at the hands of the Ellowian air force, for lack of Twaryians here to share such a dubious honor. For your own sake, you hoped it wasn’t the cream of their crop.

“Enemy forward.” Mandel said flatly. “Four tanks. Three armored troop carriers.”
>>
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“I see ‘em,” Eiche responded, “Looks like they were coming to meet us, Dead Man. We’ll be at the edge of engagement range soon. Either we’re charging headlong into this, or we can swing wide into some cover?”

“Type of vehicles, first,” you asked. There wouldn’t be much time to plan this.

“Two NfK-7ts like we got. Two m/28-31s. We’re pretty close to evenly matched. We have one more tank, but we’ll need to get decently closer to hurt most of them reliably, except those NfST-10s.”

That was the official designation for what had been referred to by both Republic Troops and the Silver Lances as Battle Buses. They were thick enough in the front to resist anti-tank rifle fire, had large cargo bays for troops to ride in, usually very good ones, and either a stubby howitzer or, more commonly, a machine gun and a slightly larger version of the munitions caster in a small turret. They were not vehicles to take lightly, highly mobile with eight large wheels and a bulky engine that counted for much of its rugged appearance. In Ellowie, you’d been happy they were on your side. Here, though…they easily outmatched your force’s crude armored personnel carriers.

They did not outmatch your tanks, however.

“This is the last obstacle before our objective,” you said, “Hear my will…”

>Plan out your maneuver. The objective is, of course, to reach the crash site and clear it out. Also, to hold it long enough to strip it down. Defeating every enemy around thus isn’t strictly necessary, but they certainly won’t leave you to your leisure without a fight.
>>
>>4867793
Get the mortars to fire WP directly on these guys while the force swings northwards a bit, hopefully we can catch them if their platoon commander decides to fall back or if they stay put some flank shots into them. Even if they have gas masks being in that smoke can't be fun.
>>
>>4867799
+1
Tanks first infantry behind.
Slightly scattered line.
>>
>>4867793
>Smoke them then close in.
>>
>>4867799
>>4867820
>>4867835
Supporting
>>
>>4867793
That's a BIG fucking plane

>Plan out your maneuver.
tanq what is the range of the mortars?
Target the plane and start firing.
If we need to get closer, maneuver south to those trees and take defensive positions. But make it look like we're gonna stay at the extreme end of our mortars range.

Now I know what you're thinking: " That's retarded." Yes, but I'm not saying have the mortars *accurately* start hitting the plane.
I want them to hit well north of it, on the closer side towards the enemy so the Nets think we aren't here for salvage but to deny them their prize.

This will force them from that really good defensive hill advantage they have and let us smoke their approach, maybe letting Bandit and Vagrant pull to the sides of the smoked valley and hit the tanks from the side again as earlier at the plains.
>>
>>4867999
To add onto: the risk to this is that they don't bite and we wasted time, possibly giving those armored cars a chance to attack from behind, so no matter what we choose to do keep Squad Two behind us, ready for enemies.
>>
>>4867793
I would say put smoke on their position first then move into the trees on our hill. Have some smoke put out east to cover an advance to the plane and send the three freshest APCs towards the plane. After the APCs have set off through the smoke, the tanks will charge up the hill to engage the enemy which is at hopefully at least partially focused on the APCs. Mortars will support the tank attack with smoke if the hill defenders move too quickly to counter the tank attack and the APCs can cut north to get into those trees on the defenders hill.
>>
>>4867793
Supporting this >>4868221
>>
>>4867799
>>4867820
>>4867847
Launch mortars, swing north.

>>4867835
I think this may as well be the one before?

>>4867999
Nice trips.
>tanq what is the range of the mortars?
It's been mentioned before, but they top out at roughly the edge of the map, though without spotting you're not really going to be knowing what you're launching bombs at at all.
>That's a BIG fucking plane
It's not that big, at least, as far as map relativity goes. It's an abstraction for the sake of visibility.

Anyways, sure, lob shots near the plane, and move south.

>>4868221
>>4868249
Smoke on position, move south into trees. Split yourself to get to the objective and take out the enemy both.

Updating den.
>>
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“Move to attack them from the north,” you instructed, “I will have the mortars obscure the way so you can rush across. They’ll either cling to that hill or let us have it. However they act, we’ll be in a position to get to the objective more quickly. Adjust northwards, and when the smoke comes down, go across. Arson Two will stay behind my group.”

So it was done, but you noticed something peculiar as the mortars began their preparations to drop thick white smoke onto the enemy- the armored personnel carriers shot their own smoke first, right in front of them. It gave you pause for thought, but not much. If they wanted to obscure their vision for you, then let them, you supposed.

That was, after all, all the white-phosphorous quick smoke would do. Netillian APCs sealed their occupants against the outside and the elements. No burning bits would be raining into open tops, but at the very least driving through the fumes would be troublesome if they didn’t take the time to mask up.
The combat elements of the Red Fangs began their dash down the hillside and towards the next hill. If the enemy couldn’t get their shots off during this, the slope of the hill would make it likely that they wouldn’t be able to depress their guns low enough to shoot at your people. Granted, you wouldn’t be able to shoot up at them either- one of you would have to close the gap to try and kill one another. Closing said gap meant that the armor superiority of the enemy would matter less, as well, but your best hopes were to catch them in the flank. How likely that was depended on the initiative of the enemy commander.

Were you underestimating them with such a brash maneuver as this, though?
>>
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“They’re around the smoke to the north.” Mandel reported.

“Around to the south, too.” Eiche said, “No sign of those battle buses?”

“No.”

Then, another burst of smoke crawled forward, towards your formation. Even if you couldn’t see them, the armored personnel carriers were clearly somewhere in there- and they were coming for you under a haze of their own self-made mist. That…could be bad.

>Keep things going as they are. The north tanks move to engage the north foes, and the south tanks do the same for their enemy. Arson would react to where the enemy infantry might go.
>Stop here. The enemy would have to move to hit you anyways- remain in place, in case those armored infantry carriers try and thrust right in the middle of your forces. Those APCs couldn’t be handled by your infantry’s weapons easily, after all.
>Having your forces split wouldn’t bode well. Adjust to focus in on direction strongly- dividing and conquering the enemy would be the best way to go, with this barrier put in.
>Other?
>>
>>4869414
>Having your forces split wouldn’t bode well. Adjust to focus in on direction strongly- dividing and conquering the enemy would be the best way to go, with this barrier put in.
Smoke enemy tanks and direct all armor agains the APCs. The enemy shouldn't be able to coordinate in the smoke, while we can coordinate our forces.
Also relocate HQ a bit while the enemy is smoked up.
>>
>>4869431
I'd like to remind, that the mortars launching smoke at a new target is two "turns," they need to take time to adjust their aim and to send rounds going. They are not direct fire weapons and thus cannot deploy it instantly like the enemy here is doing with direct fire weapons.
It is difficult to interpret plans involving the mortars without the shared understanding that the enemy will not be simply sitting still and waiting to be bombarded in exactly the same place for two "turns" unless they are engaged or have a reason to stay in place, so I'd like it to be extremely clear.
>>
>>4869433
Guh.
Then just redirect all armor south and have the mortars prepare to smoke the northern group.
>>
>>4869414
>>Having your forces split wouldn’t bode well. Adjust to focus in on direction strongly- dividing and conquering the enemy would be the best way to go, with this barrier put in.
Have the company redirect south, keep this smoke in between them and the NfKs for a bit. Eiche and friend, time to to earn your whatever you're getting and duel those m28s. Vagrant is on APC duty for now, if anything comes bursting out of that smoke I want a tank shell in it. Our APCs swing south with the tanks, they don't have much to do unless there are dismounts to fight. If I remember correctly, the CQC squads have smoke grenades, and if they can create smoke in a decently short manner I would enjoy Squad 3 leaving as good a trail as they can on their way south. Squad 3s smoke will hopefully help the HQ section stay a bit safer from any opportunistic pot shots because it needs to sit pretty and get smoke out north to extend the distance the NfKs would have to drive around to get a clear shot, or at least have them have to drive through another layer of smoke before they could shoot anything.
>>
>>4869439
>>4869431
>>4869414
+1
>>
>>4869414
>Having your forces split wouldn’t bode well. Adjust to focus in on direction strongly- dividing and conquering the enemy would be the best way to go, with this barrier put in.
>>
>>4869414
>Stop here. The enemy would have to move to hit you anyways- remain in place, in case those armored infantry carriers try and thrust right in the middle of your forces. Those APCs couldn’t be handled by your infantry’s weapons easily, after all.
>>
>>4869414
Seconding >>4869470
>>
Alright then.

>>4869439
>>4869470
>>4869491
>>4869781
South you go!

>>4869719
Halt before the smoke.

>>4869542
Adjust to a direction. This is where I realize that I didn't say you had to specify where.

Writing.
>>
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Right now, the company was splitting up- that wouldn’t bode well for you. An even fight would go poorly, you thought, so the best bet would be to concentrate your forces in one direction. From the markers that approximated what was going on outside your vehicle, the ideal would be…south.

“Red Fangs, adjust course to the south of the smoke,” you said, “Vagrant, I want you watching that smoke for anything that comes out of it. Bandit, earn your pay.” What exactly these people got for compensation, you didn’t know, but it had been implied to be more than simply a stay of execution. “Arson, go south with Bandit. Have your third squad lay down smoke as they go, I want the support element obscured as we go. All copy?”

“Copy that.” Was rattled off in order.

“Good. The mortars will be putting more smoke north to hide Vagrant’s flank. Get to it.”

You popped back over top and tried to look at what was going on as your vehicle ran down the hill- the mortars would have to get to flat ground, but it was present enough down here. Let them do their math in the meantime. For your part, though, your eyes were no help in seeing what was happening. Everything was a mess of dust, smoke, and noise among fog. At least the map let you pretend to have an idea of what was happening, relayed to you by many other eyes.

Everything began to happen at once on the radio.

“They’re coming. Opening fire.” Mandel said flatly.

Eiche’s reaction to his task was much different. “Holy hell, they’re comin’ on down on us! This is gonna be tight…”

>Roll 2 sets of 1d100 for Eiche’s initiatives- very close range, higher is better. Then, roll me 3d100 for Mandel’s firing- DC roll under 60.
>>
>>4870420
(Forgot third squad's smoke- I'll put it in next picture.)
>>
Rolled 2 (1d100)

>>4870420
Come on!
>>
>>4870428
Guuuuuuuuuuuuuh
>>
Rolled 22 (1d100)

>>4870420
>>
Rolled 24, 53, 50 = 127 (3d100)

>>4870420
>>
>>4870428
It's too bad, a man that ugly should die of old age.
>>
Rolled 66, 31 = 97 (2d100)

>>4870428
>>4870442
Alright then, let's see that initative, then update.
>>
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Rolled 46 (1d100)

The battle’s start was announced with cannon fire from the north and south both.

“Enemy personnel carriers are disabled, their dismounts retreated into the smoke,” Mandel said, “The other tanks are moving in. I will prepare to receive them.”

There wasn’t anything said from Eiche. The smoke trail laid down by Von Kalderhaus’s infantry was doing much to mask your own movements, but you could see absolutely nothing through it, only Arson platoon charging ahead around and up the hill.

“I see it!” Kalderhaus exclaimed, “Some pieces of it. The rest surely is nearby, we’ll be able to see it properly soon.”

That was something- eyes on the target. Yet, there were still plenty of Netillians around to dispute your claim to the downed Ellowian plane. You’d either have to amend that…or start planning an escape.

>Roll 1d100 for Eiche’s initiative again, higher better. The enemy's is in this post. Then, roll 3 sets of 1d100 DC roll under 60 for Mandel’s shots on the tanks emerging from the smoke. They’ll return fire if anybody misses, of course.
>>
Rolled 19 (1d100)

>>4870830
>>
Rolled 22 (1d100)

>>4870830
>>
Rolled 21 (1d100)

>>4870830
>>
Rolled 64 (1d100)

>>4870830
>>
Rolled 8 (1d100)

A small thing I forgot- the NfK-7ts are more durable than taking just one normal shot, as evidenced by the abuse your own went through. Thus, sorry, but there'll be one return fire roll. Same roll under DC as Mandel.
>>
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Rolled 25 (1d100)

The next thing you heard from Eiche wasn’t what you wanted to hear at all.

“They’ve got me..!” He groaned.

“Bandit,” you said quickly, “Report!” Nothing. “Damn!” You made sure not to transmit that, or you pounding a fist on your desk. This was not good…

“One of mine is knocked out,” Mandel said blithely. Her calm tone seemed to mock you in some strange way.

“To hell with this!” Von Kalderhaus declared, “Dead Man, I am taking out that tank, no matter what your plan! There’s only one left, and its rear is to us, it’s good as prey!”

You didn’t object, partially because the remaining enemy tank did have to be destroyed, but also, because you could sense Von Kalderhaus’s blood was up. Nothing you could say would even be heard. Would it be worth reprimanding him, or would Sleepwalker have cared? Nevertheless, you had to swallow thickly, and count on what subordinates you had left to clear out this threat. By the end of this, you hoped to have enough to but retreat with…

>Roll Initiative for Von Kalderhaus’s daring attack. Against the tank’s initiative, though, it will not be a matter if he makes it- but if he does so before it fires at Mandel’s unit. The same shooting applies for Mandel again- though this time, the roll under is at 70.
>>
>>4870869
This is 1d100 then 2 sets of 1d100, by the by.
>>
Rolled 62 (1d100)

>>4870869
>>
Rolled 58 (1d100)

>>4870869
>>
Rolled 61 (1d100)

>>4870869
Boy could I use some chocolates.
>>
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Rolled 27, 61 = 88 (2d100)

Another sound of cannon fire- you waited, sweat beginning to drip down your face, your neck.

“Enemy destroyed.” Mandel said simply. “No further casualties.”

“Arson?” You queried over the net. There had been an explosion atop the hill, but…you couldn’t be sure from behind the veil of smoke. Half a minute passed. “Arson, respond.”

“I am…here, Dead Man,” Von Kalderhaus sounded winded, “The enemy tank has been dealt with. However, ah…our vehicle has been disabled.”

“Casualties?”

“None. A little dazed. We weren’t shot out, I ran the truck into the tank to immobilize it, and put a bundled charge under its turret and on its engine deck. That about did it.”

To be quite honest, you were impressed, even if it meant that one of the armored personnel carriers had been sacrificed to use as a battering ram. Sleepwalker wouldn’t care, still. “I see.”

Shots popping off from atop the hill.

“My first squad has spotted the crash site,” Kalderhaus said, “But the infantry from before have come back and are attacking us. I’ll have to leave this wrecked vehicle behind- I’ll be off the net for now.”

He left before you could tell him to stay. He’d probably just be moving to another vehicle, but you’d have preferred to have your link to the infantry remain where he was. At least Mandel remained on the radio.

>Roll 2 sets of 1d100 for infantry combat. DC roll under 50 for Squad 1, and DC roll under 40 for Squad 4. DC roll under 70 for the enemy.
>>
Rolled 88 (1d100)

>>4870916
>>
Rolled 45 (1d100)

>>4870916
>>
Rolled 77 (1d100)

>>4870916
>>
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Rolled 97, 16 = 113 (2d100)

The hope was that this would merely be cleanup. The length of the fight told…otherwise. Especially the thumping and bursting of munitions caster fire. Were the infantry outmatched even when the Netillians lacked their fearsome vehicles?

“I am moving to support them,” Mandel said, without waiting for you to tell her to. Good on her.

“Do it,” you said, “Mortars!” you switched channels, “I need support fire.” You gave them the reported coordinates of the enemy infantry- with this, you’d be pouring all the fire you could on these bastards. It’d be hard to believe they’d weather this.
>>
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After said storm of fire and supporting fire, finally, things went relatively quiet.

“Bastards,” you heard Von Kalderhaus again, “What a damn mess. They were too tough.”

“All of the enemy on the hill are destroyed,” Mandel reported unnecessarily.

“Yes, they are,” kalderhaus shot back. A pause. “First squad’s got a good view of the site. There’s a squad of infantry holding it down. That’s it. Doesn’t look heavily guarded.”

Perhaps because you’d just finished dealing with the heavy guard.

>What to do now?
>>
>>4870945
>>What to do now
Get Mandel's tanks and the Marksman squad to suppress that squad from range while the rest of the infantry closes. See if they can loot a bunch of casters from the dead first as well.
>>
>>4870947
Seems like a decent idea >>4870955
I'd say, in addition to that, we move a square or two south-east before we engage so as to get further from that smoke we dropped, in case any of those armoured cars from earlier are still around and decide to exploit it and get behind us unnexpectedly while we're busy.
>>
>>4870955
>>4870980
Supporting
>>
>>4870947
By the Judge, I don't know if you could have gotten a better spread of trees to put AT guns in if you planted them yourself. Spread out to hit the flanks of attackers coming out of defilade no matter where the attack comes from. Enough whining though.
>What to do now?
Get some smoke in front of those sparse trees east southeast of the plane to cover an advance. Have the infantry move up to those trees to stage up for an attack on the plane with Mandel's tanks sticking close by for support. Have the mortars prep to bombard the trees to the south after they fire the smoke, we don't have time to clear those woods if there is anything in there waiting to surprise us.
>>
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>>4871001
>east southeast
west southwest jeez
>>
>>4871001
Supporting mortaring the trees as well; we won't be able to use them around the plane anyways
>>
>>4870955
>>4870980
>>4870988
Long range support, get away from the smoke. Keep an eye out for cars.

>>4871001
>>4871033
Go for the trees, you hate the trees.

Writing.
>>
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“No time to waste,” you declared, “Vagrant, Arson, we’re moving to the crash site.” You moved to see it clearly…it was a large plane, but not quite as large as you were expecting. Maybe you thought it’d be something properly massive and imposing for its importance? It only looked like a rather large medium bomber, like the Ellowian ones you’d seen sometimes normally, even. It didn’t look special…save for some odd apparatus partway back its spine. “Vagrant, keep your tanks on this hill and shoot at the infantry near the objective. Make sure not to hit the objective! Arson, keep your marksmen on the hill and support from the same place as Vagrant. Send another squad to secure the site.”

“Affirmative.”

“Yes, Dead Man,” Kalderhaus said, “I’m going to distribute the men of third squad to the platoon to replace casualties. We won’t be able to move with this wrecked transport anyways.”
Acceptable. You made no objection. “Mortars,” you said as you switched frequencies, “Those southern woods. I don’t like the look of them. Smoke them and hit them with high explosive.” You didn’t see anything in them when you looked, but you couldn’t be too careful. The dispersion of the woods here was perfect to space apart anti-tank positions, and you were already on the edge as it was. You’d taken near fifty per cent casualties- even if you had done more damage on your way in than you’d absorbed, you were far weaker than the start of the operation. If the Netillians dispatched strong enough reinforcements, you were finished. Preserving the integrity of your remaining forces was of top priority.

When the infantry went forward and the company’s weapons reported from the top of the hill, you quickly noticed that the infantry near the crashed plane had no interest in this fight. If you had defeated the contingent guarding them, you supposed, they had no delusions about defeating you.
>>
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Kalderhaus’s singular squad, with the support of the forces on the hill, quickly chased off the enemy infantry, who didn’t even attempt to hold their position. Perhaps they didn’t know the plane’s importance beyond being a curiosity vaguely implied?

The mortars struck in the woods, and you let them keep going until you were sure nothing could bother you from it. Even if there was nothing there, it assuaged your concerns.

“Dead Man,” Kalderhaus reported from the crash site, “The objective is secure.”

“Good,” you said, “We’ll head over right away.”

Though, you wondered, with all these good positions, would you move everybody over to the objective so you could leave as soon as possible, or would you keep them in their excellent overwatch positions in case anybody arrived? Those armored cars, at least, were still out there…

>Spread out your remaining troops around the small woods around the crash site. Your salvage team and their escorts could handle the crash site easily enough on their own.
>Take everybody down to the objective. You didn’t plan on lingering long, and no lingering would be done organizing rendezvous.
>Put your units at particular strong points, and keep others with you in checking out the crash site. (Specify who and where they go)
>Other?
>>
>>4871362
If we want to maximize the salvage I imagine this will take a while.
>>Put your units at particular strong points, and keep others with you in checking out the crash site. (Specify who and where they go)

Squad 4 to immediately secure the site and provide protection for the whole salvaging run.

Squad 1 setup in the northernish woods.

Have Vagrant and Arson (attached to Squad 2) chase the Net infantry to a reasonable distance to keep them running and check if anything gets flushed out in that direction. Once the smoke clears both of them can take up the southern forest.
And I don't want Von Kalderhaus and CQC squad near any pilots or the wreckage.
>>
>>4871362
This >>4871383, but don't send Vagrant away. Have her set up in the woods that HQ is in now.
>>
>>4871362
>>Put your units at particular strong points, and keep others with you in checking out the crash site. (Specify who and where they go)
Arson Squad 1 and Vagrant can stay on the hill and provide overwatch. Arson Squad 4 goes with us to the crash site, with Arson Squad 2 setting up near the woods that got smoked. They can check it a bit and wait near the smoke, they don't have to wait inside the white phosphorus.

I think it will be important to have a position on the hill identify enemies, harass them, then pull back to the plane. Focusing only around the plane limits the effectiveness of our motorized assets.
>>
Rolled 1 (1d3)

>>4871383
4 on the plane, 1 in the north woods, the others go hunting.

>>4871386
Keep the lady back.

>>4871392
1 and Vagrant on the wood hill, 4 on the crash site, 2 in the smoky woods.

These are similar enough to one another in basic idea, but I suppose we'll roll off for the details.
>>
Mandel and Von Kalderhaus were given something to do as you ventured to the crash site, with no escort save that attached to your headquarters and support section, and Fourth squad. The two were given the assignment of chasing away the infantry that had fled, to a point where they wouldn’t wander back- and perhaps circling about afterwards. Von Kalderhaus had repopulated Arson Four somewhat with another squad, but you had the new additions stay in the vehicle as “crew.” Mostly, you didn’t want any of the more dangerous elements of your unit near any potential pilots, or the wreckage. They weren’t trustworthy around people who might have to be dealt with gently. Besides them, you had first squad take up position to the north. That should have handled the unexplored ground neatly enough, you thought. Mandel could be called back easily enough on the first sign of the armored cars coming.

Concerned as you were about Ellowian crew, you found none at the site. Either they had bailed, fled, or had been taken prisoner by the Netillians. It made things tidier for you, at least, you thought as you watched the salvage crews pick through the plane.

You wanted to ask what they had been instructed to look for, but Sleepwalker wouldn’t have cared. Neither would he have given a damn about the members of Arson Four attempting to be social, but they tried to be gregarious nevertheless.

“So,” the surviving NCO stood by you and smoked a cigar slowly, “You’re not as scary looking as I thought you’d be.”

With cosmetics covering your face and concealing real injuries in favor of presenting false ones, you couldn’t speak to whether you were prettier than usual or not. You only gave the man a cold glare.

“Nah, still no,” the NCO said, “There’s just not something there, you know?”

“That isn’t important.”

“Guess not.” The man puffed on his cigar again, “Hey, look, they’re taking things out.”

So the salvage team was. They puffed in a group of five around a large boxy thing, that looked like it had been messily carved away from the rest of the plane. Another few crawled up top and tried their best to dismantle the apparatus atop the fuselage- some bar that swiveled on a pivot, smaller than the plane’s props- was it some sort of antennae?

Your curiosity couldn’t be contained, but you thought of an excuse for yourself as you walked forth towards the crews lifting up the looted plane pieces onto a truck bed using a crane on another truck. “So is this what we’re here to get?” You asked.

“Uh…” a salvage crewman hesitated, “Mostly? There could be some more stuff.”
>>
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Rolled 1 (1d2)

“Get a move on. I want to be out of here sooner rather than later. If it’s too big to carry with both hands, leave it.” They had been finished with the most interesting looking things, now well secured in the truck beds, yet they wanted more? You looked south-ways. Your other subordinates seemed to be on their way back. “Hurry up,” you said gruffly as you went back to your command vehicle. Just a moment to put your headset back on and hook into the radio. “Report.”

“They’ve been dealt with,” Mandel said. “What’s left won’t be coming back.”

“Good, let’s…” Your eyes flicked to the softly glowing Open Channel light- it almost never glowed. When it did, it was supposed to be for requesting temporary truces or the like. Some people just rambled or taunted on it, so it was rarely worth actually listening to. Yet, who was trying to talk? “Is one of you messing around with the Open Channel?”

“No.” Mandel sounded certain, but unconcerned.

You frowned, and switched to it.

“…”

You coughed at this silence.

“…There you are. So far from your friends, so alone from the others. I wonder. Are you the prey I’ve sought, wanderers?”

An odd cadence of voice. A smooth, low, passionate male trill. The hell..?

”Let’s do this.”

>Coin Flip of Target
>>
>>4871478
Aw shit, it's that tank destroyer.
>>
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A familiar, horrific screeching whistling ripped the air nearby, followed by a distant cracking boom to the northeast, and a explosive crack down south.

“Shit!” You exclaimed, flinching as you popped out the top of the vehicle to get your bearings. “Vagrant, Arson, report!”

“What in the flaming pits of the damned was that!?” Von Kalderhaus exclaimed in equal shock, “Vagrant? Was that one of yours?” A pause. “Shit.”

You looked south- the m/24k-80, Mandel’s vehicle, was an inferno, gouting with smoke and subdued glow of a vehicle that had suffered an internal ammunition explosion. Mandel was gone, and the sole surviving tank looked meek as it continued northwards. It most certainly wasn’t enough to deal with…whatever the hell had decided you were its most hated thing in the world right now.

It was time to flee.

>Plot how you’re going to get the hell out of this.
>>
>>4871494
Lay down smoke once more in the direction that shot came from and then full pedal to the metal.Use the trees as cover as much as possible.
>>
>>4871494
>Pop smoke to north-east and flee south-west until we can hide behind terrain. Use mortars, infantry grenades and everything we can. Hide behind the plane as well.
This fucker is very long range, so it won't be easy for him to go around our smoke quickly. We need to use that time to find a good hill or forest to hide behind and flee through defilades.
>>
>>4871514
It would be cool to hide our tank in the forest and ambush the enemy once he's pursuing the rest of us, but I doubt our men have the morale for such a feat.
>>
>>4871520
It's alright, the more cocky this guy is the sweeter it'll be once we can rejoin the company and take him down with the IO's aid.
>>
>>4871513
>>4871514
Supporting.
>>
>>4871494
Really well done Squad 1, I can see your specialization in long range combat is justly earned.

>Plot how you’re going to get the hell out of this.

CQC squad throw down smokes NOW north of the plane, the remaining tank gets out of the sights of that monster by heading west keeping those trees where Squad 1 is in the way.

Mortars each fire 1 round of smokes while the salvagers HASTILY pack up, aim west of here to give us cover to aim for the valley below. We'll follow it out of here, SW all the way out. The moment everyone from the salvage site is in a vehicle we gun it.

PANIC
>>
>>4871494
>>4871514
This. Mortars pop smoke towards the direction of the attack, infantry throw smoke as they can and everyone head southwest. Only problem with this is that guy being the utter bastard that he is I would say there is a good chance he is already relocating to get another angle for a shot, but what are you gonna do?
>>
>>4871542
Oh Christ I nearly forgot: either have Squad 4 chuck every grenade they have into the plane as we leave or we'll need to have the mortars bomb it once we're safely far enough away and behind something.

No sense letting the Nets have what's left just in case.
>>
>>4871562
No-no-no. The mortars can't fire on the move, and we don't have the time to stop.
>>
>>4871586
Surely it won't take that long for the grenades, considering we may also have to wait for Squad 1 and the tank/Arson to regroup with us. If we're leaving them to scatter and regroup later on their own then I suppose we can just vamoose without it.
>>
>>4871562
Was destroying the remaining wreckage an objective given to us by the IO? If not I'm not interested in spending any additional time on it. If it were important they would have specified. If our mortars do stop to fire later it will probably have to be to lay down more smoke.
>>
>>4872089
Good point. Let's not go out of our way to blow the wreckage brother if we don't have to.
>>
>>4871513
>>4871514
>>4871538
>>4871557
Generally- get smoke out, get behind something, get low.
Writing.

>>4872089
>Was destroying the remaining wreckage an objective given to us by the IO?
It was not. Merely to salvage the site.
>>
“Arson!” You thought quickly, “Your close combat squad was dispersed all over your toon. Have everybody throw smoke northeast, in the direction where the shot came from. All units are to go east-southeast as quickly as possible. Get into defilade. We aren’t fighting this out. Hurry!”

“Yes, Dead Man,” Von Kalderhaus said.

“Aye aye.” The sole remaining tank commander. His name wasn’t something you knew- he was Vagrant Two, now just Vagrant. The new one.

The same thing was said to the support section’s radios, and to add effect, you jumped out of your command vehicle and whirled about to wherever there were people doing anything besides running to their vehicles.

“Move!” You shouted, “Drop whatever you’re doing and load up! We’re getting out of here!”

To the infantry’s credit, they were quick on throwing whatever smoke grenades they had left. The smoke was dense enough that it was starting to drift back over yourselves when you got back into your vehicle, engine warm and ready to go. As per your instructions, the creaky metal box took off as fast as it would go once you stepped in.

Another whistling, screeching crack. “Report,” you said over the radio, reflexively.

“That didn’t hit us, Dead Man,” Von Kalderhaus said, “He’s keeping us on our toes.”

Whatever mysterious tank hunter this was hardly needed to try to do that.

Down into the crevice between the hills everybody went, each one reporting as they did so. Not that that meant you were safe- this person could very well choose to pursue you, potentially with more help that hadn’t been noticed, and there were still stragglers you’d left behind. Nobody had come to bother you while you’d been salvaging the plane wreck, but now would be the perfect time for those armored cars, for example, to come and ruin everything.
>>
A list of encrypted ciphers for you to transmit upon mission completion (technically achieved, partially now,) to the IO, on a particularly barren radio frequency, and only once. You didn’t know what any of them said exactly- they were very brief, and described a variety of situations. The one selected and sent out as a series of Naval Code punches and pauses had elaboration you felt befitting the situation- Site Salvaged, Heavy Casualties, Under Pursuit. Would it mean that the IO might send help to meet you halfway? You could only hope, though it seemed terrifically unlikely. As it stood now, what you had been sent out with in the first place had been a significant force to have just pop out of nowhere.

Once that was done, you got back out for a look at your surroundings. You were in the valley- a small reprieve for now. At the very least, the tank hunter couldn’t be shooting at you from beyond the limits of your eyes, but you were not out of trouble yet. Far from it. The escape had merely been from immediate danger…now you had to make it back.

>Move Southeast. That would be following the defilade- if you were lucky, you could stay off the heights and out of sight all the way back to friendly lines, though there’d certainly be enemies along the way, even if they could be potentially avoided.
>Head back East- that was land you’d crashed through and could count on being weaker, but it would mean moving back over the hills east- potentially exposing yourself to your pursuer…
>Move South- the land moved in that direction, and you could keep between hills, but it was unexplored territory. However, in that direction were the Silver Lances, far more fearsome than the Republic troops you could expect anywhere else.
>Other?
>>
>>4872740
>Move South- the land moved in that direction, and you could keep between hills, but it was unexplored territory. However, in that direction were the Silver Lances, far more fearsome than the Republic troops you could expect anywhere else.
>>
>>4872740
>>Move Southeast. That would be following the defilade- if you were lucky, you could stay off the heights and out of sight all the way back to friendly lines, though there’d certainly be enemies along the way, even if they could be potentially avoided.
Towards the Silver Lances might also be towards the enemies most elite and well supplied units. It may be better to hope to slip through a gap in the line, or at least try to suppress and slip by less experienced fighters.
>>
>>4872740
With regards to the third option of moving south, is there the implication that the Lances may fire upon us once we get close enough, or are these vehicles suitably distinguishable from the Northern Lords' armour?
Also, was there anything else novel about the voice on the Open Channel beside it's strange cadence that Richter might be able to pick out? Any kind of appreciable accent?
>>
>>4872774
>With regards to the third option of moving south, is there the implication that the Lances may fire upon us once we get close enough, or are these vehicles suitably distinguishable from the Northern Lords' armour?
The Northern Lords have been near absent from the parts of the front Richter's been at, but yes, there are differences on the vehicles, enough to pick apart from the few remaining stranded assets that might be local. Namely, the colors. A red stripe is the usual identifier of an auxiliary vehicle, as your units' are pretending to be.

>Also, was there anything else novel about the voice on the Open Channel beside it's strange cadence that Richter might be able to pick out? Any kind of appreciable accent?
Possibly. He was certainly a Netillian, but anything else sort of depends on what you're thinking would stand out. What they did is absolutely nonstandard and something that, were they a typical member of the Netillian army (or any professional army in this region of the continent really) they'd probably be reprimanded for it. So less their manner of talking, and more that they're talking on an open channel with vague taunting at all probably means they're considered, or consider themselves, somebody special.
>>
>>4872740
>Move Southeast. That would be following the defilade- if you were lucky, you could stay off the heights and out of sight all the way back to friendly lines, though there’d certainly be enemies along the way, even if they could be potentially avoided.
>Other
I'll leave this extra bit to the discretion of other anons.
Get back on the Open Channel and say something mean. It feels like something Sleepwalker would probably do. If nothing else, we might glean something more from the voice behind that awful cannon if we can keep it talking.
The big downside to this I can think of is if that tank destroyer is somehow plotting where we by intercepting our wireless comms. Considering the Netillian voice and the they've shown a knack for communications interference in this conflict.
On that note, another question for tanq: Does Richter have any signal flags in his command cubicle?
>>
>>4872740
>Head back East- that was land you’d crashed through and could count on being weaker, but it would mean moving back over the hills east- potentially exposing yourself to your pursuer…
>>
>>4872740
>Move Southeast. That would be following the defilade- if you were lucky, you could stay off the heights and out of sight all the way back to friendly lines, though there’d certainly be enemies along the way, even if they could be potentially avoided.
>>
>>4872740
>Move Southeast. That would be following the defilade- if you were lucky, you could stay off the heights and out of sight all the way back to friendly lines, though there’d certainly be enemies along the way, even if they could be potentially avoided.
>>
>>4872745
South!

>>4872757
>>4872817
>>4872854
>>4872886
South and East!

>>4872837
Just east.

Updating.

>>4872817
>Does Richter have any signal flags in his command cubicle?
While signal flags are typical for platoon coordination, no, in this sort of command vehicle, he does not. Though, improvisation could certainly be made.
>>
“Follow the defilade between these hills south-east,” you said to what was left of the Red Fangs, “We’ll try and sneak our way back out of enemy territory. Don’t engage unless you must.” If you were lucky, you thought, you’d manage to slip out of this mess you’d partially made yourself, the damage you’d caused on the way in hopefully causing gaps enough in the lines as the Netillians made necessary withdrawals, for you to push back out without much, or potentially any fight.

A situation otherwise might prove incredibly risky even against a small enemy force. What you had left of the Red Fangs constituted but a reduced platoon with the support of a single tank, unless you committed the two squads that escorted the command and support section, but that would mean leaving both yourself and the objective of this whole operation defenseless. It was a very real possibility that you’d be forced to try and run through whatever you encountered instead of running in to fight a battle that would not be over fast enough or end favorably enough to even attempt.

What could you do other than flee like rats, though? There had to be something else…perhaps you could lure the voice on the open radio channel into talking more? Anything they might betray about themselves might be of help. More aid than you’d be just being another pair of eyes watching the slopes for enemies coming at you for any of a variety of reasons, ambush, interception, just plain accident or bad timing.

Time to slip into the Sleepwalker persona for all it was worth, as you thought on how a brute might taunt somebody chasing him.

“Hey.” You said, as though you couldn’t give less of a damn about who was listening, “Are you a woman, hiding away in your hovel instead of fighting in the open? Come over here so I can fuck you.” Indisputably vile, if baseless- there was no question of the sex of this tank hunter, quite male.

The response was swift and unperturbed. “I am not interested in the words of rabbits in flight.”

“Scum. So are you a faggot, then, that you’re chasing my arse?”

“…” There was no response.

“That a yes, fag-boy?”

Still nothing.

“Speak when spoken to, shit sack.”

There was no point. No matter what further taunts you threw, all that took every fiber of your being to not make more dignified than gutter speech, this mysterious hunter spoke no further, and it was clear that you were simply making a fool of yourself yammering on the open channels, where no doubt others were listening in at this point. No more of that.
>>
Rolled 1 (1d3)

It did make you keep an eye behind, though. The fog wasn’t going anywhere, but it hadn’t been a barrier to this particular eagle-eye unless he had been extraordinarily lucky on top of having an excellent gun. His words had not put you at ease at all- his tone spoke of not leaving you alone even if you had escaped his sights for now.

For a little while there wasn’t anything shooting at you- if only you could have such momentary luck the whole way through…

>1-Old Friends
>2-New Friends
>3-No Friends
>>
>>4873118
Friends, or 'Friends'?
>>
“Dead Man,” Von Kalderhaus reported to you, “We’ve got company coming up on our right flank, driving on the upper edge. Those cars from earlier.”

Of course they’d pick now to come for you. “How many? Just two?” It would be too much to hope for just one.

“Just two. The terrain here means they’ll have to be close to take their shots.”

You went up over the cupola and looked over- yes, there they were- maybe one hundred fifty to one hundred meters away, but the angles of the terrain precluded doing more with your main weaponry or theirs than flinging insults unless one of you decided to go up or down the slope. They were keeping a distance- from how the gap between you lessened, they were intending to fall in behind you then, probably, come down into the crevasse to attack you from behind, where your tank at the head of the formation would have trouble attacking them, and anybody else in your formation would have to turn to face them. They must have known you were running- that stopping was not an option for you.

To hell with them. You wouldn’t let them have this so easily. “Arson, how are your troops on smoke grenades? You picked up those munitions casters, yes?”

“Yeah. We’ve used most of our supply, we’ve got enough maybe for two good clouds left, including the rounds from these…hand, cannon things.”

Alright. That was enough for you to potentially work with, depending on how you chose to handle this…

>Charge right up at them. Your tank might have been the only dedicated anti-armor capability you had left, but if you dumped enough fire on the other or got lucky, you wouldn’t need more than one tank anyways. Maybe you would scare them away.
>Wait for them to come down one way or the other and deploy smoke. It’d either give you a gap, or potentially, the initiative, with time to react to their attack. When it came.
>Use what smoke you had to effect an escape from the space between hills. Then you could try and run from these armored cars- they might have trouble finding you again if you got away and out of the channelization of the crevasse.
>Other?

>>4873123
That depends on how much you like them, really. Maybe they're open minded.
>>
>>4873126
>Use what smoke you had to effect an escape from the space between hills. Then you could try and run from these armored cars- they might have trouble finding you again if you got away and out of the channelization of the crevasse.

Don't feel like stopping so Mr TD can catch up with us or get a clear sightline.
>>
>>4873126
>Use what smoke you had to effect an escape from the space between hills. Then you could try and run from these armored cars- they might have trouble finding you again if you got away and out of the channelization of the crevasse.
>>
>>4873126
>Wait for them to come down one way or the other and deploy smoke. It’d either give you a gap, or potentially, the initiative, with time to react to their attack. When it came.
>>
>>4873126
>Wait for them to come down one way or the other and deploy smoke. It’d either give you a gap, or potentially, the initiative, with time to react to their attack. When it came.
>Tell the mortar carriers that they have a couple of minutes to figure out how to use their mortars for direct fire from a moving vehicle.
>Ask Arson if he has more of those explosive bundles to toss on the road in front of the enemy.
>>
>>4873126
>Use what smoke you had to effect an escape from the space between hills. Then you could try and run from these armored cars- they might have trouble finding you again if you got away and out of the channelization of the crevasse.
>>
>>4873126
>>Use what smoke you had to effect an escape from the space between hills. Then you could try and run from these armored cars- they might have trouble finding you again if you got away and out of the channelization of the crevasse.
>>
Upon second thought I had an idea.
What if we use our smoke to effect an escape from the space between hills, but then hide our tank somewhere on the other side of the crevasse and allow the armored cars to see which way we went to lure them to chase us. When they come over the crevasse our tank knocks them both out, then we dip back into the crevasse and keep going before the thing hunting us has time to get a shot.
>>
>>4873126
>Use what smoke you had to effect an escape from the space between hills. Then you could try and run from these armored cars- they might have trouble finding you again if you got away and out of the channelization of the crevasse.
>>
>>4873128
>>4873138
>>4873302
>>4873522
>>4873810
Try and run out, and off. Even if that means straying into high ground for a bit.

>>4873195
>>4873207
Act in reaction. And queries.

>>4873635
Prepare an ambush along with that retreat.

Writing.
>>
Rolled 94 (1d100)

“Arson, do you have more bundled charges or mines to use against vehicles?” You asked, just to open your options.

“Was saving that mine, Dead Man, had only one. The bundle grenades we have more of.”

So they had something. “Mortars,” you said to the support element, “Find some way to fire your mortars backwards while on the move. I don’t care how off target it is, I just want bombs in the air.”

“You got it, Dead Man.” They sounded plenty eager to do more than flee. Even if it was ineffective, firing back at least meant resisting.

The plan, though. “There’s a bend coming up,” you said to the group, “Arson, I want you to use whatever smoke rounds you have to hide us and our way up the hill. If we can get out of the channel here, those cars will have to chase us across. They’ll lose sight of us long enough for us to get away.”

“I’d rather take them out, but, your call, Dead Man.”

“Damn right it is.” It would take care of the problem, but these two cars could be as threatening to you as whatever was chasing you. Best not to tempt fate with how weak the lot of you were now. “Thirty seconds. Start.”

The armored personnel carriers steadily moved to the front of the formation, then further. Then, a fusillade of the thumps of munitions casters, appropriated from the enemy earlier- bursts of their familiar smoke munitions. These were followed by the vehicle occupants throwing smoke grenades out the sides every which way. In no time, you were driving through a great cloud that had deigned to settle on the earth.

Even the non-incendiary varieties of smoke munitions weren’t meant to be tolerated for long, and most certainly not meant to be breathed in. You put your gas mask over your face, hoping that just because it looked like the sort of junk a mercenary might have scrounged up didn’t mean it actually was nothing more than a useless decoration.

The vehicle protested being forced uphill, but the crew was competent enough to not get it stuck- a sidelong tack helped maintain speed while also going up elevation. The speed was a necessity- you looked back through the smoke just before it enveloped everything you left behind, and saw the armored cars coming down to get you. Good luck to them- to do more than blindly fire into this wouldn’t do that enemy much good. They’d probably need to go around one side or the other. A delay to avoid danger.

Meanwhile, you consulted your map. It was difficult to tell exactly where you were, especially down in between hills instead of on top where any identifying terrain would even be visible. As soon as you got through this smoke…

“Over this hill to the southwest, quickly,” you said to the Red Fangs, “We can’t be visible for too long-“

A thunderous crack and a screeching warbling in the air.

>DC Roll Under 40
>>
Rolled 41 (1d100)

>>4874341
>>
The shot was high, but that didn’t make your flinching any less forceful.

“Unless you want more of that,” you said, exasperated, “Move quickly!” To your crew compartment. “Move this pile of garbage faster!”

“We’re giving it all it’s got, Herr Sleepwalker!” The assistant driver sounded distressed to be unable to give you what you wanted. He couldn’t want for further motivation.
For your concerns, though, the next defilade was not far down another slope. Your pursuer got off another shot just as you slipped below the hill’s top again southwards, and the whistling shell skipped off the dusty ground, screaming into the distance.

Judge Above, how much further, you thought as the group slid down into another valley between hills and veered east at the first chance. A look at the map, as you tried to remember what you’d seen from the elevated position you briefly had…not much further, thank goodness. A skirmish line over the renewed plains.

Out from the hills you emerged, and indeed, in front, there was a scant line of trenches. You anticipated some difficulty, heavy guard, anti-tank guns, but…the positions had been abandoned. Still not trusting your eyes, you looked around for, warned against mines. They hadn’t been present earlier, but then, the Netillians probably hadn’t had time to set them up there. You could never be too careful.

No mines announced themselves under your vehicles, though, nor did enemies spring up to fire at you. The operation came to a blissfully uneventful close as the next trenches you came upon were manned sparsely by brown-coated Republic troops, who looked bewildered to see you.

“Where the hell did you come from?” A trooper shouted up at you.

You pointed like a smartass and didn’t bother answering the question, or any other queries, further. Frankly, the only people you wanted to talk with right now were the IO people. Not for their lovable personalities, or camaraderie, but so you could tie this up and be done with it all.

-----

A call on the radio gave you a place to meet the IO people- the same ones as before, though escorted by a new bunch that looked harder and more disciplined than the ones you’d run off with. These must have been the ones who were less disposable- they eyed you and your command with suspicion and disdain. To be fair, you were not who you usually were right now. You’d be sure to get all the cosmetics and other disguise elements off you as soon as possible.
>>
“Ah, Herr Sleepwalker,” the Smiling IO agent clapped his hands once and spread his arms out, as though he’d embrace you. No hug came, thankfully, though that grin was as wide and appalling as it was before. “Very good. Very good. Won’t you come along for your debriefing…” He gestured to the very same car you had arrived to this unit with- the false person you were being awful himself, you climbed in without even a glance back to the condemned that you had led.

The same agents as before shared the car with you- a scruffy short haired woman and a serious bearded man. “You,” the smiling agent said once the doors to the car were closed and you were driving off again, “Have done a great service for the Archduchy. Congratulations, Lieutenant. You are officially above your peers. Hee hee. All it took was a little sacrifice.”

“That was more than a little,” you said, “We nearly did not make it out alive.”

“Nothing was lost that cannot be replaced,” the smiling agent said like he’d merely lost some pocket change, “As opposed to that technology…do realize, that such has been only recently realized to be as necessary as it is lacking in Strossvald.”

“We’ll have to see what can be gleaned from what’s been retrieved before we jump to conclusions.” The gruff bearded man said stoically. “Lieutenant. An after-action report will be expected. You will fill one out when we reach our camp, then you will be returned to your unit.”

You didn’t say anything to that, busy taking off the dusty bits of your disguise and rubbing your face on them. The fatigue was setting in again. What you wanted was sleep, not to fill out paperwork then go back to the front. Yet you weren’t energetic enough to bitch.

“How do you think you did, then?” The smiler prompted further, “Besides the acceptable losses. You don’t feel too bad about that, do you? You shouldn’t. None of them were here because they had an option otherwise, for better or worse…”

>You’d have preferred a flawless operation. This, despite success, seemed like more a mess at the end than anything. It didn’t reflect well on your capabilities.
>Maybe Sleepwalker didn’t care, but that mask was off now. You could have done better to help your charges, surely. You had an obligation as their leader, did you not? You weren’t going to shuffle off that responsibility on their disposability.
>The mission was done. That was it and all there was to it. Weren’t you just some piece on the board after all, like any of those other people? You were all out for yourselves, and everybody surely did their best.
>Other?
>>
>>4874451
>The mission was done. That was it and all there was to it. Weren’t you just some piece on the board after all, like any of those other people? You were all out for yourselves, and everybody surely did their best.

Focus more on the appearance of that tank destroyer, does the IO have a better idea of what/who it is now?
>>
>>4874451
>The mission was done. That was it and all there was to it. Weren’t you just some piece on the board after all, like any of those other people? You were all out for yourselves, and everybody surely did their best.
>>
>>4874451
>Other
>A little of the first and third.
The retrieval was a success. And while interference unanticipated had it's part to play in their losses, ultimately, responsibility for the failure of this operation's human equation rests upon me and the actions I chose to make with it.
My charges perfomed as well as expected, or in the case of Von Kalderhaus's and his men - splitting up to protect us and the rearguard, against their subcommander's instinct, or Von Kalderhaus himself taking the iniative to destroy a foe exceeding his station - well beyond expectations.
As for the rest who did not return, they did all that could have been asked of them in these circumstances, I've nothing more or less to say of that here.
This endeavour was a perhaps somewhat poor reflection on my greater command capabilities at present. I would hope it prove some time before I'm called into this position again, when perhaps the next lives under my charge might be less "expendable" than these were today.
>>
>>4874451
>Maybe Sleepwalker didn’t care, but that mask was off now. You could have done better to help your charges, surely. You had an obligation as their leader, did you not? You weren’t going to shuffle off that responsibility on their disposability.
>>
>>4874451
>>You’d have preferred a flawless operation. This, despite success, seemed like more a mess at the end than anything. It didn’t reflect well on your capabilities.
A bloody lesson to be sure, lets try to learn from it. But what would that lesson be I wonder? That aggression and seizing the initiative can be a poor decision when your strategic goals lay outside destroying the enemy, or that sacrificing a part of a greater whole is sometimes necessary to consider and plan around, lest you try to conserve everything but nearly lose it all in the process anyway?
>>
>>4874451
>You’d have preferred a flawless operation. This, despite success, seemed like more a mess at the end than anything. It didn’t reflect well on your capabilities.
In the end shit really hit the fan.
Were it a traditional fight we wouldn't have rushed so close to the enemy but methodically and with precision taken on our enemy.
>>
>>4874451
>You’d have preferred a flawless operation. This, despite success, seemed like more a mess at the end than anything. It didn’t reflect well on your capabilities.
Being on a timer and not knowing how strong the enemy was forced us into a lot of head on fights, which essentially came down to skill (and dice rolls)
>>
>>4874470
>>4874506
>>4874566
It is done.

>>4874488
>>4874566
>>4874603
>>4874632
>>4874640
You'd have really preferred to have scored a perfect here.

>>4874576
What of the wasted lives?

Writing.
>>
Did you feel bad that lives were traded away? Odd as it might have sounded, not particularly. It had become fact over time, the risk you all were taking just being here. What you did regret was that they could have been averted- those under your command were blameless as far as performance went, the mistakes in the operation were yours, as well as not accounting for factors you could now see in hindsight. However, the mission had been completed, and sitting here moping about what could have been done would help nobody. You’d take the lessons learned to heart- and save the lives of those who weren’t expendable, cynical as that might have been to call the soldiers such.

Best to keep cool headed with the IO. “I’d have preferred a flawless operation. There was a mess at the end of the operation caused partially by my haste and partly by a lack of field intelligence concerning what the enemy had in numbers and materiel assets. Even though the mission was a success, I do not believe it reflected well on my capabilities. If I had had a choice, I would have acted more methodically and with precision, the circumstances forced us to rush and engage in risky close combat with the enemy. We had head on fights with less than ideal circumstances, and that caused unnecessary casualties. Perhaps I should have been more deliberate, where the objective was not to destroy the enemy. My mistakes involving the human part of the operational equation make me hope there will be some time before I have this sort of operation assigned to me again,”

“If only,” the bearded one scoffed in a way you didn’t like. “What of the group assigned to you, then?” the bearded agent asked, “Passed on or not, their evaluations are taken into account.”

“I’ve no criticism of their battlefield ability,” you said, “Particularly members of the infantry complement and Vars Von Kalderhaus took personal initiative and exceeded their duties.”

“Unsurprising. In a way, it is good that the one you brought back was the best of them, heh hee,” the smiling one said, “His history, the noble blood, oh, and never to leave out the Traum Factor…did I say that out loud? Heh. Well, you are on par with myself, now…”

T Factor….Traum Factor. Dream Factor? So it had a name…

“Anyways,” you moved on, leaving this train of evaluation for later when you’d be forced to do nothing but sit with a form for the Judge knew how long as abstract punishment for sins untold, “Our agreement. A promotion, sure, but what about that tank destroyer? The one I asked you people to investigate, to help me get. It came for us at the end of the operation. Do you know what or who the hell that is?”
>>
“That one’s been looked into,” the scruffy young woman said, who’d have looked like an effeminate man were it not for her voice and the baggy torso clothing merely making her androgynous, “The rumors about them, that is. The name, rank, personal details, aren’t there. They’re somebody the Netillians refer to as Stalker. Crown-Taker Stalker. He doesn’t call himself that, but he is an infamous tank ace. He seeks out targets of fame, tracks them down, like he’s hunting for trophies. If those are lacking, he’ll target things he thinks are interesting. He usually operates with little assistance or authorization. He is destructive and skilled enough, though, that his lack of discipline is ignored.” She turned a page, “His current vehicle is probably an Ellowian model of heavy tank destroyer. A P5-21E, quick, lightly armored save for its turret and upper hull plate, armed with a 7.5 centimeter high velocity cannon. Its engagement range exceeds anything we or our allies have deployed, save for heavy anti-aircraft guns, and any vehicles of that same model that the Ellowians have. He is…a problem. Though one man and his tank cannot turn the course of a war. The tactical situation for the Netillians is still poor despite their fearsome ace.”

“…So,” you took all that in, “You’re going to help us take him out, yes?”

“That is still in planning,” the bearded one interjected, “You said yourself that there are consequences to acting rashly. The Netillians won’t be in a position to allow him his usual proclivities. That gives us time. Though, given his preference for famous opponents,” he looked to the back seat and put his eyes on yours, “You should be able to figure out your part easily enough. If you are up for it.”

Frankly, you weren’t. The thought of facing that man again chilled you to think about. He was as deadly as he was untouchable, thus far, but admitting that now wasn’t something you wanted to do. Or think on. If there was time, there was time for you to settle things with yourself better.
>>
“Anyways, Lieutenant, again, congratulations upon your promotion…” the smiling one hadn’t creased the corners of his mouth any less; he was like some street salesman with a miracle cure too good to be true. “Would you like a bonus, I wonder? Your new position has privileges, such that allow you a higher degree of being informed. Was there something…a person, a thing…that you might wish to find out about? I’m sure what was prepared as a gift was quite well considered for your interests, hm?”

More likely they had a selection to pick from, but who were you to look this gift horse in the mouth? “I presume there’s limitations.”

“Anything you are not to know will have been redacted, omitted, the like,” the bearded agent said patiently, “Of course, you are expressly forbidden from sharing your knowledge with anybody. It will be found out, and agents of the Intelligence Office should know how to maintain exceptional discretion where necessary.”

“Yes, yes,” you didn’t know about that either, but the message was put across. “Let’s see…”

>You now have the right to request information. Not too much, and not about anything you think you wouldn’t be allowed to know, or people higher up on the administration than you. You might be in the club, but you’re barely beyond entry level. Know your limits, or else you won’t get much of what’s requested besides clearance failures and black spaces.
>>
>>4874728
Let us see the dossier? for the mission to capture Captain Gerovic, and maybe an explanation of what happened to him after his capture.
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>>4874451
>Maybe Sleepwalker didn’t care, but that mask was off now. You could have done better to help your charges, surely. You had an obligation as their leader, did you not? You weren’t going to shuffle off that responsibility on their disposability.

Although the part about being just a piece on the board still applies.

I'm a little glad Squad 4 made it out alive, even if they lost some members. A pox on Squad 1 though, Jesus Christ did they drop the ball when they didn't warn us about the destroyer.
>>
>>4874728
>Though, given his preference for famous opponents,” he looked to the back seat and put his eyes on yours, “You should be able to figure out your part easily enough. If you are up for it.”

Oh look here we go again.

>Info
So what's the IO's overall assessment/overview on how the campaign is going so far? They seem pretty confident of success from the way they've been speaking, even though from the ground it seems like a bit of a stalemate at the moment even if the Northern Lords got roughed up by Signy. Also maybe ask about the Griffon guys and any theories why the Reich is suddenly taking an interest in this conflict (meta-wise we all know it's Loch's work but still)
>>
>>4874728
This >>4874739 is something I'd like to know about too.
Speaking of Gerovic, for all the trouble he caused us I guess in the end even he wasn't a big enough fish for this Stalker faggot guy to come down on. Makes you wonder at what calibre of targets he usually goes after.
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>>4874728
+1 for Gerovic's fate
>>
>>4874739
>>4874751
>>4875069
Give me Gerovic's files.
Still not over his underwear thievery are we. Or, you know, the arm thing, and the killing your allies thing.

>>4874747
A general overview on the situation.

Writing!

>>4874740
One would hope the big favor Squad 4 owed is repaid somewhat.
>>
“First off, I’d like an overview of how the campaign here is going. With the Silver Lances, the Republic, Ellowie- in general.” From your place in the line as a mere commander of a single tank, your view of the world had been piteously narrow. As far as you could see, there was a stalemate currently. The Netillians resisted stiffly, and though the Silver Lances made gains on the flanks of where your unit was, you saw little else actually happening. “You don’t sound very concerned about things. Why?”

“The full plan hasn’t started yet,” Beard said coolly while driving around a hill- he found a road and put you all on it. A much smoother ride began. “You’ll know when it happens. What’s going on now is fine. The Republic does not have the war industry to sustain an offensive for much longer, and the stockpiles the Ellowians built up are coming up short, but the difficult part is nearly over. The factions called the Northern Lords don’t have much faith left in their benefactors, and even though the Netillian Army is waking up from their stupor up north, the showing of personal initiative hasn’t had the effect its commanders wanted. The King’s Revolt has ceased to take new ground, but like the events here, that it continues at all creates pressure.”

“Yet you said the current situation couldn’t be sustained for long?” You pressed further. You looked around- the other agents, apparently now your equals, didn’t seem any more apprised than you were in anything but the broad strokes.

“That’s what’s expected. Who knows, maybe the Ellowian bravado has more power than might be expected, but they are not even at the borders of Netilland yet.” Beard gestured to Smiles, who handed him a smoking pipe and lit it in his mouth. “The Netillians are being driven north again, and the offensive down the Northway Road Highway will be successful. That isn’t enough, though. Not without something extra. If the Ellowians were as successful as they hoped, they’d be marching in Berkesseburg, but they think that’d be enough. It was not enough when they did it the first time, however. The people’s confidence is in the militarist faction that rules over them with iron, but even if they were to fall, if there was no alternative, the people would still fight for their own. That is why there must be an alternative. It is easier to redirect water’s flow than to stop it off.” He puffed on his pipe, “It is a sensitive affair still. As I said. You will know when it happens. The effect will be calamitous. Trust that.”
>>
It didn’t sound as though the bearded agent was trying to trick you or talk down to you, funnily enough, for an IO spook. The other people in the car would have liked to know exactly what he was thinking of, but they were no more privy to such knowledge than you were. Though, you felt you might have had an idea…the totalitarian Netillian Defense Party was certainly not popular everywhere, even amongst the army people who stood to benefit the most from being its advocates.

Thinking back…Maenesko, that Netinauk man who seemed so openly disdainful of his superiors. He was in attendance at Wladysaw’s party, one of the last things you attended before leaving Ellowie for home again. The High Protector, who was now in revolt against Netilland. What had he said?

“There will be chaos, and that will be the time we have to make properly ready, and we do have more than one might assume- you must have noticed some unusual guests? I will not name the examples, but let us say that there are those not fond of the honored Defense Party. A house divided against itself cannot stand, I believe was the phrase that my ancestor spoke of? The Defense Party may believe us quite divided and themselves having forged themselves into a whole, but they will prove twice wrong, methinks.”

You hadn’t seen it for what it was back then, but now…what else could it possibly be? Yet, you kept your mouth shut. Discretion, you’d been told, was valuable to the IO. Even concerning other agents not as much in the know.

Also important- Edelschwert had been attendance to the same gathering. That, and Anya had said earlier… ”He’s got something else he’s waiting for. He’s only here because he’s got to be.”
Beard was right. There was plenty more to be hopeful for, if this conspiracy went as deeply as he implied it did. Wladysaw had captured key members of the Defense Party’s leadership- had that been a card played by Netillian insiders? Surely.

“You’re lost in thought, Von Tracht,” Smiley observed gleefully.

“I’m just thinking about what Mom’s up to.” A sarcastic dubbing of the Major, not your actual dear mother, of course. “There’s something else I was wondering about. There’s another group of mercenaries fighting that I’ve heard of. Griffon Company. What’s up with them?” You did know their deal. You’d met with one of their members when you scouted out the Spout Market back in Ellowie, and Anya had indicated that they talked like people from the Grossreich- but you wanted to see what the IO knew, what more they could tell. “They seem rather good for mercenaries, very well equipped, too.”

“That’s because they’re barely mercenaries,” the woman in the back with you spoke up, “They’re a Czeissan expeditionary force. They’re barely bothering to hide it.”

“Okay,” you made no attempt to be that surprised, “But why?”
>>
“Who knows?” The woman replied dully, “Maybe they’re trying to make an ally out of Mittelsosalia, but then, they could send far more than they have now, or what they have on the way. Maybe they don’t want to look like they’re that committed.”

“The popular perception of the Grossreich is not particularly accurate,” Beard said with no hesitation whatsoever.

That made you blink. “In what way?”

“How much do you know of the Reich’s internal politics, its administrative makeup, its protectorates?”

“Uh.”

Beard sighed. “To keep it short and to the point, the Reich may not be able to afford to send very much to this far flung war. No more than they deem beneficial at least. They have plenty of their own problems to keep an eye on, particularly the Revolutionary Utopianist threat right on their doorstep.”

Yet that was something seen as important enough for the Archduchy to send aid to, even if it was well-paid for aid. The services of the Silver Lances, you knew, were a significant monetary investment even for a nation.

“Their internal politics prevent them from making vast moves readily. The substates of the Reich undermine the Kaiser and his own heartlands. Until that changes, they are like a big flat-bottomed rock. For better or worse, it can’t be pushed, but it won’t roll over and crush you either.”

That wasn’t what you had ever heard the Reich described like, and you frowned, not willing to be so dismissive of the Kaiser’s might. The Intelligence Office wasn’t infallible, after all. Maybe they just weren’t so threatening to them. Even with half of what you once knew flying out of your head in the past, you knew the Grossreich was the Archduchy’s most dire foe.

“We’re almost there,” Beard said, “Scamp, help him get the rest of the shit off his face. Once he’s dressed again at camp, we’ll have to shove him back with his unit. The time gap’s only meant to be filled with a medical evaluation.”

That almost made you laugh. Not in a way you could explain. “Finally,” you made your last request, “Your…dossiers. I want the ones on Gerovic. The operations to catch him, what you’ve done with him. All of that.”

“I’d have thought you wouldn’t care after grabbing him?” Smiley asked.

“Checking in on an investment, maybe,” you had a thought, “Was he truly that important? This Stalker, or whoever, he should have gone for him, I’d think.”
>>
“He would have,” the woman apparently called “Scamp” said, “He’s been held back until now. He’d have been far too volatile to keep on the border and everybody knew it. So he was kept well away. If he had been allowed close, somebody would have had to handle him earlier.”

If only. Yet, you had the feeling that you knew who would have had to “handle” him, anyways, and it didn’t sound like this Stalker had a weakness that could be exploited outside his tank like Gerovic had…

“When we arrive at the camp, Von Tracht,” beard said, “Follow Scamp to the office. We’ll have your requested files delivered while you’re filling out the after-action report. Do that quickly- we’ll need the information for the clean-up.”

-----

The “office” was a tent with all the needed supplies, though it was cramped as hell and the longer you stayed in it, the more you wanted to crawl outside again. Nothing stopped you since you were dressed and your face had been washed- you were Richter Von Tracht once again, Sleepwalker having gone to the world of the dead where he belonged. However, Gerovic’s file now shared the space with you, and unlike you, it was not allowed to leave this place.

Andrej Gerovic- his photograph, newer than the last time you’d seen him, looked as smug as ever, like he’d been abducted for a holiday at a beach resort. He wasn’t out in the field yet- his status was “In Custody,” still, though where and why was redacted. T-Factor was…redacted. You couldn’t ask for every detail, though really you hadn’t questioned that one. You couldn’t imagine that man being hypnotized or whatever was involved anyways, he seemed too full of himself to be made to think any other way. Assignment pending. So they weren’t going to keep him locked up. He had exploitable talent, surely, but still…

No shellshock in him- not anything that was debilitating. No negative marks about him- and he apparently had no hesitation in talking about what he knew, especially after “treatment,” but what he actually spoke about was redacted save for his personal life. Those weren’t vital details to you right now- you were more interested in what had happened to him than his life’s story. Your connection.
>>
The operational file that was allowed to you was brief. It referred to you as Hound R, and it detailed your exploits accurately enough- you didn’t really know what you were looking for in it, as what took place during the actual events you were involved in had no additional information in them. What was of more import was the preamble. Yes, Gerovic was causing trouble between the Netillians and the Twaryians, actively provoking larger battles than the plain raids and skirmishes, but what was new was that this file treated that as secondary.

This is an opportunity to capture and interrogate an agent of the Caelussian Federation, the file said, This is recommended in place of elimination. Intelligence concerning the powers of the old world and their interference upon our continent is limited- the Federation is potentially a far greater threat than any rival upon the continent, and one that must be prepared for however possible.

That hadn’t been what the Major had told you. She’d not demanded you capture Gerovic rather than kill him- maybe she hadn’t wanted to overreach with this plan, though the debriefing was quite pleased with Gerovic being taken alive…even if you didn’t get to see what information he had given that might have been desired.

Yet. You wanted to know such things. That Caelus was labeled as such a threat while discoveries about it were hidden was…disconcerting.

The files weren’t spare. There was more you could find if you wanted…

>Look for anything in particular? Before you head back?
Also-
>I’m feeling Fluffy.
>Wake me up in two days.
>>
>>4875366
>Look for anything in particular? Before you head back?
Any classification guide for the T-factor or any of the other categories (Ethos, Shellshock etc.)?

>Wake me up in two days.
>>
>>4875366
>Look up what they have on Mabel and on the Bitchess.

>Wake me up in two days.
>>
>>4875366
>>Wake me up in two days.
>>
>>4875366
>>Look for anything in particular? Before you head back?
Peek into the rest of our Blumlands/Sosaldtian platoon people's files.


>Wake me up in two days.
>>
>>4875366
>Look for anything in particular? Before you head back?
Whiskey in the jar
>I’m feeling Fluffy.
>>
>>4875366
Seconding this >>4875394
>>
>>4875366
>Look for anything in particular? Before you head back?

Maybe just a quick summary the after action report. If it details anything more about the remaining IO agents we worked with or just how deep the IO is in Twaryi, maybe their assessment for how dangerous they are. Cause I certainly think we'll be fighting them again.

>I’m feeling Fluffy.
I'm curious who she's been playing mailman for.
>>
>>4875370
>>4875387
>>4875390
>>4875394
>>4875594
Two Day Nap.

>>4875583
>>4875596
Give me fluff.

As well as further things to attempt to look into.

Alright then, writing.
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>>4875745
>give me fluff
>>
What if Gerovic becomes the new Sleepwalker?
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>>4876429
He'd better hope he's a fan of dust. It's everywhere.
>>
Gerovic’s lack of particular classification led you to seek a guide on the various factors in the IO’s evaluation of its assets. Physical disability was self-explanatory, you were more curious of the specifics of the Ethos Class and Shellshock. Yes, you knew what shellshock was, but what did the IO think of it? The answers were part of the files themselves- in preamble. According to said preamble, Physical Disability reflected an individual’s limitations in combat capability due to physical fitness or injury- there was no higher tier if one lacked for said disabilities, they merely avoided being culled from more demanding operations. Ethos Class was subject to interpretation, but referred to an individual’s evaluated “stability,” mostly concerning their behavior towards their fellow man. A low Ethos class could merely be reflective of antisocial behavior or developmental delay- a high one indicated proven lack of regard for morality.

…That you were labeled as a Class Three, “Theoretical Four,” was unsettling. A query to the IO agents gave you nothing on that, either. Classifications did not require to be justified in the dossiers.
Then there was shellshock. Combat trauma of the mind and psyche. Anything higher than a factor of two was deemed unfit for combat- four or higher indicated severe psychological impairment, and nobody expected to do anything had a factor so high as that. It was distinct from Psychological disability class, which itself was distinct from Ethos. Psychological disability indicated an identifiable mental disorder. Anybody higher than three was to be discharged immediately, and those who would qualify as four were described to only have a future in an asylum.

T Factor, or Traum Factor, had no satisfactory description. All it indicated was a “heightened resistance to battlefield stress.” Naught about what it was or any other effects. As far down as you were, its only significance was telling if a person was tougher.

Naught that you couldn’t have already interpreted, unfortunately. Besides that the IO apparently considered you a possible menace to society.

Next, you asked for the IO’s notes on a pair of Ellowian subjects, if their predictions on your interests were really so astute. Wladysaw’s head maid Mabel, and the Duchess of Diamenglicia, Kamilia Von Katski. Only the latter had notation- the former was not seen as worth the time or effort. A surprise, considering what you had seen of what she actually got up to.
>>
The Duchess’s files were practically more photographs than text- some agent had come to the easy conclusion that she was (admittedly) very attractive, and keen on displaying such whenever possible, so that the record looked more like a fashion and beauty report than an intelligence record. As far as the IO was concerned with utility, though, there had been an interest specifically because of her…social nature, but the interest in working with her had fallen through when probing revealed her to be less of a cunning social manipulator and more of a rampant hedonist. Her numerous affairs (dutifully noted, and they were quite a list) weren’t what shut the door on the matter- her addiction to the poison of the poppy was. The final words on possibilities- A degenerate liability. More harm to an enemy to keep her far away.

Not much that you didn’t already conclude, besides things that were of interest to a gossip monger and nobody else- you really weren’t interested in who the Duchess had slept with, though you were very thankful that the Intelligence Office had the good sense to not list your interaction with her (albeit under the influence of a spirit) as one of her intimate misadventures, though it was recorded nevertheless.

A recent addendum caught your eye. A small, insignificant footnote. Recently, Kamilia had shut herself out of the public eye, and rumor had it that she had…gone insane. That made the blood drain from your face, ever so slowly, as you thought about what that could mean. Was there nothing more? No. Kamilia was unimportant now to the IO, so their limited assets had not deigned to waste time on this person. This was all she rated to them.

Worry and doubt crept into your head. Were you responsible for this? Or was it Kamilia’s unhealthy lifestyle catching up to her? Emma had said that in dominating the woman, she had put a stop to her drug habit, but what if…

You couldn’t do anything about it here and now. You were in no position to, but if you found yourself nearby, maybe…

The next files to peruse, hopefully with less stressful revelations. That of your former platoon mates, that bunch who had gone off adventuring with you to this land in the first place. All lower in the hierarchy than you now. Yet, none of them must have been stuck like you were. Indeed, few of them were even listed as operatives- merely “volunteers” who answered to actual operatives.
>>
Firstly, Von Metzeler, Rondo. The Intelligence Office’s record showed more about his origins than anything done for them. T Factor Null T2, just like you. His family was under quiet investigation for their links to the underworld of the Archduchy, and interestingly, Von Metzeler had been approached in the past as a potential informant. He refused. Family loyalty, or did he recognize the IO as a threat? It had been long enough ago that it was possible he no longer remembered himself. A huge amount of his file was redacted, particularly concerning his “Traum Factor.” You had thought you had pages more- most of it was solid black lines, printed as such, no impressions of words. Only omitted data.

Next, Frederick Krause. Very little on him- there wasn’t much to find besides that he had run away from home when he was young and had been a stray child before coming to live off of the generosity of the Von Metzeler family. Like Rondo Von Metzeler, he had been seen as a potential eye into the Von Metzeler family. Like Rondo Von Metzeler, he had refused. Yet despite that, he had fallen under you for the Intelligence Office’s schemes anyways. After that, the Intelligence Office simply hadn’t considered him useful. He couldn’t be lured in with a reward- despite having a record of petty crimes earlier in life, mostly thievery, he had developed an “inexplicable” moral inflexibility now.

…There was something ongoing, though. Something redacted. Suspicious. What was the Intelligence Office plotting to do with this man?

Theobaldt Von Walen. Here you were getting into people who had faded from memory rather much, from lack of interaction. You hadn’t so much as said a word to any of the next three men in months, and you couldn’t truly say how well you knew any of these people. Von Walen was somewhat an outlier among them- you remembered that he was rash, impulsive, and had a short temper. Also that he drank corpse whiskey. Yet, what was he up to?

Causing trouble up in Plisseau, was the sum of it. More specifically, in and around the city state and territories of Almize, now central to a recent situation concerning the secession of city states from Plisseau through the Almizean Pact. His summary described him as a “clumsy brute;” bad at paperwork, analysis, and critical thought, good at causing chaos and smashing up the unexpected. He’d led a band of militia on an unprovoked raid against the troops of a rival city state to Almize and captured a relative of said state’s ruling family. The political reaction to this was described as “Most Satisfactory.”

Despite the unfavorable descriptions, the file actually recommended Von Walen for further missions and use. Traum Factor inducement analysis and Psychological Review recommended. Promising candidate. Hmm. So he didn’t have the conditioning, but the IO was seeking to put it on him?
>>
It gave you pause for thought. Could you warn him about this, or would the IO simply silence you? Would Von Walen even listen to you? It wasn’t like you two were friends, but he was a comrade. Would that be enough?

Erwin II Von Neubaum. Of all your former comrades, he had been the most active, as far as you knew. His dossier revealed just how much. He had been in Halmeggia, you knew, but here things were to spell out exactly what. To “decide succession by fiat” and “aid the Aristocratic Council in establishing influence” had been the broad strokes. Both missions had been unsuccessful, and the effect had been that the Intelligence Office’s plans had been practically smothered. The Crown Princess and Prince of Halmeggia had both been spirited away to the Grossreich, and no leverage was gained by the favored parties against the new ruling militarist faction. Yet, Von Neubaum was spared too much disgrace, and had recovered some prestige in Almize.

You remembered Von Neubaum having a following of women whilst in Sosaldt- whomever had filled out his information reaffirmed that this had not changed. The evaluation of this behavior was a mix of both amusement and annoyance. Having a collection of mistresses was not acting as subtly as the IO would like, but admittedly, he seemed to have excellent “control” over them, and they were good assets for his use. Even though he was not a full-fledged agent, he acted as if he were one, with his subordinates a band of paramours. The documentation was not subtle about their relations- its use of the term “mistresses” was not one of sarcasm or drama. Von Neubaum’s relations are most certainly intimate, sexual ones, it stated outright, Observation of his paramours should be properly vigilant, as a precaution.

You didn’t know how he could do it. Yes, he was far from the only man in the world who felt he needed a flock of women rather than just one, if any, but you simply could not put yourself in his shoes- much less know how all his lovers could stand sharing him. Even if you were inclined, Maddalyn became fiercely hostile towards even the implication of competition, and you doubted she was unique in such.

Yet, Von Neubaum had been a top student at the academy, such was even noted in his files. He did not seem the sort to make reckless or idiotic decisions- perhaps that was why the IO gave him leeway with this?

He certainly played dangerous games. One of the concluding notes was that he had been observed attempting to court the daughter of the ruler of Almize- Iris Von Sumpfer, who was sixteen years old. An age considered unseemly, though not controversial in the courts.
>>
…Enough of Von Neubaum, you thought. How about the last man- plain, boring Von Igel. Plain and boring he remained- he had done no tanking since you had left Sosaldt, and was noted as a competent information analyst, mostly spending his days with papers rather than seeking action. Maybe that was all he wanted- disappointing for the IO, it seemed, as there was a recommendation to find a “less expensive paper pusher.” He was more a problem for the IO than he was worth despite not actually being troublesome, for a reason not stated. Were they looking for a certain sort of person? You’d have thought an unambitious desk officer would be an easy mark for them.

It took more prodding to get what you wanted next- and bartering, as you had to remain insistent, but go down with each offer, until you finally received something basic about Twaryi and operations there. Or rather, potential operations. You weren’t cleared for knowing who was there or what was happening, only the IO’s evaluation of the eastern country. From what you could gather through what had happened to and around you, you were hardly done dealing with them.

The prognosis was bad. Twaryi was noted to be difficult to infiltrate because of its culture being so starkly different from others in Sosalia, their culture, language, and quirks of behavior being difficult to imitate, or learn to imitate. Twaryian expatriates were not uncommon, nor were Caelussian imports of all sorts spreading through whatever markets they could manage, but the Twaryian natural aversion to outsiders made them suspicious of people coming back. False personas were thus difficult to insert. When people went away, they stayed gone. This, in summary, meant that the intelligence situation was murky to even begin with. Of course the concern wasn’t with Twaryi itself, but with their cultural overlords and ancestors, the ascendant Caelussian Federation across the eastern ocean, a power that had grown over the span of time when the Eastern Maelstrom once blocked away the continent of Caelus from Vinstraga. The Reich had swollen and shrunk in the time the east was but an all-consuming storm, and when the way cleared once again, there stood a mighty world power as though a great beast had but appeared out of the clouds from nothing.

For all the cheap goods that the Caelussians sent westwards, the flow of what went to Twaryia was practically unknown, and actual review of the industrial capabilities of the Caelussian Federation had turned out to be astounding. All that seemed to prevent their expansion were rumors of how the great and mighty union of states was actually fractious enough that it was in constant conflict with itself, the Capital regions of it constantly doing maintenance on the would-be empire through combinations of police actions and economic pressure.
>>
Yet so much was flowing out of the country and to places where it simply seemed to vanish. Twaryi, for how much of a backwater it once was, had practically exploded with growth, and the Caelussians were too diplomatically aloof to bother saying what they might have been up to. It only left one to stoke their imagination.

The conclusion for short term purposes, was that Twaryi’s dreams of conquest certainly hadn’t ended with Ellowie, and that they would soon be making war on either Netilland, or Vynmark. The expectation was the latter southern country, though, and the most pessimistic estimates only expected the country now isolated from a lack of an Ellowian state to only last a couple of months against a Twaryian war machine that utilized but a fraction of the strength of the colossus behind them. Their best hope was not really any other Sosalian nation, but their economic partners and ethnic brethren to the north, of Naukland. Yet, if Naukland and Caelus found themselves in a war…who could begin to know what would happen.

It was enough to set your head spinning, perhaps because plenty of this may have fallen away when the conditioning was driven out, but most rarely spared a thought towards Twaryi or Caelus, both seemingly too far away to matter. Not what the IO thought.

Well. You set down the files, stretched yourself out, and hung your head back, staring at the ceiling of the tent. The recent operation, the paperwork, reading through this…you fumbled at your side for a flask that you’d left somewhere else. Damn- you would have really appreciated a little drink right now.

-----

February 16, 1933- Somewhere in the Sosaldtian Front

Something had shaken the front lines. For some days, not much had been happening in places, where the only advancement was where the Republic’s Alliance had made its most concerted efforts, but a shift somewhere had caused a strange crumbling. Units all over were moving back and forth, running past one another and veering off sideways- it was a hell of a time to try and carry messages between them.

Even more of one for the overworked machines carrying said couriers to break down.

The motorcycle had given up the ghost, and no amount of furious persuasion had convinced it to start up again. From what Anya could see, it was a problem with…several things at once. She wasn’t a gear head but she knew something of how machines worked, and she could tell that at least three things were not ever going to work again and they had caused the rest of the machine to collapse as well. The extra weight she’d picked up hadn’t helped with that.
>>
She wasn’t a stranger to walking or running, even though the latter would be hard with her leg wound still acting up, but there was a problem. A straggler from the ass whooping the Northern Lords had gotten a good ways to the south of where the lines now were- a tank, and it had crept up awfully close while she had been trying to get the motorcycle working again. She could try hiding, try creeping away, but she got an idea- a dangerous one, but there hadn’t been a good dangerous run for a while now, and her appetite was whetted. She wanted to taste that metaphorical blood in her mouth, even if it was her (likely literal) own. She started to want to steal that tank until she needed it.

The tank was a small, short one, wide and squat. Anya didn’t know what kind it was, but it looked pretty good- and she wanted it, even though it looked like it had eaten a solid hit. The crew (probably three of them) wouldn’t let her have it, but she had a plan to deal with them.

Anya stripped off her Republic Army jacket and cap- this ploy wouldn’t work if she seemed likely to be armed. She had to look like a stray. A stray not going around dressed in what she had on underneath, she thought as she toyed with one of the blouse’s buttons, a tight black shirt that had long sleeves for warmth, and stopped right at the middle of her ribs to show as much stomach as she could. That’d work for the better in warmer weather, but it was still cold. She took the black leather jacket from the storage cases on the back of the motorcycle, and hoped she wouldn’t mess it up too much. It was a present- one she liked. She hated losing them, for how often things happened in a way to steal shit from her.

From there it was just a matter of being seen. Tired horny dick brains see easy meat they can get away with taking and don’t think about it. Or, they’d leave her alone as a non-threatening stray displaced by war- or lured by it. A boon to her short stature (and letting her tone slip away), Anya thought as she climbed out of the depression where the motorcycle was, large stones scattered all about. Her weapons were down there too- all she had on her was a grenade she hid down her pants, whose legs were now untucked from her boots, and a knife down the other side of her trousers.
>>
“What’re you doin’, scar face lady?” The extra weight said from down in the hole. The voice belonged to some girl she’d picked up- maybe thirteen years old, wandering around lost in a way that reminded Anya of a dark time in her own life. She was starting to reconsider, with what a weird chatterbox she was. Her name was Patrizia, dressed in some long coat with weird symbols on it and with a head of fluffy blonde hair so long she looked like a sheep walking around. The lost girl was looking for her grandfather, whom she’d been split from somewhere south. Considering what could happen to stray children in Sosaldt, especially where battles were going on, the least Anya could do was dump her off some place where there’d be people who gave a fig about caring for her.

Right now, she needed to be quiet, though. “Shut up,” Anya hissed. “Stay low behind those rocks until I say so and don’t say a thing.”

“Okay!” At least she was obedient as she was loud and shrill.

Anya tried to remember what Schweinmann had once told her. Hell didn’t tell her how to act girly- his pig did. Try and look desperate, look sad, that screws with men’s heads. Crying didn’t come easy to Anya. She’d spent years upon years beating that out of herself. A firm fist to her stomach, a smack to her leg wound…nothing. Screw it. This would have to do. Hopefully when these guys came along they wouldn’t see the scar on her face and get turned off.

Anya stood in place, stared like she was hopeless, froze like some dumb bird thinking that if it didn’t move the thing trying to eat it would forget it existed. The results were quick. The tank idled about thirty paces off, but it opened up. A couple of guys crawled out of the turret, hesitated a moment as they looked at Anya from a distance, then trudged over. She got a good look at their faces as they headed over. Blank expressions, eyes dark wells. They were tired, hungry, but a different sort of thirst was on the mind now. They wanted reprieve, a little pleasure to forget the horrors of the world, and they wanted it now.

She’d seen that look before, she recognized it. A loaded gun was enough to dissuade it, defeat it, but that blind glare was something not to drive away right now. Not if she wanted to stand a chance.

“You’re lost, girly,” one said in a raspy voice as they came within ten paces. They were lanky looking, but strong looking, hardened by the life, even if they weren’t the sort that bothered to try and reach close to their peak.

“Uh, yeah, I am,” Anya took a step back- she didn’t have to pretend to be uneasy. “I was going to-“

“No,” the other one growled, “Don’t care. You know what happens now. Get naked and bend over a rock or you’re getting shot in the gut.”
>>
“H-hey, wait,” Anya grit her teeth, they were way too eager to get this over with. Not even a bit of flirting… “I’ll do it, I’ll do it, just, don’t you want to,” She unclasped a button, hands shaking, “Get in, uh, the mood first? I mean, why can’t we all enjoy it, y’know?” She shouldn’t have worried about her looks, she could have looked like a sack of potatoes with tits for all these men cared. They were eyeing her like dogs did a piece of raw beef.

“…One at each end, then,” the raspy one said, eyes traveling down as Anya slid her jacket off her shoulders and bared her stomach, “No need to take turns then.”

“Don’t you have more friends?” Anya looked towards the tank. It should have three people, could there be more than these two? Was she that lucky? “Maybe I can take three, huh, if y’know what I mean..?” She pulled her trousers down on one side and made a show of toying with one of the ties of her underwear. An excuse for why she’d have her hand there fiddling with something else more explosive, as she coiled the grenade’s pull cord around a couple of fingers.

“Third don’t got a dick,” the growly man said with dripping spite, “Won’t put out, torturin’ us here. Selfish bitch.”

Damn. So there was a third, assuredly in the tank, but she couldn’t back down now…

“I get her cunt,” the raspy one lurched forward and brushed his fingers across Anya’s stomach, “You get her face.”

“Fuck you, I get her cunt. You can get her asshole, bet you’d like that better.”

Anya was numb to what they were talking about. Dead men could talk whatever shit they wanted. As the corpses bickered and snarled at each other, Anya laid her other hand against her side for a moment to secure the grenade against her leg for just a moment, pulled the cord of the grenade down her trousers, felt the zip and click, and let it smoothly roll down her leg and onto the dusty ground behind her feet. A little clicking clattering one wouldn’t hear even if they were listening for it. One…

“Deal. I’ll do her arse if you take her face the first time.”

Argue just a little longer, damnit. Two…Three…

“Fuckin’ fine, alright you-“

Anya twisted round on a foot, dove for a flat topped boulder she’d mapped out beforehand, and threw all her weight forward as she leapt into a handspring, then tumbled over and off the rock before tucking herself in on the other side and down the pit, scrambling for the pistol lying in wait in case this didn’t work.

A loud crack as the grenade went off right after she hit the dirt, and Anya jumped back up, barely over the stone, and aimed at each fallen form in turn.
>>
PAK! PAK! two shots into one. PAK! PAK! two into the other. No precision to them. No time to rest, whatever was in the tank had to die now, right away. Anya pelted forwards in a staggering lope towards the flank of the tank ahead, even though the turret with its cannon was starting to turn- not quick enough. Even with her limp, Anya managed to get within ten paces just before it had spun around. It wouldn’t be able to track her now, or slew down. She vaulted up the short hull, started to point her pistol…

The last remaining crew member popped up suddenly, a scrappy looking woman with short black hair and little else seen at that brief glance, and slashed with a knife of her own at Anya. The force of it knocked her gun away and out of her hand right as it cracked off a round, and Anya barely threw up her arm in time to get in the way of the thrust immediately after- not enough. The knife blade sank into the left side of her chest. The bite of steel, flashing pain, but Anya had the time to draw her own knife. With a single quick movement, a flip in the hand, the knife was driven right into her enemy’s throat.

The woman whimpered a wet gurgle as her chin was pinned upward by Anya’s own hand, and she went limp, weakly grasping at her neck and failing to do anything but drown in her own blood.

Anya collapsed backwards as she ripped her knife back out, and fell off the hull flat on her back with a yelp of pain. She stayed there on the ground for a minute, arms spread as far as they could go, blood welling in a hot dark blotch across her shirt. A groan dribbled out of her mouth as she touched the knife. Staked right through the tit, of course. Did it hurt to breathe? A bit. Could have been worse, much worse, Anya thought as she sat up and heaved herself to her feet. She had to get her stuff from the motorbike- then probably have to go right back to the medics. The knife wasn’t driven in to the hilt, but it was definitely deep- and would have to be left there until she got to help. Until then it’d stick comically out of her chest. She couldn’t help but think sardonically, if I were more stacked maybe I wouldn’t be in any trouble.
>>
“Are you alright, miss scar?” Patrizia had decided on her own to come over, smiling down at Anya. She didn’t seem to care about the corpses and the blood at all- not even Anya had been that broken at her age. What a little freak. She wasn’t at the age to be acting this innocent, either. “You don’t look like you’re having a good time.”

“Nah, it’s great, you ought to try it sometime,” Anya sputtered indignantly, “Hey, help me up, kid.”

“Do you need help with the knife?” Patrizia asked as she grasped Anya’s arm and helped pull her to her feet. “I can help if you want.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”

“Hee, I don’ think so. Tell me if it starts to hurt more, okay miss scar?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Anya rolled her eyes and touched the blade stuck in her breast. No, getting the absolute shit beaten out of her by that Duchess bitch’s goons had hurt more, and she probably was closer to dying when she almost bled out like a dope in Todesfelsen. This dumb girl wanted to help but she’d probably do no good.

The black leather jacket was picked back off of the ground where it had been left in the hole, and Anya shivered as she put it back on her arms but dejectedly couldn’t button it back up with the knife in her. At least it hadn’t gotten messed up with blood, she thought as she gathered her things up. Just had to get the tank back…and do her damndest to keep it. If she went back to get treated and had her hard won loot taken she’d flay all those doctors and make cracklings out of the lot of them.

A cough. The taste of iron in the back of her throat. A small hint of blood in her mouth. Felt good.

“Come on, kid,” she said to Patrizia, “Give me a hand with all this. Don't think you're just going for a ride, I need another set of eyes up top.”

-----

Feburary 17, 1933

All hell had broken loose soon after you got back to your unit.

Vehrlors and the others were glad enough to see you back safe and sound, if even more tired than before. You were allowed to stay off the line for some extra time- something you couldn’t have paid them enough for, but guilt drove you back into your tank long before you could have considered yourself well-rested. Of course, you couldn’t talk about where you’d been, but your platoon mates had been informed of your links to the Intelligence Office- and they didn’t cause trouble for you.

Neither did the Netillians. Whether it was because of your own attack with the Red Fangs or they had simply worn themselves out, their raids stopped having bite to them, and their vehicles were even more rare. The enigmatic tank destroyer did not reveal himself anywhere, despite your fears, and Vehrlors’s constant watch for any sign of it. Republic troops began to push forward again, rarely needing the aid of the tanks, until the other day, a small press somewhere caused the entire Netillian line facing you to collapse.
>>
The company was ordered forward in relentless offense- your tanks outpaced the Republic troops, themselves sprinting forward, and in the great clouds of dust you ran the Netillians down. You caught them, and with little effort, set them fleeing again. Their resistance to your tanks in particular was feeble, their anti-tank defenses had been worn away, and when you flushed them out like rabbits they could only either run, or offer supplicative surrender. You could hardly believe your eyes when Vehrlors smashed his way through a picket line and the lot of you captured an entire platoon, exhausted and weary, and out of supplies.

Delays came when reconnaissance found minefields, but Republic contraptions made to plow up the ground and displace mines cleared a path in little time, and you were in a headlong dash once again. You stopped for nothing- Vehrlors ordered the platoon to administer Pervitin, and you felt more awake, alive, and violent than you had in a long time, possibly ever.

It was a bizarre exhilaration. Your platoon and another converged on what must have looked like an imposing series of bunkers, and smashed them apart like pottery, the defenders not even seeming the least bit prepared, and there being entirely too few of them, you all discovered as you ran them down while retreating. The Ellowian air force, despite being reduced, was strong in the sky, and as you charged forth the grey checkered planes often flew low to rip apart the ground with machine guns and bombs, and you punched through the ruins and clouds of dust, scattering what was left of enemy resistance by simply barreling into them.
>>
The m/32s protested against the pace they were being put through- though your vehicle’s special custom engine was holding out, Elder Von Rotehof’s vehicle suffered a breakdown, and then when the lines moved up so you could leave him back, Vehrlors’s tank broke down soon after. You all wanted to keep running through the hills and plains, crushing the enemy like you’d been doing, but today, you were forced to slow to a halt- to take a break while the division reorganized itself. Vehrlors shared what Von Silbertau reported- the line was an absolute mess, organization had been thrown all about and upended, but for all the chaos your own lines were in, they were only reflective of what must have been happening to the Netillians. Exactly what had happened with them was still a head scratcher, but none were complaining for not knowing. Only that ammunition and fuel were low, logistics hadn’t caught up, and that you were forced to sit on your hands while the enemy was reeling.

The Second platoon of Fourth company made a temporary base in a small village that had a few stubborn locals still sticking around- the militia had been drafted by the Northern Lords and sent south to die long ago, and there was nobody to resist your occupation of the place. Not that the villagers minded much once it was clear you weren’t about to raze their homes and steal all their things. The broken down tanks had been towed here by your other tanks, a grueling process that involved coordinating two pulling tanks in order to be more gentle on the remaining vehicles’ mechanisms. Once here, though, there was little to do but sit about, pulling security from rooftops with carbines or looking out the tank periscopes and gunsights. Vehrlors stayed with his broken down tank, keeping a close ear on the radio and giving the platoon updates when possible, but the excitement turned to discouragement when the news largely became what you were missing. Soon, many were catching up on sleep that drugs had temporarily driven out of them, and one of them was you, as you crashed into a deep, dark slumber in the afternoon.

Were it but only peaceful dark, though.

For you were visited by the dead in your dreams, no matter if you wanted to see them.

>Whom disturbs your rest, as you disturb theirs eternal?
Don’t mix meth and blackflower
>>
>>4876911
>>Whom disturbs your rest, as you disturb theirs eternal?
Viska and the Hogs (+Narr?)

Considered putting in people like Zohl and Bertram, but I don't think Richter loses much sleep at night over putting people like them into the ground
>>
>>4876911
I wouldn't wanna deny Viska her time to shine but if we could squeeze in a surprise visit from our dear Uncle Hel, I'd love to see him.
>>
>>4876911
No one.
>>
>>4876911
>Whom disturbs your rest, as you disturb theirs eternal?
Viska and the Hogs (+Narr?)
Also the sniper prick.
>>
>>4876911
Viska and the Hogs (+Narr?)
>>
>>4876911
Oh Anya, Anya, Anya...

>Whom disturbs your rest, as you disturb theirs eternal?
I'll support Viska, Hogs and Uncle Heller.

And here I though Von Neubaum got his sexual prowess from the Traum Factor.
>>
>>4877461
If it did maybe von Walen would sign up willingly for it, poor guy needs something positive
>>
>and the Hogs
Oh ye of little faith, the Cockroach yet lives.
>>4876911
Viska and Narr.
>>
>>4876911
>>4877859
Because I'm greedy, Luca too.
>>
>>4877859
Would be fun if we see the all, but not the cockroach. >HOW TF IS THIS GUY ALIVE?
>>
>>4876913
Viska and Hogs sounds fun, I wanna see Splotchy again.
Also,
Wasn't Bertram only banished to the shadow realm? According to a children's card game that is legally distinct from dying. I think.
>>
>>4878127
He vanished on the spot and all that was left of him was some black dust and his clothes/gear.
Judging by how I don't think we've ever seen Poltergeist succeed at outright killing someone, "vanished" might not actually mean dead.
I reckon he's probably been repurposed as a puddle of earth tears deep underground or as a crab in the mountains or something. Unpleasant, but more economical for the world than utterly obliterated.
>>
As a head's up, I won't be able to update today. I'm getting used to a new schedule from being newly (hopefully gainfully) employed, and while I could finish an update once I get home like I did for this last one, I have to be up earlier tomorrow so I can't stay up too late in the morning tonight.

Though I can see people want to see Viska. And presumably, actually see her.

Anyways, I'll call the vote once I'm actually in a place to update (relatively) soon after.
>>
>>4878170
Good luck with your new job my man.
>>
I'm awake much later than I wanted to be, but I'll see if I can't get something done before the 4:30-11 tonight, as I'm still multitasking because of waking up later.

>>4876913
>>4876915
>>4877211
>>4877442
>>4877461
>>4877889
>>4878127
People!

>>4877157
Nobody!
Trust me you wouldn't have actually wanted this one, just because you get no humans doesn't mean you don't get anybody. These are not consensual visions.

Updating in progress.

>>4878490
It's alright so far, if a bit dull, though I really don't intend on doing it long term anyways.
>>
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>>4879302
>just because you get no humans doesn't mean you don't get anybody
What a waste.
>>
>>4879360
I miss floaty boy
>>
So dreamland's going to be a two parter since I can't get it all done before I have to abscond for the night, but I'll be right back on it once I get back. First part with vote soon. Pictures later.
>>
When you slipped off to sleep, you expected darkness. Maybe, if you were lucky, your darling Maddalyn. Luckier still, a dream Maddalyn open to lewd activities- even in your good dreams, she was often reluctant.

Instead there was a familiar yet alien void. The ground was darkness, and all about was mist, and paper ribbons rippling through their air both distant and closeby, none of them altogether material, like you stood in the midst of a school of facsimile fish, swarming all about and nowhere at once.

It felt like the place Poltergeist’s cottage was, but it was clearly not. The only sound was whispering in tongues you both knew and did not know, and a very quiet whistle of wind.

Naught else. Just this landscape and the movement all about, like breeze over still water.

“…Hello?” you asked nobody, hoping for an answer, “Is anybody here?”

A cough right at your feet, and you looked down, and saw…a human-shaped lump.

The person was barely distinct from the rest of the wispy smears that made up what was under your feet and in every direction otherwise- their face was blurry, and they lay on their back on the ground, completely flat.

“Don’t you remember me?” It said in a mocking voice, “I’m your first one. The first one that was personal. You’re up to your knees in blood, but what’d you know of them? You ought to remember the ones that you did out of hate.”

“You’re…” you trailed off, as you bent down to try and look closer at the figure. A pointless gesture- the problem wasn’t distance or light. “You’re dead. What are you doing here? Where am I?”

That wasn’t answered. “I was a killer and a savage. A servant of the Grossreich, and good for nothing but breaking things. They called me the Cutter.”

You stood straight again as you remembered. “You deserved what you got. Pitiable past or no, you did a monstrous thing to Signy.”

A dry laugh of acknowledgement. “Yet look at how strong and beautiful she became for it.”
>>
Beautiful? You still recalled the degree of mutilation inflicted. “You’re as sick now as you were then. Saying you made her beautiful by cutting her to pieces.”
“No, you don’t get it. I’ve seen through your eyes and heard with your ears. Don’t you think she’s become strong and beautiful, after all she’s been through?”

“…I’m not speaking with you any longer,” you declared to this corpse from your past, “Go away.”

“Walk on, then. But I’ll always be here.”

Shaking your head, you kept on as he said. This wasn’t a good dream, if it was indeed that. You wanted to see your fiancée, not some awful dead man you put out of your head for some reason. If this was a dream, could you not just think her up? Maybe she might even happen to know what all this was. Nothing for it but to try…

A powerful grip suddenly closed around your throat and lifted you into the air.

“Ghhck!” you protested in a choked gasp as you looked down and saw a shape gather around the grip in black, blowing flakes, until it formed a familiar cloaked person with a single glowing eye.

“Apologize,” he said like wih a voice as subtle as a breeze blowing, “To my sister.”

“Igh,” you grasped angrily at the hand, “I have, you corpse!”

“Not for you. For me.”

“Fughckyou,” you spat, “I’m glaghd you’re,” you were suddenly loose and gasped for breath, “You’re better off dead, forgotten…”

“She’s given so much for you. So much for so many people. She doesn’t ask for anything, doesn’t expect anything…you’ve ruined her and left her in the woods to freeze…”

The shadowy form crumbled to dust again and vanished in an unfelt wind. You glared about your surroundings, accusatorily. “Do any other dead scumbags want to come and lecture me!?” you called out to the wispy nothingness, “Or can the way out show itself!?”
>>
Nothing answered you. Yet, for now, that was fine, as you picked a direction and walked. Every way looked the same anyways- either you’d find something or you’d wake up from whatever this was. As you stepped onwards, you suddenly felt as though you were walking downhill, then down sideways. For but a brief moment, you felt as though upside down, but everything still looked the same, and when you observed that you felt as though you were right side up all along, and no closer to anything than you had been before.

It felt like you’d been wandering for quite some time before you grew sicker of being alone than of being tormented by the deservedly dead. “Well?” you asked nobody, “Anybody here? Is somebody toying with me, or am I fooling with myself?”

“Fuckin’, forgot about me, did you,” a tired, rasping voice said from the ground. You expected to see the older body again, but this one had quite the detail to it, even if he was covered in ashen dust.

It took you a moment. “…Narr?” You asked, “You’re…”

“Dead? Probably. Maybe not. Fat lot of good going above and beyond did me. Should have been happy with what I got. What a name I chose. Maybe if I wanted things to turn out different I’d have picked another.” A despondent chortle from the ground. “I have a family, you know, up north…a wife, a daughter, just wanted her dad to not be such a useless piece a' shit...”

“Here, let me help you up,” you knelt down and offered a hand…apparently your prosthesis did not make the trip to dreamland, and you offered the other. Narr might have been not much more than a mercenary turned soldier who didn’t hide that he was out for his own gain, but he had been a valuable ally, and hell, he’d helped you to the end for little more than an assurance that you frankly hadn’t had the time to make good on. “Do you know…well, how you died? We didn’t see what happened or where you went, just that your tank was knocked out…”

“What, you think I know?” Narr took your hand and you had to do most of the work yanking him up. His grip was deathly cold. “You don’t know, so how could I?”

That confused you. “But, you said…you never said anything about a family before, and you know them, so…are you not a ghost?” Dream logic was both to be questioned and not questioned, if you were to hope to figure out whether or not you resided in one.

“I’ve seen what you’ve seen, Kommandant. Not what I’ve seen.” He brushed his face off, but where the dust came off, there was naught but a hollow underneath. “So we won, huh. Hope it was important enough to talk about.” He looked at you with one remaining eye, not wiped off. “Long live the Republic and Liberty, and all of that. Damn, I wish I could have seen it at the end of all this.” He wiped his face further, and after the second stroke, the dust fell away in its entirety- as did he.
>>
“Wait!” You said, reaching out to the dissipating cloud, “I wasn’t done, don’t you…damn.” You let your arm fall again. You hadn’t been very attached to the man, yet…this was a firm reminder that you’d have to at least live to spread the story. If you fell, who would tell Signy what valor even her self-interested fighters had shown.

Again, nothingness, but you saw an odd, charming light in the distance. What to do but follow?

Yet as you went towards the flickering phantom light, you heard steps behind you. When you turned your head, then your body, you saw dark uniforms behind, small but bright flames flickering upon them. The black and blue was dirty and ragged, but their bearers had a pride in wearing them, whether or not they knew it was a mimicry of another battle-dress. The half-dozen or so following made it their own, and perhaps considered it greater.

“Ah,” you completed your turn quickly, and the group behind snapped their heels together and saluted. You saluted back, but their arms were falling.
“Oh,” the one in frontmost said, sounding disappointed, “Sorry, we thought you were somebody else.”

Who else could you be? “I…that’s fine.” You looked at the man better- that long black hair, that sharp nose- besides the blood spattered on his breast, he looked as much as he once did. “…You’re Illger, aren’t you? The Cockroach?”

“Oh for fuck’s,” he put a hand on his forehead, “Phoenix, Phoenix. I rise from the dead and all that.”

“…But not anymore,” you pointed out grimly.

“Who knows?” Illger shrugged, “Maybe this is just another phase.”

“Go get bent, Roach,” another figure stormed up beside- the familiar dark red hair of Eakova, but her headband was gone, and her forehead bore a familiar tattoo of a symbol of scales- a Twaryian emblem. The headband was probably gone, because a great shard of steel had embedded itself deep into the skull of this person and tore away much on its way into the upper right side of her head. The three-quarters of her face that remained were livid. “You’ve died over and over again. How come I had to die? I had so much life left, I’d barely gotten started! This was my first mission! I never got to prove myself,” She glared at you, “And it’s all because you went and fucked us.”

“I…” you paused, “I what?”
>>
“You knew there was an attack coming. We could have all gone out and taken that son of a bitch out together,” Eakova stabbed a finger into your chest with a step forward, “But what happened instead? You just let us get killed for your Archduchy scheme!” She sank into a ball on the ground, holding her head around the huge shard in her skull, “This wasn’t how it was supposed to be! I…this wasn’t…”

When it was put such a way, even Illger, who had normally been so supportive of you, had to give you a dark glance. “Yeah. You threw us under the wheels there. Everybody else too. Even the people not here.”

“I…no I didn’t,” you insisted, “It was the only way. It wasn’t an easy choice, I…I had to trust that you could do it, so that the best thing for everybody would happen in the end. I’ve never wanted anybody to die for my sake.”

“Then why are we here, man?” Illger asked pointedly, “We’re here because of you. Why, though? You know, don’t you? You have something you regret that we all ought to hear?”

>You should have fought, but you feared your enemy’s power. Victory was not assured- you wished you could have shared the field, but you couldn’t. And you were sorry for that, even if your mission had been a success.
>Even if you knew none of them very well, and Heller Von Tracht was long dead, he was still family, and your idol. That you might have misused his prized legacy was a miserable thought.
>This was not some regret of vague duty or obligation- they were your Retinue’s people, and you had caused her pain in making this decision, even if it wasn’t intentionally. The fury and regret in her eyes were what you felt even if she was not here. That fury that she did not know could be directed partly at you.
>Other?
>>
>>4879895
>You should have fought, but you feared your enemy’s power. Victory was not assured- you wished you could have shared the field, but you couldn’t. And you were sorry for that, even if your mission had been a success.

>This was not some regret of vague duty or obligation- they were your Retinue’s people, and you had caused her pain in making this decision, even if it wasn’t intentionally. The fury and regret in her eyes were what you felt even if she was not here. That fury that she did not know could be directed partly at you.

A bit of both I'd say.
>>
>>4879916
I'd say both works.

While live by the sword, die by the sword remains true, ultimately they were our responsibility to lead and care for.
>>
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>>4879895
>This was not some regret of vague duty or obligation- they were your Retinue’s people, and you had caused her pain in making this decision, even if it wasn’t intentionally. The fury and regret in her eyes were what you felt even if she was not here. That fury that she did not know could be directed partly at you.
They deserve to know the whole story, they probably know it anyway. They were killed by Gerovic who was drawn to Richter personally, who had to be neutralized to take care of another threat called Bertram spawned from Richter's past. We were afraid of Gerovic and Bertram, so we made the sacrifices we thought we had to to survive, and in the end it wasn't even enough. We could have had Poltergeist deal with Bertram at any time but we gambled with the lives of the people we were entrusted with instead in the hopes of being kept safe in the future by that power. They have every right to be mad, they could have been warned and were not warned. Many were sacrificed for the sake of the one.

But they are still dead and Richter is still alive. All there is to do now is ask forgiveness and keep moving forward. We try to be better, sometimes we fail, but sometime we succeed. Do they have anything they want done for them? They can think of it as their final payment if they like.
If anyone thinks they are roaming around as some sort of spirit they came to the right guy, fresh out of big tatty duchesses to stuff you into though.
>>
>>4879895
I'm going with this >>4880144
>>
>>4880144
Judge above don't remind me of the duel, Richter could have escaped the whole maiming thing if people weren't so stubborn about holding back that favour
>>
>>4880267
It was only partially to keep the favor, and to be fair it seemed like we had a chance right up until the fog popped us out right next to Bertram.
I think the bigger reason was to keep Poltergeist from getting the Demiphantom though. Who knows what awful shit he can do with it.
>>
>>4880267
I still think we could have avoided both if we had gotten von Metzeler to ask his wizard friend to help us, but for reasons I still don't entirely understand except for wizard racism people were strongly opposed to doing so.

Oh well, that's all in the past now. It's not like we'll ever have to explain ourselves to the literal ghosts of our past...oh, wait.
>>
>>4880329
To be fair these seem more to be projections of Richter's guilt/regret rather than the actual people (as seen by Narr) but yeah what's done is done.
>>
>>4879895
>Even if you knew none of them very well, and Heller Von Tracht was long dead, he was still family, and your idol. That you might have misused his prized legacy was a miserable thought.
>>
>>4879895
>This was not some regret of vague duty or obligation- they were your Retinue’s people, and you had caused her pain in making this decision, even if it wasn’t intentionally. The fury and regret in her eyes were what you felt even if she was not here. That fury that she did not know could be directed partly at you.
>>
>>4879895
>>Even if you knew none of them very well, and Heller Von Tracht was long dead, he was still family, and your idol. That you might have misused his prized legacy was a miserable thought.
>>
>>4879895
>You should have fought, but you feared your enemy’s power. Victory was not assured- you wished you could have shared the field, but you couldn’t. And you were sorry for that, even if your mission had been a success.
>>
>>4879916
>>4880049
Some of both.

>>4880144
>>4880246
>>4880514
Give them the whole story- and that the effects of this are not just upon those fallen.

>>4880347
>>4880671
They were not yours to cast away. You have lost something you cannot give back.

>>4880791
Perhaps you should have gone to battle. Perhaps valiant defeat would not be so bad.

Calling it here, I'll update when I get back. Hours are shorter today so I won't be wasted.
>>
>>4881547
>I'll update when I get back.
*when I get back tonight
Sorry about the delay.
>>
A long gaze over each of the ghosts arrayed before you, some of whom lacked faces, surely for your lack of remembrance of them. An unexpected regret. Though, they deserved to hear the truth, whether or not these…apparitions were real. Even if it was only speaking to yourself, to hear the confession aloud was something you needed.

“Yes,” you said, “I do have something that must be heard. Where I erred.” You looked down into the grey murk below, “Why I see you now, even if I did not before. I did not fight, it’s true. I fought the foe who felled you before, a skilled warrior called Andrej Gerovic, and scarcely avoided defeat, death, for myself and my fellows. I…feared this man’s power. I didn’t want to face him again, not unless I could be sure of victory. I had to be sure to defeat him, because I needed to take him down to defeat another enemy from my past. I thought I made reasonable sacrifices, to be able to survive, but I sacrificed what was not mine. Now I see that I should have shared the field with all of you, and conquered my fears, but I…couldn’t. I am sorry for that. Even if my superiors called the mission a success, I failed my own. I saved my own skin and made you take the fall, and worse…I hurt those not hurt by the fighting.”

You looked back up at the attentive lot, all very strangely silent. These mercenaries in life had been a casual, talkative, even rude sort, but their stares were blank.

“What I regret isn’t something as uncertain as my duty or obligation, not only whether I should fight because I am a soldier,” you did not fear any breaks in your voice. None listened save for those who had passed on. “When I saw my Retinue, my Anya, she had such pain, such fury and regret in her eyes.” You still remembered it. How angry she had been that, wounded though she was, she had not shared her former band’s final battle. “She didn’t know. She doesn’t know, that it was my selfishness that was all of your deaths. You have every right to be furious with me, and I’ve no right to your forgiveness. But…” You bowed, bent forward. “I would ask it anyways. If you would wish, I could do something, in the world, for you…”

The air was still, and in the silence, you waited for an answer. You’d been steeling yourself for a condemnation, a reprimand, maybe even forgiveness or compassion, but not nothing. “Have…” your voice cracked and you coughed, “Have you nothing to say to me?”

When you peeked up to look at the Hogs, though, you saw…nothing.
>>
“Wait, no!” You called out, “Where have you gone? Answer me! I have…I have such influence, I know people, I can have things done for you, if only you will tell me!” You staggered forward. “Where did you…”

A ghostly light before you, and when you squinted into it, you saw…a figure, walking away into the glow. He was…familiar. Distantly. He was tall, and trod with strength and purpose. An unfelt wind billowed a black coat, a blue cloak, and long, dark hair. At first, you couldn’t have fathomed who it might have been, but then…you knew, and your feet broke from a stuporous hobble into a jog, then a run.

He didn’t fit your memory of him, but that memory was hazy. He had never been one who had come back around for visits often- the time you remembered most was the time he bid farewell to your family.

“Wait!” You called out, “Wait! Can you hear me? I’m coming over!” The figure didn’t seem that far away, but as you ran harder, faster, your lungs burned, but you never got any closer even though you were certain you were almost there every few moments. “Stop!” you shouted hoarsely, “I have so much to tell you! So much to ask, so much…to…” Your legs gave way and you fell to your knees, gasping and panting, “Why won’t you…hear me..?” When you looked up again, still sucking in stale air as fast as you could, the figure still walked on. That larger-than-legend ancestor who had left one day, and would never come back. Save for in this plane of mockery. “Wait, damn you, don’t you…want to hear about…your…”

A touch on your shoulder, and you snapped your head around in fury and fright, but those melted off when you saw who was there now, crossing in front of you.

“You are so tired,” an impossibly gentle and light voice said, a soft tone that tickled the ears and sank into the heart. “What is wrong? You will hurt yourself doing what you were.”

“I…” You didn’t want to look right away. You feared what you would see- a walking pile of viscera, some other horrific fate that had befallen the owner of this voice.
>>
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“You do not have to be afraid. I am not here to hurt you.” The face that appeared when you opened your eyes was blessedly unharmed. Her old scars were there, of course, but so were the wide, bright eyes, and shining light hair, contrasts to her plain clothing and white cloak that was battle dress of a fierce brigand gang. She had a pitying look on her face, like she had found a lost child. “Do you see? It is only me.”

“I….I’m sorry,” you said first, “About-“

“Shhh,” Viska said as she held our her hand and helped you to your feet, “Do not worry about that now. Why were you running so?”

You pointed out to the light, to the figure, still striding away, yet was not much further than he had ever been in your pursuit.

Viska frowned slightly, gave you a long glance, then stepped to the side, reaching a hand out. “Richter, you’ve so much time. Stay here for just a little of that, and rest with me. You will get to him eventually. I have faith in you, even if you believe yourself unworthy.”

“I want to get to him now,” you kept an eye on that walking man, “Could you wait a little? I promise to come back…”

Viska shook her head. “If you wish to go, I will not hold you back. But my time in your life has ended. I am here beyond my own life. Once you have gone on, you should not come back. I do not know if you even can. I would like to follow if I could, to help you, but this place where I am is all that had been allowed. These moments. Else, I am with you, and not.” She kept her hand out, “I am sorry to make this a choice, Richter. It is the truth of it, though. We all have our time, and when it ends, we mustn’t demand more. These few words are a mercy that most never have.”

“I’m afraid that if I stay though,” the figure drew further away, “I will lose him.”

“You might,” Viska said, “If you must go on, then I will not stop you. Sometimes, no matter what, we must follow our callings. Even to our deaths. I know that well, and I am not unhappy that I died in my efforts. Securing a future for my children was a cause worth dying for.”

She let her hand fall, and looked into your eyes. A look back into those eyes- another back. Did this have to be a choice? Couldn’t you have both, for this? No, something told you, you can have one or neither…

>Stay and rest with Viska. You had much to talk to her about, much left unsaid- and if you left her behind, you knew she’d never truly go away.
>After so many years, the loss of hope of ever seeing him, Heller Von Tracht was within sight. Maybe within reach. If you let this chance go, would you ever have another? Pursue him. You’re so close, you know it…
>You can do both- you’re sure. Or at least, you can ensure you’ll never lose sight of either. But, how..? (This will not work at all unless you think of an incredibly solid way of defying this unreality. It does not work on principles the physical world does.)
>Other?
>>
>>4885534
>After so many years, the loss of hope of ever seeing him, Heller Von Tracht was within sight. Maybe within reach. If you let this chance go, would you ever have another? Pursue him. You’re so close, you know it…

To Viska before we leave: "May the Judge grant you the peace you never had in life."
>>
>>4885534
>You can do both- you’re sure. Or at least, you can ensure you’ll never lose sight of either. But, how..? (This will not work at all unless you think of an incredibly solid way of defying this unreality. It does not work on principles the physical world does.)
Can Viska possess our body? ABSORBA VISKA
>>
>>4885534
>>Stay and rest with Viska. You had much to talk to her about, much left unsaid- and if you left her behind, you knew she’d never truly go away.

It seems to me that a lot of our problems might have been caused by rashly diving headlong into situations without taking the proper time to think about them in context and really understand what was at stake. We're always so eager to take on whatever assignments come our way, to gain victories and prove ourselves worthy of our family legacy. But if there's one thing we've learned it's that just because we're a von Tracht doesn't mean we're guaranteed to succeed in every mission. How many of those ghosts we saw earlier would still be alive today if we hadn't been so headstrong and confident in everything we did?

I think we can still catch up to our uncle one day, but if we do it will be because we laid the necessary groundwork and watched our labors grow to fruition over time; not because we blindly chased after his shadow again and again without understanding what we were doing or how it would end. For now I think we should take some time to rest and face the consequences of our past actions. Only then can we figure out how to move forward productively.
>>
>>4885534
>Stay and rest with Viska. You had much to talk to her about, much left unsaid- and if you left her behind, you knew she’d never truly go away.
While I'd like to try for the >You can do both option, I can't think of a way to get there. However... I recall a certain somebody managed to leave us one way messages that we could read while outside of time and mind.
>Other
>Search our pockets, Every officer should have a pencil and something to write down admin on. When we're through with Viska, write down what we wanted to tell Heller and leave the note for the wind to take. If he wouldn't hear, maybe he'd get to read our feelings eventually.
>>
>>4885534
>Stay and rest with Viska. You had much to talk to her about, much left unsaid- and if you left her behind, you knew she’d never truly go away.
I am ready for the second lesson on ambition taught by a milf this quest.
>>
>>4885534
>Stay and rest with Viska. You had much to talk to her about, much left unsaid- and if you left her behind, you knew she’d never truly go away.
>>
>>4885534
>You can do both- you’re sure. Or at least, you can ensure you’ll never lose sight of either. But, how..? (This will not work at all unless you think of an incredibly solid way of defying this unreality. It does not work on principles the physical world does.)

It's simple, we make a vow, a terrible vow, etched into our heart like the point of a knife for whatever she's yearns most for. Back in life we can get her answers, or fulfill her (un)dying wish. News of her children? Safety for them? A message to her people?
That way, once we have fulfilled it we will return to her to hear her answers. We would in effect be carrying her, her burdens and hopes with us, so we wouldn't have to come back to this place to hear it.
Otherwise all she will have is emptiness, in a void bereft of everything but regret.
>>
>>4885534
>>Stay and rest with Viska. You had much to talk to her about, much left unsaid- and if you left her behind, you knew she’d never truly go away.
>>
>>4885534
>>Stay and rest with Viska. You had much to talk to her about, much left unsaid- and if you left her behind, you knew she’d never truly go away.
Were going down our own road now. If we had stayed with the Republic and commanded the hog's we could have pretended to be a part of his legacy.
>>
>>4885534
Supporting >>4885611
>>
>>4885580
>>4885611
>>4885645
>>4885739
>>4885765
>>4885904
>>4885953
Stay with this shade, and linger with the ashes of this past branch of circumstance.
Allow

>>4885545
You must move onwards, lest you stay here forever.

>>4885558
...What could go wrong? Become one.

>>4885756
Drive a spike through your ankle, a chain to this place. It will not leave you until you fulfill an oath to the dead.

Alright, writing, this one shouldn't take too long. Knock on wood.
>>
Heller Von Tracht’s back was given a long, wistful look. The way he moved demanded he be followed, from somewhere deep within, but could you keep going as you were, and leave behind your past? Your mistakes and regrets? No- there was a reason they appeared to you now, surely. It was not because they were naught but coincidental visions.

If you left now, with so much left unsaid to Viska, to your shades of failure, would they ever cease to be a weight around you? Would you ever have the chance to unshackle yourself? Could you even hope to reach the future you aspired to with a heart so heavy?

Was that even the path you were meant to take, or had you already traveled down your own path so far that you could not change where you were going?

These doubts kept you rooted in place, eyes cast to the distance until you felt Viska’s touch again.

“It’s alright,” she insisted softly.

“…I’ll stay,” you decided, “Just one moment, there’s something I’d like to try, briefly,” this was a dream, you had your clothes. Were you lucky enough that you had a pen and piece of paper? They were not specific, but yes, your hands touched things in your pocket, and you drew out the writing utensil, and paper. Poltergeist had left notes to you in a place like this- perhaps, if the Judge were merciful, this note would blow forward in time, to Heller…Or would it be going backwards?

“If you are writing to the man in the distance,” Viska said as you scribbled down your words, “Know that he may not seek you. He has his path, and he walks as though he refuses to take a step back.”

“That would be like him,” you admitted as you finished. “I’d be fine with that. I just want to at least give a few words.” You let the paper go, and the wind carried it forth, slowly, dancing on nothing. Upon it, in messy letters…

Uncle, it is your brother’s son, the heir to our name and blood. I have done so much. Our legacy will not die with me. We are all doing fine, and we’ll make you proud of us. Your Anya misses you, but she is strong, stronger than you might have thought she’d ever be, and worthy of you. Make your way to us, if you can. We have so many stories for each other.
It was not much, not enough, but it was all you could think of briefly. It was what was most important, you hoped.
>>
“That’s it,” you breathed, and turned back to Viska, “I’d like to talk to you. There’s…”

“Mm.” Viska nodded, and she knelt down onto the ground, sitting on her heels with her legs together. “Lay here. You should give yourself more time than you think.” Her advice was followed. “No,” she said as she grabbed your shoulder when you splayed yourself on the ground, “Here.”

“I…” you noticed where she pulled you, “Is that appropriate? I mean…”

“Don’t be obstinate now.” A rare commanding tone you’re heard before from her long ago- not a tone she used often. It was no less gentle, but it was very much firm.

“Alright.” You let your head and shoulders lay upon her thighs, and settled back with a sigh, unsure if you should be comfortable. “I do not know if you would have allowed this, to be frank.”
“I was not only a leader in battle as Hostmaster,” Viska stroked your head from your crown to your ear, “I watched over the hearts of the warriors who placed their trust in me. Many in the wastelands believe that, as they have cast themselves away from their families and homes, they no longer require comfort. They deceive and wound themselves so, in believing they are forcing strength unto themselves. It is my responsibility and joy, to comfort those who place their trust and lives in my hands, and all it requires is an open ear and a willingness to bear the burdens of the hearts of others. Some do not realize how badly they need to rest until their head is upon proper warmth.”

As she spoke, it became easier to sink into Viska’s lap. “You would have been a good mother,” you said.

“Hmh,” Viska gave something that might have been a laugh, but you couldn’t recall her doing such a thing, “I do try. A good mother should not have lost her children for so long.”

“But you did try to reach them.”

“It did darken my thoughts,” Viska said, her stroking of your hair not stopping, though slowing, “That it had been too long. That there was no hope, unless I made the utmost haste. Perhaps that poisoned my mind in my final days. When I accepted my death, I had one terrible fear. That in being so impatient as I had been, I had stolen from my children the chance to know their mother, if I had only waited. Yet with each day, the sins of Glockenblume might have stolen more from them just as easily. It is not an easy decision to throw one’s life away for a higher purpose. Or, it should not be.”
>>
“I have much to ask,” you said quietly, though you were just as tempted to stay quiet, and perhaps sleep within a dream. Viska felt real, and warm. Not like the chilly grip of death Narr had placed on you. “But I am afraid that you might be but my dream. A disrespectful imagination. Yet, you know things I shouldn’t know…this might seem like a daft question, but how real are you? Are you really Viska?”

“Does it matter?” Viska asked back, “Am I acting unlike who I am?”

“I would like a true answer, please,” you turned your head to try and look at Viska’s face from below, “I do not want to dishonor your memory with a debased fantasy.”

“I am, and am not,” Viska said plainly, “I am whom you’ve known, but I have seen through your eyes, felt what you have felt. You are within yourself, but I am as true as the person you knew and fought alongside, if not the real woman herself.”

“But is that a yes or a no?”

“Richter,” Viska sighed, “You should know that yes and no are not such easy answers in this place. In the world we were both born and lived in, I am dead, and that reality does not change here. That we may speak in this land beyond waking is a blessing, and you should accept that. I have no reason to lie to you. I am more true than I may have been in life, as our souls touch here more closely.”

It all felt like a riddle to you, but maybe it was not something you could think about save to torture yourself. It was true that you couldn’t imagine Viska tormenting you. Even her dream self’s word must have been as good as if they flowed from her lips in reality.

Even if this was but your imagination, you still had a last chance here you did not have anywhere else.

>What would you like to talk to Viska about?
>Other things?
>>
>>4886132
>What would you like to talk to Viska about?
Cyclops took revenge for you in the end, even if it took your life for it to happen. Do you still have faith in Mittelsosalia to make it worth the while?
>>
>>4886132
>Apologize for being weak and cowardly during the talks with Glockenblume.
>>
>>4886146
This
>>
>>4886132
>Apologize for not being able to help more.
>Tell her what has happened and what is happening with the republic.
>Tell her we're sorry we couldn't bring her to our wedding.
>Ask her for advice about what we should do in the future. Is just this time in the Silver Lances enough? She we just live our days out as a family man with the wife we adore? Does she think we'd be happy with all we've done based on what we've accomplished, based on what she knows and has seen of us. Or are we the type that would just come back to the bloodshed. Like so many others we know are dead now.
I know that last on is a choice we'd ultimately have to make, but Viska knows the warriors heart. Her opinion of us might help us on whatever path we choose.
>>
>>4886132
These >>4886146 >>4886206
>>
>>4886132
>What would you like to talk to Viska about?
Talk to Viska about Hilda. She is at our house, pregnant and scarred with no father for her child and the love of her life is going to be married to someone else. Is there something more we could be doing for her, should we raise her kid as some surrogate Von Tracht, or keep her less close to insulate against our mildly aggressive wife and possible courtly scandals?
>>
>>4886146
>>4886149
>>4886164
>>4886206
>>4886349
>>4886818
All sorts of things. Good thing you've made yourself comfortable.
Writing.
>>
Update mostly done, but there's going to be a delay in between these posts and when I post the thing that asks for a vote. I'll have it up later tonight.
>>
“I feel like I could have prevented what happened to you,” you said to lead off more than a few inquiries that swirled about in the head like the air around did. “And your men. Signy…Cyclops took it hard. She blamed herself, but I could have been more forceful when I spoke with those representatives from Glockenblume, couldn’t I?” It had been a long time, and you didn’t remember it well, but you still had the feeling, “Was I feeble? Cowardly?”

“You were acting in the interests of the Republic, were you not?” Viska said above you, “Was there personal gain for you to be hesitant? Nobody can know the future for certain. I acted as I did because I chose to. Blaming yourself for my death is vain.”

“You are apologizing for me when I am the one who should be sorry.”

“I am not.” Viska was firm in this, “I had my own will. You did not pull the pin on a bundle of grenades and hold them to my chest. I did that, and I knew it might happen should we fail. We all did. Our martyrdom is not your failure.”

“I could have done more.” You insisted as you settled into Viska’s thighs. It was eerie to lay on her lap after she casually spoke of surely reducing herself to scattered, bloody pieces.

“You had already saved my men’s and my lives in the battle for Todesfelsen. We did not curse your name for not helping us more. We were grateful that you gave us our chance at all.”

“If I had done a little bit more, maybe you wouldn’t have had to sacrifice yourselves.”

“Maybe.” Viska allowed, softly, “But we did not regret it.”

“In the end, Cyclops revenged you. Glockenblume’s evil trade is no more, even if it cost your life,” you said, even though the shades of this place seemed to know everything you did, “Do you still think Mittelsosalia was worth that sacrifice? Do you have faith in it, even still?”

“I do,” Viska said, “I must. As everyone, to create something with such potential to be wonderful. If the Republic was to lose its faith in its future, it would fall back into the place it was before. The ambition of it requires near delusional confidence, but it is ever worth the price it demands.”

“Do you know what’s been happening with the Republic?” A silly thing to ask a dead woman, but you had to be sure. There was much to explain.

“I know what you know of it. If you would like to explain anyways, then go on.”
>>
You took that as an excuse to structure your question. It started with the Republic’s efforts to aid Ellowie in Alpha Two, then went on to what you knew of its governmental structure (still decidedly undemocratic, for better or worse), then to its current presence in the war. Beyond that, you knew little besides what you had directly seen. Updates of what happened past the lines were seldom and often not detailed.

“I did worry that Lady Vang would be tempted by power, but I do not think it is something she would seek for its sake,” Viska said when you were done, “I only hope she does not see it as a necessity beyond the present emergency. The Republic must weather a trial such as this, but it mustn’t be smothered in its sleep. This move to make an offensive upon a country proper is risky, too. I would have minded our own troubles before taking on those of another country. Were she not an idealist and ambitious in her dreams, though, I would not believe in the Minister of the People.”

“I’m also not sure if she’s bitten off more than she can chew,” you said, “As the entire alliance might have. We’re winning now, but I don’t know for how long. I feel like if we have something really bad happen, the war might be lost right there, but maybe that’s just from my part of the war.”

Viska hummed in agreement. “The reversal of fortunes in but a moment is very much something of Sosaldtian battles. Netilland is a known powerful foe. Yet we do not know everything. You should have faith that your lives are not being discarded in a blind gamble.”

“I do have faith in that,” you said, leaning your neck back to look into Viska’s face again. “But I wonder if the Netillians might turn out stronger than predicted. It’s been said we’re only facing a portion of their forces that have ranged out beyond their borders. Otherwise, our best victories have been against the Northern Lords, and not the real, strongest enemy, and we already seem worn out and battered…”

“All you can do is your best.” Viska would say no false words about victory being assured or other bravado reserved for speeches and morale lifting. The Netillian Kommissariat handled that on the other side and you could be sure it wasn’t helping that much right now.

“I wanted to invite you to my fiancée and I’s wedding,” you went on, “I thought it would only be just. I’m sorry that didn’t come to pass. Your people did help in the rescue of her and my countrymen. You would have been honored.”

“Was it not that sorcerer who retrieved her?”

“…Partially. I don’t think you ever got to meet my fiancée, did you?” Not properly, at least.
>>
“She rode into battle with you, did she not?” Viska said, “In the battle in the dust storm. She was brave to do that, since she is no soldier at all.”

“I would have liked for you to meet her, but if you’ve seen what I’ve seen or…the like, then…Er. When you say you’ve seen what I have seen, does that include..?”

“I will not embarrass you when you are trying to rest calmly, Richter,” Viska said, her soft tones utterly lacking in any judgment. “I know well enough what is between you and her to look away, as it were.” A somewhat awkward pause. “She is not trusting of you.”

“Nonsense,” you said defensively, starting to sit up only to be pressed back down by a surprisingly quick hand, “Sorry. I don’t understand what you mean.”

“You do, Richter,” Viska said tiredly, “But you do not want to hurt her. I ask that you think about what she would have to keep secret from you, however, considering all that is not secret, including that which is a secret to the entire world.”

“That is not a relaxing thought to have right now,” you muttered.

“Have it at some point.”

“Otherwise, she is quite something, isn’t she? Even if she is too defensive around other women.” Maddalyn turned venomous when other females paid you attention, with the notable exception of Hilda. It was a flaw- but perhaps it would go away when she felt more confident in herself. You did try your best to make her feel like she did not have to defend her place at your side as your first and only woman.

“…Lady Vang would have been a better match for you, but it is your life, not mine.” A reassuring stroke of your hair- it was a soft tease. “I know, at least, that you are happy together in a way I cannot help but be envious of. I told you of my difficulties with finding companionship. For all that I can bring comfort to others, I could not find it myself. Though I did not mind too terribly.”

“Speaking of that difference in opinion,” you said, thinking of home wistfully, “You are a mother. I want to ask you how I should treat another mother, to be. My friend Hilda, she is pregnant, and being taken care of by my family. Her child has no father, and I cannot give her the love she wants from me. I think she may be getting over me, but is there something more I can do? For her, and her child? I wonder if I should take her into my family, but…it is not such a simple matter, politically.”
>>
Viska shifted a little, settled back on her heels and feet again. “I know naught of your homeland’s traditions, the oddities of the nobility. Not from my own perspective. What I believe, is that she loved you, and did what she did in order to aid in saving your fiancée, for you. It would only be right for you to reward that loyalty, with the child she will bring into the world. I can think of nothing more pitiful than a child with no place in the world, born of circumstances that leave them with a lonesome mother and naught else. My own two children whom I never but met.”

“I…see…” you felt a little sick to your stomach, when she put it that way. “So I should…adopt her child? That is troublesome, though. Maddalyn will not approve, I am sure, and even if she could be convinced, an official adoption would make them the first-born. I cannot have my heir not be of my blood…but if I recognized them as my bastard, making them family though non-inheriting, then that would shame Maddalyn even more than myself.” Unthinkable. “The courts would make it a problem either way. The only thing that would not cause trouble would be to keep things as they are…” You put your hand on your forehead and rubbed it, “It is…hard to think about.”

“My counsel is that she deserves happiness, even if it causes difficulty, even if others disapprove,” Viska said simply, “Do what you think would be right. My own life is ended.”

“I am uncertain.”

“You have time to decide. Survive the war.”

“Of course.” You adjusted yourself- hopefully not to settle in an unseemly place on Viska’s lap, but she was not a boney woman. Or at least, this apparition of her was not. She was very, very comfortable to rest upon. “I’m not too…close, am I?”

“If you think nothing of it,” Viska said, as she brushed your hair from your eyes, “Then there is nothing.”

“Hm.” Maddalyn would need to find more use as a pillow when you got back. And an ear-warmer. “The war. You have a warrior’s spirit. You know why I fight, surely. Will this, this rather brief time with the Silver Lances…do you know if it will be enough to sate me, do you think? Will I be able to return home satisfied after this? I want to go home, I want to be with my wife, but…I don’t know if it will stay that way.”
>>
“…” Viska was quiet. “I cannot see into the future. I know of you and your blood through your spirit. However…you were freed by Lady Vang. You remained here with me. The decision will be up to you, but…I believe that you have hope, of being a person who grows tired of war before it takes them. The question will be, if you will be allowed to stay home, the direction that the world is going, and with the decisions you’ve made in regards to the powers that be in your country, and the situation your fiancée is in. You have chosen a woman whose blood matters, it seems, enough that you may not have a choice but to fight…” You heard something like a raindrop fall upon the dust, then another.

“Are you…sad for me, or for yourself?” You dared to ask.

“Neither,” Viska said, sounding more weary than anything. “It is not tears that fall, unfortunately. Thank you for resting, but it is time for you to go.”

“I…thank you, very much,” you said as you sat up again, and looked back at Viska from her level now. The sight took you aback. “Blood? You’re…bleeding?”

“Reality cannot be denied forever,” Viska said as she helped you to your feet, once more. “Go on, and do not turn back. What I did to myself, I did to attack my foes, to spite my enemies. I do not want you to see what became of my body in doing so.”

“…Thank you, again,” you said, nodding your head. Would it be inappropriate to embrace her? Probably. “Take care. As well as you can here, at least.”

Blood began to trickle down Viska’s neck, then down her shirt. “You as well. Go…quickly.”

You turned and left, even though part of you wanted to honor Viska’s sacrifice, to see how she had suffered for her cause, if she did not want you to see it, you believed her. Back you went on your journey forward- Heller was nowhere in sight, but the ghostly light continued to shine- it drew you forth once more.
>>
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On and on you walked, but no more shades accosted you. Were this a dream, you’d have thought you’d have long woken by now…were you stranded here? How? Why? You hoped not, but with nothing else in sight distinct from the swirling norm other than the light, you trudged onwards.

It got closer. Closer. Enough that you were only ten paces away. Squinting at it from that far told you little besides that it was an object. Perhaps the size of a head or so. When you took a few steps closer, that comparison suddenly became strangely apt. There were features upon it, that made themselves clear when you were only a few paces away.

”WITNESS…THOSE RETURNED…” a voice suddenly boomed around the light.

“Gah!” You were so surprised that you stumbled backward, and dark limbs unfolded from the light, and you saw a terrifying sight- a monstrous figure with four arms, two much larger and higher, but it was not whole. It was suspended in the air, and you thought, maybe that was all that kept it from consuming you.

It made no attempt to do so, whether it could or not. It just spoke in a rattling echo, as though a mighty creak of the earth was ringing from atop a mountain.

”CREATED THEN BORN…YOU CALL…TO THEM…”

“What the hell do you want?” You gasped, “Go away! You’re only a dream!”

The monster paid you no mind, and only kept its plaintive pose. ”IN TIME…WE WILL…BE ONE…”

It all fell away into blackness.

-----
>>
“Ugh…” you had been deposited into a ball at the bottom of the m/32. The waking world once more. All dark save for the interior light, glowing reddish orange. “Hello?” No crew seemed to be in the turret, but somebody peered in. They were lit a little by blueish gray light.

“’Bout time.” Schafer said dully, “Y’slept all damn day and night. It’s the next morning now. Couldn’t wake you fer shit.”

“Damn it,” you grumbled, “Was I needed?”

“There was a sweep by some Netty fighters. Shot up the treads of the platoon lead’s tank, so he’s in a real good mood. Nobody’s hurt more than they ever were. Hope y’weren’t looking forward to breakfast, because we’re fresh out of everything and so are the locals. ‘less you can stomach coffee.”

No. No you could not. You slowly heaved yourself to your feet, then climbed up through the turret, and out. It was the dim early morning outside, the sky clear but dark blue, the sun not risen but lighting the land up from over the horizon nevertheless.

“Vehrlors wanted t’ see you ‘soon as you woke up, Schafer said, slurping out of a tin cup of coffee as you settled on top of the tank’s turret, low in its embankment dug out for it at some point.

“Am I going to get chewed out for falling asleep?” You rubbed your eyes and blinked hard.

“Nah. Nothing’s happened. Some mechanics are supposed to come around today and help get the whole platoon moving again. Until then it’s guard duty.”

You looked around. “Where’s the rest of the crew?”

“Your mosshead’s burnin’ flowers or some shit,” Schafer said, “The northman and Hausen went on patrol around the camp with carbines. Wanted to go to a town a klick or so out from here but Vehrlors said it was too dangerous to go with only two guys.”

“Is burning flowers a metaphor?”

“Nah. Don’t know what the hell he’s doin’. Thought he paid for a whore to pork but he got all offended when I said that he was fixin’ to get cock rot. Serves me right for lookin’ out fer.”

Malachi didn’t seem the sort to have a sudden interest in prostitutes, no. It did sound like that strange mountainfolk ritual he’d told you about, that sounded as if it had a degree of importance. He probably would have preferred to not have to pay a prostitute to go out with him for whatever this was- he would have only paid her to be there. Unless he found a green one, perhaps.

“Then I’ll go see the captain,” you said, “Maybe the mechanics will bring food.”

“Not a chance.”

Ever the optimist. Vehrlors was in his tank- he looked like he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep since yesterday, and he was not enjoying staying up. Still, he gave you a tired smile when you went to find him.

“There’s the man wanted everywhere,” he said as he breathed in a cloud of cigarette smoke, “You sleep good?”
>>
“I don’t think I can be picky.” No details would be good. Already, you were successfully letting the more visceral details of the unpleasantness slip away.

“Damn straight.” Vehrlors let his smile slip off. It hadn’t been put there by its own volition. “So. I’ve gotten updates on what’s going on. The Rotehofs have already heard, so you’ll get a summary of it on your own. You awake enough to pay attention?” For once, you did feel as though you’d gotten a full round of sleep, and you nodded. “Great. Here’s the good news. We’ve only got one big obstacle in our way before the Northway Road’s practically open and we’ll be in Netilland within a week, if everything goes the way it’s gone. Bad news is, that last thing is a fortified city. Name’s Sundersschirm.”

“Well,” you felt a little superior, “I’ve dealt with those before.”

“Oh yeah?” Vehrlors cocked an eyebrow, “Not this one. The Netillians helped with setting this up, and the people in charge of it, some band calling themselves the Twice-Damned. Apparently they kept their best back from the catastrophe that the other Northern Lord’s troops got caught up in on our way up. They can’t reach out and touch us, but the Northway goes through that city. One way or another, command says we have to secure the route. Aside from the normal pains in the arse, their central fort has an old cruiser turret up on it that the Netillians helped get working again. Our planes haven’t managed to take that out yet, and that’s only one thing that’s making an all out assault a no-way-in-Hell situation. The other things being the airfields keeping our planes from smashing the place into dust.”

“So how are we dealing with it?” You asked, “If we can’t move around it and assaulting it is suicide?”

Vehrlors shrugged. “Don’t know. There’s a plan. Think it’s to isolate and besiege it.”

“Do we have time for that?”

Vehrlors shook his head. “It’s a city with a big population. It won’t take long to starve it out, but I think the brass doesn’t want to fight for the place. The Netillians didn’t manage to throw us back or break us. The Northern Lords can’t be feeling too confident anymore. Maybe they can be convinced to cut their losses, the Twice Damned especially. If I were command, I’d already be in secret negotiations.”

“So we won’t be diving headlong into a city, then,” you surmised, relaxing some.

“No. Right now we’re trying to scrape ourselves back together. Command’s given our company two days to reorganize. If we don’t get our tanks fixed by then, you and Little Von Rotehof’ll probably be transferred to another platoon in the company so you can head forward again.”
>>
Captain Vehrlors shrugged, “Or maybe we aren’t going forward near Sundersschirm. The front’s long, after all, and the Reserve Battalion’s further back than the other two still. We’ll see.” He frowned and gazed north, “Hope that bastard hasn’t run off too far…Oh, there’s one more thing.” Vehrlors handed you a sealed envelope. “Letter for you. Don’t get excited, this is business.”

Indeed it was, from the neat typewriting upon it and lack of address. Inter-unit communications, to Lieutenant Richter Von Tracht. You opened it…

“My retinue has apparently claimed materiel and refused to relinquish it,” you grumbled, “Claimed by right of Archducal obligations to honored families…” You didn’t recall when Anya had become familiar with Archduchy laws concerning the property allowances of nobility and retinue. When she actually wanted to pay attention to paperwork she was an extremely effective worker, but she had to have her attention drawn in the first place. Only the Judge Above could tell you how she’d managed to come by an enemy tank and a damaged anti-tank cannon and then had the know-how of red tape to effectively steal both of them. Then make it your family’s problem.

“What is it?” Vehrlors asked.

You sighed and folded up the paper. “My Retinue is making a nuisance of herself and somebody wanted to complain at me about it. Was there anything else, sir?”

“Hm? No.” Vehrlors shook his head, “We’re staying here still. Out of food and supply, but we’re not near the front lines anymore. Do what you want. Besides sleeping another day.”

“Sir.” You saluted, and thought to leave, but something struck you as you slowly put your halved-hand down. “Captain. Say that you had a friend, a woman, who was to become a mother whose child had no father. What would you do?”

“Where did that come from?” Vehrlors squinted in confusion. “…Is the father actually me in this scenario?”

“No.”

“Then I’d say she should have been more careful with the men she’s been around.”

…Yeah. You supposed that was true, you thought as the corners of your mouth sank. “That’s rather cruel, isn’t it?”

“A mistake like that isn’t one that somebody ought to get off easy with,” Vehrlors was unrepentant, “Plenty of women like that end up foisting their child off on the state. Then they have no father or mother. They’re brought into the world because of somebody’s stupidity and nothing else, and they get to be stuck in it trying to find where they belong.” He adjusted his cap with a hard edge to his eyes, “Like I was.”

“Thank you, sir.”
>>
“Hold on a moment,” Vehrlors took his cigarette out and put it out on the sole of his boot before kicking dust over it on the ground, “What’s your place in this fictional story?”

You shook your head. “Not mine. But it’s my fault.”

“I see.” Vehrlors shook out another cigarette, “Dismissed.”

You nodded and turned to leave- you’d wrung something from each other that perhaps neither expected.

Naught to do but wait for reinforcement, survey the position, build up the position, whatever other things one could do that would normally just be an excuse to remain in position and do nothing important.

Should you send something home, you wondered. About this thing on your mind, in case your luck ran out here? The method to handling this sort of thing was a complicated legal process, but if it got started, at least, then your part in it would be complete for the most part. Maybe, the best thing was to do nothing, as you had been. To not entangle her and her kid further with you…what right did you have to claim her legacy for your own, another angle insisted.

If only the Netillians came around to chase the idle thoughts away.

>What do you plan to do with Hilda’s child, if anything? It’s not an easy choice. There might be no answer. The best you can do might be nothing, but it’s best to try and make your will on the matter known sooner rather than later back home.
Also-
>When your people come back, see if you can go on a hunting expedition. There was still wildlife out here. Gristly, greasy wildlife. And you were hungry. (If you wish you can be specific- or invite others along. This applies to any of this and the below.)
>There was a town nearby, yes? Maybe they had supplies you could barter for. Take some people there, maybe the tank too, and check it out.
>Socialize with some other crew or officer. There’s not much else to do when keeping watch and the like. (Who?)
>Other?
>>
>>4887803
>What do you plan to do with Hilda’s child, if anything? It’s not an easy choice. There might be no answer. The best you can do might be nothing, but it’s best to try and make your will on the matter known sooner rather than later back home.

Don't think Richter should adopt the kid, but maybe be a godparent or something? Or legal guardianship if anything happens to Hilda.

>There was a town nearby, yes? Maybe they had supplies you could barter for. Take some people there, maybe the tank too, and check it out.

Crew and the tank minimum, see if any of the brothers want to come along with their guys.
>>
>>4887803
Holy shit. Why is Richter not more religious when he sees something like this? I really, really do not like the fact that it had a bunch of tiny people holding up the things head.

>What do you plan to do with Hilda’s child
Offer her and the kid a place to live. They shouldn't have to scrabble in the wilds. Both for Family and Nobility reasons Richter should not adopt. Maddy would lose her mind at the implications.

>There was a town nearby, yes? Maybe they had supplies you could barter for. Take some people there, maybe the tank too, and check it out.
Food beckons!
>Other?
At some point we should ask Malachi about the thing in the dream. Will we understand him? No. No we won't.
Was that thing the Judge?
>>
>>4887835
Isn't she staying with Richter's parents already though? Though once the marriage is finally done it does raise the question which half of the family Richter and Maddy is living with.

Probably the Blumlands with Maddy's whole spooky stuff she's overseeing I'd bet
>>
>>4887803
>What do you plan to do with Hilda’s child, if anything?
No adoption, but maybe some kind of financial support/pension for a Retinue wounded during her duties?

>There was a town nearby, yes? Maybe they had supplies you could barter for. Take some people there, maybe the tank too, and check it out.
>>
>>4887803
>What do you plan to do with Hilda’s child, if anything?
Oh Judge, who even knows. I don't see why we'd adopt the child though. I think it's Hilda's matter to decide, and we'll support her as we can.

>When your people come back, see if you can go on a hunting expedition. There was still wildlife out here. Gristly, greasy wildlife. And you were hungry.
>Take everyone along, make it double as a teambuilding excercise.
>>
>>4887803
Tanq, cute mosshead waifu for poor Malachi when? (Fie doesn't count, needs to be someone who actually understands him)
>>
>>4887803
>Hilda's child.
I'd want to do everything we could for Hilda and hers, my only concern is what Maddy would think. This is a discussion that our wife should really be here for, and the idea of us making these plans without her input seem irresponsible.

Also

Bring our crew and set out to find some food.
None of them should be busy and it's been a while since we talked to our incomprehensible Mountain Men, let alone the other two.
>>
>>4887803
>What do you plan to do with Hilda’s child, if anything? It’s not an easy choice. There might be no answer. The best you can do might be nothing, but it’s best to try and make your will on the matter known sooner rather than later back home.
Godparent is the least we can do.
>There was a town nearby, yes? Maybe they had supplies you could barter for. Take some people there, maybe the tank too, and check it out.
>>
>>4887803
>What do you plan to do with Hilda’s child, if anything?
The continued financial support/retinue's pension idea >>4887850 suggested is something to consider at the least. However, >>4888074 makes a very good point in that we might be better off shelving any plans we have until Maddy and Hilda are present, rather than try and make our own plans beneath them.
>Socialize with some other crew or officer. There’s not much else to do when keeping watch and the like. (Who?)
Our magnificent mountain man. I want to see how his flower burning is going and tell him how our cat nap at the bottom of the tank went.
>>
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>>4887813
>>4888602
Some sort of familial sponsorship, at least.

>>4887835
>>4887850
>>4888754
Compensation and pension, perhaps?

>>4887892
>>4888074
>>4888754
Now is not the time to be certain- make a note of it to discuss it later. There's not enough to decide completely even if you had to.

>>4887813
>>4887835
>>4887850
>>4888602
Go out and see this town that's nearby. The front lines are ahead of you- and you have need of things. Bring the crew and the tank.

>>4887892
>>4888074
Kill something to eat it.

>>4888754
>>4887835
Find your mountain man and see how it's going with him.

I do have a few errands to run, so I'll have to update when I get back from work. Thank you all again for your patience.

>>4887835
>Was that thing the Judge?
It is not anything that Richter would recognize as the Divine Judge of All Things, or any other thing considered holy and good, even according to a backwater sect as his which are variably stuffed with all manner of different details and tenants that would make the Cathedra choke with indignation.

Iconography of the Judge is rare, as there is no description of appearance in any canonical religious texts, but theologists tend to agree that he would at least appear human. An opinion shared by any who depict the Judge, though others would assert that assigning a physical form misses the point.

Anyways, you've seen and heard this guy before. Just not exactly how he seems now.

>>4887916
>Tanq, cute mosshead waifu for poor Malachi when?
He is very far from home, and green-headed mountainfolk are uncommon enough that they stand out, even though plainer brown haired ones are also about they don't stick out unless they're dressed according to their culture. Unless you go out and find one to shove at him, he's not likely to find anybody, frankly.
>Fie doesn't count
Well, she's what's there. In this picture I don't think I've posted before? Not in a thread at least, though I've had it sitting about for a rainy day. Probably saving it for when I actually said enough about it throughout threads.
>>
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>>4888943
>Anyways, you've seen and heard this guy before. Just not exactly how he seems now.
>>
>>4889042
That's what I thought of, but shouldn't we be done with that guy since we gave him to Poltergeist?
>>
>>4889047
You have only arranged to do so.
You have not actually done it yet.
>>
>>4889052
We should get on that. I really want to meddle more in wizard affairs.
>>
Ah, the Demiphantom makes more sense. Maybe we can release it by postal letter. That'd be safer.

I for one do not want to meddle anymore in wizard affairs and wish they'd move their magic shit flinging somewhere else.
>>
>>4889052
Wow, really? How is Poltergeist not bugging us constantly about it then? ...Well, I guess for a guy who seems to be able to exist in multiple points in time at once it doesn't really matter how quickly something happens, only that it does. Still I agree that we should get on that. Do we...call his secretary and arrange a meeting, or something?
>>
>>4888943
Concerning compensation for Hilda, would there be some way for her to be taken on as some kind of gamekeeper for Richter? The Von Trachts don't have the land for it but the Von Blums might, or could afford to get some. I think the gainful employment and the opportunity for Hilda to spend time with Richter as he partakes in his favored hobby could be a good way to give back but avoid scandal.
>>
Back now.

>>4889168
The terms of your fulfillment were stated when you cashed in the favor.
>“We’ll arrange your end of the deal later. Not immediately…but you will know when it is time. That will be the last time we speak."
Basically, don't worry about it. Besides, it is far, far easier for him to find you than you to find him. Richter, after all, knows no actual way to summon him, even if he did bother to come when called. Which he very well may not.

>>4889234
You would require land, particularly, land with actual game on it to keep. Then, presumably, a steady paycheck to provide (there is no government stipend for land or industry). Besides the material requirements, there's not much keeping you from doing that. Though buying up enough land to not make it a weak excuse might not be so easy.
Of course, this is far simpler to resolve with your relation to a territorial lord than it would be trying to do it all by yourself.
>>
>>4889650
How far is the Blumlands from Strosstadt (or rather the von Tracht's place) by car/train/plane?
>>
…Maybe you could at least arrange guardianship. Anya was your retinue, and the Archduchy only allowed one of your stature to have but one of those that received a stipend from the government, but some benefits could be had to claiming Hilda and her new family as dependents to your own, no? Perhaps you could arrange official apprenticeship of her child? Maybe you could get land and have her care for it. In any case, you absolutely couldn’t adopt her child. It was unthinkable. The best you could do was make their lives as simple as possible. Even that, though, surely required the opinions of those who would be affected. Hilda, certainly, and the other person who would be forming a much more solid link to your own family- the intended bearer of your heirs.

For now, the solution of her staying with your parents was…sufficient, but that was not something sustainable. Hilda had been an independent woman before- she deserved to be more than just sheltered like she was less than she was.

It wasn’t very satisfying to arrive at the answer you did, with it so dependent on nothing happening to you…but you did intend to come out of this all alive, didn’t you?

You thought it good, now, to actually do something. You’d need all your crew for it- and your tank, as well. The nearby town, though passed around by friendly forces, hadn’t actually been contacted by your platoon. On their way out, the enemy had seized whatever food supplies had been left, a few of the villagers here had said spitefully. Assuredly intending to slow your people’s logistics by necessitating the feeding of the people of the occupied lands…or suffering from potential rear-line banditry by the needy. However, the Netillian retreat had been disorganized, harangued by your forces every step of the way. It was possible that the larger town, only a kilometer or so away, might have managed to hang onto some supplies. Things that maybe you could barter for in the moment. Your job was to keep fighting fit, after all. Your own trail could handle shoring up local hunger so long as you wouldn’t starve yourselves.
>>
Schafer was with the tank. Hausen and Jorgen would be coming back on their own soon. That left you to fetch your wayward driver- apparently burning flowers. It was a ritual you remembered him describing to you, though the details of it had slipped from you. It had to be done with female company, for the sake of humankind, or something. At least, for one’s personal fortune, to a degree. It didn’t seem a martial tradition but one couldn’t pass up getting a little extra luck wherever they could, could they?

Malachi was by himself when you came up behind him- ashes still smoldered in a gloved hand, and a candle flickered beside him, planted firmly in the dust. He turned his head slightly at your arrival as you squatted down beside.

“So,” you started off, trying to think of…conversation. You didn’t want to ask right away about your dream-monster. It looked like the Demiphantom had, but…not entirely. It had been heard, but never seen. Hopefully it’d stay away, and if not…Malachi was the most knowledgeable about these things, theoretically. Not that you’d well understand any advice he might have to give. “Your company didn’t want to stick around?”

“Neh,” Malachi made a small swatting motion with his hand, “Gowaeh. Donneed”

“Oh. You’re done, then?”

Malachi nodded once.

“Did it go well, or, however this is supposed to go?”

Malachi shrugged. “Esdonn.” It must not have been very demanding in exact rehearsal. “Yjaens saete. Staellon.”

Still alone. “Sorry to hear that,” you said, then lower, “Are you…really from Kallec?”

“Ayea.”

“I don’t really know anything about it,” you confessed, “You’ve come a long way, I know that much.”

“Kallenosment. Wannohome, caend.” Malachi tossed what was left of the ashes of flowers into the breeze, “Caendothen.”

“Why can’t you go home?” You asked, barely having made that part out.

“Saecret.” Like the mask. The face underneath.

“…You know,” you said, “If you find a mosshead lady you like, are you going to let her see your face?”

“Heh huh heh,” Malachi guffawed, “Hoocaerboufas,” he pointed to the burned half of your own visage, and pointed to his crotch, “Whaendaek?”

…Well, could you disagree with that when Maddalyn was blind? “I…suppose?” Malachi brushed his gloves off of ash, and you asked a more serious question. “I had a very strange dream last night, while I was crashing in the bottom of the tank.”

“Daenwaner bou veelponden.”
>>
“It wasn’t that,” you said crossly, “I saw dead people, and they spoke to me, and at the end of it all, a four armed creature with a brilliant shining face came to me and said something like, we will be one. What do you think of all that?”

Malachi thought for a bit, then gave a list of suggestions, each slowly recited and having to be repeated in parts. One, to drink water with rock salt dissolved in it, to purge yourself of evil spirits. Two, to stand in the winds of the Great Maelstroms and let its energy “polish and grind” your very soul. Something he personally attested to. You could drink the water of a hot spring that a virgin girl had bathed in, which sounded dubious at best, but the explanation was to specifically draw the attention of “Yjen’s Love.”

Finally, he suggested not fainting while high on Pervitin and Blackflower.

“…That’d probably be a good one,” you muttered, “Blackflower is supposed to drive spirits away too, isn’t it? Does Pervitin truly interfere with that?”

Malachi shrugged. “Naeshamen.”

“Hum,” you said, “…You’re not busy, right?”

Malachi just looked at you.

“Alright. I’m taking the crew and the tank over to that town over there,” you pointed to the town, visible in the distance even from here, small as it was a kilometer off, “I want to see if we can arrange some sort of trade for food. Buy it, probably.” Money of all sorts was good in Sosaldt depending on the part of it you were in, though East Valsten Union Marks were preferred near anywhere in Sosaldt. Anything else could expect to be knocked down a good percentage by the practices of smirking money-changers. “I need a driver.”

Malachi got up, and laid his hand out towards the tank. No questions when something needed doing. A good man to have under you.

“Glad that you’re eager.”

-----
>>
“Gaever money and daedn’t eav’n faeck ‘er,” Jorgen lamented into the intercom. Not supposed to used for chatter, but nobody cared at the moment, especially you. “You laeft’r weht waethout a faeck, how cuud you?”

“Maybe ‘e didn’ want crabs chewing up his balls,” Schafer said gruffly. He was disinclined towards prostitutes. Unlike half your crew.
Hausen laid out his counterargument. “You can still check, baldy. Any good whore shaves anyways, doesn’t give bugs nowhere to hide and gives a clean, honest look at the goods.”

“Wasting time an’ money on women who won’t even take care of your kids.” You saw Schafer shake his head, a motion Hausen couldn’t see from in the hull, of course. “No wonder you’re stuck ‘ere.” At least the hostility towards Malachi had gone down, despite you not having anything to contribute to this topic.

“It’s an important matter,” Hausen was undeterred, “Hey, Lieutenant. Speaking of the goods. Do you like them smooth or hairy? No judgement.”

“Uh.” Hm. Well…

“Hey.” Schafer interrupted, “Before you answer that question wrong. Look at the town. Somethin’ funny’s up.”

“Funny how?” You asked as you went further out the top of the cupola and looked through binoculars. Not funny as in it looked like there might be an ambush- there were people out and about, even if the town had clearly lost a fair few of its population. Only… “Yes. They’re giving the center of town a wide berth, and there’s a few gathering a certain distance away.”

“Laek thaere baeing kaeptout?”

“We’ll see,” you put down your binoculars and descended back into the tank, “Let’s get some things between us and the center and see what’s going on when we get to the outskirts.”

Immediately upon pulling up beside a dilapidated stone house, a few villagers came up. They were all wounded men, one with a crutch and another with his arm in a sling, and the third with bandages practically all over him and a heavy limp on top of that. You recognized their dress as not being Republic Auxiliary or any mercenaries you knew of- they were former enemies, though definitely local militia before that, perhaps after now, too. They approached unarmed, and you stared them down from atop the tank.

“What’re you here for, blue boy?” The bandage-covered one rasped up, “You picked a hell of a time to fuck us up more.”
>>
“Knew it couldn’t last,” the crutch man said, “Every other souther passing wide around or right by.”

“I’m not here to fight if you aren’t,” you said, and though you weren’t sure if the men believed you, they did seem to relax a bit. “We want to get food. We’ll pay with money, if you want, or we can work out a trade. Are you the people in charge around here?”

“More or less. Most of our fighters got wiped out by Cyclops, and the people left are scared to move out of here. We could have stayed, we had stuff saved up to hold out if we needed to…but the green jackets holed up here and bunkered up in the storehouse. Can’t trade shit even if we wanted to.”

Green jackets. Netillian troops. Stranded behind enemy lines and hiding, you presumed, but still trying to accomplish their mission of denying you supplies.

“How many of them are there?” You asked, leaning over to see if you could peer around to the warehouse and see what it was, “Can they fight a tank?”

“Ten or so, and no, they don’t have a cannon or a tank rifle or anything like that.” Bandages kept talking, “They’ve got the ammunition stores and explosives too, though. If you shot that tank cannon in there…well, I think nobody’s getting any of what you want from us.”

“They have a few girls in there too.” Crutch said, “I mean, they asked for them nicely and they went, but, you know, blowing them up wouldn’t be any good.”

“It sounds like you have a problem,” you observed.

“It sounds like you want to solve it,” Sling finally spoke up, “You help us, you get as much as you can carry off. That sound like a good deal to you?”

It did sound good to you. Though, how did you want to go about this? The enemy was locked up in one place, the warehouse didn’t have good sight lines besides directly out the front and back from small windows. They would certainly know you were here now, too, unless they were utterly distracted or deaf. That, and perhaps you could milk a bit more out of this town, if needed…

>Try negotiation, without acting aggressively. This squad locked up surely knew they weren’t going to get out of here- offer to discuss terms of surrender with their leader. Maybe if you didn’t spook them they would act reasonably.
>Call Little Von Rotehof over here. You could besiege the storehouse easily with two tanks, but it might give the enemy time to sabotage the supplies you needed…
>Roll right up with your tank and announce that you’d start shooting in thirty seconds unless everybody came out right away and laid down their arms. Show what you’ve got up front, and let them know they can’t fight you.
>This wouldn’t be worth the trouble, to you or the townspeople. Apologize, but you were going to leave, and report this to somebody else to handle. You wouldn’t be getting anything from this.
>Other?
Also-
>Negotiate any further or alternate reward?
>>
>>4890154
>Try negotiation, without acting aggressively. This squad locked up surely knew they weren’t going to get out of here- offer to discuss terms of surrender with their leader. Maybe if you didn’t spook them they would act reasonably.

>Negotiate any further or alternate reward?
Info about Sundersschirm/the Twice-Damned would be helpful I guess. Also did the Netillians say anything about why all of them are fleeing up the road as fast as they can?
>>
>>4890029
>How far is the Blumlands from Strosstadt (or rather the von Tracht's place) by car/train/plane?
Roughly three hundred kilometers or so between Blumsburgh and Strosstadt- near a hundred and ninety miles. Not a long plane ride (though nobody in Strossvald traverses the country by passenger plane unless they really need to hurry, and most important people, especially nobility, find joy in a journey), a rather far drive with a car, and a long trip by train that would be about half a day or so, but given that the railways between the Capital and the capital cities of the territories tend to be well developed it's not hard to get around to such places, really. You just have to set aside a day save for dinner and an evening.
>>
>>4890154
>Try negotiation, without acting aggressively. This squad locked up surely knew they weren’t going to get out of here- offer to discuss terms of surrender with their leader. Maybe if you didn’t spook them they would act reasonably.

If only we had a couple of munition casters with tear gas with us...
Hope Strossvald reverse engineers those after this war, they've honestly been incredibly useful
>>
>>4890154
>Try negotiation, without acting aggressively. This squad locked up surely knew they weren’t going to get out of here- offer to discuss terms of surrender with their leader. Maybe if you didn’t spook them they would act reasonably.
>>
>>4890154
>>Try negotiation, without acting aggressively. This squad locked up surely knew they weren’t going to get out of here- offer to discuss terms of surrender with their leader. Maybe if you didn’t spook them they would act reasonably.
Assuming this doesn't work and they plan to stay holed up in there and enjoy their food and girls for as long as they last, I say we drive our tank into a side of the building and knock down the wall, then start picking them off with the coax. That should send them the message that their little party is over.
>>
>>4890154
>Try negotiation, without acting aggressively. This squad locked up surely knew they weren’t going to get out of here- offer to discuss terms of surrender with their leader. Maybe if you didn’t spook them they would act reasonably.
>>
>>4890154
>Try negotiation, without acting aggressively. This squad locked up surely knew they weren’t going to get out of here- offer to discuss terms of surrender with their leader. Maybe if you didn’t spook them they would act reasonably.
>>
>>4890162
>>4890182
>>4890193
>>4890363
>>4890450
>>4890533
Nonviolent negotiation. Theoretically.
Potential information gathering.
Update will come before work.
>>
“I’ll deal with them,” you decided aloud, “I’ll try and talk it out with them. If they’re reasonable, they’ll see that their only choice is to surrender.” A parting message into the intercom. “I’m going out of the tank to talk. We shouldn’t have to fight, but be ready to.” You disconnected the microphone cable and put its end in your pocket as you climbed out and hit the dirt next to the three wounded citizens. “Alright. Will they shoot me on sight, or can we do this as gentlemen instead of passing notes?”

“They’ve told everybody to stay back, but they haven’t shot anybody,” Sling said, “If you’re with use they shouldn’t shoot you. As long as you don’t have that gun out.”

You looked to the pistol at your waist. Non-standard, Signy’s automatic, once. Not that it was much use to you with your present marksmanship save for in desperation. “It shouldn’t come to that.”

The windows to the warehouse were given a keen eye as you were walked up to what appeared to be the invisible perimeter. It was dark inside, and with vertical covers casting the windows in shade, it was hard to tell if anybody was in position in any of them. You stepped up to the semicircle of the attendant audience- then through. A challenge, since you stuck out so much amongst the plainly dressed townspeople, of whom there were roughly a dozen loitering, whispering. Your coat was the Ellowian grey- you wondered if you should have thrown it off to be clear whose uniform you wore, but with the combination of the mask, maybe your strangeness would put them at a disadvantage.

“You lot in the storehouse!” You called out, “I wish to negotiate. You are behind our lines, and we are far better armed than you. We are willing to talk out a deal, though!”

“Leave your weapons and come inside here!” a Netillian voice called back from a window.

You squinted and made a funny frown. “I don’t think so. You come out here, where we can discuss this like civilized people!”

A pause. You half expected a gunshot to come for you, but no, instead, the small door to the side of the larger freight door opened, and a small woman came out. Prositutes in Sosaldt didn’t bother with being subtle- this girl’s dress was plain and modest, a woven shawl and a long dress- so the Netillians had normal citizens with them, against your expectation of the descriptor of “holing up with girls.” She walked slowly towards you, not looking concerned in the slightest.

“Hi,” she said when she was a few paces from you, taking a deep breath. “Can’t you just…leave?”
>>
“No,” you answered, “My unit requires food supplies so that we don’t go hungry. There is foodstuff in that warehouse, held by enemy soldiers. We will not “just leave.” Bring out the leader of these soldiers. I am the leader of my local contingent here.” Of a single tank, but it sounded better your way. “Lieutenant Richter Von Tracht of the Silver Lances Armored Division, Reserve Battalion. I will show leniency if the men in that storehouse lay down their arms and surrender.”

“They don’t want to come outside,” the girl said, “They think you’ll take one of them hostage.”

“A Silver Lance does not take hostages,” you said, leaning on the unit’s prestige and hoping the Netillians didn’t think differently. “Besides, if I were to go in that storehouse, wouldn’t they take me hostage? I swear upon my honor and that of my family that I will not use deception to gain leverage over those men. I am not taking you hostage, am I?”

The girl thought on that, and turned around without replying to go back to the warehouse. Some time passed, and you couldn’t help but grow nervous. This was giving them an awful lot of time to prepare something…

A young Netillian officer came out- a short man, looking beaten and weary, dirty, but not yet defeated. He carried his rifle on his back, and his helmet was low over his eyes. A rather ugly and threadbare blue and green scarf was at his neck. He took just enough steps to come out to the very middle between the storehouse and the Netillians’ enforced perimeter, then stood still, his arms at his side. Clearly, you were meant to meet in the middle, and you did so.

“Hello, Coordinator,” the short man said, taking off his helmet. “…Or, I suppose, Lieutenant Von Tracht. I don’t know if I can call you by your first name right now.”

You squinted, furrowed your brow in disbelief. “…Captain Kelwin?”

“Lieutenant,” the cherubic young Raley Kelwin, his younger features weathered by stress, looked sideways. “I requested a demotion. When the time came, I volunteered for this. A chance to defend my home nation in a way that mattered.” He looked back to you, and you noticed he had gained a sharpness to his glance that he had not once had. “I’m sorry, but you’re my enemy now. I didn’t think this would happen, but it’s how it is.”
>>
“…” You searched for appropriate words, “I’m sorry we had to meet like this. Are you going to accept my offer of surrender? You and your men will be treated appropriately as prisoners of war.”
“I have my own terms,” Kelwin replied immediately, “My men and I will surrender, but our mission is to deny you supplies. We’ve made preparations to sabotage and destroy the supplies in the storehouse. Once we’ve set that in motion, we’ll surrender to you.”

“You would destroy this town’s food supply?” You tried to tug at Kelwin’s gentler nature, the one you were familiar with.

“You would feed them,” Kelwin responded, again quickly, “They would not starve.”

“I’d rather you not,” you said, “Can I convince you to not destroy those supplies?”

“No,” Kelwin said, still with a small hint of regret even now, “I have my orders, and I will execute them as best as I can. If we could not hold these supplies until we were relieved, we were to destroy them. There’s no relief coming for us, but we can still accomplish our mission and surrender with dignity.” Kelwin saluted, “Those are my terms. You can accept them, or you can refuse. I’d rather not fight you. I know we’d lose, but that’s just how this is going to be. I’m tired, Lieutenant. We’re all tired. But we’re fighting for something we have no shame in believing in here.”

Something in Kelwin had changed to put iron in his spine since you last met. You were impressed, a little proud…but this was not good for you.

>Accept those terms. It couldn’t be helped. They’d destroy the supplies, then you’d take them prisoner.
>Try to negotiate an alternative deal. Maybe you could both get something you wanted. (You will have to be convincing.)
>Fine, then. A fight this would be. Even if it would be effortless for you, this was what they wanted, apparently.
>Other?
>>
>>4891039
>>Try to negotiate an alternative deal. Maybe you could both get something you wanted. (You will have to be convincing.)
If your orders and honor require you to destroy those supplies, then destroy a single crate to satisfy those demands and then surrender.
>>
>>4891039
Alright, obviously Richter doesn't know the exact details about what's going on the Netilland or the Major's escapades, but IMO from the IO and general conversations I'd day he's gathered enough information to make an educated guess/bluff on what's happening.

>Try to negotiate an alternative deal. Maybe you could both get something you wanted. (You will have to be convincing.)

Supporting the proposal of >>4891090, but adding some stuff to try to convince him

"Die for Netilland if you want Lieutenant, but don't confuse it with dying for the sake of utter bastards like the Military Council and the Kommissariat.I don't know if you've heard about what's happening, but there's plenty of your countrymen who love their nation but hate what it become. Good men like Captain Edelschwert-Magnus-, and Sub-Lieutenant Maenesko. People who are willing to fight to restore the Republic, and with the Council's weakness are now coming out in the open to finally set things right.
So are you going to choose to make a futile stand here for people that will likely not even be in power in a few weeks, or for you and your men to be able to go home, reunite with their families and participate in rebuilding a new, better nation?"
>>
>>4891039
Second this >>4891096 Find our high horse and try to undermine his newfound sense of duty
Also a question. Failing further negotiation, would arranging their surrender, then stripping them of their weapons, handing them over to the local milita and leaving constitute any kind of perfidious war crime or do we have to personally take them prisoner and ensure their safety?
>>
>>4891039
Supporting >>4891096
>>
>>4891039
>>4891096
This is good, Netilland was there before the Kommissariat, and she will remain after it is gone.
If that doesn't stick I have a counteroffer, each Netillian comes out of that building holding as many supplies as they can and surrenders, the last one out can torch the place or blow it up or whatever they where planning on doing with it.
>>
>>4891039
Damn, this is rough. I don't think we'll be able to convince Kelwin to give up; in his eyes he's already failed in his role as an officer once, and he even asked to be demoted so he would have the chance to prove himself from the ground up. He's not going to accept failure again. The only thing I can think of to offer would be to let him slip back to his own lines with some sort of intelligence on us which would make him feel like he achieved something in exchange for giving up the supplies, but I don't think we'd be willing to do that. Other than that, I can only think to tell him that if he tries to destroy the supplies we're going to stop him, and we hope that when we do he'll see the situation is hopeless and surrender before we're forced to kill him and his men.
>>
>>4891096
+1
>>
>>4891090
>>4891096
>>4891103
>>4891119
>>4891147
>>4891277
>>4891541
Negotiations will be in progress, suffice it to say.
Are you sure you're not a dirty republican?
Sorry, but update won't be until real late if not tomorrow early.
>>
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>>4891103
Right before the update, I'll answer this here. Yes, you are supposed to personally escort them to a superior officer- you take prisoners under your commander's authority, and thus it is not your place to place them under another group's protection, let alone a militia or paramilitary group. If you were in a position of unit command like Vehrlors is it might be another story, but right now, you are subordinate.
However, as things stand right now, it's not like you're impeded too much by escorting them yourself. There are other people to take them off your hands who are meant to process them in the first place.

Update coming right up, anyways. I can't really explain the attached picture, it's a half-joke with too much effort put into it inspired by accidental meme-sharing in a screen-share.
I have never seen Konosuba or anything besides meme osmosis and youtube clips and am not particularly interested in it either.
>>
“Is this worth it?” You tried to buy yourself a little time. There was an answer here, but you had to think about it a bit, or else you wouldn’t be able to convince him to, frankly, fail his mission. “Fighting and dying on behalf of utter bastards as the Military Council and the Kommissariat? You ought to know what they’ve done.”

Kelwin didn’t flinch. “The Archduchy has hardly done nothing wrong. Should I list for you how they’ve wronged not just Netilland, but their neighbors around them? Strossvald is a trickster nation. I’d rather have not believed that, but here is the Archduke’s hammer, barely after their advisors and aid melted away.”

“You don’t fight for the Archduchy,” you said back, “And I won’t deny wrongdoing,” even if, for whatever reason, that felt like it would have been incredibly hard to do not that long ago. “Are the Kommissariat and the Military Council worth this? Answer that.”

“My men are worth it,” Kelwin said resolutely, “My family is worth it. My homeland is worth it. You’d say the same, wouldn’t you?”
There it was. “The Military Council is not Netilland.”

“And the Archduke is not Strossvald. What are you playing at?” Kelwin started to get annoyed. He must have thought you were toying with him, but you weren’t. This would be part knowledge, part guess and blind bluff, but it had a chance of saving Kelwin’s life while also accomplishing your mission. There was no downside to trying, at least.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard of what’s happening,” you said, as though you knew everything. Sleepwalker had been some good practice. “But plenty of people have chosen to oppose the current government of Netilland in favor of what came before. The Republic, what the Military Council overthrew, and whose people they have terrorized for years now. Their time has come, and since the Council has suffered the setbacks they’ve had, they’re weak enough to fight against in the open. That’s why the forces down here are retreating so quickly, isn’t it? Because there’s trouble at home?”

Kelwin didn’t say anything, but he wrinkled his brow like you’d said something you weren’t supposed to know, or something he hadn’t, but should have.
>>
“I can tell you people who are taking that risk, to restore their homeland to what it once was,” you continued, “You remember Captain Edelschwert? Sub-Lieutenant Maenesko? Both of them oppose the Military Council, the Kommissariat. I even encountered Edelschwert on the front here. We were on opposing sides, but we both knew that we were not truly one another’s enemies. Just like you and I here are not enemies, not if you choose to fight for your people, and not the corruption that is the Defense Party.”

“The Republic was weak,” Kelwin said, but it was more a recitation than anything, “The Party had to do what was necessary. Would its people turn its back on the leaders who gave them victory? Who made them strong?”

“I told you of the people who thought of those costs more than the rewards,” you said, “I found out when those two went to a party hosted by the High Protector…” you paused. That was the Defense Party’s title for Wladysaw. “The King. He had sorts over who were sympathetic to the Republic, and then, just before this operation began, the King’s Revolt began, and he captured those high ranking officials of the Defense Party, didn’t he? I’ve heard things are an absolute mess in Netilland because of that. How much have these people cared to tell you? They want you to believe the Defense Party did everything it did in order to be strong, that those things were just necessary steps to becoming unstoppable, but how strong are they now? How strong were they in the first place that the Republic was merely waiting for the chance to retake power, and that they needed Twaryi’s help to beat their foe? What does it say that the Netillian Republicans work with their oldest enemy in order to depose these people who brought them their unattainable victory?”

Kelwin looked uncertain during your spiel, and his eyes had swerved side to side. You’d thought it was pretty convincing, but then, you were not of Netilland. Well, you were- in ancestry, but all from the first of your name ennobled on had as well been of the Archduchy. Kelwin bit his lip, thought, and looked at you again.

“I want to believe you,” he said, “I want to be on the right side, to tear down the injustices of the world. I want to believe that friends are just waiting for me to find out so I can join them with the good guys. But…you’re of the Archduchy, Richter. Do you know what people say about you?”

“I’ve heard a few things.”
>>
“Strossvald is a duplicitous nation,” Kelwin said, “They’ll say one thing and mean another. They’ll watch your back and then stick a knife in it. They’re held together by going against everybody else. There’s no loyalty to be had save for the gain of the most powerful, who have their subjects brainwashed into being their puppets because they can eat the scraps from the feasting table. That’s not what I thought, it isn’t what I think, but how can I deny it? How long has this been planned, Richter? Since the start?” He put up his palms to you, “You talk about how much the Defense Council and the Party has been hiding from me, but how much have you and yours been keeping secret, yourselves? For how long? Was it for my sake, or for the sake of your Archduke’s vices? I’d be a fool to trust you blindly. Don’t you see?”

You took a deep breath, and sighed slowly. “So is that a no? I can’t make you trust the Archduchy.”

“No, you can’t,” Kelwin said flatly, “But I don’t need to trust the Archduchy. I know about the Silver Lances. Your unit might be of Strossvald, but they’re also not. I don’t have to trust the Archduchy,” Kelwin held a hand out to you, an asking open hand. “I just need to be able to trust you. So that when I go and talk with the men, and ask them to set aside one cause for another, to lay down their arms and trust in my decision, that they don’t just think I’m a gullible idiot, or worse, that I’m weak-hearted and don’t respect sacrifice. I’ve already failed men under my command before, Richter. I won’t do it again if I can help it. They’ve placed too much of their hopes in me.”

From your place, you thought Kelwin was being obstinate, but you hadn’t been near him in a long time. He had been genuine, even friendly, even if he was inexperienced and soft. He’d changed since then- but when had he lost trust in you? Was it just your relation with Strossvald, as he said, or was it more personal? It wasn’t like you could find Edelschwert or Maenesko and drag them here to explain. You were the only person who could talk to him- that he might listen to.

If you didn’t earn his trust again, you’d be right back where you started.

>?
>>
>>4894016
It might be a good idea to come clean to Kelwin, a bit at least, he seems to suspect our dishonesty anyway.
We did deceive him, our friend, and for that we should apologize. But do not apologize for what we did past that. If Kelwin had been in our shoes, knew what we knew, I hope he would have tried to do the same. Zohl, the UGZs, the plan to intentionally spread disease among the Ellowian population, these are things we could not abide. From the beginning we were not there purely for friendly reasons, but for all we did to subvert the Kommissariat in Ellowie politically, we still tried to preserve the soldiers we were responsible for to the best of our abilities. We may have failed in that duty at times, but for a lieutenant I think we did pretty well. After all, our Netillians forces could still be our allies against the Kommissariat, just like the allies we found in Edelshwert and Maenesko.

If he needs to take something back to his people, he doesn't have to surrender the whole stockpile to us. Bring out the food supply, destroy the weapons or ammunition left in there if he is worried about being responsible for it being used against his countrymen.
>>
>>4894206
This will work, hopefully after hearing the disgusting things the Military Council had planned after their victory, and our attempts to preserve the Midland Ranger will hopefully be enough to convince.

We never wanted him to fail, and before his injury we fully intended to work with him to protect the citizens in our charge.
>>
>>4894206
Can't think of anything atm so supporting this >>4894206

Also even if we had our own interests in Ellowie our guys also bled for Netilland as well; besides the Hogs Metzeler lost his arm and crew member against Gerovic, so its not if we simply used them as meatshields.
>>
>>4894206
Supporting
>>
>>4894009
Holy shit it's gorgeous.
>>
>>4894016
Kelwin has disappeared after that disastrous fight against Gerovic when we weren't here. I think he might be thinking we abandoned him intentionally to deplete the Rangers. Even if he doesn't think that, he probably harbors spite for us.

Well, we already apologized to the dead Hogs, and we wanted to apologize to Kelwin even then but couldn't find him, so this is a perfect time to do it. But I'd also like us to stress that we thought it was our best shot at Gerovic.
>>
>>4894440
IIRC he left before all of that even happened
>>
>>4894443
He left before because of injury, but afterwards, when the other injured came back, he didn't, and characters even commented how strange it is.
>>
>>4894016
What if we offer to go into the storehouse and explain to his men what we just explained to him? That way we don't need to ask him to vouch for us in front of his men and our willingness to explain ourself will show we aren't pulling any tricks and we trust them to make the right decision. At the very least we can trust Kelwin not to hold us hostage.
>>
>>4894937
Might not be a bad plan, after all walking into a building full of enemies is a huge risk otherwise
>>
>>4894206
>>4894247
>>4894351
>>4894404
>>4894440
>>4894937
>>4896141
It is talking time.
Sorry about no update or news yesterday, but update is in progress now.
>>
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“I know what I want to say,” you decided, “But would you like me to go into the storehouse and explain to your men? That way you don’t have to vouch for me. I’m not pulling any tricks.”

Kelwin shook his head. “No, that won’t be necessary. What if we decide to hold you hostage?”

“You wouldn’t do that,” you said, “And if your men did…I don’t really mind. It’d just mean I’m not convincing.” Yet you were pretty sure you would be.

“I said that it won’t be necessary,” Kelwin insisted, “We’ve been through enough for the men to trust that I’m not lying. Go on and do it.”

You paced from side to side, thinking about how to put what you wanted to say. In the end, it only took a few moments to shake your head at that and just say how it was. How trustworthy could you be if you had to invent some other way to say things than what they really were? “I did deceive you, back then,” you said, “I’m sorry I had to do it to somebody who considered me a friend.” How many of those did you even have? “I didn’t think less of you, I never wanted you to fail. Just because I had my mission, to observe and act where necessary, didn’t mean I was secretly your enemy, and neither did I think that about the men under our command. I tried to do right by them, as an officer responsible for their lives would.” You stretched out your pockets with your hands as you straightened your arms and neck, and looked up at the grey sky. It was easier to focus on. “I didn’t succeed all the time. I had times where I failed them, and you, but I did try. I’m only a lieutenant. I tried my best, at least.”

You realized, that you had had your mask on. You lost track of actually wearing it, but Kelwin hadn’t been surprised by your face, so you touched at your cheek to make sure it was there. He hadn’t mentioned the mask either…well, you couldn’t reveal yourself while wearing this, could you? It was slipped off, and you looked back at Kelwin.

The young officer’s face screwed up. “What…what happened?” his resolute act faltered for a moment.

“An enemy threatened my friends and comrades over something between me and him,” you said dully. You couldn’t have cared how ugly half of your face looked, as you shuffled off the glove on your right hand. You stretched out the mechanical apparatus, then took that off too. From here, it was just you, as you showed Kelwin the stumps of your two fingers, still nasty looking, though healed. “I didn’t run away from him. He isn’t here, but Von Metzeler lost half his left arm, and one of his crew, his friends, fighting against Gerovic. Another was very badly wounded and had to be sent home. We weren’t fighting for our homeland there. We were fighting for each other. As comrades.”
>>
It would have made sense for you to stretch out an inviting hand, but your palms stayed at your sides. Maybe you knew that would have been a stupid theatric. “We can do that again. If you had been in my place, you’d have known why I couldn’t tell you then. I may have been against your nation, but never you. If you had seen the things I found out, better met the people of your country who were capable of evils I saw and heard of, I’m sure you would be on the same side as Edelschwert and Maenesko.”

“…” Kelwin paused and thought, “What ever happened to Gerovic?”

“I managed to capture him,” you said, looking down, “I don’t know if it counts as vengeance, but…we lost more comrades before then, to him,” you looked down, “In a way I could have prevented. In doing that, I made Anya suffer. They were important to her. I tried my best, but I was afraid. We succeeded, but I could have done better. Like I could have done better for you. I'm sorry for that, too. For all my reputation, it turned out that I just wasn’t as good as some people wanted me to be, as I wanted myself to be.” You turned your chin back up and set your back straight, “Yet, we still did good for the people we were to watch over. You did, the men under us did, my allies did. Your superiors tolerated men who would have ruined all the work good men were doing. Our command, you, others like I’ve said…I don’t have the evidence of it on me, but I am not lying. There were proposals to spread diseases among civilian populations, Kommissariat officers took pleasure in causing pain to the locals, and set their mercenaries loose among them…”

“Richter,” Kelwin interrupted you, “Before I joined the army and the party, my family was very poor. My father went missing in action against Ellowie when I was young, and my mother lost the use of her leg in an accident. My twin sister took care of everybody ever since, and I…didn’t help as much. During those times, the coup happened, and the Defense Party instituted payments for the poor, food handouts that had stopped. Life became easier, just enough for us to start pulling ourselves up…and I joined up, to repay my family, and that action that had saved us. You could have come here with every bit of proof of wrongdoing, and I would have rejected it. I’m sure the Archduchy could get a document with anything on it with the Council’s signatures all on it, but it wouldn’t have meant anything.”

You frowned, uneasy, but Kelwin wasn’t done.

“But,” he said, looking tired, “You didn’t have anything to hide from me. When you tried to console me with that story about…losing a game, or something, I was furious. I knew you were holding something back. You didn’t think I was worthy of something real, and I hated that. But…the things you talk about now, you’re not holding them back. So when you say something like, we can be comrades again, I can actually…believe that.”
>>
Kelwin turned back around to the storehouse, “I’m going to talk it over with the men.”

“Wait,” you said, “If they don’t agree, I’d like to ask, if we could take some of the food stock. If you feel you must complete your mission, I won’t demand any weapons or ammunition or the like. I won’t seize weapons to be used on your friends. I just don’t want my own people to starve.”

Kelwin looked back a moment. “We’ll see.”

“I’m not going to fight you,” you said, “You won’t fight me either, will you?”

The Netillian officer let his eyes half close, and he turned his head again. “I don’t want to, no.”

It wasn’t an answer, but it was what you let him walk away with. You put your prosthetic and glove back on, but the mask was left back on as you squatted down in the dust and waited. A few minutes passed with nothing- you sat down.

“Lieutenant,” a voice from behind got your attention, and your gunner had come up, approaching slowly as you turned your head sideways. “Should we get the tank up here? ‘s been a while.”

“No,” you said, “Give them time. We’re not in a hurry.”

Schafer looked down at you and frowned. “Y’trust them?”

Back forward you looked. “…He trusted me, at least.”

“Yeah. I’ll get the tank moved over ‘ere.”

“Hey,” you snapped, “I’m your commanding officer. You were in charge when I was gone, but I’m back. Keep the tank where it is.”

Schafer shrugged. “Fine, whatever. First thing we hear, though.”

He left back to your tank again, and you considered putting your mask back on when some of the locals were audibly talking about how half your face was burned black. You hadn’t seen your reflection in some time- it was bad, but was it that bad? It wouldn’t do to put it back on if Kelwin came back out, anyways.

You checked your watch. A full hour had passed since you’d spoken with Kelwin and sat down. This was meant to be a quick outing- Vehrlors was probably demanding to know where you were, but your explanation would hopefully suffice. So long as you put across that you really knew what you were doing.
>>
The door opened, and Kelwin came out. All the men following him were taller, even if only by a little, save for one who was carried on a stretcher. Each laid their rifles upon the ground, side by side, or whatever other weapons they had, and took off their canvas riggings, letting their equipment to the ground with rattling thumps in a pile. You breathed a sigh of relief, and got to your feet as Kelwin approached you.

“I don’t know if this is the right thing to do, still,” Kelwin admitted as he took his own rifle, unloaded the bullets from it, and held it out for you to take. “But if my nation’s people have decided to fight one another, as some have heard rumor of, then I can’t fight as I was doing. If your word is true, and you have allied yourselves with my countrymen, then I would rather be at the side of my country and comrades both, than against both.”

“If that’s the case,” you said, “You shouldn’t be a prisoner for long,” you beckoned, “Come. My tank’s nearby.”

Kelwin pointed to the storehouse. “It’s all in there. No booby traps or anything like that. Are the other commanders here, with you?” Kelwin asked as you began to walk, “Or are these…new people.”

“Some of my old crew are here. This is a new unit, though. The others went home.”

“Is Anya doing well?”

You paused, then tried to think nothing of it. “She’s healthy enough, last I saw. I let her loose to do what she wanted, but she’s ended up somewhere around these parts again. She was a courier, maybe you’ll see her around. She was doing a lot of running around.”

“It’d be nice to see her again.”

“…I’m sorry I’m not a woman,” you grumbled.

“It isn’t just because of that,” Kelwin said defensively, “She was always so…honest.”

She could afford to be; you doubted Anya would have ever been able to properly do the work of the Intelligence Office. Like your crew, she had an idea of why you were doing what you were, but she was under your authority, not the IO’s- she did not have anything but the fuzziest picture of the Archduchy’s intentions. The stubborn woman would have as well helped her band of lost children without anybody’s say-so, she certainly didn’t start because she was told.
>>
Schafer was sitting on the turret when you rounded the corner with the men who had surrendered. “…I’ll be damned,” he said as he shuffled off and stood on the front of the hull. “Thought for sure we’d have to shoot the cannon a few times.”

“Sergeant Schafer, this is Lieutenant Raley Kelwin,” you said, “We are taking him and his men prisoner now, but the only time we have battled is alongside one another. I’d rather you be polite.”

Schafer scoffed. “You’d think it’d be that simple. Whatever. I’ll call up the Cap and tell him to send Rattler over to help.” A kinder name for Little Von Rotehof and his chains than Jorgen’s moniker.

“You’ll be fine sitting here, yes?” You asked Kelwin, “My gunner and crew may be jumpy, it’d be best to be still.”

“I’m not thinking about escaping or getting into a fight,” Kelwin said back blankly, “None of us are.”

“Alright,” you believed him easily enough, “I’m going to ask some of the locals about a few things. We had a deal to resolve this peacefully, before I knew it was you holed up in there.”

Kelwin nodded, and you left towards the village center. The locals had spared no time flooding into the storehouse, and you grit your teeth and sighed when you saw how much was being carried away now. Oh well. There’d still be enough for you to take, hopefully, and if not, well, you knew who to berate over it.

“You’re a life saver, man,” Sling said when you walked up, “…What? It’s our stuff. There’ll be things left over.”

“Never mind that,” you said, “I wanted to know some things.” Sling shrugged at you, so you elaborated. “Have you heard anything about why the Netillians are retreating so quickly to the north?”

“They were tight lipped about it. I thought it was because your guys managed to break up their lines.”

Not so, from your perspective, at least. You motioned for him to continue.

“There was another thing, I guess. They were talking about desertions and holes in the line, like people just left. Maybe they’re going back because they’re those people leaving, and that means everybody else has to leave too, since there’s holes all over the place. Why they’re going, man, I don’t know, but they’re going for some reason, you know? It don’t seem like some sort of organized trap, I can tell you.”
>>
That wasn’t enough for you to be sure either, but it was enough to make a solid suspicion of something you expected to happen. Would the most damaging thing for the Netillian Republicans to do be to fight their brethren down here? Of course not. If they retreated back to their own country, they could find an advantage while the bulk of the active Defense Party loyalists had their hands full with the Ellowians and their allies, and also cut off the supplies of their rivals from their very source while seizing them for their own. If only you could get some definite confirmation of such- it surely wouldn’t be long before you found out, at the rate events were proceeding.

“Alright,” That was probably the best you could hope for, “What about the city of Sundersschirm? And a band called the Twice-Damned?”

“Hell of a place, and mean mother fuckers,” Sling said easily, “Anybody could tell you that. Even before the big road went up, it was the go-to for free market stuff of all sorts going north, going west, even going back down the other way. You passed through Sundersschirm because the Twice-Damned kept the paths clear as long as you paid your toll. Usually not even money. Just had to sell things in the city. Scrap metal, old rags, drugs, jewels, like one of the Southern Cities but without any ships, and the Northern Lords preferred not to let people go south if they could help it. There’s no better place to find or be entertainment, ‘heard. When people have to stay they look for stuff to keep themselves busy.”

Yet you were not interested in the tourist aspect of the place. “The Twice-Damned, though. Are they tough enough to earn that kind of name?”

“Well, I dunno, but,” Sling scratched his chin, “They’ve been hired by governments. Vitelia, back when it was breaking up, by whatever guys were the original government there, hell if I know. They did work for somebody important in Strossvald, and they get plenty of practice patrolling the routes. I’d say they’re a few cuts above other people, but they don’t like picking fights they can’t win.”

What generous foresight they had to not send their best and bulk south to be destroyed like you’re heard much of the Northern Lords’ forces had been. Or perhaps they thought this an opportunity? That they had been previously employed by presumably a Territorial Lord of the Archduchy stuck out to you. Given the proximity of the region, it would likely have been…Von Kalderhaus.

What a coincidence, you’d met one of theirs just a couple days back.

“I’ve heard if money can buy it, they’ve got at least three of it,” Sling concluded with a rub of his chin and a faint smirk, “But if you didn’t bother them, they didn’t bother you.”

“That’s all?”

“All that’s interesting, at least. I’ve never been to the place.”
>>
“Uh huh.” The sound of another tank approaching- from the direction you came. Not that it could be anybody but Little Von Rotehof, unless fate had an extremely bizarre sense of humor. “I’ll be back to pick up our share. Make sure there’s plenty left.”

-----

When Little Von Rotehof arrived, Vehrlors was riding along on top, and the Captain was pleased with your success. As you hoped.

“This is something else, for a mere recon,” he said, as he observed one of the food crates brought out. There was quite a variety- fruit preserves in jars, pickled vegetables, potted meats, peanut cheese and plain cheese, bags of flour, beef tallow, beet sugar syrup, salt, jerky, and standing out among the other things, moonshine and sky-high proof grain alcohol. “In a pinch,” Vehrlors said, picking up what might have looked like a bottle of water were it not for a paper wrapping identifying it, “You can set a burning rag on these and have a passable fire bomb.”

“I think I’ve had these thrown at me,” you mused darkly. “I don’t think I’ve been hit by one.” Not that there weren’t the splotches of healing burn marks all over you from when you decided to crawl into a burning tank.

“I’m rather surprised you got those Netillians out without them wrecking all of this. It would have been easy for them.”

“Their leader was an old friend from Ellowie,” you said to Vehrlors, “I got really lucky, in a way.”

Vehrlors looked at you and frowned. “Hm, not really, in that case.” He stepped over to the surrendered weapons pile, and picked up a machine gun. It was one you recognized- the newer version, some of your Midland Rangers had been equipped with it by the time you left. Vehrlors examined it, and looked at your tank. “I thought you’d have something by now for that pintle.”

“We’ve been too busy moving,” you theorized. Couldn’t the IO have given you one? Well, whatever. “I suppose it’s mine now.”

“Remember,” Vehrlors said as he passed the machine gun to you, “Netillian weapons use eight millimeter rifle rounds. Our seven point five rounds won’t do for them.”

“…What’s the difference, again?” you asked. Once you knew. Slowly, you were building things back, though. When they were relevant. “Besides the measurement.”

“Our Seven and a Half has more energy. More kick. Smaller round. People say it pierces armor better, but,” Vehrlors picked an eight millimeter rifle bullet out of a clip for one of the Netillians’ rifles, “I’ve never heard of infantry body armor that can take even this sort of rifle round. The Reich might be up to something, but when people were wearing body armor in Vitelia, it was better for artillery fragments. Rifles tended to go right through ‘em.”
>>
“Mmm,” you agreed tonelessly. You didn’t have anything to say about their effectiveness, really. When you’d first met Anya, she had insisted on wearing an infantry protection plate, an old Ellowian model. Thank goodness she stopped wearing one. Even if sometimes maybe she should. “The best armor seems to be the plates on our tanks.”

“On yours, at least,” Vehrlors corrected, looking around, then walking into the storehouse and looking inside, “I’ll have to call this in. Von Silbertau’s going to like this good news.” He whipped around and frowned deeply at nobody in particular, “Especially when I don’t have what I want to report yet…”

Verhlors’s tank was unable to move. Even if the tank destroyer did appear, he wasn’t equipped to duel it. You presumed the IO would tell you when their plan to deliver that tank hunter into your hands was ready, but would you be able to tell them to wait if Vehrlors couldn’t participate? Your commander said nothing as he walked by you. His upbeat attitude had been again disrupted by the knowledge that he hadn’t hunted down the hunter yet, he hadn’t even seen nor heard where he might be. So long as that was, he wouldn’t be looking anywhere else.

The situation handling came over the radio soon, with the Captain speaking dully. A section from the Logistics unit would be coming by to pick up the prisoners, as well as evaluate the contents of the storehouse for distribution, though you’d have picked up your platoon’s share by then. All there was for you to do now was wait for them.

Presumably, also to wait for you to be sent forward to the war once again.

>Is there anything else you want to take care of here, or with people at the moment?
>>
>>4897279
Ask Kelwin if he knows anything about the tank hunter. Otherwise I cant think of anything else here.
>>
>>4897279
>>Is there anything else you want to take care of here, or with people at the moment?
Have a proper meal finally, maybe a shower if there's a public bathhouse or something or some local is willing to let us use their bathroom
>>
>>4897279
>Is there anything else you want to take care of here, or with people at the moment?
Write a letter home?
>>
>>4897298
>Write a letter home?
It is actually very difficult to write this if the particulars of what want to be written are not noted. Surely some things matter more when thinking about what to send home? Maybe some things are best off left unmentioned? Or perhaps some things might want to be asked about?
>>
>>4897312
Not that anon but maybe write a response to that complaint about Anya. Tell her we'll support her keeping the tank if she can find a crew for it.
>>
>>4897312
>Write a letter home?
Check and see if anyone in the unit can do a decent sketch of Veal Pounder to send back to Maddy.

Tell we received her gift and it is very 'handy'. Do not mention anything about the IO mission. Ask her if she's heard anything salacious and the Von Kalderhous family and it's relations to military mercenaries. Might be a clue in there somewhere.
End it with sappy entreaties that Richter will be with her soon and quietly ask that she be incredibly careful about her new passion project. Wouldn't want her to sell her soul or anything.

Then we need to make a very difficult decision if it should be with Richter's mask on or off. Although Maddy might like to see how the prosthetic fits. It was her gift after all.
>>
>>4897279
Supporting >>4897290
>Other
Continuing on this theme of writing letters, while he's in the neighbourhood, I'd like for Richter to write a letter to Lt. Colonel Hiedler, expressing his thanks for the effort he made in travelling to Strossvald to testify for his sake in court, and also the usual wellwishing given to old comrades, back to war together.
I don't know how quickly we can expect a response from someone of his rank in such situations as these, if at all, but perhaps if we could establish a timely correspondence asking about his previous experience in the Netillian army could prove useful to us in this conflict. If not that, then he might offer us some insight into the goings-on of Mittelsosalia at large, without us having to pester Signy directly.
haha funny moustache man
>>4897292
>public bathhouse
Anon no! This has too much potential for evil.
>>
>>4897995
>Anon no! This has too much potential for evil.
You're afraid someone will peep on Richter?
>>
>>4898027
He's quite a notorious character in bandit country with something of a horny cult following. I'm concerned that if he goes off on his own and runs into someone who recognises him he isn't going to wind up with just a back massage and board games like last time.
>>
>>4898145
I'm sure it will be fine. With our scar we're too ugly to be raped now.
>>
>>4898409
We're also out of our usual stomping grounds in Sosaldt anyhow so I frankly doubt anyone is going to recognise Richter (even without the burnt face)
>>
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>>4897290
Bother the prisoner about your next target.

>>4897292
Eat. Stop being so filthy, hopefully, though it's more likely you get a bucket and a well than a tub.

>>4897298
>>4897326
>>4897336
>>4897995
Begin a communications campaign amongst several people.
Perhaps a home letter might be better informed by context. Well, there is no mail limitation, so I'll see what I can do to aid that.
Also find an artist to capture your image.

Update in progress.

>>4898409
>too ugly to be raped now.
Some might disagree.
Four months doesn't actually show that much with this sort of wear, I think.
>>
>>4899834
He actually did it, what a madman.
>>
Sorry again for the delay, it seems yesterday or an accumulation of days meant I slept basically all day today and now I have to go to work just before I've actually gotten the update done. I'll have it shortly after I get settled back in about seven hours.
>>
The prisoner processing detachment called Vehrlors- they were rather close. Given the situation as you presented it, the likelihood of Kelwin and his soldiers being detained for too long was low, but you certainly wouldn’t be seeing them for a while. It was time to visit one more time…and ask something.

Not much small talk to have. Kelwin seemed emotionally drained- he had plenty to think about, and you’d let him be, but you had exactly one query.

“Captain, er, Lieutenant,” you said.

“You can call me by my name.”

…Raley? Raley. It was odd. The only people you called by their first name were…whatever. “Alright, Raley. There has been an enemy, one of your own, troubling us for a little while. A man who is a tank destroyer ace. He’s called Crown-Taker Stalker, I believe. Do you know anything about him?”

Kelwin stared, then frowned. “You’re talking about the Ace of Kings?” That wasn’t a real playing card, even you knew that. “Why do you want to know about him? You aren’t planning on fighting him?”

“If I am?”

“You’re no match,” Kelwin said flatly, “He’s a killer, not a soldier. I’ve heard he collects the medals of those he kills as trophies. He doesn’t listen to orders, and he hunts down who he feels like. Richter, he’d never let you even get close. He was an incredible tanker even before he got the tank he has now.”

“I’m not great,” you admitted, “but my crew and my tank are the best there are.”

“I’m serious,” Raley insisted, “If you fight him like everybody else he’s beaten, you’ll be no different. He won’t even break a sweat. It’s impossible to challenge him straight on, you need a plan, and even then, he’s slippery. He’s lived this long, even if he doesn’t like fame himself.”

“Fine,” you said, “but there’s nothing you think that would work?”

“I mean…” Kelwin furrowed his brow, “I’ve heard he’s only gotten more obsessive. Maybe, if you got him too focused on something, he won’t see another threat trying to get him. I mean, I think it’d be better if you let some of those Ellowian planes try to get him, honestly…”

Yet that wouldn’t do, would it? “Thank you anyways.”

“Mm. Take care of yourself, Richter.”

“It won’t be long until we’re on the same side,” you said as you saluted and turned away.

-----
>>
Back at the village from whence you came, the food you took back was shared about, with the local villagers as well- gruff and unappreciative as they were, fair compensation for them hosting you on their land was only proper. Brunch was varied, but for your part, you ate smoked chicken (usually ubiquitous, but most seemed to have been eaten locally) and blackberry compote from a jar. You were hungry enough that it didn’t seem strange to eat from a jar of fruit preserves with a spoon- and not at all strange that you went through the whole jar, and were hungry afterwards, but Vehrlors kept you all from utterly demolishing what you had managed to scrape up right away.

Yet you felt more alive than you had in a decent while- what you really needed was a bath, or a shower, but the best equivalent of that would be dumping a bucket of water over your head from a local well- and you were forbidden from drawing water from wells until division analysts tested particular wells to see if they had been poisoned, as a precaution. Fouling the water in a simple manner could easily sicken a large portion of the offense and practically stop it cold without a single bullet- but you were also tired of being a dirt and dust clump, covered with grease and oil. Maybe you could get a good bath in when you were rotated off the line- or you could get power-washed at the same time as the m/32. Whenever that might be. The m/32 had been coughing on the way back, and even with its upgraded custom-made engine, no machine could go without care for too long, even if the pace you were being pushed at before had slackened.

Vehrlors received no orders to move- so the unit did not. It gave you time to take care of things- particularly, you thought as you realized the logistics unit also handled mail, the chance to get your personal communications out.

First off, official matters with the Retinue. A direct, official response to the complaint- you were willing to shoulder sponsorship of Anya’s seizure of captured and damaged equipment, so long as it was put to use. That was the best you could do to support whatever endeavor she was undertaking, for whatever reason. What did a courier need with a tank? Perhaps it was safer, at least. With your approval, though, the paper pushers would have to bother somebody higher up the chain and not anybody on the ground. For a retinue, as far as you knew, the offices involved in affairs of the nobility handled people much more prone to misbehavior than Anya, so you anticipated little. Throwing more money at something from the Archduchy’s sponsorship of low nobility was much easier than prosecuting actual problems.
>>
That was quick and easy, but another idea came into your head- Signy was difficult to reach these days. A lieutenant couldn’t be expected to send things to a national leader and have them see them, not where you were right now, and she was undoubtedly extremely busy anyways. There were other past comrades you knew hereabouts, though, who would still be around and whom you could grill for information you were missing. Not that you actually knew what they and their unit might have been up to, but you had watched their career begin, and they had served well, so it was a safe bet that Lieutenant Colonel Hiedler was still around.

You didn’t recall much about the man called Adolphus Hiedler. He had been a Netillian soldier once, and had risen to the rank of corporal. A middle aged man, it had surely been a long time since his enlistment, but his military experience was a rarity in the early days of the Republic’s forces, so he had received a colossal promotion to Lieutenant Colonel in charge of the First Republic Armor battalion. He had seemed able, but uncertain, and besides looking strangely suspicious, like he was in the wrong place, somehow, and having an odd thin mustache of a fashion you hadn’t seen anywhere else, he hadn’t stood out much.

Besides his command, you’d heard the most odd idle chatter from Republic troops that reminded you of him recently. Though he was still in a position of command, he’d published a book that he had been writing, an autobiography of sorts. The troops had been finding comfort in it since a segment of it had been Hiedler’s service with the Netillian army. A summary of his more humble days before he inexplicably became somebody important. A part of his history you found relevant to the present struggle, potentially.

An official start. Hiedler would know you as the Kommandant- and you introduced yourself at the start of the letter as such, before referring to yourself by your name. Well-wishes, congratulations on his book’s seeming popularity. Plain, normal things. A note on the odd circumstance where he was now above you, in rank, at least. An offer to make this correspondence more regular if he wished it.
Then, the meat of it. Questions about his past service, his current goings-on, what was going on with Mittelsosalia. You gave him only a few, but very open ended queries to respond to, before closing things with your signature- a rather cruddy reproduction of what you could once scribe, and that itself had never been great. This was good practice for your artificial fingers, at least.

You made absolutely sure to mention that this was a missive from the Kommandant on the outside of the envelope when you sealed it. Otherwise, it might not have gotten to whom you wanted it sent. That was the value of that name, even amongst those who hadn’t personally served under you.
>>
A look around, then at your watch. The logistics detachment wouldn’t be around for some time longer. Time enough for another letter. Writing passed the time, and distracted you well enough. Maybe Hiedler had the right idea taking up authoring.

Maddalyn needed another letter at this point, you thought. Over the past few days, you’d been quite thankful to have the proper use of both hands again. The prosthetic was no perfect replacement for your old fingers, but it did feel like the best one could ask for. Every time you flexed them, they felt more natural. Besides that, though, you had questions her status as high nobility could answer…but more concerning, questions about what she was up to. Maddalyn had hinted, while you had visited home, that she was up to something…odd. You’d warned against her overstepping the line there, but you had to do so again. Some subtle hint to mind for her own safety more than…whatever could be gained from whatever secret project she was doing. Something to do with creating artificial soldiers? It sounded very dangerous indeed…

While you were collecting your thoughts before a blank page, you remembered that you had requested a picture of your fiancée- wouldn’t it be fair to offer a similar token in return? A photograph wouldn’t be any good, that those were created by machine meant that Maddalyn couldn’t see the difference between them and a plain piece of paper. You needed a drawing, from an artist- preferably a passable one. Surely there was somebody up for that sort of work? Not among your own crew. Unless you counted what would assuredly be a scribbled caricature with a speech bubble saying something to the effect of “I hate breasts,” or “I need to pick up my wife from primary school” or a similar jab at your selection of mate.

A little bit of asking about artists or drafters got you an easy result. Little Von Rotehof was apparently something of a habitual drawer, though you’d never actually seen him do it.

“Hey, Veal Pounder,” he said to you down from the top of his tank. He seemed to be looking wistfully into the distance- seeking inspiration, perhaps?

“…Where did you hear that?” you squinted. Oh well, maybe it was better to be Veal Pounder than Faggot. “Whatever. I heard you’re an artist.”

“You did?” he sounded doubtful, but corrected himself, “Rather, yes, I am. I merely haven’t made my debut.” He dove down into the turret and dug out what appeared to be a sketch book about as wide across as his chest, a protective leather jacket stained with attempted abuses upon the pages beneath. “Look here!” He opened it, and Stevan Von Rotehof wasn’t flattering himself- they were clearly sketches, but they were clean, detailed, and strikingly shaded with washes of what seemed to be watercolor. More importantly…
>>
“Is that,” you moved closer to look better. There was the red of Sosaldtian dusty soil. The greyish blue of Strossvald tanks. “Us?”

“Yes,” Von Rotehof nodded. “Well, it’s not me, but you understand. I want to chronicle our exploits. The deeds of great warriors.” He turned a page. It was his elder brother, standing upon his tank. The next pages were also Elder Von Rotehof. For somebody who lacked a “debut” he didn’t lack for talent at the human figure. Perfect.

“I have a request,” you led off, “I want to send my fiancée, Maddalyn Von Blum, a picture of me. Can you do one of your pictures of me so I can give her that gift?”

Little Von Rotehof blinked, and frowned, “Err. I don’t know if I can do that for a territorial lord’s daughter, I don’t even have all of the supplies I’d need to make something good enough. Maybe she should just have a photo..?”

“No, she wants a portrait,” you insisted. Maddalyn’s lacking vision aspect needed not to be explained- territorial lords and their families could want for whims. “Even if it’s just a sketch and doesn’t have paint, it would be fine. It might have to fit into a smaller envelope, anyways. Please, Lieutenant.”

“…If you insist,” Little Von Rotehof allowed, letting himself slip down his tank like a drop of water, “Alright then. Do you want some sort of heroic pose?”

“Just a normal portrait,” you said, “I can sit down and be still for however long.” A rare luxury only recently granted. The only safe place to sit straight up was inside the tank, for how bored some Netillian sharpshooters and mortarmen seemed.

“Alright,” Von Rotehof seemed a little downcast suddenly. Did he want to flex his creativity? “There’s one other thing. You want that mask on, or off?”

Maddalyn didn’t know, as far as you were aware. She had tried to touch your face back then, as she always did- but you didn’t let her touch the hideously burned side of your face. You couldn’t stand it, then.

>The mask stayed on. What laid under it was ugly- and you wanted your wife to be happy. Something one couldn’t be when looking at such mutilation.
>That face, whether you liked it or not, was what you truly were. Could you hide that from somebody who you wanted to be beside for the rest of your years? To give birth to your progeny? The mask would have to be removed.
>Other things?
>>
>>4901727
>That face, whether you liked it or not, was what you truly were. Could you hide that from somebody who you wanted to be beside for the rest of your years? To give birth to your progeny? The mask would have to be removed.

It's alright, Richter and Maddy are already mutilated anyway /s
>>
>>4901727
>>That face, whether you liked it or not, was what you truly were. Could you hide that from somebody who you wanted to be beside for the rest of your years? To give birth to your progeny? The mask would have to be removed.
>>
>>4901727
>That face, whether you liked it or not, was what you truly were. Could you hide that from somebody who you wanted to be beside for the rest of your years? To give birth to your progeny? The mask would have to be removed.
>>
>>4901727
>That face, whether you liked it or not, was what you truly were. Could you hide that from somebody who you wanted to be beside for the rest of your years? To give birth to your progeny? The mask would have to be removed.
>>
>>4901727
>That face, whether you liked it or not, was what you truly were. Could you hide that from somebody who you wanted to be beside for the rest of your years? To give birth to your progeny? The mask would have to be removed.
>>
>>4901727
>That face, whether you liked it or not, was what you truly were. Could you hide that from somebody who you wanted to be beside for the rest of your years? To give birth to your progeny? The mask would have to be removed.
Maybe it will move her to be more cautious in her efforts. Hopefully it doesn't spur her on to work faster.
Glad to hear Hiedler has published his book about his time in a failed republic that got taken over by a military junta, hopefully that experience can help him guide the current "republic" he is currently a high ranking military member of.
>>
>>4901727
>That face, whether you liked it or not, was what you truly were. Could you hide that from somebody who you wanted to be beside for the rest of your years? To give birth to your progeny? The mask would have to be removed.
We both have been hurt internally and externally.
>>
>>4901734
>>4901751
>>4901752
>>4901759
>>4901771
>>4902052
>>4902405
It is time to go mask off. At least, in private.
Writing.
>>
“…Off,” you slipped a hand up to your face and lifted the smooth white piece away. “I cannot hide myself from one I love.”

Little Von Rotehof grimaced at your face still. “Alright then, if you want. Just…hm,” He paced about, searching for something. “Here we are. Sit on this crate here, I’ll sit across from you. I should have this done before I have to go out on patrol.” Stevan very much liked his free time to be exactly when it was told. He wasn’t meant to go out on patrol for a few hours, though… “You’re fine with sitting still a while, right?”

“Yes. When I used to hunt, sometimes I had to be still for hours. Have you drawn many people before like this?”

“Oh, a lot,” Von Rotehof said as he drew confident lines with what seemed to be a sharpened rod of graphite rather than a proper pencil, “Mostly women, though. They like being drawn. They’re all rather vain.”
“Not all of them,” you said, thinking of a few examples.

“All the pretty ones, at least,” Stevan Von Rotehof allowed.

“None of them caught your eye? They seem like they were interested in you.”

“Maybe, but,” Little Von Rotehof scribbled a bit more- his decorative chains clinked with his broader movements. “They were all lower born. No-names. Not anybody I’d want to settle down with, so the only thing I gave them were their portraits. I want to aim as far as I can go, you know?”

“So where are your sights, then?” One of the locals had strolled up, taken a suspicious look, then left. Some grey-hair who probably wanted you to go away and wasn’t pleased to see you idling.

“Don’t know, somebody higher up than me, at least. Maybe a branch of some territorial family. I’m thinking I’ll get my repute as a soldier, first. Imagine it- a beautiful high noble girl is visited by an esteemed veteran of the Silver Lances- and on top of that, he is a master craftsman! The unknown master emerges from nowhere, just for her. Isn’t that like something out of a fairy tale?”

Maybe, not necessarily in the ideal ways, though. “Your brother is already married, isn’t it?”

“Yes, he married a lowborn. He’s happy, but I don’t think I’d be.” To you, Elder Von Rotehof indeed seemed very content- but Little Von Rotehof didn’t think he’d be?

“Why not?”
>>
“Just don’t think so,” Little Von Rotehof shrugged, pausing a moment in his sketching, “You landed a Von Blum, didn’t you? How many tries did you have before her?”

“…None,” you admitted, “That was a special circumstance though. Not something in my control. I was betrothed. Sometimes I even forgot I was betrothed until I actually went to the Blumlands.”

“See,” Von Rotehof gestured with his drawing-stick, “The thought of just having a territorial lord’s daughter fall into my lap is a ridiculous fantasy, but you had it happen to you out of luck. I’m not working off of luck, here. Would you be happy with somebody besides who you have? Where would you set your sights, as they were?”

“I don’t know,” you said, “Everything that’s happened so far is impossible to think of taking place without Maddalyn. She was who I went to rescue in Sosaldt last I was here. She’s saved my life, and that of others.” You were alive because of one another- and there was so much more that you couldn’t really share.

“Come on,” Von Rotehof made an exaggerated, disappointed groan, “Nobody knows what might have happened in another life, but it’s fun to think of anyways. Maybe I didn’t end up doing nothing in Valsten, maybe I would have gone after our countrymen with a band of my friends to challenge those mercenaries. Maybe you wouldn’t have gotten half your face scorched off.” He shaded aggressively, and it was no secret to what part he was working on. “No betrothal, no wife handed to you on a bed with rose petals. Where do you think you’d have gone? What would have happened? Would you still have bagged a territorial lord’s daughter? It’s a question of potentials, Von Tracht. There’s no inspiration in seeing something happen only in the way that it did.”

Perhaps. Yet there was the unasked question, a curious implication- would you be happier? More fulfilled? Hard to say before thinking about the theoretical alternative.

>?
>>
>>4902700
Before Maddalyn I had only wanted to join the the Silver Lances. I put more energy into talking to my tank and squeezing my rifle then into women. Whos to say I wouldnt have become the consummate panzer knight, always chasing after lady glory?
>>
>>4902700
Jeez, depending on how alternate things get, there could be no Maddy, or Signy, but let's assume the first "arc" in Strossvald ends mostly the same, but no Maddy betrothal. Maybe Richter meets Hilda and Bertram and things proceed on better terms, maybe the IO kidnaps Hilda and Richter and Bertram go off to save her together with Bat company. From there it could go any number of ways, reciprocate Hilda's feelings, she may be lowborn but she still has large tracts of land. He could have stayed with Signy in Sosaldt, leaving like Hel did to follow his own path. Maybe the pull of magic would have been too pervasive and an enchanting little mossheaded girl would have taken her spot at Richter's side?

Me personally, I would have preferred a Signy route earlier on, but the amount of screentime and development that Anya has had, most things being the same I think I would have liked to see the Anya route. Definitely would have been a waifu that could have kept up in a Panzer commander quest.
>>
>>4902700
>?
I have wondered if we hadn't saved Maddy from the Demiphantom what it'd have been like, would Richter have chosen Ambition instead of Duty?

Told the IO to fuck off, conquered as the Kommandant side by side with Cyclops. Fought the Northern Lords and Southern Cities for a unified Sosaldt, while also keeping the established countries from taking bites or dominating.

Or instead maybe roved around and taken over the Iron Hogs with Anya, fighting overseas, looting riches, cobbling together hideous tank models from defeated enemies, discovered what really happened to Uncle Hel and putting his legend to rest.

If I had to pick again I'd have chosen the Hogs and Anya. Couldn't resist being an adventurous warband with anywhere in the world to pluck and plunder.

Or go full Wizard and find out what the Mossheads did that fucked up the world so bad that the storms will never end. Who knows, maybe that would've been the possessed Hilda/Emma route while we find a way to restore them both.
>>
>>4902700
>?
Hmm, if it wasn't for Maddy Richter wouldn't have ever stepped into Sosaldt so there's already a huge butterfly effect there. Probably a quieter career so far than now, with mainly the war with Valsten and now Plisseau being the main highlights.Or maybe the IO finds some other way to ensnare Richter, since his Tracing was during academy days IIRC.
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>>4903073
+1
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>>4902700
Even if Richter wasn't betrothed to Von Blum, it's a real possibility that those terrorists would have still attacked the train and Richter would have ended up finding Maddy in the town of shades.
Whether he'd have the audacity to go after her, or would even want to given how Tsun she was at the start is up in the are...but I like to think we would have gone for it.
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>>4903323
Werent we initially assigned to the Blumlands due to our betrothal?
>>
>>4903326
Yeah, but it's still possible we would have been sent there anyway.
I think...
>>
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Hey fellows, next update should be the closer of the thread when I get to it this evening, hope you're all having a good July 4th! Well, all the Americans, anyways. Whatever patriotic equivalent and day applies to you is not unwelcome in its time. However, as I am an American, this gives me an excuse for this.

"I don't know what Emre-ica is, but I've heard that it's all about guns, food, and being better than everybody else, so it must be awesome!"
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>>4904124
Happy 4th tanq! Thanks for spoiling us with noncanon art this thread.
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>>4904124
Hope everyone celebrating out there has a good time with the hamburgers and the hot dogs. Drink safely, and handle explosives with care.
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