>>4853581
>You know I've been curious. What's with the mask? Are you like in theater?

>>4853581
>>You know I've been curious. What's with the mask? Are you like in theater?

File: e66929ae0f3ad270ffbf3b358(...).jpg (12 KB, 236x232)

12 KB JPG

>>4853596
>>4853688
Hmmmmm

The mask! That has to be a story!

"You know, I've been curious. What's with the mask? Are you like in theater?"
---
>1d20

Rolled 10 (1d20)

>>4853715

Two more? Higher is better.

Rolled 7 (1d20)

>>4853715

Rolled 1 (1d20)

>>4853715
I'll pick it up!

>>4853867
Oh...oh no..
(Blank screen)

File: WHY.gif (125 KB, 600x600)

125 KB GIF

>>4853867

File: 2156669-masked_pilot.jpg (18 KB, 320x320)

18 KB JPG

>>4853727
>>4853795
>>4853828
>>4853867
>1 Critical Fail!
[FIREBURNFIREBURNKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILL]
--
For what feels like the Longest seconds of your life, Boucher does not respond. The eerie silence hangs over the air like a blanket of uncertain calm.

*M-mask...?*, the Black Lightning rasps, quietly. *This...this....*

He veers off, and you blink.

*Tell me, Huzaran*, he says, in a voice almost inhuman in resonance. Have you ever BURNED?!?*

"I...no, I havent", you reply, cautiously. "Have...have you?"

A few more seconds.

*Yes. I have burned. I've felt the fire in my flesh, cooking my marrow till it boiled like gravy, Huzaran. Von Hel...that White Lion. He...he did this. The fire...it wasn't the worst part. I...GAK! That..B-b-B-bASTAarD! He...HE...*

*oh shit!*, one of the other Foudre pilots snaps. *Hey boss take it easy! Boss-*

*SHUT UP SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP!*, Boucher growls, like an animal. You flinch as the feeling of void he projects within you tighten. The wrongness.

The Rage.

*I saw them burn. Burn...burn...Thierry, Micael, Nic...Thorel...BURNBURNBURNBURNBURNBURNBURN YOU WIPL BUUUUURN! DIE KONERLANDER! DIEDIEDIE! GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH*

The sickness is like a tidal wave.

Roaring over the radio like nothing human, the Black Lightning's craft suddenly guns the engine, abandoning all pretense of stealth or calm. His plane streaks towards you without a care, guns blazing far before they have any chance of hitting.

*Oh shit!*, Ferret 1 says. *You did it now!*

Behind Boucher, his two wingmen bolt as well, though with more restraint.

This isn't good.
----
>Go for Boucher! Joust with the Black Lightning!

>You must defend your allies! Play defensive, you have to hold out !

>Go for the other birds

>scatter and run

>>4853901
>Go for Boucher! Joust with the Black Lightning!
>This man needs his suffering to be ended.

>>4853901
>>Go for Boucher! Joust with the Black Lightning!

>>4853901
>Go for Boucher! Joust with the Black Lightning!

>>4853907
>>4853958
>>4853980
>Go for Boucher! Joust with the Black Lightning!

Ah shit.

Well, it looked like you weren't being given much choice in the matter! You'd have to break the lance vs Boucher!

"Im going for him!", you over the radio. Gunning the engine, your Udet roars a battle cry and soars into the darkness. The wind screams. Behind you, the rest of your party responds as well.

*Roger*, Vampire 2 responds. *We will handle the rest. I'm in the mood to kill something right now...*

*Ah don't be so glum!*, Ferret 1 says. *I mean, it's only an unhinged lunatic and his possy coming after us, right?*

Ahead, Boucher continues to charge forwards with abandon. And as you near proper gun range, the ill feeling begins to truly swamp you. You shake your head and focus as best as you can. Whatever is wrong with Boucher won't be solved by you dwelling on it. But something clearly is.

Or maybe he's just crazy.

You'll put him out of his misery, and yours.
---
>1d10!

Rolled 3 (1d10)

>>4854004

Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>4854004

Rolled 1 (1d10)

>>4854004

File: black-lightning-bolt-hi.png (15 KB, 600x441)

15 KB PNG

Rolled 9, 8, 6, 6, 5, 5, 9, 7, 3 = 58 (9d10)

>>4854005
>>4854006
>>4854014
.....

File: 0_kZoOjFxekNwY2NCH.png (91 KB, 3960x1685)

91 KB PNG

Rolled 2, 3, 10, 7, 5, 1, 7, 3, 2 = 40 (9d10)

>>4854091
....

File: rs=w_600,h_600.jpg (56 KB, 600x399)

56 KB JPG

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>4854096
>>4854091
>>4854014
>>4854006
>>4854005
>1 autosucess!
----
[HATE.KILL.BURN]
'Ttatataattatatatatatataatattatatata!'

'Thudthudthuthudthud!!'

As you and Boucher appriach, guns blazing, the sounds of your batlle rings in the night air. Thank the Creator you had saved your ammo for just this kind of occasion!

Boucher is unhinged, and while his MG rounds fly danger close in a few instances, your plane largely manages to make it out unscathed. With razor sharp focus, your own shooting is better off. You strike a grin as bullets score on the edges of the enemy plane's wings, and Boucher blasts over and past you, like a angry eagle going for a hen. His plane vanishes into the gloom, the roaring bloodthirst of the engine remaining in your ears.

Around you, your comrades are also fairing well! Good to see!

*You picked the wrong convoy to intercept, Merovians*, Vampire 3 says.

'Tatatataatatata!'

Both Vampire 2 and Vampire 3 score hits, skillfully managing to avoid most of the return fire. The two Foudre pilots break off with jolts to either side, breaking the line of sight fairly well in all this darkness...

*My lord!*, Vampire 3 says, as Count Vlak's critically hurt plane puffs smoke out, trying to be helpful in some manner. *Sir, please retire back to the others!*

*I...am noth a cripple...*

you see a flash in the dark as a Triplane soars up near the location of Count Vlak.

*Here, you head back to my boys and Crow*, Ferret one states. *I can fill the gap for you.*

*Yes, we'll handle these bogeys. Please, allow Ferret to relive you, my lord*, Vamp 2 says. After a few moments of silent contemplation, Vampire 1 withdraws to the defensive bubble that the Crows have formed with Ferrets 2 and 3. Alright..so far so good...

However, you feel that void in your mind again, and you know Boucher is not done yet....and neither are his two comrades!
----
>Chase after them! They wont steal the initiative! Dont let them regroup!

>Take the time to rally and wait in patience!

>Make a run for it!

>write in

>>4854135
>Chase after them! They wont steal the initiative! Dont let them regroup!

>>4854198
>>Chase after them! They wont steal the initiative! Dont let them regroup

There was no way you could just sit here! Too much was at stake!

"We have to head after them!", you call out. "Follow me!"

You throw the lever in your fighter craft shoots forward into the dark. Behind you you're Trio of Friendlies follows.

*Oh boy! Chasing after the spooky bad guys into an obvious trap! At night! What could go wrong!*, Ferret 1 remarks. You frown.

*They SHOULD run from us...*, Vampire 2 says.

*Remember the directive*, Vampire 3 remarks. *Boucher is just a bonus. We run him off, and then continue the retreat!*


You nod. Can't leave the others alone too long...

But now you play the game of shadows...
---
>1d10

Rolled 6 (1d10)

>>48542

Rolled 5 (1d10)

>>4854291

1 mor?

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>4854386
!!!!!

File: images (2).png (1 KB, 255x197)

1 KB PNG

Rolled 5, 5, 3, 7, 6, 2, 3, 5, 5 = 41 (9d10)

File: images (24).jpg (8 KB, 225x225)

8 KB JPG

Rolled 3, 1, 1, 8, 9, 7, 8, 9, 1 = 47 (9d10)

>>4854412
.....

File: 440px-Armoiries_républiqu(...).png (104 KB, 440x500)

104 KB PNG

Rolled 7 (1d20)

>>4854350
>>4854380
>>4854408
>>4854412
>>4854414
>4 success!.....
>1,1 CRITICAL HIT BY BOUCHER
>FERRET 1 AT CRITICAL DAMAGE
>BOGEY 3 AT Heavy DAMAGE
>VAMPIRE 3 AT HEAVY DAMAGE
>BOUCHER AT Medium DAMAGE
>Stanislaw at HEAVY DAMAGE!
---
As the darkness surrounds your group of fighters, you become keenly aware of how still the air about you seems. Elsewhere in the valley, sirens and spotlights continue to give the sky the essence of war. But here....

*I don't like this. Anyone else got the jeepers in this shade?*, Ferret 1 asks.

The radio buzzes back.

*The night is just absence of light. You shouldn't be so--LOOK UP! LOOK UP!*

'TATATATATATATA!!!'

Your senses erupt into Chaos as Foudre Flight descends from above you, having gotten the upper hand! Guns blazing, they swoop in for the kill.

[Hate. Blood. Burn. Kill.]

*DIE! DIE! YOU'LL ALL PAY!!*

Your formation scatters as the enemy fighters swoop in amongst you, firing with abandon and without sense of direction. Its a classic Foudre ambush, and one you had flown into!

Still...you do your best!

One of the enemy Foncks swoops by you, firing its Machine Guns. With a twitch, you manage to avoid the incoming fire, and respond with your own Salvo. The bogey has the misfortune of entering a crossfire of panicked fliegermacht pilots. He flies away, wounded and smoking.

Then Boucher comes for you.

His shadowy craft pounces on you mercilessly, seemingly appearing from nowhere. Veering in, he lands a brutal series of shots directly to your engine, sending smoke spewing out.

His Plane then cuts a roll directly over your craft, letting loose the whole time. By the time he is finished, the Udet is a proper cheesecloth.

[Murder. Fire. Kill. REVENGE]

*I...I FAILED THEM! I'LL KILL YOU! KILL YOU ALL FOR THEM! KILL YOU ALL! MWAHAHA!*

*You are BATSHIT, man!*, Ferret 1 cries out, as his triplane is strafed by an enemy plane, a piece of his tail breaking off. His craft looks barely flightworthy.

*HUZARAN! LOOK OUT!*, Vampires 2 growls. His Udet speeds in despite his own wounds, guns blazing at Boucher. The Black Lighting wildly spins off, cutting back in an uncanny move.

Vamp 2 is caught off guard, his craft strafed as he passes, careening into the shadows.

*You don't even understand...the fire...and what came after. What they did..I'LL BURN YOU ALL!*

You swat away at the smoke as it reaches your eyes, and glance at the bullet holes. Too close.

Too damn close.

As Foudre again fades away, you feel the sweat on the back of your neck...

Your squad forms up back around you, battered badly but not broken.

*Heh...shit. I think I lost a finger! Fuck I did!*, Ferret 1 announces. *Oh that asshole, I'm gonna--*

*silence, Rodent!*, Vampire 2 snaps. *We need a plan of response. These dogs mean to toy with us...*

*Affirmative*, Vampire 3 coughs.
----
>Fighting Withdrawal back to your allies!

>You won't run! We make our stand here.

>Send the others back. It's you the Butcher wants.

>>4854456
>Send the others back. It's you the Butcher wants.

>>4854456
>>You won't run! We make our stand here.

>>4854456
>Fighting Withdrawal back to your allies!

Uhhh tiebreaker?

>thats all tonight folks. Well pick up in the morning. Stay excellent and hopefully get that tie breaker in. Night.

>>4854456
>Fighting Withdrawal back to your allies!

>>4854456
>Fighting Withdrawal back to your allies!

>>4854456
>You won't run! We make our stand here.

WW1 Newtype action!

File: aa305423095aaaaf89e1cc424(...).jpg (763 KB, 1507x1594)

763 KB JPG

Rolled 6 (1d20)

>>4854465
>>4854466
>>4854469
>>4854520
>>4854561
>>4854583
>>4854606
>>4854819
>>Fighting Withdrawal back to your allies!

You think on it quickly. You couldn't just sit here and let Foudre screw with you. Nor was randomly flailing around in the dark likely to do you any favors. That left your options limited.....

You make the choice.

"We fight our way back to the others", you say simply. "We'll be stronger as a group, and I don't like leaving them alone longer than we absolutely need to..."

*Agreed*, Vampire 3 responds. *And we shouldn't waste more time than we have to. Enemy forces are bound to pick up on this little knife fight at some point.*

Your squadron veers into the retreat, headed for the pay being followed by the others. Around you, the gloom is looming under the smoke and moonlight. The feeling is one of being hunted.

And in the dark....you feel a void.
----
>1d10!

Rolled 10 (1d10)

>>4855001

Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>4855001

Rolled 8 (1d10)

>>4855001

Rolled 6 (1d10)

>>4855001

File: c35bb76508d552c05a0d731d1(...).jpg (3 KB, 238x250)

3 KB JPG

Rolled 2, 3, 5, 4, 3, 1, 1, 10, 8 = 37 (9d10)

>>4855001

File: vintage_bat_symbol_square(...).jpg (23 KB, 540x540)

23 KB JPG

Rolled 3, 10, 5, 10, 4, 3, 4, 1, 5 = 45 (9d10)

>>4855123

Rolled 1 (1d20)

>>4855123
>>4855125
>>4855017
>>4855022
>>4855059
>10 fail
>STANISLAW AT CRITICAL DAMAGE
>VAMPIRE 2 AT CRITICAL DAMAGE
>VAMPIRE 3 AT CRITICAL DAMAGE
>Bogey 3 AT CRITICAL DAMAGE!
---
And from the void they come.

Breaking in hard from two seprrate directions, the enemy fighters come in at you, ruthless in their pursuit. Boucher crashes in on your right flank while his two croneys enforce the same attack on the left of your formation.

'Tatatatatatatatatata!'

'Tatatatatatatatatata!'

The Guns light up the night sky as the bogeys open up, your allies broken up by the sheer ferocity of the assault.

*Damn them! Hold formation! Don't let them sep--GAHHHH!*

Vampire 2's Udet is ripped open by a fierce volley from the wounded enemy Fonck, and is barely saved by the efforts of Ferret 1. The damaged Triplane delivers his own attack, and a spark of flame breaks out as the Foudre fighter speeds off in full retreat.

More bad news.

*This Valley will be your grave, Huzaran!*, Boucher growls, as his plane jinks back and forth through the air. You do your best to counter, but the Merovian pilot manages to outfly you, and his guns strafe the side of your plane as--

"Gaak!", you cry out. "Shit!"

A spurt of warm blood sprinkles the controls before you as a lucky bullet finds its mark. Looking down, and judging by the pain, it punched right through your arm. Though it seems to have missed anything vital, like a bone...it hurts.

Around you, the battle rages.

*He's on me!*, Vampire 3 calls out, trying to veer away from the efforts of an enemy fighter. However, his successful dodging merely takes him before the Black Lightning, who sends a quick burst his way, hitting well. Smoke overtakes the front of the Udet.

Ferret 1 is doing the best, taking his Triplane in a series of bold moves that succeeds in buying you all time to breathe.

..and Foudre is gone. Or not gone, per se, for by now you have better moonlight. You can see them hanging out of range, the one badly wounded craft limping through the air, but alive.

And you see the team. They are making their way at a steady pace as well as they can. Thank the Creator.

*Oh shit!*, Ferret 2 says. *He really did a number on you guys! Are you alright?*

"....relatively speaking", you groan. The bloody hole in your arm was aching, but the pain was somewhat deadened by the sensation-lessened by distance-that Boucher is giving off.

*They are picking us apart...*, Vampire 3 coughs. *We can't keep this up...and my ammo is almost out. Damnit...*

*Almost!?*, Ferret 1 remarks. *I just ran out saving you guys! You want me to ram them? I mean, I guess I could...*

You honestly do not know if he is serious or not, and you can't bother figuring it out. This is an emergency.

*Any sign of the Wolves?*, Vampire 2 asks.

*None that we can see...*, Crow 2 responds. *But someone is keeping the bogeys off our trail. I'd be more worried about our friends in Thor. They've stopped transmitting.*

File: nose art on Farman 40 WW1.jpg (66 KB, 553x620)

66 KB JPG

Rolled 5 (1d20)

>>4855148
*Shit! Look! Look oh shit!*, someone cries out. So you do.

And it's a dying plane.

Above you, a loud explosion, erupting into a orange blast breaks out. Seconds later, from the cloudbanks above, what was once a bomber comes careening down. The flaming parts appear as falling brands thrown into the darkness.

The other two Thors, badly mauled, leaking smoke and tongues of fire, also descend, albeit slowly. They remain high, but the tracer rounds fired from their rear guns are vaguely visible. They are fighting for their lives, and you know Chimera is up there with them.

This was getting out of hand.

And worse...you glance down.

Your ammo is not good. Thanks to your wise shooting, you've avoided running out, but you can't keep it up. A few more clashes at most...and that's assuming you don't open up well!

*They are coming back around!*, Vampire 3 shouts. You look over and indeed see Foudre Flight slip away at an angle behind a rise, no doubt trying to prepare for another spring attack...

And the Itch scratches at your mind, as the void begins to weaken more.
---
>You have no more options. Let the Itch flow through you.

>Climb! Climb! Try to form a unified front with the others!

>Try to ram Boucher. Ferret was on to something!

>write in

>>4855157
>You have no more options. Let the Itch flow through you.

>>4855157
>You have no more options. Let the Itch flow through you.
Shit

File: 3852509-AQPUJTHJ-6.jpg (36 KB, 375x742)

36 KB JPG

Rolled 15 (1d20)

>>4855160
>>4855174
>>You have no more options. Let the Itch flow through you.

Your grunt in frustration. The last thing you want to do is try and let the Itch flow without being in firm control. It was unpredictable when trying to tear its own way out. But you think...hope, rather, that you can put a leash on it.

You hope.

There really is no other option given the circumstances.....Boucher is coming back. And you have to do whatever you can to secure the lives of your allies. That means upping the stakes.

[Anathema. Abomination. Void.]

Shaking your head, you steady yourself.

You breathe in deep, for several seconds, and try to focus on it.

Immediately you are pushed aside and it tries to flow forwards.
---
>1d10 check

Rolled 3 (1d10)

>>4855195

2 mor?

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>4855195

Rolled 3 (1d10)

>>4855195

File: images (26).jpg (14 KB, 218x231)

14 KB JPG

Rolled 11 (1d20)

>>4855222
>>4855337
>>4855340
>>4855402
>Success!

You feel the Itch job into your mind, as a taste like blood fills your senses. The feeling of revulsion towards Boucher's sickness returns. And the emotion-thought in your mind picks it up as his plane peaks in and out from the shadows. And you feel it come.

The shadow within your mind threatens to cloud out your inner dialogue. But it fails, and the light of the Itch burns through. And you taste fire and ash.

[Abomination. Anathema.]
[Fear. Fire. Hatred. Burn.]

*Guys! We need a plan, shit!* , Ferret 1 snaps, all humor apparently forgotten. *We meeting their attack or no??*

*Let me think!*, Vamp 2 snaps. *We--*

You tune them out as you focus.
----
>Defensive Trap. Boucher will be drawn in.

>Meet Foudre head on. This is it.

>Forget killing Foudre. Protect your comrades!

>>4855434
>Forget killing Foudre. Protect your comrades!
We shall not become a monster
>Order them to take evasive manouvers when Foudre attacks.

>>4855434
>Meet Foudre head on. This is it.

Few minutes for a tiebreaker

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>4855536
!!!

File: Fokker-DVII-Title.jpg (18 KB, 600x259)

18 KB JPG

>>4855462
>Forget killing Foudre. Protect your comrades!

It occurs to you that you cannot simply let your allies get shot out of the sky. Their damage is bad, not that yours is much better. Ammo low. Hopes down.

You have to protect them!


"Don't be baited!", you bark. "Keep yourselves alive! We just have to buy time! Drive them off!"

*Well that's vague*, Ferret 1 says. *But I like living! Roger!*

The fighters of your impromptu squadron all rally around the banner per se, and just in time too. Foudre Flight comes busting from the shadows with death on their wings. They aren't hiding now!

[Fire. Hate. Kill.]

*Bah! You think you can protect them!?*, Boucher growls. *I'll show you the true face of War! Die, DOGS!*

You throw the lever, and spin into the fight.

>>4855577
>1d10 please


>(srry)

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>4855577

2 mor?

Rolled 1 (1d10)

>>4855577

Rolled 3 (1d10)

>>4855585

File: b242d43f7e09f86dbd2b7162b(...).jpg (15 KB, 800x566)

15 KB JPG

Rolled 10, 3, 1, 7, 6, 1, 10, 10, 7 = 55 (9d10)

>>4855751

File: d5de735d09c7b73bef059fd4d(...).jpg (68 KB, 1400x1400)

68 KB JPG

Rolled 5, 4, 5, 10, 1, 8, 8, 9, 10 = 60 (9d10)

>>4855755

File: 17444699-wolf-symbol.jpg (91 KB, 1300x1276)

91 KB JPG

Rolled 9, 3, 8, 10, 4, 5 = 39 (6d10)

>>4855760

>>4855585
>>4855717
>>4855751
>>4855755
>>4855760
>>4855763
>1 auto success!
>Stanislaw DEFENDS VAMPIRE 3
>WARNING STANISLAW HAS EXCEEDED CRITICAL DAMAGE AND BEEN INJURED. THE NEXT BLOW WILL BE FATAL
----
[Fire. Kill.]

*This is your end! DIE!*, Boucher roars.

'Tatatatatatatatatata!'

His machines bullets spray viciously as he approaches. But your enhanced reflexes do their job. With a flick, your Udet jolts onto the side, and you pass by the enraged Merovian.

'Thudthudthud!'

Cannon rounds rip into his plane, sending chunks of wood up, and snapping a wing strut. His brutalized plane veers away, howling over the radio.

Around you, the battle rages with a ferocity that you've never seen. The fires in the background lend it a darkly beautiful aspect. Everyone does their part to fight the Foudre trio.

Ferret 1 flies about, with no ammo. His bravery is his weapon, annoying the enemy by his fly by's and presence. Elsewhere, the Vampires fight on, opening up with what must surely be the last of their ammo. Foudre does not yield.

And you, you flit about, wherever needed. You fight beside Crow, defending them from the ravages of Boucher. You come to the aid of the Vampires, adding your fire to their own.

And the night sings with gunfire.

Then somebody slips.

Ferret 1's heroics bring him within the jaws of disaster, double teamed by two of Foudre after a smart break away. Vampire 3 rushes to his defense despite his own injuries. And it works.

They shoot him instead.

*No! Hey, get out of here!*, Ferret yells.

You are on them in seconds. Your Udet slams into the narrow gap between the parties, cannon ripping open with some of the last of the rounds. You grin as the enemy backs away.

In next second, they get a few rounds off.

You feel something is wrong. Quite seriously wrong. But given the influence of the Itch and the Void, you do not take time to see what.

After that, the sides break up, with Boucher growling.

*Pierre was right huh...you really are the little hero. Risking yourself like that. LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING!*, he snaps. *There are no heroes. No Knights. There are only killers. War is killing. No storybook bullshit. The sooner you realize how it all fits.....(heavy breathing)*

He passes a second.

*....The sooner only the killing makes sense....hehe. Tell me, Huzaran. Bloody Red Angel. Are you the knight come to slay the dragon? In your shiny plate?*
----
>I don't need a Sir to know you're broken. As a Pilot, I'll give you the peace of the grave, Black Lightning.

>Maybe of this story. I will destroy you, Monster.

>????.w?_h?/a?t??w??a??s??l??o??s??t

>>4855883
>????.w?_h?/a?t??w??a??s??l??o??s??t

Gimmie the Mistery Box!

File: 71lP7t1M5mL._SL1500_.jpg (147 KB, 1500x1500)

147 KB JPG

>>4855891
>>????.w?_h?/a?t??w??a??s??l??o??s??t

Before you can respond, you stop. A few moments pass as a strange feeling touches you...and you think. Think in a way only your Itched mind can.

Boucher's anger...the void of sickness that you detect....behind it, you think there is something else. Something wrong. And that madness....

You feel more than anger.

A feeling of ash and fire feels your mouth as you think on it.

You hold the piece.

"Boucher....", you say.

*Huzaran*..., he answers.

This is worth a try.

"I'm sorry"
---
>1d20

Rolled 7 (1d20)

>>4856082

Rolled 9 (1d20)

>>4856082

Rolled 8 (1d20)

>>4856082

File: 67773720-angry-wolf-symbol.jpg (128 KB, 1013x1300)

128 KB JPG

>>4856287
>>4856402
>>4856452
>9 Fail
>Werwolf has arrived!
>Bogey 3 Destroyed!

*....What?*, he responds.

You press ahead.

"I'm sorry you lost your team. But--"

*LOST?*, he snaps. *You....I'LL KILL--WHAT?!*

'Tatatatatatatata!'
'Boom!'

Just as Boucher begins to start another run at you, a blast of flame erupts from the engine of the wounded bogey. It immediately goes careening towards the ground, trailing smoke and fire. It crunches into the dirt, spinning wildly.

Caught off guard, the other two members of Foudre Flight break into a full retreat, veering away hard.

*BOOOOOOUCHEEER!*, you hear someone snarl.

Alpha!

The Grey birds of Werewolf Flight come soaring in like bats out of hell, every one of them bearing some serious scars. Yet they are here!

*Bah! This isn't over, Huzaran! Enjoy this while it lasts! It won't be long!*, Boucher says, before vanishing out of sight.

*Hey, good timing! Chimera 3 had just pissed him off! ....again!*, Ferret 1 chirps.

However, Alpha doesn't seem to be in much of a chatting mood.

*I'm leaving two guys with you!*, Alpha says suddenly. *That should be more than enough to--*

*Ands shwere are you goiong?*, Count Vlak slurs out. Yikes, sounds bad.

*To kill Boucher!*, Alpha snaps. *This is our chance! We got him on the run! AND he's hurt!*

*YOU moron!*, Vamp 3 shouts. *Look at us! We need to get out of this valley! Before Boucher runs into more friends of his. We've little to no ammo even!*

You glance down as your mind clears.

One burst, if that.

*You can make it fine...I have to--*

*Have to? Think of the mission! Think!*
---
>Let him pursue Boucher

>Go with him.

>No. Ernst specifically told you to prevent this. Reason with Paul. You've lingered too long as it is. This is madness.
----

>And that's all folks! See you in the morning and stay excellent! A very rough day for the forces of the Pact...but one with a great victory as well!

>>4856464
>No. Ernst specifically told you to prevent this. Reason with Paul. You've lingered too long as it is. This is madness.
Boucher is wounded yes, but a wounded animal is the most dangerous.

>>4856464
>Go with him.
Glory or gory and either is fine. And you can always take someone with you.

Gonna give it a bit more for the tiebreaker as this is a very risky vote

>>4856464
>No. Ernst specifically told you to prevent this. Reason with Paul. You've lingered too long as it is. This is madness.

point out you and vampire are both hit and bad

File: ChimeraMeaning-e1587242521341.jpg (90 KB, 800x499)

90 KB JPG

>>4856503
>>4856614
>>4856904
>No. Ernst specifically told you to prevent this. Reason with Paul. You've lingered too long as it is. This is madness.

Ernst had been worried about this scenario, and while you appreciated Alpha's help, you couldn't let him endanger the mission. Or himself!

"Paul!", you say. "This isn't worth it. Look at us! The ones who aren't out of ammo are about to drop! And besides, we need to go! Our window is closing!"

The radio buzzes back.

*But we're so close now! We can catch him...*

You grip the piece.
---
>1d20!

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>4856952

2 more?

Rolled 3 (1d20)

>>4856952

Rolled 4 (1d20)

>>4857000

>>4856967
>>4857000
>>4857009
>>4857078
>Success

"Look...", you start. "I know own how much finishing him off means to you. But we have to let him go. This isn't about Boucher or Foudre."

*But...hmph..*

"We've already lost people Paul. Think on that. And we don't want to risk anyone else. Believe me, if I could go with you I would...but we have to go back. Now."

You release the send button, relaxing into your seat as the grasp of the Itch begins to fade. After a few tense moments, the radio buzzes back his response.

*...You just always know what to say, don't you Stanislaw...fine. But next time...*, he responds with a sigh. He is clearly resigned to listening. He isn't happy about it though. Knowing how personal this was for him though, you could hardly blame the fellow.

A smile twitches the corner of your lips.

"Not as often as I like. But I do try."

*Excellent! Neat bonding moment. But can we please get out of the valley of fiery death and psychos now? Please?*, Ferret 1 asks.

*I second that*, Crow 2 says. *We've done our job. We just have to hope Thor and Chimera Flight can make it too. Creator knows we've lost plenty*

You flinch at the reminder. The fight topside had looked bad, but you knew your people were in no state to go rescuing anyone else. You just had to believe in your friends.

*Alright*, Vampire 2 says. *We're leaving. All planes back to Baldir.*

"You're stationed with us now?", you ask. Vampire had not been roosting with your own birds. They belonged to a seperate outfit to your knowledge.

*No. But kid, does it look like we want to fly anymore than we have to? And the Count needs a doctor. To Baldir.*

You shrug. It certainly made the regur simpler. And it kept you all a group. Fine by you.

Assuming you made it back in one piece.

*Wait...*, Count Vlak coughs. *Where...Alpha, where ish Becker? (Cough). He...he wash with-*

Wait...thats right! In the chaos of the moment, you had forgotten that a Vampire had went with the Wolves! But he wasn't there...so...


*We wouldn't have made it out without him. I'm sorry*, Alpha mutters. *He didn't make it.*

*He fought hard, Sir*, Wolf 4 offers.

*Becker...*, Count Vlak sighs. *So young...*
----
As you make your way out of the Valley, it seems that your luck is holding. No more enemy fighters have come after you. Whether Ernst was running some side ops, or the enemy was simply in shock, was beyond you. But it was good luck.

What wasn't good luck....

With the Itch gone, an awful pain had final struck you. And it wasn't the bleeding hold in your arm. Although that was by no means fun either...

You were hurt....
---
>1d20 Injury Roll.

>The way this works is, there is a SINGLE injury roll on a d20. First come first serve. Lower is worse. Technically speaking we should have known the injury right away, but your mind haze blocked the worst out.
----

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>4857138

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>4857138

File: maxresdefault.jpg (68 KB, 1280x720)

68 KB JPG

>>4857142
>>4857162
>17
>Minor
>Aesthetic tier injury
>(lucky bastards. When I tested this I rolled a 1 lol.)
----
You feel a sense of warmth dripping down the side of your face. Reaching a hand up gingerly, you scrape it against the edge of your face. You look at the leather glove.

Blood. Oh.

Well, you weren't blind...so...you trace the dripping back up. You touch your ear an--

"Gaah!", you chirp, sharply. Shit that hurt! Looking around, you draw your survival knife from its holster. Holding the polished blade up(thank you for the oils, Sergei!), you use it like a mirror.

"Well, could have been worse...", you mutter.

Indeed. The bullet. If indeed it was only 1, had come within a bare inches of punching into your skull. That, to be honest, could have been..troubling.

Instead, your ear had paid the price.

The lower half of your right ear was badly mangled or gone, and blood was positively seeping from the wound. You don't think there was any hearing damage...but your poor rugged looks!

With a sigh, you sheathed the knife. All in all, it was nothing to whine over. Some guys hadn't made it back at all. And hell if you knew what was with the Count's gurgling. Guy sounded bad.

With a worried look, you scan the dark sky above. Chimera Flight and the Thors should be making decent time...assuming the enemy has relented.

Its possible you know. Perhaps they assumed this raid was the front wave of a general attack! They weren't...totally wrong if they were assuming that. But that prep time would widen your window of escape....
----
By the time you make it back to the outskirts of Baldir Base, your squadron has nearly lost planes a few times. Count Vlak in particular seems barely capable of keeping his plane airworthy....

You grab the piece, flinching at the suddent sting in your arm.

"Come in, this is Chimera 3. We are returning from the attack", you say.

*Roger, Under-Lieutenent. We have cleared the way. Good to have you*

As he hangs up, you just have to land your Udet. Normally that would not be an issue...but with the plane being a wreck with wings practically...
---
>1d10!

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>4857188

Rolled 2 (1d10)

>>4857188

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>4857188

File: download (9).jpg (11 KB, 270x187)

11 KB JPG

Rolled 2 (1d20)

>>4857189
>>4857194
>>4857315
>2 success!

Gently....gently....

"There you go...", you murmur, as the Udet settles down Gently. The plane creaks and moans in agony, and you sympathize with your crafts distress. You definitely don't want to repeat the experience.

Perhaps your good example rubs off. The others come in behind you, one by one until the lot of them land. Most have little trouble, although a wheel on Vampire 1's craft buckles, giving his plane a thrashing as it comes to stop. Other than that, it went....fairly well. As well as it could.

As you come to a halt under the lights, a verifiable crowd of crewmen starts gawking at the state of your crafts.

"Oh shit...", somehow mutters. "You aren't all that's left are you?"

Tactful.

"No....", you say with a grunt, as you climb your way out of the plane. As you scoot off onto the ground, a piece of wood snaps off, loosening your grip. Another crewman catches you. It is seconds before the smoking engine sparks into a small fire.

Your poor Udet!

"WHAAAAT!", a booming voice bellows. "STANISLAW, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!"

Dmitri comes bulling through a pair of techs, his hands clasped to his head. A look of distraught sorrow is on his face.

"Dmitri has never....oh this plane..it was work of art! And you...", he glances at your ear with a frown. "Cut things too close, Dmitri sees. You are otherwise well?"

You shrug.

"Well, I'm not dead. That's a start...", you say dryly. The big man nods. Apparently not having picked up the sarcasm.

"To live is to be good! Da. But..ohhh, friend Stanislaw what happened to him?", he asks, wide eyed. He points a meaty finger over to where the vampires had landed. You see a pair of men fussing away the ground crewmen.

Count Vlak is getting out. Frowning, you approach them.

"--my lord some space, damn it!", one of them growls, shoving away a skinny Strelkayan. A nasty looking fellow with a 12 o'clock shadow, and a neck tattoo.

"Please...", the other says, a dirty blonde with clipped hair. "Sir, you need some medical aid..."

The third man, who can only be Count Vlak, stumbles from his throughly ravaged Udet. As he hits the ground, you notice that his black hair, worn long, is concealing an injury.

"(Cough) gaak! Spuut!", he spits, most ungentlemanly. A spurt of dark blood, and a single tooth hit the ground. Vampire 3's face goes pale. He backs up as the Count reaches a hand to his face with a groan.

Noticing you walking up, the tattooed one snaps towards you with a frown.

"Is he--"

"What did I just--", he pauses a second, before snorting, having registered your voice. "The Huzaran. The Count is injured, where is your doctor? You DO have one?*"

You nod quickly.

"That would be Doc Geldman. He's good at what he does. I'll-"

"(Cough) wait a shecond....", Vlak says, straightening up, with hesitation. "Theesh two...great men. But...tell me true, Chimera 3. Ish it as bad as it feelsh...?"

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>>4857345
The sight is shocking, and you fight back a feeling of nausea.

About two thirds of the face before you is handsome, with a pale complexion, and sleepy rings under green eyes. But the jaw....Creator bless us all.

The bullet must have torn through the lower half of the man's face, directly along the line of the left part of his jaw. There is a gaping wound, like a grotesque half smile, and through it you glance a few teeth. Broken teeth. Blood drips from the hole in the side of his mouth, a ragged hole. The bullet must have rolled after it struck bone.

You hear a gasp from one of the Vampires.

This man was lucky to be alive.

"Shoo...how bad ish it?"

You gulp.
---
>Uh....pretty bad. Like you ate a grenade. Not gonna lie.

>I've...seen worse?(on dead people, fuck)

>(puking noises)

>>4857370
>Uh....pretty bad. Like you ate a grenade. Not gonna lie.

>>4857370
>Uh....pretty bad. Like you ate a grenade. Not gonna lie.

Terrifying

>>4857370
>Uh....pretty bad. Like you ate a grenade. Not gonna lie.

>>4857370
>Uh....pretty bad. Like you ate a grenade. Not gonna lie.

>>4857374
>>4857385
>>4857386
>>4857395
>Uh....pretty bad. Like you ate a grenade. Not gonna lie.

You steady yourself.

"Uhhhh...pretty bad", you say, with a nod.

"...oh?"

"Mhm. Like you ate a grenade."

"......"

"Like wow, just terrifying to be honest", you say, shaking your head. God you think his tongue was--

"You-you-You idiot!", Vampire 2 growls, snatching you by the collar, "How dare--"

"Hmphmp(cough)hmphhmph"

You both cock your heads towards Vlak, who is making an awful gurgle. He seems to be heaving a bit. Or a shake. Uhhh...thats some bloody juices.

"My lord!", Vamp 3 remarks, steadying him. But the nobleman keeps shaking.

"(Cough) mphph-Hahahahaha! A-a grenade you shed?(spit) haha! Indeed!"

He's...laughing?

After a few moments, he stops, drawing back his locks with with bloody gloved hand. His unravaged side gives you a winning smile, but the grisly mess of his jaw ruins the impression.

"I...forgive me. I am unushed to shuch...directnessh. But fair. An apt deschription(cough). Really though...we musht stop the bleeding. Mattossh? Reiner? Pleesh ashist me."

Avoiding some bloody spittle, the blonde fellow takes the Count by the arm and looks to you. Oh. You point towards the medical unit where the Doc made his home. Hopefully he could...help?

What was helping with a wound like that? Something bothers your though...

"Doesn't it hurt??", you ask, curious. Count Vlak should be in enormous pain, but he was clearly coping fairly well. How was the man not screaming on the ground?

"Heh...like hell.(spit)", is all he says. He and Mattos head across the base, towards Geldman's offices. The fellow holding your collar, presumably Reiner, lets you go and follows with a humph. As they pass by the crewmen, a few gasp. One Aldanian woman looks like she's gonna be seriously ill. The Vamps take it in stride. What a solid trio. Huh.

Shame about their 4th.

"Wow, I mean wow. And I thought I looked bad last time I cut myself shaving!", someone says behind you. Startled, you turn around and see a short, thin fellow with a styled mustache. Despite it, he doesn't seem much older than you. He gives you a little wave, and you notice a bloody stump where his right pinky end should be.

Noticing you looking, he gets a toothy grin as he rubs the back of his neck.

"Yeh...uh...that's a problem. Anson by the way!", he says, holding out his hand....the bloody one. "Good to see your face!"

It connects in your mind.

"Ferret 1?", you remark...looking at him. You gingerly take his hand.

"The same!", he says. "Now, I'd really love to swap stories about our manly scars. But dying of an infection is not my dream. I'm gonna join the sunshine squadron over in Medical!"

You blink. Sunsh--

Without waiting for a response, the fellow walks off at a brisque pace. Huh.

Alright, well, you suppose seeing some faces is nice. But....looking around, it was clear that people weren't expecting the extra returns...

File: images (15).jpg (13 KB, 272x185)

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>>4857531
And you were just kind of standing around.

Hmmm...
---
>Ernst needs to hear the news! You should go brief him on the situation! Besides, the Doc is gonna be busy!

>Maybe just hang around and wait on the rest of your Flight?

>You do have a hole in your arm and part of your ear missing. Maybe Geldman should have a look...

>>4857534
>Maybe just hang around and wait on the rest of your Flight?

Wait for the ohers then report.

>>4857534
>Maybe just hang around and wait on the rest of your Flight?

>>4857539
>>4857566
>Maybe just hang around and wait on the rest of your Flight?

Well, you figure your injuries are not exactly life threatening, and you'd rather report as a full team to Ernst...

So you'll wait, you guess. Maybe you can be the first one to spot them!

Its a childish game, but maybe focusing can keep your mind off the stinging of your arm and ear....
---
>1d10

Rolled 6 (1d10)

>>4857737

2 mor?

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>4857737

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>4857850

File: images (7).jpg (7 KB, 300x168)

7 KB JPG

>>4857748
>>4857953
>>4857976
>4 success!

You don't have to wait long. Just as doubts start to creep into your mind, you catch movement in the distance. Its not much, given the moonlight being your only real help...but...

Two bombers! With escort! The hadn't been so far behind after all! Your guys!

You immediately sound the call.

"Hey! You guys!", you say, waving to some of the techs. They look at you with tired faces, not amused at the distraction.

"Yes?"

"We've got more planes coming in! Chimera with 2 bombers!", you say. "We've got to clear some room!"

The oldest one gets a sour look.

"Shit. They don't pay me enough for this. Alright, let's do this...I guess."

You nod as they scramble to work. Soon enough, some others are making their way to help clear the area as well. You knew bombers would need a good deal of space...it wouldn't be great timing at the best of times. Not to mention whatever damage Thor had taken...a lot by your first hand knowledge.

Turning back, you frown after a few moments. They were coming in towards the base wrong. Then you see the sparks of flame trailing from the bombers, and you realize the reality of the situation.

Oh...oh fuck.

Thor was gonna make it, if at all, by the thinnest of margins. The planes were losing altitude far faster than was reasonable. Double so for large craft such as their own.

And the runway wasn't ready yet...ok. think. Think...
---
>Shit! Someone get Control! Call them off or something! This is gonna be a disaster!

>Double Time! Get this runway clear damnit! Now, people, now! Push! Pull! Move it!

>Try and fire and signal flare to warn them off. Or two. Or three...

>write in
----
>Thats all folks! I will see you dudes on Friday! Thank you all for your contributions! As always, stay excellent! Let's hope Stanislaw doesn't keep falling apart bit by bit!

>>4858071
>Double Time! Get this runway clear damnit! Now, people, now! Push! Pull! Move it!
Signalling them to stop doesn't work if Thor is crashing.

>>4858071
>Double Time! Get this runway clear damnit! Now, people, now! Push! Pull! Move it!

>>4858071
>Double Time! Get this runway clear damnit! Now, people, now! Push! Pull! Move it!

>>4858071

>Double Time! Get this runway clear damnit! Now, people, now! Push! Pull! Move it!

I wonder how much this will play into the coming massive offensive given they have nearly relieved the siege. It's too bad winning the siege or not Konerland will probably lose the war.

>QM here. It is really hectic at my house atm, and I do need to handle something, so we may start later than usual. Wont be more than a few hours if that.

>>4858126
>>4858129
>>4858780
>>4859055
>>4865058
>Double Time! Get this runway clear damnit! Now, people, now! Push! Pull! Move it!

There isn't enough time! Not for anything fancy. And if they are damaged so badly...signal flares won't do much. You have to take charge!

You can try, at least.

"Double Time! Get this runway clear damnit! Now, people, now! Push! Pull! Move it! MOVE!", you shout loudly. Around you, the crewmen rush into it, and in the distance you hear Dmitri also bellowing something in his own tongue.

"We need this cleared!", you say, grabbing a large chunk of wood and pulling it away "Go! We have to clear it out!"

But can you inspire them enough to do it in time...?
---
>1d20!

Rolled 6 (1d20)

>>4865219

Rolled 12 (1d20)

>>4865219

1 more?

Rolled 15 (1d20)

>>4865219

File: 469515_1.png (228 KB, 630x630)

228 KB PNG

Rolled 8, 5, 7 = 20 (3d10)

...

>>4865270
rip thor o7

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>>4865224
>>4865253
>>4865261
>>4865264
>>4865270
>15 success!

"---pull!", you shout, gritting your teeth. The damaged shell of a Udet groans as your men work to move it. There had been no time for cranes, and with the broken wheels, it was hardly complying...

And then it moves! The fighter finally slides off as you and your helpers move it. All around you, the ground workers are working on overdrive. Perhaps inspired by your leadership!

Yes!

The presence of Dmitri certainly helps as well, and the fat man is angrily swinging q large wrench around, yelling curses at a group of mechs who are struggling.

And just in time too.

*ATTENTION!*, the speakers ring out. *HEAVILY DAMAGED PLANES MAKINH CRASH LANDING! MOVE AWAY! MOVE OFF THE STRIP!*

Looking up, you see a chunk of wood go crumbling from the wing of one of the bomber craft, throwing it dangerously off balance...but the pilot takes control again, and comes in for the landing.

With a loud screech and thud, the wheels under the craft buckle, as the large plane goes sliding on its belly like an oversized penguin of sorts. It's lone brother craft follows, managing to keep power a bit longer before its burning form skids further down the track. Its in terrifying shape, but you see the crew frantically begin to scramble out.

Then come your team! As they enter the lit runway, you spot the Chimera Flight sigil on their craft...and they have certainly seen better days. Braun looks like he has been through a shredder, and is missing most of his tail, and what looks to be a propeller. Not to mention the marks of gunfire elsewhere.

Luigi and Sergei are little better. The Aladanian's Garibaldi is outright on fire by the time he stops. And you hear his bellowing curses as he steps out of it, patting away an ember from his jacket.

Sergei's new plane, of which he had been so proud, is missing the better part of his bottom two wings. You really hope that Dmitri had some replacements...

But hey, they were all alive! You make your way over to them, as the excitement(temporarily), makes you forget the burning in your arm. Yeh!
---
"OOOOOW!"

"STANISLAW!", Luigi says, lifting you up in a manly embrace. "It was said that Foudre Flight faced you off! I must say to you, we would have come if we could!"

You cringe a bit, what with self proclaimed strongest man in aldani bear hugging you...and your arm. Yaaaay for friendship...yay.

"We had our own troubles", Sergei says, as he and Braun step up. "Your friend the Phantom. He is back in the air."

"Thor lost half their planes", Braun grimaces, as he dusts his glasses. He looks down and notices that they are crunched. "And in truth, I'm not sure the others are salvageable. The Frogs knew who had the big bombs. It got ugly."

"Speaking of...", Sergei remarks, nodding at your ear.
---
>Luigi...my arm..ow..buddy..

>You think I look bad, you should see Count Vlak. Idk how he isn't dead.

>Forget my ear. Have you seen my plane? My beautiful plane?!

>>4865343
>Luigi...my arm..ow..buddy..

>>4865343
>Luigi...my arm..ow..buddy..
and once we can breath
>Forget my ear. Have you seen my plane? My beautiful plane?!

File: mrbig-neck.jpg (15 KB, 227x262)

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>>4865352
>>4865364
>Luigi...my arm..ow..buddy..
>Forget my ear. Have you seen my plane? My beautiful plane?!

"Luigi...my arm..ow..buddy..", you mutter.

The big man blinks behind his shades, before lowering you. Ahhh, that's nice. You take a big breath as the pressure comes off of your arm. However, you are greeted with the sight of blood on Luigi's hairy chest. Yikes.

Then it hits you.

"Gaaah!", you say, turning back to look at where your beautiful, custom paint job, graceful machine of war is smoking like so much cordwood down the strip.

"Forget my ear!", you remark, downtrodden. "My beautiful plane!"

You hear Sergei scoff behind you.

"YOUR plane?", he asks. "How about mine! This was a test model! I'm not even sure if--"

"Peace", Braun says, placing a hand on Sergei's shoulder. "Given the circumstances, I'm sure the Motherland can send you another. Or barring that, maybe Dmitri can whip something up.."

Well that was all well and good you think. But your baby! You watch as some of the cannon ammo cooks off, blowing out the side of the gunners position.

"Uhhhhhh....", you say, dramatically falling to your knees. What a loss. You feel a strong hand clasp the top of your head, before it brings you to your feet.

"My Friend, Luigi must ask, was it Boucher who did this to your craft?", he asks, in sympathy. You nod.

"Yeh. Yeh it was", you sigh. "Granted, he wasn't much better off. And Alpha shot down one of his wingmen..."

Braun raises a brow.

"Dead?"

You shrug. There hadn't been some kind of dramatic fiery explosion, but the pilot would have been injured at least. No real way to tell to be quite honest.

"Hmph", the Captain says. "In any case, you'll have to put off on mourning your plane, Rook. Ernst is gonna want to hear the events from our mouths."

"And the others sir?", you ask. "The three vamps who made it are with Geldman. Ferret 1 too. Will he want them?"

Braun shakes his head.

"I'm sure they'll be debriefing in time. But we should be the first. And besides, I heard Count Vlak was in some kind of incident over the comms. That true?"

You flinch at the memory.

"Uh...yeh. Yeh he got shot. In the face", you say. Braun scratches his chin.

"Unfortunate. But he's alive. And so are you. Now then, let's go tell Ernst how his little surprise party went down..."

Your party heads off towards HQ, but as you walk along, you check over to where Thor 1 had made his landing. For the most part, the men seem fine. But one man sitting on a wing gives you a long look. You share a nod, before he returns to his thinking...
---
"--but Boucher escaped. Drats...", Ernst remarks, puffing on his smoke. "Still, he was never the primary target. The base was. And by all accounts you thoroughly wrecked it. That site is good as gone. Gentlemen, I believe we can proclaim this operation a success."

Braun scratches his cheek.

File: 050e707120b94c29b01502b36(...).png (1.3 MB, 1139x1172)

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>>4865456
"As I said though...", he starts. "We took more a few losses on this one. Even the planes that made it back, a lot of them will need serious repairs. Those that aren't totalled that is.

He casts a glance at you.

You sigh.

"One curious matter does need addressing", Ernst says, after a few moments of room wide gloom. "It appears that Crow Flight inserted themselves into this mission. I was informed shortly after you left range."

You nod.

"Well...yeh", you say. "They said Woodpecker couldn't come."

"Indisposed", Sergei adds. Ernst snorts.

" 'Indisposed'. Pft. If that's what you call being locked in their rooms for a few hours. Then sure", he says, amused.

"They did--"

"It appears that the Crows decided revenge for their departed leader was in order. They sabotaged Woodpecker, and took their flight plans. Most naughty, really. The word Court Martial came up from their own commander. Angey fellow. I talked him down", Ernst states.

Sergei shakes his head.

"Why? What does that get you?", he asks.

Ernst shrugs.

"Nothing. But it just so happens that Crow are the best at what they do. Even understrength. It was too late to recall them, and in this circumstance, a bit of a personal stake was helpful....call it a good deed. I don't do many."

He leans back, and Ingrid, who is looking rather off tilter herself(you imagine she's been on a caffeine fueled fret), draws a big red X over the location of the valley base. It was finally done.

But as you look over it, the room quites down again. Ernst raises a brow.

"We have concerns?"
---
>I mean you lost a good few people. Of course you have concerns!

>This will stop our offensive on Lothren, right? Had you actually done it?

>You HAD Boucher! He slipped through your fingers...

>>4865488
>write in
(also available)

>>4865488
>You HAD Boucher! He slipped through your fingers...

>>4865510
>You HAD Boucher! He slipped through your fingers...

You clinch your fist.

"I was this close", you say. "I was this close, and he slipped through my fingers.."

Braun puts a hand on your arm.

"Rook, we've seen your plane. You did what you could. We got the mission done. Like Ernst said, Boucher was always just a bonus on this flight", he states, sympathetically.

You nod, but...

"Yeh, yeh I know. But I think it would have been a nice boost for the finale coming up. Now we'll have to face him again..."

"Scared?", Ernst asks, with a sly smile.

Indignant, you cross your arms.

"No way", you boast.

"Than it seems I have overestimated your intelligence. Very sad", he responds.

You open your mouth, but he holds up a hand to stop you. He doused the smoke.

"Courage is good, Stanislaw. But if you aren't a LITTLE creeped out by the guy, or respect his skills, than you are crazy yourself, or dumb. Are you dumb?"

You redden.

"No"

"Crazy?"

"No"

"Alright then. Stanislaw is sane. The same of course cannot be said for the Black Lightning...I've been going over some recordings...sheesh."

Sergei snorts.

"An understatement. Stanislaw chatted with the man. The voice of madness. I confess, I am not sure how he holds a conversation with such a beast...", Sergei mouths, veering off.

"And to do so more than once...", Ernst adds, steepling his hands. "It does seem the Butcher enjoys your little talks."

Well, you weren't about to admit it in front of Ernst, but it was only half your charming yourself. The Itch definitely assisted you in some manner.

You wave him off.

"The guy is broken in the head sir. Call it luck, I suppose. Or my charisma", you say.

"Hmph...fairly enough. Who can understand the insane? Regardless, we have won a great victory tonight. It is my expectation that the Merovians will now move to contest us. In force. Its all come together rather neatly, If I can say so myself", Ernst states.

"Does that mean this will cancel Hoffman's assault?", Luigi asks. "This was an important goal!"

Ernst sighs.

"It should. At least, we should have a week. We simply have to hope that the enemy responds as we planned."

"...And if they don't?", Sergei asks.

Ernst loses his smile.

"Then a whole lot of our boys are going to die. In an attack that has every possibility of failure. Assuming these guns are everything Hoffman is saying they are...well, maybe only 90% of them would be butchered instead of 100%! Wouldn't that save time on paperwork?"

"We just have to trust Von Feldman can put him off", Braun says. "He's Air Marshal for more than just his flying skills. Old man has tricks of his own."

Ernst nods.

"He does. Though, as we know, politics can be slippery. With the offensive on the old supply routes, Hoffman might be able to push for quicker deployment. Better to lose half his forces, but storm Lothren, then wait and lose the chance. "

"But they can see we are winning now, right?", you ask. "We blew their HQ!"

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>>4865614
"You would hope", Ernst says. "Although you can never really tell. I'm privy to a good deal-this unit has its perks, but far from everything. There are some...less than genius level strategists running around upstairs. Hoffman as example 1."

Ahhh, fair enough, you guess.

"Now then...anything else?"
---
>Take the chance to come clean about the letter.

>Ask about these super artillery guns?

>Any news on the spy? You're curious what he will tell you compared to what Braun shared...

>...muh plane. Muh plane Ernst.

>write in

>>4865637
>Take the chance to come clean about the letter.

>gonna call it here for the night folks. Sorry for the choppy game today. Like I said things were hectic. See you tommorow and stay excellent!

>>4865637
>Take the chance to come clean about the letter.

>>4865637
>>Take the chance to come clean about the letter.

>>4865637
>Take the chance to come clean about the letter.

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>>4865648
>>4865780
>>4865804
>>4866010
>Take the chance to come clean about the letter.

It occurs to you that it might be a good time to tell Ernst about the letter. Having thought on it more, and with this spy business...that fake janitor had been a shocking breach of security. It made you a bit uneasy, taddling on a friend like this, but you kind of had to. Besides...Helena was unlikely to get into any real trouble.

"Uh, actually sir...", you start, a bit nervous. "There is...one other thing."

Ernst raises a brow, but gestures.

"And that would be", he asks, curious.

Alright, let's be honest!

"I recently received a letter from Helena Borman...", you start, and. notice Braun shift beside you.

Ernst clicks his tongue in annoyance.

"I wasn't informed. Someone at Mail dropped the ball I see. No matter, I'll have Ingrid-"

"There's more sir", you interrupt. "An invitation to some party was attached. Castle Zelger. Apparently we had been planned to attend. But Field Marshal Hoffman undercut us..."

Ernst scratches his chin in thought.

"...and the only one the Heiress intervened for was you. Curious, I'll say. I have heard of this little get together, actually. Von Feldman is meant to attend. I hadn't heard anything about us going, however..."

Sergei crosses his arms.

"No doubt. That cow of a commander is why. Everyone knows he is far too linked to that company for comfort. He likely poisoned old Dietrich against us. Bah!", he snaps.

Ernst taps the table, gently.

"Bormann is not a man easily used", Ernst says. "This matter of me not knowing about this letter...Mailing has some answering to do."

"On that note...sir.", you say, "In defense of mailing...."

You lay out to Ernst the whole bizarre encounter with the fake janitor, the unlocked room, and how you'd found the fancy letter in the fancy envelope. By the end, he has a mixed look of annoyance and amusement.

"Well...this is troubling, to say the least. Something is quite wrong when a civilian, if indeed this was, can simply waltz into a military base, in disguise, and place objects into the rooms of my teams. You do have the letter I hope?"

"...uhhh..."

"...."

"I kind of..um, kind of burnt it?", you mutter in embarssment.

"You bur--"

Braun steps up.

"Kind of my fault. I advised him that it would be wiser to torch it. At the time, it didn't seem he wanted to tell anyone else. Seemed a good option. What with Pappen snooping around...", the Captain explains.

Ernst lights a cigarette.

"Alright...well. You DID at least keep this fabled invitation? I hope?"

You nod.

"Yes sir. Its under my mattress, back in the barracks. Wrapped Inside a newspaper. I...thought it would be hidden best there..."

Ernst raises a brow.

"Were you actually planning on going?", he asks. The idea seems to strike him as amusing.
---
>....yes? I mean, it'd be rude to just refuse outright.

>Well, I hadn't really decided yet. It is awfully suspicious.

>Not really, no.

>write in

>>4866343
>....yes? I mean, it'd be rude to just refuse outright.

>>4866343
>Well, I hadn't really decided yet. It is awfully suspicious.
On one hand is a meeting with high society and on the other is a meeting with high society. You get me?

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>>4866343
>....yes? I mean, it'd be rude to just refuse outright.

Well, you actually had been thinking about going. Apart from the break, it would be nice to see Helena again. Not to mention meeting some of the rich and powerful in Konerland! Granted, you were not exactly an expert of fine Galas....

But you were not a bumping!

"....yes? I mean, it'd be rude to just refuse outright.", you say. Ernst nods with a little smile on his face. He puffs a smoke ring.

"And we wouldn't want to be improper would we?", he smirks. "Under-Lieutenant, I do believe we can make this work to our advantage."

The conspiratorial look on his face takes you aback for a second.

"Uh..meaning?"

He taps the table, and you can tell that he is working out some base plan. After a few seconds, he looks up. And smiles.

"Well, its clear that Mrs. Bormann is fond of you. And judging by the contents of the letter, I say we use this. She wants to parade you for her Uncle? Good. You'll do just that. But you'll do it for US."

You blink.

"I don't follow, sir?", you say. "Are you ordering me to go to the party?"

He chuckles.

"Well no. You can go if you want either way. But just got quite the naughty idea. I do believe the Air Marshal will want to hear it as soon as possible.

"...What's the plan sir?", you ask, cautiously. There was no telling what he cooked up in that head of his.

"For now? Only vagaries. I will work out the details. At the moment, we must focus on the big picture. That means completing Stage 3...the Decisive Battle. We do that or nothing else matters..."

You nod. But you also file away this latest intrigue in the back of your mind. You do wonder what your honesty has gotten you wrapped up in...

"To that end", he continues, "I will be launching coordinated harassment with our friends around the area. We must poke the Merovians into fury. Our window is more narrow than ever."

"Hah! We are glad to volunteer!", Luigi roars. He seems ready for more action.

Ernst waves him off.

"No. I need Chimera fresh and ready for the exact moment you are called. There is no telling when Merovia will make its move. But when they do, we cannot afford to miss that chance. I will work out a final plan with our neighboring formations. This is gonna need anyone we can shift, plus whatever Von Feldman can convince to assist", he says.

"There is the matter of our planes...", Sergei brings up. Ah yes, that. You flinch at the memory of your poor Udet.

"Yes. An issue. But we are not starved of birds, and besides your craft, more should be available. I don't believe you will die from flying a Udet, Sergei"

Sergei nods, but mutters unhappily.

"Now then. Dismissed. We have much to do and not much time to do it! Oh, and Stanislaw?"

"Sir?"

"You are bleeding on our carpet. Please see Geldman and stop doing so."

"Yes sir!", you say.

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>>4866448
Lol I missed this. Sorry. Forgot to check before posting.
>>4866466
By the time you reach the Docs offices, you notice an ambulance pulling out of the back at full tilt. You guess that Count Vlak's injuries(shockingly), were gonna need a real hospital. To be fair there was only so much someone could do here for something that messed up.

Good that you'd been more lucky.

Once inside, the nurse brings you back, and as you pass by some rooms, you notice Ferret 1 trying to work his destroyed finger. The smaller man gives you a wave, demonstrating the stump.

Well, at least he was in good spirits?

The Doc is near the back, wiping his bloody hands off in a basin. His face has a disturbed look on it. You guess that you had been correct. As you approach, he looks up, and gets a grim smile.

"Ah, you got shot again", he says simply.

"Uh, yeh doc. Yeh", you admit. "But hey, ladies love scars, right?"

He frowns.

"Some scars, I suppose. Forgive me for the glumness. Count Vlak's injuries were...extensive, to say the least. Come on then, let's see about you."

After you set down, and remove your shirt, he inspects your arm and ear. Poking gently at it, he nods.

"Clean shot. Once again, it would appear luck was on your side. This ear...I'm not sure i can salvage much of it. At least not of the bottom half..."

He hums as he works.
---
>Inquire after Count Vlak

>Probe his thoughts on the war.

>Try and ask if he knows about anyone who specializes in more...abstract fields of medical knowledge.

>>4866534
>Inquire after Count Vlak

>>4866575
>>4866575
>Inquire after Count Vlak

Hmm..best check on how Vampire was making things out. Not that you expected good news granted...

"So doc...", you start. "Count Vlak. Do you think he's gonna be able to fly again?"

For a few seconds, Geldman says nothing as he works on you. Then he sighs deeply, and wipes his hands.

"Honestly I do not know. The injury to his jaw was enormous. Very destructive, as I'm sure you saw. I cannot be sure, but the bullet seems to have penetrated below his ear-thankfully missed his brain or spinal cord-and then blew down his jawline. In truth, it easily could have been fatal. He is a strong man. If nothing else, he'll pull through...I think."

You nod. But the ghastly nature of the damage still makes you shiver a bit.

"That's good", you say. "We couldn't have gotten through that mission without him. Still, it'd be a damn shame if they never let him fly again."

Geldman starts to fumble in his desk.

"Hmph. Well, if it helps, he will be taken care of well. He's rich, for one. And leader of a Sturmwing flight. There's just nothing to be done for his face, unfortunately. He'll need speech therapy too. If it even helps...what with half his teeth and a fillet of face missing. To say nothing of the bone structure."

Yeh, that was gonna be rough. Unless he learned to talk out the side of his mouth, he might find it hard to be taken seriously...

"Still", Geldman says, dabbing at your ear with a cloth dauble. "If we find it frightening, one can only imagine how the enemy will feel. And he can say that he escaped with his life."

A thought occurs to you.

"Boucher got burnt to hell and back, but the Merovians still put him in a fighter again", you point out. "Any of these injuries stopping him from physically piloting?"

Geldman thinks on it, then shakes his head.

"No...not in and of themselves. I think its more of a mindset thing. But you have a point actually. With the war as it is, i'd not be shocked if he flies again. Now hold still..."

"Wha-OWOW!"
---
>1d10

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>4866687
Thanks for running this QM, sad that there aren't more players

2 more?

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>4866687

Rolled 2 (1d10)

>>4866801

Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>4866687

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>>4866790
>>4866801
>>4866895
>>4866933
>>4866935
>2 Success!

"Owow!", you mutter, gritting your teeth. But you manage to hold on without totally freaking out. "Doc what are you--ek!"

"Hold on...just gotta.."

"Ow!"

"Ahah! Alright!", he proclaims after a few minutes of careful work. The pain emanating from your ear is, if anything, deeper than it was before. But you also don't have any gushing blood dripping.

He then sets about working on your bullet wound, sewing and dabbing gently. Perhaps the ear was a blessing, as it occupies most of your thinking, in spite of the arm being the more serious wound. Soon enough, he is done.


"...and there you are", he says, wrapping a bandage around the wound. It lay white on your arm, a spot of blood here and there from the Doc's work.

"Thanks...Doc", you mumble, working your arm. A dull pain emanates from it, but like he said, it could have been far worse honestly. Could have struck bone, or rolled...all kinds of nasty things.

"And as for your ear....", he reaches for a polished mirror, handing it to you. Tentatively, you take it up, before angling your head a bit. It looks....

...not awful??

Of course, you would have preferred not losing ANY of your ear...but this was probably about as good as it was gonna get for you. The lobe was gone, although it looks like some of it had been seen back into the ear, go keep up vague appearances. A bit of cartilage that was missing from above that had not been fixed, leaving a nick. Overall, it wasn't as bad as you had feared.

Geldman clears his throat.

"I am not specifically a reconstructive surgeon, of course, but I hope this will suffice? There was no damage to the important bits, thank heaven, but I do apologize for the imperfect job..."

You wave him off.

"Nah, this is actually not bad!", you reply. "I'm starting to have more scars every day. What's a bit of ear, really?"

He nods.

"Good to hear it. Your arm should also be fine, assuming you don't start banging on it with a hammer. It will be damn sore, certainly, but it shouldn't overly affect your performance. Good thing to, with this big deployment in the works."

"I'm ready for it", you say, flexing your hand. "It's a bit surreal, to be honest. Feels like just yesterday I was helping lead cows around the farm."

"...and now you are fighting medically insane psychopaths. Yes, a change I imagine", he says with amusement.

"Now then, if that's all...."
----
You exit the med unit feeling...less than refreshed, but better than awful!

As the base greets you, a yawn emerges from your lips. It occurs to you that you haven't had a good sleep in too long. Not to mention the fact that this final stage could occur at any time...
---
>Finally you can have a good night's(early morning's more like), rest! Hurrah!

>There is no way you are having your bed smell like smoke and blood. Hit the showers first!

>Dmitri might be about. Maybe check in at the Hangar...?

>>4866995
>Dmitri might be about. Maybe check in at the Hangar...?

Muh plane

>>4866995
>Dmitri might be about. Maybe check in at the Hangar...?

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>>4867005
>>4867091
>Dmitri might be about. Maybe check in at the Hangar...?

You decide to make your way over to the Hangar. Hopefully the damage to your Udet wasn't as immense as it had seemed....but you had your doubts. The thing was an absolute mess the last time that you had spotted it.

With that in mind, you make your way across the zone. Only one way to find out...
---
As you enter the Hangar, you are greeted with what can only be described as a small graveyard of aircraft. A number of butchered machines that had made it back from the attack(and you use that loosely in many cases), lay on the inside. Some are missing wings or entire panels. Others very clearly were burnt out partially.....and even those that weren't were undergoing the tenous care of the techs here and there.

Oh no! Your old lady!

To your horror, the red and white craft that you've gotten used to flying, with its angel wings and all, is little more than a shadow of its former self. The burns were somewhat contained, but nothing can disguise the oil stains beneath the craft. Nor the warped state that some of the frame is in. To say nothing of those awful engines wounds you just now are seeing..

As you gaze on at the dead plane, you are jolted back to reality by a large hand slapping itself onto the back of your neck. Given that Luigi isn't here...

"Ahhh, Stanislaw!", Dmitri says. "It is very good you are here. Bad times need friends, Da?"

"Tell me straight, will she live, Dmitri?"

The heavy set man shakes his head.

"Ahh...that is beyond me. Your plane, Dmitri is honestly surprised it made it back. Speaks much of pilot, da? But the machine itself, damage too severe. Perhaps if only a little less...."

Your shoulders slump. You knew it was only a plane at the end of the day, but you'd gotten kind of attached. It had seen you through a lot!

Dmitri clicks his tongue.

"Look on brightest side", he starts. "Honestly you can say, 'This plane was never shot down! This, first bird of legendary Bloody Angel!"

He raises an arm dramatically, and you have to get a bit of a smile.

"Legendary? Hardly", you say. "But I appreciate the sentiment. What now?"

He shrugs.

"Now, Dmitri supposes we must find you new plane. Have time to paint up right! There are of course options..."

He takes you through them. Best to pick one you will fly at a moments notice...
---
>The Udet VII. The same as your favored first bird. You know it, you love it. Speed, agility, whole 9 meters.

>The TriUdet. A change, but maybe a helpful one. While not as fast as your old Udet it certainly brings a lot of maneuverability to the table...

>The Voss. Rival to the Udet. Rugged, reliable, and easy to fly.

>>4867122
>The Udet VII. The same as your favored first bird. You know it, you love it. Speed, agility, whole 9 meters.

>>4867122
>The Udet VII. The same as your favored first bird. You know it, you love it. Speed, agility, whole 9 meters.

>>4867122
>The Udet VII. The same as your favored first bird. You know it, you love it. Speed, agility, whole 9 meters.

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>>4867131
>>4867141
>>4867160
>The Udet VII. The same as your favored first bird. You know it, you love it. Speed, agility, whole 9 meters.

Not a terribly hard choice really. The Udet was hands down the plane you were most comfortable with. There was also the technical greatness of the machine. Speed kills, as they say. That's that.

"Stick with the Udet", you say. "I'm not about to change craft right before a big mission pops up. Too risky."

"Hm. So be it!", he remarks. "It shall be the Udet 7. Good plane. Good plane, pleasures to work with. Now, my young friend, it is up to you to get rest! You leave this business to Dmitri!"

You nod, suppressing a yawn.

"Yeh, sure thing Dmitri. Just get that paint on there right? I'd hate to fly out there naked!", you say.

"Da. You will be brilliant for the battle."

And with that business settled, you can finally head back to barracks! Hurrah!
---
As you settle down in your room, you give your arm a stretch like the Doc recommended. A wince of pain comes to the forefront, but apart from that...everything seems to be working right. Good too see. You'd have a puckered scar there, but it was only that.

You decide to catch some news before catch some Z's. Flipping the radio on as you start to strip out of your uniform, the jaunty voice begins to speak.

*--nd that concludes our segment on coffee substitutes. Remember, save a penny, save a life! In other news, we can now confirm that ferocious fighting has broken out in the vicinity of the Siege of Lothren. Our valiant forces continue to resist Merovian attacks, and Field Marshal Hoffman has again reassured us of his stunning plans to deliver a thunderous counterblow to the enemy!*

You snort as you remove your socks. The only 'thunderous' blows Hoffman would be delivering would be with weapons Helena's uncle gave him. And even then, it might not be enough to force a storm.

The voice carries on.

*In other news, a large step in diplomacy? Despite recent troubles between our nations, Lord Imamura Hanzo, cousin to the Shogun of Tsukiyo, is embarking on what has been called 'a trip of good will' to our country. Considering the aggressive policies displayed by his nation however, the Prince's trip has been met with outrage by the Strelkayan Embassy, who have made it abundantly clear that use of their railroads is not permitted. The Prince will therefore fly, landing first in the nation of Kolembe, before...*

Now THAT was likely to ruffle some feathers on the double headed eagle. If there was one thing likely to sting the pride of your eastern ally, it was inviting a royal of the Tsukiyo Empire for pleasant discussion. Granted, you could sort of understand why. It wasn't every day you watched your ally break bread with the nation that had so utterly humiliated you in the not so distant past.

And that was allegedly on the brink of joining the Allies at that.

*In response, Duke Michael Orlovovsky, had this heated response to say...*

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>>4867329
The radio switches to an accented, clearly upper class voice from the Strelkayan homeland.

It was also a very pissed off voice.

*First, I offer my greetings to the good folk of Konerland. Your homeland is full of brave fighters, and together we will achieve the rightful glory due us. However....*, he veers off, dramatically.

*This is frankly insulting!*, he snaps. *The Tsukiyoi are little more than a race of upstarts, aping their betters from here in Atlesia! Need I remind you, that their 'victory', in our conflict, was due to trickery?! For a nation that claims to uphold honor and a warrior heritage, they certainly get their hands dirty! It is my advice that Pact nations immediately and unilaterally cease all compromise with these inferior, depraved--*

The recording cuts out.

*Ahem. The continued broadcast would not be friendly to younger listeners, but the point is made. Despite his feelings, the Duke does not represent a universal opinion...for one, Baron Katz, Minister of Foreign Affairs, has stated that fundamentally, this poor relationship is due to "misunderstanding", and is allegedly the main actor behind the event. Reactions have also been mixed among our officials. Senator Thum and Duke Iselman have instead charged that it would be wiser to court Columbia, a statement that met with outrage from--*

You flick it off with a yawn. Politics was probably quite important, but it wasn't something that you understood in depth. Oh sure, you had an idea of how the Grand Republic was fundamentally run, given your liking for history. But it was way more complex when you tried to sit down and comprehend real issues.

Still, this news...
---
>This kind of nicety is ridiculous. Talking with Tsukiyo only estranges Strelkaya, and the Columbians are far better on the other side of the ocean. The last thing you need is them developing a vested interest in Atlesian politics. Enemy or no.

>To be honest, Tsukiyo was a bit impressive. When they beat Strelkaya, they had shocked the planet. And the USC was certainly better off fat and uninvolved. The last thing you needed was them anymore in bed with the enemy then they already were!

>>4867375
>To be honest, Tsukiyo was a bit impressive. When they beat Strelkaya, they had shocked the planet. And the USC was certainly better off fat and uninvolved. The last thing you needed was them anymore in bed with the enemy then they already were!

>>4867375
>To be honest, Tsukiyo was a bit impressive. When they beat Strelkaya, they had shocked the planet. And the USC was certainly better off fat and uninvolved. The last thing you needed was them anymore in bed with the enemy then they already were!

>>4867375
>This kind of nicety is ridiculous. Talking with Tsukiyo only estranges Strelkaya, and the Columbians are far better on the other side of the ocean. The last thing you need is them developing a vested interest in Atlesian politics. Enemy or no.

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>>4867396
>>4867401
>>4867457
>To be honest, Tsukiyo was a bit impressive. When they beat Strelkaya, they had shocked the planet. And the USC was certainly better off fat and uninvolved. The last thing you needed was them anymore in bed with the enemy then they already were!

You do have to admit, there was a lot that was impressive about Tsukiyo. Little yellow men or no, they had wiped the floor with a superpower. An aging one, granted, but nothing to sniff at. You wouldn't put too much stock into it, but maybe these talks would help. Strelkaya would just have to swallow their pride a bit for the greater good.


and as for the Columbians...

Well, that was a whole nother kettle of fish. Logically you have struggled to understand why they aren't on your side anyways. They are a Republic after all..in their own weird way. Two leaders? Equal power? Still maybe its best if they just stay out entirely. Fat and uninvolved.

With that internal discussion complete, you reach under the mattress and retrieve the invitation from Helena. Glancing over it, you gently place it on your dresser. Ernst would likely want to see it in person...

You had done the right thing, you hope.

You yawn. In any case...you were...sleepy..

And you dream.
---
>Fire. Smoke. Pain.

>Screaming. Banners. Fighting.

>Nope! No bullshit dream trauma! Fight it down!
---

>that's all folks. See you tommorow and stay excellent!

>>4867520
>Screaming. Banners. Fighting.

>>4867520
>Screaming. Banners. Fighting.
We need to seem shit and learn from it. Don't let it consume us.

>>4867520
>Fire. Smoke. Pain.

>>4867520
>Nope! No bullshit dream trauma! Fight it down!

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>>4867623
>>4867661
>>4867683
>>4868017
>Screaming. Banners. Fighting.

When you open your eyes, the air is filled with smoke and fire. The environment is such a sudden shift from your idyllic bedroom that jolts you for a second.

And all around you, men are screaming over the sound of gunfire is alive, tearing up the dirt about you as you stumble to your feet. You blink the dirt away, and stand groggy, upright. Above, a distant buzzing can be heard.

You're...in a trench? Around you, a number of wounded or shocked men are stumbling about, and a great Huzaran flag us fluttering on a small hill beside you. What in the world...

"Colonel! Colonel Krol!", a man yells, practically collapsing to his knees before you. His uniform is a mess, and a bloody bandage is wrapped about his head. He looks you over quickly.

"Are you alright sir? That artillery strike landed not far away! Sir?"

Colonel? What, was this guy--wait.

These uniforms...these weren't Konerlander at all! These were old Huzaran uniforms, from the royal army! And 'Colonel'...no way.

"Sir? Are you alright? The forward defenses are crumbling at last! The 22nd Uhlan are being deployed in the gap, and we've got militia behind...but the enemy is too many! If they break us here..Psowy is in danger! What do we do!"

It was starting to come together, and as you look at a pool of water nearby, it made sense. You were Dad! This was the Battle of Psowy, his last stand...that would mean the 'enemy' was Konerland.

This was one of the last days of an independent Huzara...

Nearby, soldiers are starting to limp into nearby trenches, many battered. Another thunderous barrage sounds off in the distance, and--

"TAKE COVER!"

'boom!BOOM! BOOM!'

The impact shakes the ground, and you see a number of men go flying into bits the next trench over....

A man grasping a battered telegraph set emerges from a side shaft, face grim.

"Sir!", he says, saluting. "An emergency signal from the 5th! Konerlander Tanks are forcing Gzez Bridge! He needs men!"

The soldier nearest to you collapses against the side of the trench, blanched.

"Oh Creator...it's over, isn't it? How.."

The men are looking to you.

Ok. Ok, think. You knew how this went. If you pieced together a couple of dads remarks and what you had read...
---
>We aren't done yet. If the invaders wants our country, they'll bleed for it! Gather who you can. We will smash them back! Raise the banners! To the breaches!

>Direct our remaining artillery at the bridge. And shore up these trenches! Your King needs you! Do not yield!

>>4868125
>Direct our remaining artillery at the bridge. And shore up these trenches! Your King needs you! Do not yield!

>>4868125
>We aren't done yet. If the invaders wants our country, they'll bleed for it! Gather who you can. We will smash them back! Raise the banners! To the breaches!

Tiebreaker?

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>4868195
>>4868215

File: poland-cavalry.jpg (106 KB, 800x383)

106 KB JPG

>>4868195
>>4868215
>We aren't done yet. If the invaders wants our country, they'll bleed for it! Gather who you can. We will smash them back! Raise the banners! To the breaches!

As you recall a vague memory of of some bloody charge, a feeling that you are not quite yourself overwhelms you. A feeling that you are half Dad and half You. It comes to you, and you climb a gnoll, by the big Huzaran flag.

"S-sir?!", someone asks.

You draw your pistol and wave it about.

"SOLIDERS OF HUZARA!", you shout at the top of your lungs. Wounded and panicking man stop in their tracks and look up at you. You can't stop now.

"The invaders are upon us! Yet all is not lost. You are Huzarans! You are soldiers, fighters, warriors! This battle is not over! This war...IS NOT OVER! You CAN WIN!"

But deep down, there is the awful feeling that you know you can't. A memory of the collapsing lines across the country shoots into your head. This battle...

"These Konerlanders think us beat! They think they are unbeatable! They are NOT unbeatable! This is OUR home! Fight for it! Throw them back! ARISE!"

"Yeh, you tell em Colonel!"
"For the King! For the King!"
"Death to the Republic!"

You carry on, riding this wave.

"Beyond that smog is the enemy. They have breached our defenses. Behind us is Psowy. There can be no more retreat. Soldiers of Huzara, men of the 3rd! Your country needs you!"

"YEH!"

You feel your body start to shed a tear down your dirt caked face. This could not all be for nothing. Huzara could not fall...

"We will break them! We will liberate our brothers! We will march to Rozenberg and defeat these tyrants!"

March to Rozenberg? Impossible. These men could barely march to the next trench. But they believed in you...

"Sergeant Ludociz!", you bark. A man with a trumpet in one hand salutes.

"SOUND THE ADVANCE! TO THE BREACHES! We will stop them cold, or die trying! Let there be no mistake!"

"Yes, Colonel!"

"Blaskowitz!", you shout at the man who had benefits working the telegraph. "Sound all nearby units. Concentrate the Counterattack at the breach. The enemy must not advance.!"

"It will be done!"

You knew that this plan would leave the 5th desperately out of order against the enemy machines...but you had no choice. If your center broke, nothing else mattered.

"Toootatoooo!"

Trumpet sounds begin to go off down the line as artillery fire rains overhead. You scramble back into the trench, and draw your trusty pistol....

'VREEEEEEEEE!'

'VREEEEEE!'

"FORWARDS! TO GLORY!", you shout, climbing over the walls. There was no way you were going to sit this out!

"KURWA!"
--
>1d10

Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>4868293

Rolled 5 (1d10)

>>4868293

1 mor?

Rolled 6 (1d10)

>>4868293

>>4868299
>>4868355
>>4868381
>5 success!

As your men clear out of the surrounding trenches, a feeling of uncertainty fills you. What if you are leading them to their deaths...?

But no, No! The spirit rises within you, and you feel this body harden. Konerland must be stopped here, the voice says. There can be no retreat!

Soon enough, the charge becomes a wave as men scramble forwards across the broken ground. Most are armed with bayoneted rifles. Others have shotguns.

A blur of brown catches your eye, and to your astonishment, a group of cavalrymen are thundering their way across the approaches. Their once vibrant uniforms are torn and dirtied, but their horses charge themselves into a lather. Sunlight glints from their wicked lances and shining swords.

And you have your trusty handgun!

And the enemy, as it happens, has MGs.

Its half a second after you break through the gloomy smog that you hear the awful sound of fully automatic gunfire.

'Tatatatatatata!'

Beside you, a man falls, clutching at his gut with a scream. However, you manage to lower yourself and keep moving. Behind you, there are far too many men to stop with hastily erected MGs. In the rubble of your forward defenses, the Konerlanders are shouting in their tongue in a mix of panic and shock.

'Tatatatatatata!'

A horse goes down, crushing its rider, and men die around you. Yet the Huzaran forces surge with an unstoppable force, letting our a fierce battle cry as the enemy lines near you.

'Bang! Bang!'

You fire at the enemy, and note with satisfaction as one of them collapses back behind the overturned carriage he had been poised on.

And then you are in.

You slide down the side of the trench, as your fellow soldiers storm it beside you. Stopping to draw your combat knife, you barely register a bit of movement.

A konerlander, his rifle jammed, is coming at you with a shovel. Around you, his fellows fight the shock of your assault.
---
>Shoot!

>Stab!

>Tackle!

>>4868407
>Stab!

Murderhobo intensifies.

>>4868407
>Stab!
After taking the trenches keep on moving and attacking more positions. Would not be a good idea to run into machine guns again tho.

File: R1-11A.jpg (88 KB, 720x486)

88 KB JPG

>>4868432
>>4868424
>Stab

You ready yourself as quick as you can. Your knife has a shorter reach, but its also way sharper....
---
>1d10!

Rolled 3 (1d10)

>>4868499

Rolled 10 (1d10)

>>4868499

Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>4868499

Rolled 8 (1d10)

>>4868499

Rolled 6 (1d10)

>>4868499

File: fleur_de_lys.gif (3 KB, 201x211)

3 KB GIF

Rolled 8, 7, 2 = 17 (3d10)

>>4868499

>>4868509
>>4868515
>>4868566
>>4868568
>>4868572
>>4868577
>10 auto fail!
>ow!
>Dream State Damaged!

As the Merovian swings his shovel, you barely manage to dodge the first blow. The blade of it sinks into the earthen side of the trench and the man curses loudly.

You realize you can't understand him.

"Nicht bewegen! Du verdammter Huzaraner!", he shouts. You shrug and lunge at him, knife in hand. The blade glints in the light and--

"Gaah!", you yell.

'Thud!'

Just in time, he dislodged his tool, and the flat of it strikes you in the shoulder, knocking you to the ground. He delivers a solid punt to your hand that sends the knife sprawling.

"Das ist für Zalben!", he yells, dropping on top of you, bringing his shovel head sheering straight down at your face.

He misses, barely. You shift your head to the left as the point digs into the bloody soil beneath, but he has you in almost a full mount. You flip the pistol in your hand, and swing it wildly from below.

"Get off!", you yell, a feeling of your fathers rage in your voice. "Off! Damnit!"

You miss your swings, or elswise thud innefectually on his side. He takes the shovel in hands and shoves the handle directly under your chin, pinning your head to the ground. The pressure is bad.


"Warum kapituliert ihr nicht!?!", he growls, pressing down harder. You are a big man man, but so is this soldier, and its all you can do to keep from blacking out...

'Bang!'

The soldier collapses into a heap with a jolt, the side of his head a red ruin. You spit out a bit of his blood as you stumble to your feet. You look over and see one of those fancy horsemen bearing a smoking pocket pistol. He nods at you.

Looking around, you see that the trenches here are buckling once more to your counterttack! The Invaders were clearly not expecting such a fierce counterblow so soon after their own attack! Your fatherly body glows, in pride.

You glance up as a flash of color goes falling down, and notice the Huzaran flag planted atop a pile of rubble that was once a blockade of logs and pipes.

As the last of the enemy surrender, a few of your soldiers let out ragged cheers.

But you knew this was only a local victory. To have any chance, you'd need to do something about the Republic's attack across the bridge. That was not technically in your purview, but the 5th had requested men...on the other hand, that feeling of hopelessness was welling up inside you again.

If you couldn't save Psowy...maybe you could hurt the Konerlanders as harshly as possible...

You catch Blaskowitz by the shoulder as he stumbles by, nursing a bullet wound in his shoulder.

"Colonel Krol?"
---
>...You are holding here. The center cannot fall again. The enemy is Sure to Counterattack when news reaches them..

>We cannot wait. I want a full push forwards in this zone. It is not enough to hold our lines. We must crush theirs!

>Leave a garrison to hold here, and make all haste to the bridge. You will take the enemy in the rear!

>>4868649
*konerlander swings his shovel

I'm too used to fighting frenchies lol

>>4868649
>Leave a garrison to hold here, and make all haste to the bridge. You will take the enemy in the rear!

>>4868649
>>Leave a garrison to hold here, and make all haste to the bridge. You will take the enemy in the rear!

File: dhdgthdthdhgdth.png (961 KB, 1600x795)

961 KB PNG

>>4868659
>>4868672
>>Leave a garrison to hold here, and make all haste to the bridge. You will take the enemy in the rear!

There is no time to lose!

"Blaskowitz, send it out: I want a holding force here. Everyone else needs to move out! We are taking the Konerlanders in the rear at the bridge! Hammer and anvil."

He wipes sweat from his brow, uncertain.

"Yes sir! Right...right away!"

You cannot blame him for his hesitation. This attack had taken a lot out of your already battered men. This win had not come cheap...But your options were very limited. Hmm...

You reload your revolver, and wave it above your head. This was all for crown and country. You couldn't give in to despair...Huzara needed you! And by the Creator, Casimir Krol would not be found wanting!

You taste your fathers iron determination as he steels himself.

"Move out!", you yell. "Move out! Company A, maintain..."
----
As your men make their way across the battlefield, the sights of the war don't get any better. The enemy forces have been pushing hard for a good while now...and while Psowy has held, you knew it was near the breaking point.

But Konerland would not win easily.

A rider comes trotting up to you, his hunting rifle sheathed for now. The young man, who bears a wispy yellow mustache, salutes messily. And there is a look of worry on his face.

Militia.

"Colonel Krol! I come from Captain Pzberg. The enemy tanks are about to smash into the outskirts of the city! His compliments on your victory, sir!"

You frown, but keep moving.

"Captain Pzberg? What about Colonel Novak? Where is he?"

The man grows grim.

"Dead. He caught a mortar shell. And Lieutenant Colonel Dabrowski had to be removed for injury, sir! The Captain is holding the line, but we have no way to hurt those damn monsters...except our artillery, but thats so slow, and the range..."

Bad news. And painful. Novak had been a good man. A bit pompous, but that windbag had been a friend.

Well, one more score to settle.

"I take it they haven't yet forced the bridge?", you ask. If they had...

The rider shakes his head.

"We've kept them back, but they done killed a lot of us sir. I dunno how much longer we got. When I rode out, some boys were already out of bullets...

And indeed, when you reach a crest, and catch sight of the bridge, its as bad as the rider has said. There are about a dozen Konerlander machines hammering the ragged defenders. You also notice a gathering of infantry about the tanks, no doubt on hand for any breach...

Beside you, Blaskowitz frowns.

"How you wanna handle this, sir?"
----
>Those tanks are slow. If we can rush them, we have the advantage...just gotta kill the escorts. Boldness had already carried you so far...

>Order bring up any explosives you can. TNT, mines, etc. You'll blow the bridge itself! Maybe lure them up too...

>engage at a distance. You can't risk your men anymore. And you don't have proper AT gear on hand. Unless you count some crowbars and dynamite..

>>4868769
>rder bring up any explosives you can. TNT, mines, etc. You'll blow the bridge itself! Maybe lure them up too...

>>4868871
>bring up any explosives you can. TNT, mines, etc. You'll blow the bridge itself! Maybe lure them up too..

"Blaskowitz...", you mutter.

"Sir?"

"I want every explosive we can get our hands on. We are going to blow that bridge. We can't hold it forever, so we may as well deny it to the enemy."

"Uh..yes sir! With respect, what about the tanks? And the enemy troops? They are bound to see us sir!"

A corpse grin marks your face.

"We are going to run a distraction. I want you to dispatch runners and...."

The plan takes root in your Father/Stanislaw mind, and your eyes go wide. Had this actually worked?
---
>1d10!

Rolled 2 (1d10)

>>4868878

2 mor?

Rolled 2 (1d10)

>>4868878

Rolled 2 (1d10)

>>4868878

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>4869014

File: lBpivY2.png (540 KB, 1163x738)

540 KB PNG

Rolled 9, 1, 1 = 11 (3d10)

>>4869097

File: download (10).jpg (8 KB, 229x220)

8 KB JPG

>>4869004
>>4869053
>>4869095
>>4869097
>>4869101
>2 success!
>1,1 Enemy Critical!
>Dream State: Ended

At first, it all goes according to plan.

The bridge defenders, feigning panic, break and run from their positions. Desperate for victory, and surprised at the sudden speed with which they have achieved it, the Konerlanders begin their triumphant advance.

Onto the bridge. Which, thanks to their glowing mood, they only lay attention to the top of. They never suspect that your men have planted charges on the supports. And you count it down in your head. 3. 2. 1.

"NOW!", you shout.

'BOOM!'

The bombs detonate, and one by one the support struts are blown. The bridge begins to buckle in on itself, and the panicked shouts of the invaders ring our sharply in your ears. More than half the tanks, and some of the infantry go tumbling into the waters.

And now, you attack.

Your men charge down the rise, guns blazing at the disorganized foemen. Some fall, but others keep up the fight. Still, their tanks are being overwhelmed. One by one, the ungainly machines are clambered upon and popped open, their crews--

Then something goes wrong. The elation Dad feels fades, and you hear a series of deep thumps in the horizon.

"ARTILLERY!", Someone shouts. Your men scramble for cover, as the remaining Konerlanders try the same.

"NEIN!", one of them shouts madly. "WIR SIND IMMER NOCH HIER!"

But in the corner of your eye, you notice that Blaskowitz has been wounded. Bleeding from the leg, the man is struggling to stand, with only seconds to spare...

You don't hesitate. With a lunge, you toss Blaskowitz behind a pile of rubble, just as the artillery starts to land...

"COLONEL NOOOO!"

'boom'
'Boom!'
'BOOM!'

Then a shell kills you.
----
"GAAAAH!", you scream, falling off the side of the bed with a loud thump. You take half your desk with you, as a pile of your things comes crashing down.

Recovering yourself, you feel an overwhelming urge to vomit....
---
>1d10!

Rolled 1 (1d10)

>>4869161

>so I'm gonna head to bed, and I'll get the last post of this session in tommorow once the rolls get in. Stay excellent!

Rolled 6 (1d10)

>>4869161

Rolled 1 (1d10)

>>4869161

>>4869747
>>4869214
>Crit on not vomiting

LMAO

>>4869905
So this is where our 1's been hiding.

>>4869905
stanislaw krol the iron stomach

I am honestly not sure how to approach a crit in not vomiting. In any case...

File: bcb089e7048940bf471982ade(...).jpg (8 KB, 236x151)

8 KB JPG

>>4869437
>>4869747
>>4869214
>1,1 Critical success....???
>Ability Gained: My Mind is my Own

You nearly start heaving your guts up, as the full impact of the dream starts to hit you. You'd killed men in Konerlander uniforms and that wasn't easy. Granted, you had been under Dad's influence, after a point. Your own personality had been more of a vague shadow. But still...

The experience made you nearly ill. You were a swirl of emotions right now, with some of the remnants of the dream hanging about your mind. Your fellow soldiers dying, your fellow Huzarans killing your...your allies.

This had been more than a dream.

You had felt your father's convictions, in such a bizarre way. He had known, you realize now, that in those dying days there was no hope of winning. Not truly. It was so weird, seeing the man who could put the fear of the Creator into a brown bear be so internally vulnerable.

Losing the war had been almost like dying for him a little bit....

But you shake out of it. No. That was dad. You respected the man, perhaps even more so now, but your mind was your own. You were you. Your head wasn't the Phantom's plaything. It wasn't Boucher's.

And it wasn't Dad's to haunt.

And you feel a calming, almost gentle rubbing inside your head. The illness starts to dissipate as you focus on that thought, a feeling of relief spreading withing your head and chest.

It was gone.

Collapsing back onto your bed, you stared up at the ceiling. You really had come far.

But knowing that Ernst's Decisive Battle was nearing....you had a lot of things in your mind. Certainly.

But your biggest fixation..
---
>Your friends. You had felt Boucher's trauma, if only in abstract. Your greatest fear right now is losing Chimera Flight. That would be...best not to dwell on it.

>The Itch. Call it a blessing if you want, but you hadn't asked for this stuff. And you aren't sure its exactly...healthy. not that you have any idea what it is.

>This political bullshit from Ernst. You hope you'd done the right thing with the letter issue. But you were a soldier, and the last thing you needed was to fall down the rabbit hole of intrigue...
----
>AND THAT'S ALL TILL FRIDAY!
----

>My Mind is My Own: Stanislaw has show empathy to enemies and opponents, but emerged stronger for his convictions. His will is strong. You may now reroll a single Itch check per day.
>be warned, power has its price. Should this second check be failed, you will suffer for it...

>>4870471
>Your friends. You had felt Boucher's trauma, if only in abstract. Your greatest fear right now is losing Chimera Flight. That would be...best not to dwell on it.
Our dad lost so many friends for a hollow victory. Hopefully we can achieve something Boucher hasn't: Saving our friends.

>>4870471
>>4870490
Also forgot to post: STAY EXCELLENT!!

>>4870471
>The Itch. Call it a blessing if you want, but you hadn't asked for this stuff. And you aren't sure its exactly...healthy. not that you have any idea what it is.


>>4870494
...and party on dudes!

>>4870471
>The Itch. Call it a blessing if you want, but you hadn't asked for this stuff. And you aren't sure its exactly...healthy. not that you have any idea what it is.