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Tank Witches Quest 2: North Ifrike

Tank Witches Quest Interactive Game Witches Magic Many explosions Martians

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NoblePlatoon #21 Posted Jul 05 2012 - 18:46

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Continue to lunch....or is Amanda lunch?? Damn, my frontal lobes.

Baron_de_Pencier #22 Posted Jul 05 2012 - 18:54

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View PostNoblePlatoon, on Jul 05 2012 - 18:46, said:

Continue to lunch....or is Amanda lunch?? Damn, my frontal lobes.

While Amadea is attractive in a sunburnt, skinny sort of way, standard military practices generally frown upon the behaviours you are suggesting, especially in public places.

That said, she'd probably be tastier than a lunch of canned beans, Vespuccian Spam and vitamin tablets.

CURSE YOUR DIRTY MIND, SIR.

NoblePlatoon #23 Posted Jul 06 2012 - 19:35

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So....how was lunch?

Baron_de_Pencier #24 Posted Jul 06 2012 - 21:36

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View PostNoblePlatoon, on Jul 06 2012 - 19:35, said:

So....how was lunch?

I was expecting more people to post. Guess not!


You and Guillet enter the mess hall. Most of the other Witches from the 2nd and 3rd are already here, clustered around one large table. When your entire combat unit is less than 10 people and everyone is a ranking officer of some kind or another, eating arrangements are simplified. Nodding greetings to various people, you grab a bowl of beefy soup and beans, as well as several vitamin pills, from Sottotenente Pascucci of the 3rd, relegated to temporary serving duty by virtue of being the lowest-ranking soldier in both Armoured Witch brigades.

"Thank you, Loisia", you say, giving her an encouraging smile.

She nods back, obviously a little uncomfortable with being on first-name terms with a colonel. Also, von Luck has told you that her Gaullian, Germanian and Albionnic aren't very good. The Witches speak a weird pidgin mix of the three languages, with the balance of languages varying from person to person depending on comfort level.

You take a seat at one end of the long table, giving a polite hello to everyone. Down at the other end of the table, Oberst Von Luck gives you a nod, occupied with a handful of maps that she is marking up with coloured pencils. You take a minute to survey the assembled crowd,m eating heaping spoonfuls of the slightly-too-salty stew. Everyone's here except Piron. Major Leigh grins at you cheerily from your right side.

"Feeling awake and refreshed, Colonel?"

You fix her with a reproachful look.

"Maybe a little bruised, Geraldine. I hope you realize I could have you charged with assaulting a superior officer."

Slightly further down the table, du Vigier and Bergonzoli look up from their private conversation. The fiery Gaullian laughs slyly, while her Oenotrian compatriot just smirks.

"Colonel de Gaulle, engaged in illicit activities? Oh, this is delicious," purrs Bergonzoli, "who would have thought that solid, professional de Gaulle had a wild side."

You're about to say something harsh and officerial, but Lieutnant Latapie beats you to it, not even looking up from the battered volume of The Art of War you lent her.

"You're one to complain about illicit activities, Annibable. Half the camp heard you going at it this morning."

Bergonzoli and du Vigier turn on her. Then Sergeant-Major Radley-Walters leans in. You breathe a sigh of relief- Sydney is one of the most gregarious, motherly people you've ever met, and if anyone can end this argument, it's her. She clears her throat, ever so slightly.

"On that subject- Suzette, I never took you for a screamer."

du Vigier's jaw drops. There is dead silence at the table, save for the sound of Major Miles, the 3rd's second officer, snorting water out of her nose. Bergonzoli snorts. Then suddenly everyone in the 2nd is laughing, save du Vigier. At the other end of the table, Guillet is smiling somewhat uncomfortably, von Luck has cocked a single eyebrow, Miles is giggling uproariously, and Pascucci has completely missed the joke.

Slwoly the laughter dies down. du Vigier looks a little miffed, but you know it takes more than a few off-colour jokes to wound her pride. Leigh looks over at you, somewhat bemused.

"Are they always like this?"

Radley-Walters cuts you off, again.

"The thing you need to remember, Major Leigh, is that for all we bicker and fight, we're still basically family. We've all got each other's backs. And we're always ready to back each other up."

You open your mouth to agree with her, when you are interrupted yet again.

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-

Latapie looks up.

"Am I the only one who's hearing that?"

You shake your head.

"Nope. It sounds almost like an airplane..."

-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKRAKOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

The tent shakes as a huge shockwave rolls over it. As the noise recedes into the distance, you hear furious swearing outside. Into the shocked silence storm Karlotta Maybach, Louis Renault and a somewhat dishevelled-looking Piron, wearing her Striker and wildly hefting her 2-pounder. She laughs triumphally, and you see that something has partially burned off her eyebrows.

"Fuck de shit de merde", she yells. "It was a verdammt Martian after all! I knew it!"

Without a word, everyone piles out of the tent. The camp is in an uproar, with soldiers everywhere bustling to their active posts. You can see the Martian- there's just one- high off to the south. From this distance, it's just an angular black dot. But it appears to be making a wide, banking turn. It's coming around for another pass. Oberst von Luck catches your eye.

"Colonel? If you'll allow me, Panzercommandant."

Von Luck's high-powered telepathy spell activates, and you feel the touch of her mind against yours.

{Colonel, what's the plan? I defer to you.}
  • Determine what Piron knows
  • Get everyone equipped, and dispersed throughout the camp
  • Get everyone equipped, and keep them together
  • Split the brigades
  • Coordinate with base personnel- you need to keep Generals Rommel and O'Creagh safe


NoblePlatoon #25 Posted Jul 06 2012 - 22:29

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I figure we know what Piron knows...Martians.
Against one Martian, keeping generals safe is not the priority...not that I ever cared about generals, anyway.
Being new to this game, I am not sure what is the best strategy to fight Martians, so I am going to say...

Get everyone equipped, and dispersed throughout the camp

Since they can communicate telepathically, no need to be together and all get killed in one shot.

TheRonmasteh #26 Posted Jul 06 2012 - 22:41

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Equipped and Dispersed, please.

Baron_de_Pencier #27 Posted Jul 07 2012 - 00:43

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Quote

I figure we know what Piron knows...Martians.
Against one Martian, keeping generals safe is not the priority...not that I ever cared about generals, anyway.
Being new to this game, I am not sure what is the best strategy to fight Martians, so I am going to say...

Get everyone equipped, and dispersed throughout the camp

Since they can communicate telepathically, no need to be together and all get killed in one shot.

Quote

Equipped and Dispersed, please.

All Witches have basic telepathic and clairvoyant abilities, but they require too much concentration and mental focus to be reliably used in combat situations. Von Luck's unique magical ability is that she is capable of stable, extremely-long distance telepathy at any time- it's one of the reasons she rose to a command rank in the Allied arcane forces. Most witches use the radio systems built into their Strikers, which are controlled via telepathy and provide much easier communications.

You signal your intentions to von Luck, and she nods.

"2nd and 3rd Armoured Witches! Listen up," you yell, putting as much power into your voice as you can. "We've got a lone Martian to take down! It seems to move pretty quickly, so I'm splitting us up. Everyone, take one of the main anti-air emplacements! Get down to the depot," here you nod at Maybach and Renault, who rush off, "And get suited up! Maintain constant radio contact! Understood!"

There is a chorus of acknowledgements and everyone rushes off, a few of the Witches splitting off-they're the ones who keep their Strikers in places other than the engineering depot.  All around you, there is a growing chorus of flak cannon fire as people man the guns and get to their air-raid posts. You hear a rising scream as the Martian approaches, but this time you're ready for it.

"Sydney! A moment of your time!"

The Laurentian, having heard the order before, grabs you by the waist and shouts "Strong and Free!" You blink as your vision fizzles away, then comes back. Radley-Walters' ability is to accelerate a small bubble of time about herself. As long as you're in skin contact, time moves at a crawl for everyone except you. You watch the Martian lazily fly overhead. It's a narrow dart of black material, with two thin delta wings at the rear, a vertical tail, and what looks to be some sort of rotating disc on the tip of its nose. Even with the temporal difference, the noise of its passing is still painfully loud. As you watch, three narrow lines of red light lance out from its tail, and hit an AA emplacement on the other side of camp. It's firing its heat-rays, but it's so loud no one has noticed that it's actually hitting ground targets!

You look back over your shoulder at Radley-Walters. She's breathing deeply and shaking a little, but the time spell is holding.

"Can you get me to the depot? I'd like to get in radio contact as soon as possible."

She just nods, then unceremoniously puts you in a fireman's carry and takes off. After a bumpy, somewhat disorientating journey through a camp frozen in time, she arrives at the depot and throws you to the floor, dissipating the time spell. In an instant, Louis Renault has yanked you onto your feet and bodily deposited you in your G1 R Striker.

"Right," he says, moustache twitching, "I've rebuild the gunshield again so it should be lighter, and I've adjusted the tension of the torsion bars in the suspension to give you a smoother ride. I'd ask that you try and take at least one direct hit from the Martian on your shields so I can test the stability of the internals when dispersing arcane charge. And this time try not to throw the gun around like it's a brick. My Striker has gun stabilizing gyroscopes for a reason. I would kindly ask that you try not to damage them."

Without a word from you, the histrionic Gaulian engineer activates your Striker and pushes you out of the depot, into the oncoming path of the other Witches who have come to get their gear. Dieu, but Renault is a pain to deal with. He's a truly excellent engineer, but other than that he's kind of an asshole.

You make your way to a nearby emplacement, climbing the dune and nodding tersely to the men already manning the gun there. They're having troubly getting the 88mm flak gun spun around quickly enough to even begin to lead the Martian- it's just going too fast. Then, over the radio, you hear Bergonzoli's voice;

"Barba Elletrica!"

A bolt of lightning rises from the camp and slices into the Martian as it's in the middle of its fifth pass. It tumbles in the air, decelerating rapidly, but then rights itself. With a thunderous screech  it accelerates even faster. Even travelling away from the camp, the shock of its passing is painfully, uncomfortably loud. Bergonzoli swears in Oenotrian.

You need a plan to bring this down.

Here's where I open it up to you guys. Got any ideas on how to slow it down? If you want to know anything about the armaments and magical abilities of the witches under your command, just ask away. Also, the Martian is based off theXF-84H Thunderscreech, one of the loudest and fastest propellor aircraft ever built.

The_Dutch_Oven #28 Posted Jul 07 2012 - 01:00

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And this is where the cheese comes in.




NoblePlatoon #29 Posted Jul 07 2012 - 01:16

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Since it is a propeller aircraft, do any of the witches have an ability to create a vacuum? Without air, it could not fly.

Baron_de_Pencier #30 Posted Jul 07 2012 - 01:34

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View PostThe_Dutch_Oven, on Jul 07 2012 - 01:00, said:

And this is where the cheese comes in.


http://www.youtube.c...h?v=uM_M1ct554U

AAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAAAAAA! OH GOD IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW!

View PostNoblePlatoon, on Jul 07 2012 - 01:16, said:

Since it is a propeller aircraft, do any of the witches have an ability to create a vacuum? Without air, it could not fly.

The Martian isn't actually a propellor aircraft- all unique Martian units are designed after real-life experimental aircraft or air vehicles. It's modelled after the Thunderscreech 'cause it's really small, really fast and really loud. Martian air units can fly in a vacuum.

Now, as for Witch abilities...

2nd Armoured Witches:
De Gaulle can deflect enemy attacks and reflect projectile attacks against her.
Leigh can cut through solid objects with her telekinesis
Latapie can generate invincible spherical force fields around herself, although they don't last very long and she can't move while casting
du Vigier has limited pyrokinesis and can use explosions of magic to propel herself at high speeds
Piron can generate illusions, normally illusory duplicates of herself
Radley-Walters can accelerate time
Bergonzoli can control and generate lightning for short periods of time

3rd Armoured Witches:
Von Luck has area telepathy
Guillet can throw explosive spheres of arcane energy (think unlimited magic satchel charges)
Miles can generate and indefinitely sustain impenetrable shielding, but it only covers her forward quarter (IE a 90 degree cone in front of her)
Pascucci can give herself temporary invincibility from all injury- when she deactivates the spell, she suffers the cumulative total of all damage sustained while it was active.

Any ideas?

NoblePlatoon #31 Posted Jul 07 2012 - 02:18

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Clearly, lightning by Bergonzoli did not work.

Have Radley-Walters accelerate time while in physical contact with Leigh, and then Leigh can cut through the aircraft's wings and tail to destroy it.

Baron_de_Pencier #32 Posted Jul 07 2012 - 04:41

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View PostNoblePlatoon, on Jul 07 2012 - 02:18, said:

Clearly, lightning by Bergonzoli did not work.

Have Radley-Walters accelerate time while in physical contact with Leigh, and then Leigh can cut through the aircraft's wings and tail to destroy it.

You consider making use of Radley-Walter's temporal powers yet again, if only to negate the Martian's speed advantage. Leigh would almost certainly be able to destroy its core, but there's one problem... how to get close enough? In Gaule, you took down a Nouvroi-class Martian while it was airborne using du Vigier and Latapie's powers combined. The Nouvroi, however, was about a hundred meters long. This Martian is about a tenth that. If you had access to the services of an Airborne Witch, this thing would be easy to defeat, but the nearest Airborne Squadron is on the other side of the Mediterranean.

Bergonzoli's lightning might work, but she'd need to hit the Martian longer- you've seen her disable Martian air vehicles with ease, although they were low-level ground-attack saucers.

Final_Spark #33 Posted Jul 07 2012 - 08:21

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Tack on du Vigier to get them closer with a boom?

Baron_de_Pencier #34 Posted Jul 07 2012 - 23:21

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View PostCadyshack, on Jul 07 2012 - 08:21, said:

Tack on du Vigier to get them closer with a boom?

You relay you instructions to du Vigier, Radley-Walters, and Leigh. du Vigier mutters something about just being a shuttle services for Tank Witches who want to fly, but Leigh takes over and they cut to another frequency to get things planned. It takes two more passes from the Martian before they're ready. By this time, everyone in the camp is alerted and manning a gun of some kind, so each pass is accompanied by a rolling wave of gunnery. A few stray shots seem to actually ding the dart-shaped Martian, but it remains aloft, firing doggedly away with its puny heat-rays. Now there's a puzzler. Barring their spidery Infiltrator-type units, the Martians generally favour inordinately heavy firepower. Hell, even the Martian Constructors, their hand-shaped support vehicles, pack heat rays roughly equivalent to a largeish howitzer. Why is it that this Martian is so pathetically underarmed? It could have something to do with the sound- the piercing scream of its passing is doing something terrible to your inner ear, and you've been hearing reports that people are suffering crippling nausea all across the camp. There is something off about this whole situation. This just doesn't feel like ordinary Martian tactics.

The screaming air unit comes around for a final pass. You hear a short, sharp report from the far edge of camp, and a gray blur crosses the Martian's path. It tumbles out of the air, the shriek becoming a broken mechanical choking noise as it tumbles out of the air. Heading directly towards you.

"Oh, merde! Get down!"

You throw yourself to the floor along with the rest of the AA crew as the crippled Martian strikes the 88mm directly above your head, spraying you with shrapnel. With a dull whoomp, it buries itself in the sand past you. You stagger to your feet, fingers white on the grips of your 75mm, and, without bothering to really aim, begin to fire into the center of the cloud of sand. No way of knowing if the thing's disabled or not. Sometimes Martians will simply deactivate for a few seconds after suffering heavy impacts, only to reactivate at full strength whenever you least expect it.

You feel the gun-stabilizers in your APX cannon take hold, and you momentarily lose your balance as your torsion-bar suspensions compensates for the recoil. Unlike the mortar-like weapons on your old B1 bis Striker, this gun practically fires itself. You just have to hold down the trigger and point it in the right direction, and it basically fires itself. The rest of the emplacement is firing with you, the men emptying their sidearms and rifles into the sand and smoke. People start to run out of ammunition, though, and the fire tapers away. Von Luck's voice crackles in your ears.

"Rather a direct approach to anti-air combat, Colonel. Did it work?"

"Let's wait and see, frau Oberst."

The smoke clears, leaving behind the smoking, shattered remains of the Martian. Despite the damage from the crash and the numerous bullet holes, it's plainly obvious that Leigh took the time to chop the cylindrical machine like a carrot, slicing it in a half-dozen places. One of the soldiers whistles softly, nonchalantly lighting up a cigarette.

"Major Leigh did that, Colonel de Gaulle? With a croquet mallet?", he says in Germanian.

"A polo stick," you respond in the same language, knowing that your accent isn't great, "Leigh's apparently somewhat of a horse fan."

He takes a deep drag before turning to the ruin of the gun and clucking mournfully.

"You crazy Witches... hell, I know we'd all be terrified of you if you weren't so damn useful."

"And attractive," someone mutters in Oenotrian. You snort, rolling your eyes. Still, judging by the state of their gear and their attitudes these men are all grizzled veterans, so...

Something happens on the horizon. One- no, two- three- eight- dozens upon dozens of vertical columns of red light rise from the western desert, and slowly, inevitably, arc towards the base. The realization hits you- you just shot down an artillery spotter.

"INCOMING!" you scream into your radio, befoe grabbing the nearest AA gunner and pulling him close.

"Everyone! Close to me! I'll keep us shielded!"

These men have served with Witches before. Without a word, they pile in close. Knowing that you only have scant seconds to prepare, you collapse your cannon, then telepathically transfer all of your Striker's power from its engines to its shielding. You still haven't tested the new arcane power system, but you need all the energy you can get. As the air around you sears red, you shout...

"LA GRANDEUR!"

...

After a few very loud seconds, you and the artillerymen get to your feet.

"Everyone in one piece?" you say, struggling to keep the shudder out of your voice. You're fairly sure that you didn't take a direct hit, but the sheer power behind the volley of fire that just hit the camp took a lot out of your shields. There is a chorus of assents.

You gaze down into the fiery inferno that was the camp. A single volley did this much? There are fires everywhere, whole rows of tents and Quonset huts reduced to pitted craters. The brunt of the attack seems to have been directed towards the center of the camp- you can see fires rising off the depot, the command center, the small field hospital, and a dozen other places. Your ear is filled with casualty reports and requests for aid. The Germanian artilleryman cocks an eyebrow at you.

"Where do you want us, Colonel?"
  • Follow me to the command center!
  • We need to get to the hospital! They could use all the help they can get!
  • Get to the Depot! If we lose those Striker components and the stored weapons, we lose the Witches!
  • Let's get these fires out!
  • Stay here! I know these people need our help but there could be more Martians coming at any moment!
Subsequent Martian engagements will be less airborne. As much as creative use of magic is nice, sometimes you just need some grit and a lot of firepower. Also, I need a name for our intrepid Germanian gunner?

Edited by Baron_de_Pencier, Jul 07 2012 - 23:21.


NoblePlatoon #35 Posted Jul 08 2012 - 02:46

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I always enjoyed running into burning buildings, personally. So...

Let's get these fires out!

Final_Spark #36 Posted Jul 08 2012 - 19:30

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Fires are bad, especially around live ammo...and your stuff...

Baron_de_Pencier #37 Posted Jul 08 2012 - 22:43

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View PostNoblePlatoon, on Jul 08 2012 - 02:46, said:

I always enjoyed running into burning buildings, personally. So...

Let's get these fires out!

View PostCadyshack, on Jul 08 2012 - 19:30, said:

Fires are bad, especially around live ammo...and your stuff...

"Let's get those fires out, gentlemen!"

"Yes ma'am!"

You leave your 75mm resting against the sandbags. The men start pulling out the small first aid packs cached, as per standard operating procedure, all about the emplacement. With the supplies distributed, you roll down the hill, the men scrambling after you. This area of camp is relatively untouched, being mostly barrack tents and supply huts for nonessential goods. The fuel and ammunition supplies are fairly well removed from camp, but that doesn't mean there aren't flammable things in among the tents. Over to your left, the fire reaches a row of Nissen huts- containing medical supplies and nonperishables, if you recall correctly. There is a shout of panic, a coughing concussion, and one of them collapses, its end torn apart by an explosion.

"Go!"

You hustle towards the collapsed hut, uncomfortably aware that you're heading closer and closer to the fire. Several of the men have grabbed extinguishers or buckets of sand, but you don't know how well they'll work. The duckboards that pass as roadways in the camp are all wood, as are the poles for the tents. There's much more fuel for this fire then you'd think.

"What the hell was that explosion?"

The Germanian gunner shrugs, keeping pace with you.

"Some idiot probably left unsecured grenades or explosive ammo in his tent. With this much heat, stuff would cook off in an instant.", he says prophetically, an instant before a stray bullet pings off your striker and buries itself in the sand. You've reached the hut, in the middle of a long line of similar huts. It's half-collapsed, the wooden wall at one end burning fiercely. As you survey it, it collapses even further- merde, the interior support beams are made of wood, and they're burning too!

You hear a cry of pain from inside. Someone's trapped.

"Get ready to recieve wounded! I'm going in."

You concentrate on your shields, wrapping them tightly around yourself, then step towards the flame. With a telekinetically-reinforced punch, you knock the wooden door off its hinges, even as the fire surges around you. Slightly too late, you remember to take a deep breath, and inhale a gulp of scaldingly hot, smoky air. The interior of the collapsed hurt is a roughly tubular inferno. A Martian shot must have landed closer than you thought- parts of the ceiling are glowing red-hot, and the wooden beams are no more than lumps of ash. There are three men on the ground, all pretty obviously burned- they must have been against the rear wall when the grenades cooked off. Gritting your teeth, you pick them up one by one- your telekinesis makes their weight negligible, but they're awkward to carry and you don't know the extent of your wounds.

Tracks scraping against the crackling duckboards, you heave the three injured men out of the hut, dropping them in a heap by the artillerymen, who get to work on getting them to the field hospital.

"Stand back. I'm going to create a firebreak."

They pull the wounded men back, and you approach the ruined shack. It's almost entirely collapsed, now- a burning row of very, very hot embers underneath a rapidly heating metal sheet. You need to stomp this fire out. Fortunately, you're wearing half a tank on each leg. You stand atop the sheet of metal, then reach out with your telekinesis and stomp. The impact sends up a spray of sparks, but also has the virtue of grinding the embers deep into the sand below. You repeat the process until there isn't much more than a thin haze of smoke coming from beneath the metal.

...

Several hours later, the fires are finally out. Miraculously, the Martians didn't attack again, although judging from what you've heard they were distracted by heavy coastal bombardment from the Allied Mediterranean Fleet. A heroic effort by du Vigier and Leigh, coordinated by Von Luck, succeeded in saving the fuel tanks, the regular army supplies, and the Striker depot. There's been heavy damage to most of the camp, though, and many of the defensive emplacements are either damaged or outright destroyed. Getting around camp is an exercize in frustration, picking your way around piles of ash and scorched, glassy craters. What's most worrying is the number of casualties- hundreds of men are in hospital with heat exhaustion and minor burns. Nothing serious, but enough men are out of comission to make Operation Compass a problem. Men and supplies are being moved up from camps further back from the lines, but there's no way of guaranteeing that they won't be attacked. This one bombardment has meant delaying the Operation by at least two days.

It's early evening, with the sun just beginning to set. You pass by Von Luck's tent- the Germanian Oberst is still wearing her Striker, her short 75mm gun propped up against the side of her tent. As usual, she has her thin, somewhat skeletal face buried in a map. She looks up as you approach, giving you a nod.

"Evening, Colonel. Hell of a day, no?"

Casting down your gun (you've still got your scorched, ash-smeared Striker on), you plunk yourself down next to her, groaning with exhaustion as you finally take some weight off your legs.

"Hell of a day."

"While you were down at the hospital, I spoke with General Rommel. He sends his regards, by the way. He wants an escort division of Witches to cover they convoy coming up from Mersah Matruh. The Martians have been hitting the railway line pretty hard, so they've got to come overland. We wouldn't be following it all the way- it's got air cover out of Matruh. Rommel just wants us guarding it on the last few kilometers in."

"Us?"

"Me, you and two others. any suggestions?"

Sometimes you hate being in command.

Well, you need two Witches! Who to take?

Final_Spark #38 Posted Jul 09 2012 - 00:37

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@ that gunner's name question (forgot to include it): I'll toss in Klaus Knefler (kudos to anyone getting that reference).

You may want Piron and Miles for a flexible defense without being too restricted on movement.

Wake_Island #39 Posted Jul 09 2012 - 02:15

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Have a second witch craft trial.

GuardPatroller #40 Posted Jul 09 2012 - 03:59

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Amandea was powerful right? And apparently "tasty" (so dirty! I'd +1 him if I had any left) ...
Aside from her... idk who else, choose randomly (who's the next strongest/hottest/has the biggest stryker?)




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