The Thermopylae /K/ompany

Prologue/
>”COME ON. MOVE MOVE UP THE HILL UP THE HILL”
>my hands shook as I fired
>my bayonet was dripping and slick with a black sticky substance
>my eyes darted side to side trying to keep pace with the  other men retreating up the hill beside me
>to my left, the man next to me fired again and I felt the impact of hot brass on my arm
>I counted off my shots 5...6...7..8 *PING* reload
>in front of me, I saw Orks dropping by their dozens, but for every one we killed 10 more took their place
>the bodies of Orks and the shells of .30-06, 8mm Mauser, .303 Brit, and half a dozen other cartridges I couldn't name littered the ground
>I looked behind me, the pass hovered tantalizingly close
>only a few more miles to go and we'll reach the relative safety of the narrow bottleneck
>the man to my right suddenly screamed and dropped to the ground, back of an arrow shaft protruding from his leg
>”God damnit Felix I don't have time for your shit right now”
>I sling my rifle over my shoulder, grab his vest and begin dragging him up the hill, ignoring his shouts to leave him and save myself
>this isn't a fucking movie faggot
>despite my best efforts, we soon fall behind the rifle line
>a few dozen more steps and the front rank of our spearwall is nearly passed us
>Felix draws his sidearm and begins firing into the horde, but 9mm just isn't cutting against the massive bodies of the Orks
>the spears to my left are suddenly thrown aside as a particularly enthusiastic Greenskin bodily smashes through the thinning spearwall
>his wild, savage eyes fix on me
>I unsling my rifle and level it towards the Ork
>all my adrenaline, fear, and hate release in a battle cry of pure raw emotion
>the Ork answers with his own savage cry and charges towards me
>my name is Anon, and this is neither the beginning, nor the end of my story


The Old World in Ruins:
>when the portals sprang up all over the world, there was pure chaos
>some nations weathered the storm better than others, but none were left unscathed
>those nations that possessed neither competent militaries nor strong allies were quickly overrun and swept aside
>Sub Saharan Africa was invaded by a host of hostile species
>the fertile land and lack of centralized force to combat them led to a population explosion for such races as Orks, Goblins, and Ratmen, to the detriment of the native humans
>if human settlement still exists in Central Africa, it is unknown to the rest of the world
>South and North Africa faired only slightly better
>isolated Boer towns and fortified coastal settlements hang on by a thread, but any dreams of Reconquista are far from their thoughts at present
>North Africa benefited from the natural defensive barrier of the Sahara desert, but when Orkish incursions made their way into Libya and Egypt the political instability prevented any unified response from materializing
>Today Tunisia alone hangs on as the solitary human foothold on the Northern Coast, supplied by sea from a Europe desperate to maintain a bulwark and keep the hordes away from the continent
>the East bank of the Suez Canal is held by a coalition of Israeli and Arab forces but old tensions threaten to undermine the defenders
>the rapid and unexpected withdrawal of US Military forces from around the world to defend the homeland only further destabilized the situation
>though the homeland was more or less defended and the largest invasions repulsed at great cost, the US was unwilling to spare any forces to the rest of the world save some limited coordination with its NATO allies
>but the Chinese and Russian ascendency that so many predicted did not come, for they were struggling just as greatly as their old Western rival in the post merge order

Part 3/
>as global trade collapsed and the overpopulated cities of the world began to starve, those with sufficient armaments began looking towards the New Frontier
>just as their ancestors had done before them, pioneers formed ragtag companies and set off into the magical wilderness of the New World
>I was one of those brave or foolish enough to brave the unknown with a /k/company of my fellow /k/ommandos
>the US government was happy to see us go
>every man that left was one less mouth to feed and if we returned against the odds the feds made clear they would buy any "exotic" artifacts at premium prices
>and so it was I found myself travelling to rural Colorado where a small one way portal had been found near Grand Junction
>now Grand Junction sits near the Western Slopes of the Colorado Mountains
>despite a massive military and militia presence, the massive and remote mountain range provides the perfect hiding and breeding ground for all sorts of dangerous critters and less than friendly species
>now most of the truly dangerous wildlife like Dragons tend to stick to the solitary peaks and lairs where humans rarely ventured even before the merge
>but travellers are still advised to be armed at all times in case of some unexpected Goblin bandits
>and speak of the devil
>I'm drawn out of my reverie by the sight of 5 short green humanoids standing across the road armed with jagged scrap metal tipped spears
>Goblins are a cowardly race except when they substantially outnumber their opponents, like right now for instance
>still this shouldn't pose too much of a challenge
>I unsling my M1 Garand and flick the safety off
>one Goblin separates himself from the pack and begins to jabble at me in his animal speak, gesturing to my pack and other items he intends to relieve me of
>before he can finish a sentence I raise my Garand and put a .30-06 into his chest

Part 4/
>the great thing about shooting Goblins with a rifle this size is that their bodies basically just explode from the force of the impact
>the psychological terror this inspires is just icing on the cake
>the other gobbos state at what's left of their leader in shock
>as I raise my rifle towards its next target they scatter in terror for the nearest trees
>man I really need to pick up a .22 rifle or pistol soon, I hate wasting my .30-06 on Goblins
>with a sigh I pick up the empty cartridge and slide it into a pouch in my pack before continuing on
>soon enough I reach the first of the military checkpoints, manned by US soldiers along with some local militia volunteers
>at the gate stands a bored looking private with an M4 over his shoulder
>"What's your business here"
>"I'm heading up to Grand Junction to join one of the pioneer companies"
>the private raises an eyebrow, "then good luck to you, from what I heard you'll need it"
>"You got anything bigger than a grenade launcher in that pack?" he says looking at my kit
>"nope, just my M1 you see here and the Boltgun I got strapped to the side"
>"alright you're clear to pass. Any trouble on the road?"
>"nah just a few Goblins but nothing worth bothering with"
>once I'm through the checkpoint the remaining few miles to town go by without incident
>arriving at the town, I'm greeted with the new walls and gatehouse, manned by a mixture of soldiers at the gates and local cops patrolling the wall
>most towns and cities that could decided to invest in some traditional walls and gates once the nature of the merge l became apparent
>after I'm passed through the gate, I make my way to the downtown area
>despite the danger, the town is alive with trade and commerce as those bold enough to stay have profited off the soldiers and mercenaries  in the area
>and not all those traders are human either


Part 5/
>a few members of the less hostile races are making a killing selling their specialty skills
>Elven Enchanters and Dwarven Smiths can rake in a small fortune from mercs and local grunts who want their gear enchanted or their rifle given an action that will never jam or stick
>I'd purchase their services but they're way out of my price range
>so instead I walk to the center of town where the main Merc taverns are
>the square is filled with bars, taverns, and brothels specializing in both Human and Non-Human females
>in one corner there is a relatively small and dingy building, unadorned and uninteresting except for the grey and black flag floating from the flagpole that depicts a man with a rifle running into the woods with a helicopter in the distance
>if the outside was boring, the inside is anything but
>loud swearing and joyous fighting is heard even before I enter the building
>in two areas of the tavern chairs and tables have been cleared away to make room for some good old fashioned fistfights, with spectators cheering on their favorite fighter and exchanging bets
>in the first circle, a group of /k/ommandos with ARs on their shoulders is hurling insults across at another group of /k/ommandos with AKs
>from the middle of the circle, I hear one of the fighters yell out "tactitard" before kneeing the other guy in the stomach
>winded but not out, the knee'd anon gasps out "Slavnigger" and clocks the first man in the chin
>in the other corner it's much the same story, except the spectators for this fight are carrying either Glocks or 1911s
>I think I'm starting to sense a pattern here
>I make my way around the bar, dodging between random fights and passing by tables engaged in heated discussions over who Best Girl in Upotte is or trading pictures of their military waifus
>I stop briefly at the table arguing who Best Girl is to factually inform them the answer is Sako RK 95 TP

Part 6/
>finally in the far corner, I notice a small group of tables that sit like a single calm spot in a hurricane
>as with everywhere else, groups of anons are sitting and excitedly discussing and arguing over their various firearms, with some being admired as they are passed around the table to be fingerfucked
>the one noticeable difference between this table and the rest of the tavern is the age of the firearms
>Glocks are absent or tucked away, as are ARs, Mossbergs, and HiPoints
>They are replaced by Lugers, Mausers, SKSs, Garands, MAS 36s and 49s, K31s, Springfields, Nugget Galore, and more exotic firearms than I can name, more than a few of them blackpowder
>The Centerpiece of it all is  an unloaded MG-42 that is sitting in the center of the largest table
>fucking richfags
>but more importantly, I’m home, in /msg/
>I take a seat at the nearest table and exchange the standard introductions with everyone
>aside from me, there’s Mike and Gabe, brothers who arrived together and carry Sniper Variant Kar98ks
>I’m fucking jelly
>then there’s Alex, Marcus, Cyrus, Erik, Drusus, and Felix, all armed with a mixture of Garands, Springfield 1903s, Enfields, Mausers, Nuggets, and SKSs
>immediately I’m  immersed in a fascinating discussion about the different pros and cons to enchanting an entire firearm or just the ammunition
>I’m gonna be honest it mostly goes over my head
>being a frontier town on the edge of several portals made its residents much more magic-savvy than your average bubba
>”and that’s why unless you have an entire department of mages working around the clock, trying to enchant ammunition is just impractical”
>alright that more or less made sense I think
>eventually we get talking about our future plans
>I learn that /msg/ is planning a major expedition in a month through one of the unexplored one way portals
>supposedly they're expecting at least 400 to muster, as well as some non /k/ommando volunteers

Part 7/
>well sign me the fuck up
>even if I have almost no gear whatsoever aside from my gunz, ammo, and bayonets
>"say do you guys know a good place to stock up on gear...and a good place to make some money, because I'm flat fucking broke right now"
>”Well, there’s always bounties out on local critters that the Army doesn’t have time to deal with, and we were planning on taking on some smaller ones as some live fire training before we head through the portal,” Felix says
>”You’re welcome to join us if ya want. We’ll give you a cut of the cash and after you’ve got some saved I’ll show you some of the better gear stores around here”
>ah fuck it why not, these seem like nice guys, and I could use the money
>I’m dead tired after a day of walking, so I go up to the barkeep and ask him how much for a room
>”you’re with /msg/ right? Ok, here’s how this works: we hired some Dwarves awhile back to dig some underground barracks for us. Most of the major threads have one. You can use it free of charge so long as you give a small cut of your loot to the inn when you come back from an expedition”
>fucking neat I like it
>”wait, how do you make sure normies from off the street don’t just take advantage of the free rooms and shit?”
>the bartender rolls his eyes
>”Anon you and I both know that you can spot a /k/ommando from a mile away, whether they want to be spotted or not. I could pick you out from the second you opened the door, and so could everyone else.”
>ok fair enough
 >I go downstairs and push open the wooden door with /msg/ carved on the front
>Inside is a large bay style room with a low ceiling and three rows of 50 bunk beds per row

Part 8/
>beside each bed is a set of sturdy looking lockers with spots to fit your own lock into
>I find an open top bunk near the back corner and throw my stuff down, taking special care to store my rifles, ammunition, and other valuables in the locker
>On the back wall of the locker, the phrase “Please memorize your serial #s” is carved into the metal
>well that’s reassuring
>I decide to hold my rifles in bed and store my other less valuable gear in the locker
>In the gloom I can see many other anons doing the exact same thing
>I wake up the next morning to the sounds of the bay stirring to meet the new day
>I put on a pair of sturdy black work pants and a belt, heavy leather boots, a brown T-shirt, and a double breasted leather jacket that extended just past my waist
>yeah I know it's not the most tactical getup but it's all I have
>Finally to top it off I put on an old Soviet Officers Cap I got as a gift that was my very first piece of genuine milsurp when I was 12
>it doesn’t provide any practical benefit and mama didn’t raise no gommie, but I like the /aesthetics/ and it goes with my outfit
>I choose to run my Mosin as my primary for the day and strap my ammo pouches to my belt before sliding my bayonet through my belt loop
>both a Mosin and a Garand are probably substantially overkill for what we're gonna face but ammo for the Mosin is cheaper and I still have about 400 rounds of Czech practice rounds that are light loads with pistol bullets that I'd like to use up before heading to the New World
>I sling my Mosin over my shoulder, strap my Garand to my pack as a reserve, and head outside to meet the rest of my impromptu squad
>most are dressed in varying degrees of tacticalness, ranging from a good pair of boots and some sturdy clothes to full battle rattle
>Mike and Gabe are in full Ghillie suits with their K98s slung over their shoulder

Part 9/
>as a group, we walk over to the bounty board in the center of town, passing the Town Hall, military headquarters, and supply depot, all guarded by either local police or MPs
>we look through the list of bounties to find one that seems doable but still provides a large enough reward to be worth the effort
>we settle on a Goblin extermination contract
>premise is pretty simple, go locate a local Goblin lair a few clicks outside town, exterminate it
>best guess is that this lair has between 50 and 200 Goblins
>we'll be paid a lump sum of $1200 for the job, and we'll be allowed to keep any loot we find while we're there
>after we sign all the appropriate paperwork inside the town hall, the Corporal in charge of the bounties issues us with several Go Pros that we are to use to record the job with
>much cleaner than chopping off Goblin ears for several hours at a time
>with our paperwork in order, we leave town heading North East towards the slopes of the Rocky mountains
>according to the Intel we were given, travellers report being attacked on the road about 5 clicks out of town
>as we pass through the outer checkpoint we unshoulder our rifles and fix bayonets in case we're surprised
>the heft and length of my Mosin creates a reassuring distance between me and any potential attackers
>as we continue, we start to pass burned out farms, the owners having fled to safer pastures or been killed when the /k/onvergance broke out
>we do a quick search of the buildings but find nothing, save some boomer junk that would have sold for $5 in any 2nd hand shop
>just after noon we decide to stop for a lunch break
>Mike and Gabe stand watch while the rest of us dig into whatever we had brought
>for me, that was some homemade “MRE”s that I had packed using a  /k/ infographic awhile ago
>right as I’m digging into my cliff bar, we hear some shouts followed by some inhuman chittering and a scream

Part 10/
>we all drop or stash our food and grab our gear
>moving around a bend in the road, we see a small group of 5 or so humans running for their lives, a band of at least 30 Goblins in hot pursuit
>one of the humans, a man in his late 40s, is stumbling badly, an arrow shaft sticking out of his back and dripping bright red onto the black asphalt
>Mike and Gabe fan out to either side of the road and begin laying down precision fire with their Mausers
>the crowd of Goblins makes for an easy target and the twin rifles fire in close succession, each shot neatly exploding a Goblin’s skull and often hitting one or even two more behind him
>in the few seconds it takes the bedraggled group of travellers makes it to us, 15 of the lead Goblins have been killed and 5 more are in the process of bleeding out from missing appendages
>when the injured man finally stumbles past us, we close our ranks and form a line, bayonets presenting the shrinking but still large group of Goblins
>when the Goblins are 20 paces away, they begin to slow down and hesitate
>The Goblins are an inherently cowardly race, more suited to roadside ambushes than straight fights
>even in an ambush, Goblins will typically only engage an enemy which they have a considerable numerical advantage over, and always prefer unarmed opponents
>now, faced with an armed foe and suffering heavy losses before they’ve even had a chance to return arrow fire, the short Greenskins find their desire for combat is quickly fading
>before they have a chance to rethink their life choices that led to this moment, we open fire with our mismatched rifles
>the entire band of Gobbos seems to crumple as one entity, with only 3 remaining standing through exceptional luck
>gripped by panic, the survivors make a beeline towards a small copse of trees off to the side of the road

Part 11/
>Before the others can fire again, I call out “HOLD YOUR FIRE. They’ll lead us to their lair. FOLLOW THEM”
>and so we set off after our small green quarry
>they had a slight head start on us but our longer legs allowed us to easily keep pace
>every now and then one would look back, see the glinting bayonets on the ends of our rifle’s, scream in terror, and redouble his efforts
>soon enough we entered the wooded copse, Erik, Drusus, Alex, Marcus, Cyrus, Felix, and I in one group while Mike and Gabe covered our flanks with their K98ks
>in the wooded environment of the forest, the twin snipers seemed to almost vanish in their Ghillie suits, with only the occasional shadowy movement or glint of steel betraying their position
>soon enough, our prey’s destination becomes clear
>a small cave, neatly hidden under a rocky ledge and nearly obscured by the undergrowth
>we stop for a moment at the edge of the cave to reorder ourselves before going in
>the cave entrance is small and narrow, only wide enough for 2 men to walk abreast and the ceiling forces anyone over 5’9 to hunch down slightly
>”alright who’s going in first” Cyrus says with more than a little trepidation
>in those close quarters, our long rifles are at a clear disadvantage
>whoever goes in is either incredibly brave or insanely stupid
>all eyes turn to Erik, and his M1897 Trench Sweeper slung over his back
>he looks at the rest of us and then at the cave entrance before his slate blue eyes light up with joy and he lets out a boisterous laugh
>”OH CHRISTMAS HAS COME EARLY FOR ME IT SEEMS” he bellows jovially as he unslings his shotgun and attaches his bayonet
>his 17 inch bayonet
>fuck it’s like a shotgun with a sword bolted onto the end
>then without even a 2nd thought he plunges through the bushes and into the cave
>with little other choice we follow him in

Part 12/
>everyone except Marcus has to crouch once their inside the narrow passage
>behind Erik, Alex has put away his SVT-40 and drawn a Tokerav in preparation for the close engagement
>behind him comes Drusus with his SKS out and bayonet unfolded
>the rest of us follow with Mike and Gabe taking up the rear
>now that their Sniper K98s are near useless, they’ve drawn Lugers and are acting as our rear guard
>from up ahead I hear a bark of laughter, followed by the report of a shotgun and a triumphant whoop
>with the passage so narrow we can only wait for Erik to either kill a way forward or be killed in the attempt
>soon enough we move forward again, although our pace has slowed to a crawl and the sounds of steel tearing through flesh or the occasional shotgun report is more and more common
>I begin to wonder why we aren’t stepping over any bodies when the light cast by Cyrus’ flashlight catches some glistening material that is coating the walls of the tunnel
>looking down I see the same substance along with green and red chunks of varying size
>shit Erik got the bloody mess perk and didn’t even tell anyone
>after another 15 feet the tunnel widens out into a decently sized cavern that I’d estimate is about 30 yards long and half as wide
>along the sides of the walls are small piles of hay and loot, clearly the living area for this particular tribe
>at the far end are all the remaining Goblins of this tribe that have formed up into something resembling a battleline
>shit there must be at least 150 of them
>on a raised dais in the very back is a single Goblin taller and more powerfully built than the rest, surrounded by a bodyguard of similarly built specimens
>looks like we found their leader
>and judging by their posture, this is where they’re prepared to make their stand
>unlike in our previous engagements, the Gobbos now have nowhere to run and will fight like cornered rats

Part 13/
>as we emerge from the tunnel we quickly fan out into a small double line and try to get a final reload in before the final push
>right as I slide my bolt forward the Goblin Chief lets out a guttural scream that is echoed by his minions
>with that the tide surges forward, short crooked spears brandished and small jagged daggers glinting
>standing against them is our thin double line,with the first rank on one knee in front of the rear
>Erik, Marcus, Drusus, Alex, and myself are in the front rank
>Cyrus, Mike, Gabe, and Felix stand behind us
>the Goblins are already well within range and we have no time for fancy tactics or volleys
>"KILL THEM, KILL THEM ALL" I yell above the Goblin war cries and fire my Mosin directly into the tightly packed mass of charging Goblins
>I see 2 gobbos drop from the double penetration and a third stagger as the bullet expends its last energy into him
>probably would have been able to kill at least 4 but I'm using those Czech practice rounds remember (pic related)
>my shot has barely landed when the others begin firing in earnest
>Marcus and Drusus are unloading their SKSs as fast as they can while maintaining accuracy,  Goblins dropping by their by their 2s in time with their reports
>Alex is causing even more destruction with his SVT-40, each shot of 54r ripping through 3, 4, sometimes even 5 Goblins in a spray of viscera and blood before coming to rest in the 6th
>Cyrus and I are working our Mosin bolts as fast as we can and firing into the horde, but I notice that Cyrus isn't quite able to keep up with my rate of fire
>Mike and Gabe have their Lugers out and are dispatching Goblins with neatly placed headshots, seeming no less calm than if this was just a day at the range
>and finally Felix's shots are accompanied by the occasional *ping* of an ejecting enbloc clip from his M1

Part 14/
>the Goblin casualties mount swiftly but they know in their tiny minds that there is no escape but through us and keep charging with reckless abandon
>25 yards, 20 yards, 15 yards and they still come, suffering horrendous losses along the way
>at about 15 yards Erik again opens up with his shotgun again, giving bold testament to its nickname "Trench Sweeper"
>making full use of its lack of a trigger disconnector, Erik carves a swathe of destruction through the Goblin ranks, each blast erasing up to 10 of the filthy bastards from existence
>the floor behind their charge is covered with their dead, and bits of their dead that no longer belong to a recognizable body, but still they come forward
>as they come within 5 yards, the majority of their number lay dead and only a small group of 30 remain to make the final push
>this includes the chief and his bodyguard, who have hung back as their lower minions were butchered by us
>with the range closed the Goblins hurl themselves at our line intent to overwhelm us with what little numerical advantage they have left
>one in particular singles me out and charges towards me with his spear leveled
>I desperately smack it away with my own weapon and plunge my bayonet into the Goblin's chest
>the Goblin's momentum carries it all the way to the barrel before it finally dies, frothing sickly blood at the mouth
>I attempt to withdraw my bayonet but find that it's stuck fast into the Gobbo's ribcage
>another Goblin notices much predicament and moves in for an easy kill
>shit shit shit shit
>I can only stare my opponent down as I'm paralyzed in panic
>as it raises its spear to strike me down, a bayonet at the end of an SKS plunges through its neck
>I turn and give Drusus a nod of gratitude
>he dips his head in acknowledgement, heterochromatic eyes narrowed in concentration as he returns to his task
>I finally wrench my bayonet free and take stock of the situation

Part 15/
>we're getting the better of the fight but it's far from over
>I am anchoring our right flank, with Cyrus giving me supporting fire from behind although he is visibly trembling
>Drusus and Alex are working together to hold off several times their number in Goblins, with one thrusting forward while the other guards against counter attacks before switching roles and repeating
>Marcus is to their left, and his stocky build is making the fight more difficult for him than his taller comrades
>but with both flanks covered, he's able to hold his ground by switching off between stabbing with his bayonet and firing a shot to keep the Goblins off guard
>to Marcus's left is Erik anchoring our left flank, who is having no problems at all holding off a whole score of Goblins with his Trench Sweeper
>he's whooping like a madman, fully immersed in the joy of battle, a living conduit to the /k/ube's will
>his sword length bayonet is covered and dripping with Goblin blood as he slashes and stabs at the poor unfortunates in front of him, occasionally stepping back to blast a whole group of them into oblivion when the opportunity presents itself
>from the rear, Mike and Gabe are picking off gobbos just as efficiently with their lugers as they did with their Mausers, whittling down the chief's bodyguard before they have a chance to engage us
>Felix is supporting Marcus in the middle of the line, his normally cheerful face set in grim determination as deep reports and metallic *ping*s of his Garand echo like a clock's chimes in the eerie cave
>the chief and his remaining five bodyguards are angling around looking for a weak spot to make a decisive push at
>as it turns out that weak spot happens to be me
>the chief surrounded by his guards advances towards me and Cyrus
>unlike his minions who just charge blindly at a target until one of them is dead, the chief advances slowly with intent, beady black eyes sparkling with cunning and malice

Part 16/
>the first of the guards makes his move towards me and gets a bullet to the chest for his trouble
>but his attack was a feint, and only the flicker of a metal blade coming towards me alerts me to the impending danger
>I desperately swing my rifle around and am rewarded with a ring of metal on metal as my bayonet deflects what would have been a killing blow
>having lost most of its momentum, the blade still retains enough force on its downward path to slice open my pant leg and lay open a neat slash on my right calf and shin
>my leg explodes in pain and I stagger backwards, driving my spear upwards through the guards groin and into its chest
>I shakily stand up and check for a new target, but now my leg is burning and bleeding freely
>as the third of the fifth guard steps forward, I level my rifle and pull the trigger
>nothing
>fuck I forgot cyclethe last spent cartridge
>the Goblin was still expecting a lead bullet to come flying out at any moment, so imagine his surprise when I flip my Mosin upside down and smash him in the head with the butt
>blood and teeth go flying and I’m greeted with a solid crunch of bone
>while the dazed gobbo is still reeling I flip my Mosin around again and ram my bayonet through his throat
>alright three down two more guards to go
>wait scratch that, they’ve just been dropped by Mike and Gabe with their lugers
>alright chiefy boi your turn
>quickly cycle the round and prepare to end this
>fuck this is my last round, better make it count
>I advance on the chief while Cyrus steps into my position in line
>this Gobbo is an agile fucker, the second I raise my rifle to shoulder level to aim he darts forward with his short sword aimed at my gut
>I desperately swing my rifle back down and parry his thrust before making a quick riposte towards his own chest
>he dances back out of reach

Part 17/
>a quick glance behind me shows that everyone else is engaged in dealing with the last few enemies
>this fight will be won or lost by me alone
>the chief and I eye each other for some time, trying to pick out a weakness
>I keep my rifle at waist level to be ready for any thrusts
>a few quick parries, chambers, and ripostes later and it’s clear I’m getting nowhere
>very slyly, I move my finger down onto the trigger, still keeping the rifle at waist level
>Oh holy /k/ube I hope this works
>as the chief begins to move forward again I pull the trigger and fire a shot from the hip
>a look of surprise crosses the chief’s face as he looks down at the new hole in his collarbone
>without a word he drops to the ground, his sword clattering to the ground next to him
>one by one, the other remaining Goblins notice that their chief has fallen
>the will to fight and desperate courage they have possessed up till now finally abandons them, and the remaining few moments of the fight turn into a massacre
>a few actually attempt surrendering but their requests are promptly rejected
>we stand there for a moment at the tunnel opening, Goblin bodies piled around us, a few gurgles and cries of pain still echoing off the caves walls
>at length, Gabriel walks over to the corpse of the Goblin leader and picks up his wickedly curved short sword
>he studies it for a moment, running his hand over the blade and feeling the grip of the pommel before turning it over and silently presenting it hilt first to me
>we lock eyes as I cautiously reach out and take the blade
>I can feel his eyes boring into me, as if they are able to read my very soul, but as I look back, all I see are impenetrable shards of ice, inscrutable and enigmatic
>and then it was over, as Gabriel walked off to rejoin his brother

Part 18/
>but in those few moments I felt something ...utterly incomprehensible
>something that our language has no concept for, and human beings are not meant to understand
>attempting to recall what I felt and analyze it more deeply, I realized that it had already fled my mind and I could no longer remember a sensation that had occurred mere seconds ago
>with this still nagging at the back of my mind, I slide the Goblin chief’s sword through a belt loop and move over to join the others, who are all standing in a daze as the battle energy wore off
>we stand there silently for a moment, surveying the carnage we have wrought upon this accursed place
>"Well, what are we waiting for" Erik says enthusiastically
>"let's get to the looting"
>and so with weary grins at one and other we set to our task
>the Gobbos themselves are kind of a bust
>most of their weapons are improvised and not worth taking with the chief's sword being the exception
>the cave itself is also not a huge treasure trove
>we find a few hundred dollars in some looted wallets tossed in a corner junk pile
>sadly no eldritch weapons or caches of weapons today, but we did find a few boxes of MREs that the Goblins must have looted from some travellers
>that'll save us a few hundred dollars in food costs later
>the walk back is uneventful as we walk along the newly safe road towards Grand Junction
>the soldiers at the Checkpoint greet us cheerily and we regale them with an embellished tale of our battle against the Greenskins
>I briefly show them the chief's sword that they admire for a few moments before sending us through
>just as we walk through I hear the Corporal say "that'll make a fine nice offering"
>weird but whatever
>when we get back to town we immediately head up to city hall to turn in our bounty and collect our rewards
>the corporal whistles as he replays the video from our Go-Pros
>"that was a hell of a fight, much stiffer than I expected it to be"

Part 19/
>"well as agreed, here's your reward, $1200 cash. Spend it well"
>with that, our business with Uncle Sam is concluded and we make our way back to the tavern to divide our loot
>in addition to our reward, we recovered about $400 from the Goblin lair, giving us a total of $1600
>divided by 8 that gives each of us $200
>it isn't as much as I wanted but it should be enough to get most of the essentials covered
>if I can do a few more jobs before the month is out I should have done decent equipment to work with by the time the expedition rolls around
>I pocket my money and stand up from the table when I feel a dull throb in my right leg
>oh yeah I got a light slash earlier I almost forgot until now
>I'd better go get that checked before it gets infected
>as I go to leave though, Drusus puts his hand on my arm and shakes his head
>"not yet. We have a final task to do" he says and his eyes flicker to the sword at my belt
>the rest of the group gets up silently and direct me over to the counter
>the bartender sees us approaching and nods before coming out from behind the counter and descending the stairs to the underground levels, leaving a young wiry assistant in charge
>we pass the rooms of various groups and threads, still continuing down deeper into the ground
>I’ve never been this deep in the building before
>soon the electrical wiring stops and the tunnel is lit only by torches placed in sconces at regular intervals
>the walls also get more rough, less refined, and more resembling a natural tunnel than one carved by human hands
>the temperature also progressively drops, far below the temperature of the natural night
>as we continue walking, I begin to see condensation from my breath as the temperature continues falling
>finally we come to a large set of double doors made of polished Black Basalt
>in the center of each door a large cube is carved into the stone

Part 20/
>and upon the face of each cube there are finely detailed etchings of every firearm I have ever seen along with several that I’m not sure actually exist
>as we approach the doors they swing inwards on some unknown mechanism
>despite their enormous size, they make no absolutely no noise as they smoothly open to reveal a square room with a high vaulted ceiling
>braziers in the corners cast a dim light, but seem to provide no heat whatsoever, the temperature is now well below freezing and I am wholly unequipped for it
>the center of the room is taken up by a massive object, it’s dimensions obscured in the shadows of the room
>but it is not just obscured in shadow, the object seems to drink in light, actively draining the room around it
>”what the hell is that” I ask the rest of the group behind me
>”I think you know” replies the barkeep
>he points to my waist where the Goblin Chief’s sword is
>”take it out”
>as I pull out the sword out of my belt loop I feel an almost magnetic tug on it from the object in front of me
>I do not resist and slowly move towards the massive monolith
>as I do, the pull becomes stronger and the air becomes colder
>finally the pull is too strong for my grip to handle and the sword is yanked away from my hand and attaches itself to the object in front of me
>as the sword makes contact with the object, burning lines of fire come to life on its surface, showing every intricate detail and illuminating every inch of its massive body
>when the fires come alive, the temperature of the room is suddenly reversed and we are all forced to take a step back as we are hit by a wave of searing heat coming from the object
>I go down to one knee as my eyes involuntarily screw shut in pain from the hot air
>God above it feels like I’m standing at the open door of a blast furnace
>I slowly open my eyes against the pain and behold the object in front of me

Part 21/
>it is a cube, no  wait, not a cube, a /k/ube
>the lines of fire trace the outlines of thousands of weapons melded into its surface
>I see revolutionary muskets and Hussar sabres sitting next to M60s and PPS-41s
>in one corner I see an anti tank rifle right next to a Roman Legionary Gladius
>I see weapons from every time and place, along with a few that don’t exist yet
>there are strange designs with the markings of both familiar and unknown nations on them, their workings both fascinating and unknown
>staring at them for more than a moment causes a sharp headache to grow as my mind attempts to comprehend designs that don't exist, but still I can't look away
>certain features begin to jump out at me and burn themselves into my minds eye
>the markings on one gun are written in a script not native to any place on earth
>another is written in English, but the date that is stamped on the receiver is more than 500 years into the future
>I feel myself getting slowly getting sucked into the massive /k/ube
>I need to know more, to understand how these alien and esoteric devices work
>with a gasp I land on the hard floor, the air knocked out of my lungs as I am tackled to the ground by Felix
>the others are close behind him and are now dragging my limp body away from the /k/ube
>as we leave the room I notice that the fires are gone and the temperature has once again returned to arctic levels
>I don’t resist as I am carried back up the long passageway to the surface
>not that I could if I wanted to, I feel physically drained to the point of blacking out
>I fade in and out of consciousness until I feel myself being hoisted up onto a table in the back room
>I slowly come around to see the whole group including the barkeep gathered around me
>when I open my eyes my vision swims and everyone momentarily gasps in shock
>”Holy shit what’s up with your fucking eyes m8?!?” I hear Erik exclaim

Part 22/
>I shake my head and the spots disappear, leaving me looking around confusedly at the shocked faces
>”Wha-w-what’s wrong with my eyes? What did you see” I ask groggily
>”Dude, your eyes briefly changed color when you opened your eyes” Felix says gently
>huh well that’s new
>”what color were they?” I ask looking around
>Everyone exchanges a glance for a moment
>”Rhodesian Brushstroke” says Drusus finally
>fucking wicked
>”So what the fuck happened back there”
>The bartender just stares at me for a moment
>”You almost went full retard”
>”Never go full retard”
>the elicits some snickers from the group but the serious attitude remains
>”the /k/ube affects everyone differently. Some people are more drawn to it than others. But I’ve never seen someone react so strongly to it nor the /k/ube display that kind of power in response”
>at this point my head begins to fill with questions and the need to know wtf is going on
>I slowly sit up even though I’m still feeling pretty woozy and the world spins for a moment as I get my bearings
>”Ok so several questions. What the fuck was that? Why did what happened happen? What’s going to happen now”
>”Well I assume you already know what that was, and so does everyone else” the barkeep looks around the room and gets nods from everyone affirming they know what the fucking /k/ube is
>”Whenever a battle or fight of any significance is won, we take a prized weapon off the defeated enemy and offer it to the /k/ube. The /k/ube accepts the weapon and adds the new prize to itself. Traditionally, the anon who won the weapon is always the one who presents it. It’s a great honor that only a few /k/ommandos will ever even know about, much less experience.”
>I nod slowly in understanding "ok I'm with you, but why did I react the way I did and what does that mean"

Part 23/
>the barkeep shrugs "no fucking idea m8. Everyone who has interacted with the /k/ube has described it as a powerful experience but I've never seen anything like what just happened."
>"well now the big question,'' I ask to the group at large, "what happens now"
>I'm met with blank looks and shrugs all around
>Alex looks at me sympathetically "sorry man it's the blind leading the blind right now. Honestly you probably know more about the /k/ube than we do at this point. I don’t know what happens now, but I can guess this isn’t the last we’re going to hear of it."
>well fuck us all then
>"do we even really know what the /k/ube is?" I ask. "Like is it a deity? A spirit? Where does it fit into our understanding of the divine?"
>the bartender strokes the stubble on his chin for a moment
>"well, like everything else we're not sure for certain, but we don't think the /k/ube is a God per-say like the Christian God or pagan gods that we’re used to. But it’s definitely sentient. And magical. And powerful. I’m no priest but that’s reason enough for me to try and not piss it off.”
>that’s about the sanest thing I’ve heard all evening
>”well I don’t know about you guys but all this supernatural bullshit has got me fucking thirsty. Let’s grab a drink.”
>this is greeted by a chorus of assent
>”First round is on the house” says the barkeep thumping the table.
>now the assent has turned to tired but enthusiastic cheers
>”When did you grow a heart you old snake” Erik asks good naturedly
>”Hey kid I’m just playing my odds. If that /k/ube took a shining to you guys, it’d be smart of me to do the same.”
>with more bants flying we left the backroom and re-entered the main bar
>inside the bar the place was slowly filling up with /k/ommandos returning from their days eager for a long night of drinking and fighting

Part 24/
>the barkeep returns to his station and relieves his assistant (probably a nephew or something kid couldn’t have been over 15) and we grab a table close to the bar
>the kid brings over our free round of drinks and we raise them in a hearty cheer
>we cheered for the /k/ube
>we cheered for our victory
>we cheered for the hundreds of Goblins we slew today
>we cheered because we had lived and come back to tell the tale
>it was a small skirmish, insignificant in any global or regional affairs
>it would never be written down in any history books
>there would be no great songs sung of it or heroic paintings
>but I would always remember this day, for this was my first battle
>the day I popped my combat cherry
>the first time I should shoulder to shoulder with my comrades in a rifle line and unleashed a hail of lead upon our foes
>but looking around at the faces around me, I knew it wouldn’t be the last
>so we drank and we sang to the /k/ube and to the battles to come
>as other /k/ommandos filled the room, some came over and congratulated us on our victory, as word of the engagement had apparently spread through the town in the intervening hours since we had gotten back
>I could also sense a difference in how the other /k/ommandos, both in my own newfound group and in general regarded me
>yesterday I was just some literally who from out of town, unproven and with no claim to fame or fortune
>but today I had proved myself
>yeah I wasn’t anywhere close to the level of the room’s more experienced oper8ors, but I had gone into battle and survived to tell about it, and that counted for something here
>soon enough the bar was filled with the familiar sound of raucous laughter, butchered Russian folk songs, and the occasional good natured fight
>we all staggered off to bed sometime after midnight, with the room still in full swing behind us
>most of us were pretty heavily inebriated and either swaggered or staggered to our bunks in the /msg/ marked room


>well with the exception of Mike and Gabe, who walked with the soberness of a Baptist preacher
>which is weird because I saw them drinking just as much as the rest of us
>I guess some people can just hold their drinks better
>that was the last thought that crossed my mind before I hit my bed and instantly blacked out
>when I awoke the next day it felt like a mining company of Dwarves had gotten lost inside my head and were now trying to tunnel out
>I slowly sit up and wipe my face
>well at least I didn’t puke or shit myself, so that’s a plus
>I quickly get myself in order and make my way up to the main room, Mosin on my shoulder and bayonet stuck through my belt loop
>as I get up to the top some of the others are eating breakfast
>we’re all noticeably more subdued than last night, probably due to the throbbing headaches we all have
>I down a large mug of water in a single go and scarf down a Spartan breakfast of oats and some rather hard, dry bread
>After I’m finished, I ask Felix if he was free to fulfill his earlier offer of showing me some of the better gear shops in town
>he said he was and we quickly departed, followed at the last minute by Erik who had nothing better to do and needed some things of his own
>due to the recent world events, gun stores, military surplus stores, survival stores, and all around “general stores” were all having a Golden Age with the sudden increased demand
>our first stop was a hole-in-the-wall Milsurp store
>This one doesn’t carry any firearms or ammo, but it has an abundance of other general supplies and militaria, including high quality gear
>”Now as you know, you want something lightweight and sturdy” Felix lectures goodnaturedly
>”When we go over there we have no idea what it’s going to be like, so don’t specialize too much. Get good sturdy general purpose gear that can be modified on the other side to suit whatever needs we have”
>”Oh but remember we will also have a baggage train so don’t think you need to carry everything on your back.”
>My boots are nearly new, and I have a great Osprey pack and some pretty good outdoor gear (tent, rope, sleeping bag, firestarters, etc.) , but everything else could definitely use an upgrade
>the first thing I get are some new cotton undershirts, they’re light and can be easily folded down but are still useful and provide at least some marginal warmth
>these ones are marked at 3 for $15, not a bad deal
>similarly I get some new basic mono color T-shirts in various shades of light brown and green to replace my more beaten and torn ones in my kit, setting me back another $20
>moving on to the jackets section, I grab a neat looking Romanian Wool Double Breasted Trench Coat and the matching pants
>it’s a little heavy for some climates but worst case scenario I can use the coat as an extra blanket
>in total those 2 things set me back $50
>While I’m there I also pick up 2 lighter flecktarn jackets for another $30, which is probably what I’m going to be wearing the most unless we get some extreme conditions
>alright I am now down to $85 dollars
>next I swing by the pants section and get 2 pairs of matching flecktarn pants with reinforced knees and seats, costing another $30
>with clothing taken care of, its now time to move onto the fun stuff
>I’m running out of money now, but I’m able to pick up a new basic belt for $10, a load bearing tactical vest for $30 some ammo pouches for my M1 Garand for $10, leaving me with $5 to my name and a shit load of new gear
>”But anon” you say, why do you have so much unnecessary weight? Why did you double up on certain items, that’s just retarded
>ah but my fellow anon that is where you are wrong, for remember that this portal is not a two way gate
>once we go in, we have no idea when or if  we’ll be able to find another portal back
>if we want to bring something with us, this is the only chance we got, so its best to double up on stuff that might wear out or break
>hence the need for a baggage train
>one piece of gear I’m conspicuously lacking is any kind of plate carrier or bulletproof vest, but since most fantasy races have yet to adopt anything more advanced than a bow and arrow it would probably have just slowed me down anyways
>I leave the shop satisfied with my purchases and spend the rest of the day adjusting my new gear and either throwing out or cannibalizing my old, worn out, or torn pieces
>from there the next several weeks go by in a frenzy as I do as many odd jobs as I can to fill out the remaining gaps in my gear
>sometimes I work with others in my group and sometimes I take jobs on my own
>usually nothing too dangerous, just routine work that needs doing in the area
>provide extra security for farmers taking their produce into town, bolster local militia and military forces on patrol, stand guard along the edge of the town for a few hours, help some old man and his wife exterminate a nest of kobolds, and on and on and on
>most of it was  boring as ass but I tried to take it in stride, thinking that it was “conditioning” and “valuable experience” for what was to come
>by the end of the month I had amassed another $700 from different odd jobs around town
>yeah it wasn’t much for the hours I put in, but the economy isn’t what it used to be what with large portions of the world suddenly dying or being overrun
>I put $300 of that into my very first handgun, a Tokerov that had popped up in one of the gun stores I checked every day
>the rest of my cash is quickly spent on ammunition and a few other useful miscellaneous survival items like a small medkit and water filter, some extra food, and an old Soviet WW2 helmet I found for a pretty decent price
>most of the heavy stuff will stay with the baggage train to not slow us down, but if things go south there are always those few things you want to have on hand
>as I exit the gun store for the final time, I walk back to the tavern, my arms laden down with as much .30-06, 7.62x54r, and 7.62x25 as I could carry
>inside the tavern only half the usual space is available for eating and drinking as a full half of the building has been turned into an open space for /k/ommandos to clean firearms, mend clothes, and prepare for the great expedition ahead of us
>I nod greetings to those who turn to look up at me as I enter before heading down the stairs and into a previously empty room converted into an ammo dump
>inside are vast quantities of ammunition in every conceivable caliber that anons have been stockpiling like mad just like me
>I walk over to the area I had marked out as my own and begin transferring my newly bought ammo into the large heavy duty locking boxes that had my initials etched into the side
>there haven’t been too many cases of thievery since all those who try it mysteriously disappear in the night, but it still doesn’t hurt to be careful
>when we cross over these boxes and all the others in the room will be loaded onto mules or into small carts and transported along behind us while the fighting force moves ahead unencumbered
>stacked up against one wall are also bundles of pikes, shields, and polearms
>they’re for the nogunz volunteers who chose to join us and needed a way to contribute
>with my ammo stowed, I head back upstairs and join Drusus and Alex who were sitting on chairs sewing extra reinforcements onto their pant knees
>”So you lads ready to step off tomorrow?”
>”As ready as we’ll probably ever be” Alex says with a grin
>”With this crowd I don’t think that’s saying much” Drusus replies evenly, “but that has never stopped us before.”
>there were no formalized formations or even commanders, but small squads had formed and most people knew by now who they would be marching and eating with
>”So what kind of tactics do you think we’ll need to adopt” I ask the both of them
>this had been a question on everyone’s mind, but our lack of knowledge on what’s on the other side of the portal had prevented any serious preparations from taking place
>Alex strokes his chin for a moment in thought
>”well I think whatever we end up with will be different from how we fight here on Earth that’s for sure. If we land in the desert or open fields then maybe a mounted army fighting in a cossack or Mongolian style would be effective. It would offer us pretty good mobility and we could easily avoid any fights we didn’t want to take on”
>Drusus takes a moment think but then shakes his head
>”that style would leave us vulnerable in many situations. Our ammunition would be limited and certain terrains would become hazardous for us, like forests and mountains. Line Infantry with pikes is more balanced.”
>”Too much reliance on cavalry would also hamper our ability to take cities or fortified positions” I say with a nod to Drusus. “I have to agree with him there, but the options of a fast cavalry wing shouldn’t be ruled out entirely either.”
>soon enough they have finished their preparations and we move over to one of the tables and grab drinks and continue the discussion
>we are joined soon by the others as the room fills to the brim
>”We know our manpower is limited, so we should focus on guerilla operations. Let the enemy come to us and play a game of Vietnam with them” Marcus declares
>”Ah balls to that” Erik counters with a slam of his mug on the table. “Do that and we’ll be stuck in some jungle with no ammo in a flat month. What we need are shock troops with SMGs and Shotguns.to capture cities and smash armies.”
>”I thought the point of having guns was to having to close with the enemy” Cyrus quips off to the side
>and so the argument goes around and around again
>Drusus and Alex have since withdrawn from it and only watch in entertainment as the others continue to bicker about the merits of trench warfare vs cavalry raids
>eventually I hear the sound of a bell being struck that grow until the entire room has grown quiet