Story Segments

Everything I've written over the last year on the Mutual Defense Air Corps (MDAC/Air Force) and His Majesty's Amphibious Vanguard (HMAV/Marines)
Don't worry, it's not that much actually.


First off is a short description of a few notable characters and other notable information pertaining to the Vanguard and the Air Corps to help avoid confusion.

Tyler Emond: A US Army Corporal that vanished from Earth in 2017 and wound up in Wonderland, a pocket dimension of another world. Since then he has been traveling back and forth between both worlds (Earth and Terra) and collecting a team of trusted business partners to advance Earth’s technology by hybridizing it with Terra’s magic. They keep these hybridizing projects and all information about it on Terra and under strict security to maintain their monopoly of the magitech. They have been doing this since long before First Contact officially took place in 2035. He became Minister of Advanced Armaments for the Uwhal Union soon after First Contact occurred.

Crown Prince Richard: The heir to the throne of Glilia (Terra's fantasy England) and Deshret (Terra's fantasy Egypt) He is also the Colonel who commands HMAV. The people of Glilia and Zipangu believe that his father had a divine birth, as he miraculously appeared before a Ryu. She took this as a sign that her ancestors had blessed her with a child. So Colonel Richard fervently believes he is descended from the Eastern Dragons.

Admiral Soryu: A Ryu that is charged with protecting Zipangu and the Ryugujo pleasure cities that exist beneath the waves around the island kingdoms. Due to the strong blood ties between Glilia and Zipangu, above Colonel Richard in the chain of command. Since she is the older sibling of the King of Glilia, this makes Admiral Soryu and Colonel Richard aunt and nephew. She likes to drink but as a dragon alcohol has little effect on her.

Wing Commander Katsumi: A Kitsune. One of the four living wives to the King of Glilia and therefore one of Colonel Richard's four step mothers. She is in command of MDAC's small but growing air fleet. This means that the MDAC Wing Commander is often in a tug-o-war with her step son over who gets what resources for air power. She used to be a timid fox, but an unexpected flight on a Wyvern had awoken in her a thrill for flying and more courage than she could have ever hoped for.

Uwhal Union: Alliance of nations either run by monsters or Pro-monster humans.

Holy Alliance of Kingdoms (HAK): Alliance of theocracies under the Order's influence.

Mythril: A metal that has only been found on Terra. It's mysterious properties will confuse radar and infrared tracking systems. Because of this, even older aircraft are being considered for purchase by the Uwhal Union so they can be augmented with mythril.

The Horus Radar System: An advancement in radar technology brought about with magic. Unlike radar systems on Earth, Horus has no problem detecting stealth aircraft and mythril.

Zipangu Aerotech Type-1: A modified copy of the MiG-15 that is produced locally on Terra

Zipangu Aerotech Type-2: A modified copy of the F-86 Saber.

UA VTOL-1: Known as 'Iron Griffons', the VTOL-1 is a tiltrotor aircraft similar in appearance to a V-22 Osprey and a UH-1  Huey. This aircraft was joint project secretly being worked on by Unlimited Defense Industries on Earth and the Uwhal Arsenal of Terra before First Contact took place.

F-14 Tomcat: A US carrier based fighter notable for having powerful radar. The Tomcats being reverse engineered by the Gremlins, Dwarves, Cyclopses and human engineers were stolen from Iran a few years before First Contact took place. The future Tomcats that the Union will put into production will all have Horus radar since Horus is more powerful than the originals. is more capable than the radar sets built into the Tomcats.

Uwhal Arsenal RMG: A squad machine gun with an orichalcum barrel so it never overheats. Based on the MG3 design.


(And now we begin)

This is what I have of the Hellhound story so far.

My eyes opened and all was dark. This was in no small part thanks to the thick, black curtain over the rooms only window. I find it difficult to sleep when there is any light. And despite being this far north, I was soaked in sweat. I looked toward the only sign of light in the room.

The faint green glow of the clock hands indicated it was a quarter to five. That was a surprise. I actually managed to get some sleep, after all. That was something to be thankful for, because this was an important day for everyone. My attention then turned to the bed covers that were heavier than usual. I could feel the rise and fall of another body sleeping pleasantly.

That would explain why I was so hot. I seemed to have been visited in the night. At least it was just one this time. The record stands at  four.

“Sorry, my dear. Time to get up.” Giving her a gentle push, the lump of fur that radiated so much heat rolled to the side. That gave me just enough room to get up.

I moved the curtain out of the way and spotted the silhouettes of five other ships sailing through the water. We were all heading for some much needed shore leave. A splendid beach party on behalf of one of my Ryu aunts from Zipangu.

And I was the chaperone for the wonderful occasion. That meant I needed to wake up quick. Even though the lights had just been turned on, the ball of sheets and fur hadn’t stirred any. That changed rather quick after I turned on the propane burner and started a new pot of coffee.

She lay there looking at me for quite a while. Those fiery eyes were still rather lethargic when she finally spoke up. “But don’t you Glilian gents look down on coffee for being ‘so uncultured?”

“Tea couldn’t stir a Kobald. Care for some wet?” I asked while sloshing the kettle back and forth.

She gave me a toothy grin. “Thought you would never ask. Oh and no cream or sugar, please.”

“As the lady requests.” I handed her the first mug and poured another for myself. She took her first sip and immediately began to perk up. Even the fiery trails at her eyes grew as the coffee entered her system.

I turned the alarm off on the clock. It wasn’t like anyone in the room was going to get three more minutes of sleep anyways. Sitting at the desk, I looked around my personal accommodations. The cabin was of a modest size, as requested of course. I didn’t want to kick the Captain out of his own quarters. Especially when I didn’t expect to get any sleep to begin with. Speaking of sleep, when did the Hellhound get in here?

Humorous how that works, isn’t it? She also couldn’t remember. “Hey, Rich…” She started off. “Did we mate?” She asked me with her head cocked to the side. Hellhounds, even with their reputation as it is, seemed to enchant me with an air of lovability.

I shook my head. “If we did, I‘d like to think I‘d remember, love. Perhaps next time, though.”

“Oh…” She appeared rather down about it. Not that I can blame. I certainly wouldn’t have minded. At that time, she was going to turn 17 in a few days, so she was by no means a pup. Sergeant Flamejante Santiago was a capable squad leader, her mind was sharp so she had plenty of potential.

I had every intention of asking her about accepting a officer‘s commission. Just not then and there. I wasn’t going to start the day off with thoughts of work. I would ask her only after she had some time on shore.

She gave a yawn and pulled herself out of the bed. “Zero five ten. Another hour and we will reach the island.”

“Indeed. Oh and by the by, Flamejante. I’ll probably be staying behind and making sure everything is going alright between the ships, at least at first. So ask everyone this for me…” She waited, anticipated what I was going to say.

“When everyone is running around trying to find fresh mates to conquer, try to have some extra fun for your dear Colonel while he is stuck dealing with the dull matters of docking ships and unloading supplies. Promise?”

“Yes Sir!!!” Came a chorus of Hellhounds that could be heard throughout the ship. From the other side of the door, I could hear bare paws and boots quickly scamper off.

--- One Week Earlier---

All the officer and noncommissioned Hellhound officers stood at attention in the cobblestone courtyard. Atop each head was a red garrison cap tailored to fit comfortably without bothering their canine ears. Otherwise their uniforms had a familiarity to the ones worn by the officers that stood before them. Over the last few years the women had underwent training by British and American Marines from Earth. Since all information about Earth had become restricted, only the highest ranking officials were there to witness the occasion. Namely General Yrzita, Supreme General of the Uwhal Union's armies and her husband, King Frederick, Glilia‘s head of state. Their son, Crown Prince Richard, was at attention along with the women that he would soon be leading. General Inigo Kilroy of the USMC was halfway through his speech for the ceremony.

“Spanning over three hundred fifty years, from Felixstow to the Falkland Islands, Princeton to Belleau Wood, Normandy to Afghanistan, the Corps of Royal Marines and the United States Marine Corps are proud to impart the rich history of Marine tradition upon you remarkable ladies. You are the finest warriors your nation could produce and I know that no matter where across Terra you go, whether by sea or air, His Majesty's Amphibious Vanguard will always fulfill its mission with distinction.”

All manner of howls, oorahs and wans broke out among the newly christened Imperial Marines. Later on they had a short marathon run to their favorite pub six klicks south in Rutledge. It felt like a real celebration. Why, they even ran without their full kit this time. Richard, with freshly minted Colonel’s pips on his shoulders, was proud to be drinking with the lasses and 'consultants' from Earth that were going to put it to the Order’s hind quarters.

In planning for this day, he had prepared a special little treat for them. A safe hand currier ran in and gave Colonel Rich a message. At first glance, the delivered papers looked like they had been from the high clerics of the Order. The prince made a deal about looking them over, reading and re reading to make sure he had understood the message. Long before he finished reading, all the fiery eyes in the room were trained on him. Good situational awareness, he thought.

“It seams our secret’s out, lovies.” They listened as the commander of their regiment read aloud the message. In truth, it was little more than a rendition of Hitler’s infamous “Kommandobefehl” order, stating that all captured allied commandos were to be summarily executed. However, the wording in the order had been edited to be by the Order for dealing with the Imperial Marines of Glilia.

“…Especially brutal and treacherous is the behavior of the so-called Commandos who, as is established, are partially recruited from freed criminals in Mamono infested countries.” A considerable number of Hellhounds let out a particularly loud cheer at that. A few Hellhounds, trained by SAS for special raiding squads, immediately figured out the joke but had the good grace to keep quiet and hold their poker faces listened.

“From captured training material it is divulged that they are not only allowed to rape prisoners---”
Enthusiastic howling.
“---But also to kill defenseless prisoners.”
A still rather enthusiastic howl.
“Those naughty bitches!” Captain Nihtegal called out. But that was the last of the cheering. All had to pause for thought as the rest of the order continued to be read.

“…Whether armed or unarmed, in battle or in flight, are to be slaughtered to the very last….” Many looked at each other with nervous smiles as realization set in.

“… no pardon is to be granted them on principle.” Prince Richard gazed back into every set of burning red eyes watching him. His grin was rather smug.

“With whatever missions lay ahead, we can expect bishops and cardinals to issue commands such as these. And the paladins and choir boys to follow them to the letter.” He said as he crumpled the paper.

“Sergeant, what is our policy in the face of such piss-poor hospitality?” Richard asked Flamejante as he threw her the crumpled paper.

“A damn good wet, sir!” The Hellhound noncom howled back after catching it.

“Too fucking right,” He held up his drink. “Cheers!”

--- One Week Later---

Island of Neglora
0640 hours

She was a peculiar sight given our training. The Hellhound was wearing the standard gray and red uniform but it was overshadowed by the arcane. Instead of a standard red garrison cap, she was instead wearing one of those long brimmed and pointy witch hats as a cover and she had a cloak over her field tunic. She and four other mages were enchanting the shells before they were fired towards the island.

The opening volley of shells streamed towards Neglora as blue shooting stars in the low light of the waking hours. This signaled the start of our first official operation. Those shell craters would remain burning with the intensely hot surreal blue flames long into the day thanks to the work of the mages. It was a new kind of 'shock and awe' spell that Captain Nihtegal had been working on. I was more than willing to give her and the other mages the go ahead. It wouldn't be a big issue even if the blue death spell didn't have the intended psychological effect on the enemies. Testing on the artillery range showed that a basic level of the enchant could increase the effectiveness of a standard infantry 50mm mortar shell by three times it's normal explosive potential.

Captain Nihtegal also demonstrated that a mage of her caliber only needs a bow and a single arrow to wipe a platoon from existence. It's a shame the Americans and the English couldn't appreciate the effectiveness of magic. Well, a number of our recruits did manage to snag mates while training with the RM and the USMC. Those men were promptly reassigned as consultants for the imperial marines. This was the first time any of them had an opportunity to see the practical field applications of such arcane abilities. It was truly a sight to behold and a shame it couldn't last forever.

The small guns on the sailing ships fell silent as the the first wave of the Vanguard were jumping out of their row boats and wading to the shore. Row boats, a far cry from the amphibious combat vehicles they had been training with back on Earth. Then again, so were the sailing ships.

The boats had returned to be refilled with more marines. I looked on with envious eyes. They were going ashore while I was pacing back and forth at the helm. Modern military doctrine had been drilled into everyone’s head since day one. On Earth, generals and commanding officers stayed back away from the front line to keep the chain of command intact. After all, it would be a fuck-all event if a sniper hiding in the treeline carved my head off with a well placed shot. I understand why they taught it. Certainly does not mean that it sits right with me. In the last war, my father had lead at the front as a good leader should. Two of my step mothers, Erika and and Yrzita, have also proved themselves at the front of the battle. Yet here I am, His Royal Highness Colonel Richard, stuck on a ship and watching the operation from afar. I can't take this any longer.

“I’m going ashore with the second detachment.” I said for the benefit of the ship’s One True Captain as well as my retainer, an Ochimusha. According to my most revered grandmother, Kuro had been the strong, silent type since before she died a hundred and sixty years prior. The Captain gave a curt nod and wished us well while my undead bushi followed closely behind.

Loading the boats for the second trip ashore was faster than the first thanks to the mages. They were no longer preoccupied with enchanting shells so they put their levitation spells to use. We managed to get on board one of the life boats and were rowing ashore. Only the sounds of idle chatter and the tide could be heard. There was no sound coming from the direction of the beaches. No gunfire, no shell bursts, nothing.

While on the ship, I listened to the radio chatter from the first wave. Their landing had been unopposed. This was our first battle but I wasn't naive about what could await on Neglora. I had no doubt that Captain Nihtegal and the other mages of her coven did a damn fine job softening up the enemy positions. Even so, there was no way that the expected force that awaited us could have possibly been wiped out. I heard a similar tactic had been used by the Japanese in the battle of Iwo Jima. They waited for an hour to let the US Marines pile their men and material onto the island before commencing the bloodbath.

“Why's it gotta be so damn cold?” One Private griped.

“Quit whining like a pup!” A Sergeant growled. “If you're that cold then there's always shit detail.” The the Private had no response to that and remained silent thereafter.

Nihtegal wasn't the only one using magic to hasten our arrival. Knowing the water as Ryu do is a proud mark of the Royal House of Avalon. In my un-Ryu like impetuousness I used the water to increase the speed of our rowboats by five knots.



(That's the end of what I have so far in the story. The rest are bits and pieces I plan to add in later on for this chapter and others that will follow.)



The first time was supposed to be glorious. A baptism of blood and fire. That simply wasn't the case.

“Sir, the prisoner as you ordered.” Came the Ochimusha's stern voice as she pushed the man into the tent.

He didn't appear to have been pounced by any of the girls. And I can see why.

'Scroungy' is the word that best sums up the prisoner standing before me. The man's black hair and beard were unkempt. His tunic was absolutely filthy. Now I am a sporting man, don't get me wrong. But I definitely will not bet on how many days have passed since this man had last bathed. There is enough dirt on his skin to make determining his ethnic origins all but impossible.

And the smell!

By all my ancestors and the gods above! It is as if the concept of personal hygiene is foreign to this so-called paladin. I feel downright insulted. As the Commanding Officer of the Amphibious Vanguard and De Facto governor of the island, it makes me want to vomit when I consider that this man was commanding the opposition forces. But he is a Paladin, which is the Order equivalent to Captain. We had expected there to be a force of equal strength or greater to our own. Yet there were only two hundred enemies being led by a fuckwit three ranks below me. The girls took the damn island in a day.

The first time was supposed to be glorious. A baptism of blood and fire. That simply wasn't the case. This paladin might not have been claimed by any of the girls but I'm sure he'll be the object of their anger.

. . .

“This,” -The Hellhound said as she held up the rifle- “Is a better husband than all of you sorry limpdicks put together. For starters, it shoots more than once a day. Which must sound like a miracle to your ears but we're not here to talk about your performance issues today. In three days time, every single one of you will know how they go together, how to clean them, and how to kill your enemies with them.”

. . .

Somewhere in the deep recesses if my pacifistic mind was a jarhead that wanted to see what a blue death enchanted torpedo could do to a ship like a super carrier.

. . .

Their Colonel invited the enemy CO into his tent to ask him some questions. Once that's done, he's going to have a talk with Flamejante about an incident that happened earlier in the day.

For one, he confirms the suspicion that the Order knows about Earth. The weapons seized from their prisoners were all produced on Earth so he tries to learn the full extent of the Order's purchases. Especially if they have been getting anything other than small arms.
The paladin's pistol clearly has the Springfield Armory logo

"Oh look. A Springfield Armory XD9... Those are made in Croatia. Oi, Paladin. Do you even know where Croatia is?"
So he and the paladin go back and forth until the Colonel gets what he wants and then has the paladin taken back to be with the other prisoners. After that, he orders that Sergeant Santiago come to his tent. Earlier in the day, she had taken her armor off and heard gunshots. She ran in the direction of the guns and got shot up before taking down the prisoner (The Paladin from before)

I had originally intended for her to have simply been wounded and patched up but now intend to change it to the Hellhound Sergeant being 'sent back to Fort Redders' from her wounds before finding her way back.
What doesn't change is the Colonel chewing her out for being reckless.


She got lucky. It went through without hitting anything vital (Going to take that out). The Colonel asks her why the fuck she wasn't wearing her armor and chastises her for trying to show off. And yes, he definitely knows she was trying to show off. For him.

So she goes from "I'll show him! I won't even need this silly body armour" to "He's worried about me!"


basically, either happy that he's worried or getting upset that he's angry at what she did (both)




I'm not sure how I want to work out the exchange between the Colonel and the Hellwan. But I'm thinking it goes from chewing her ass out over the incident. Then the Colonel explains that he is well aware of the 'secret' game most of the single girls are playing.

"Would you like to know the standings, Colonel?"

"Standings? I was under the impression that once the war was over, the most decorated Marine wins the prize. Goes leaps and bounds to explaining your actions earlier. You were hoping I'd put you up for a medal..."

She says nothing, but her tail is wagging.

The young Colonel falls back into his chair and sighs
"And then there's that little matter with the Gleipnir collars..."

Hellhound's ears perk up
"Oh, this? It's a family thing going back centuries. They keep us... mostly reasonable. Every descendant of Fenrir wears them."

"And you're the only descendant of Fenrir in the regiment?"
"I believe so."
"Then how did everyone else get them after you joined?"

...

"You were expecting me to be praising you for being careless?"
"No, sir!"
Colonel raises a brow
"And what about that grin you carried when you entered the tent?"
"That's.... the morphine."



--- This segment involves the AC-47 both from the copilot's perspective and the Hellhound Flight Lieutenant---

The locals thought this was “The crowning success of innovation.” Yeah, sure. Why the fuck not? This damn pissa shit probably wouldn’t have passed the Aviation Administration’s current safety inspections. Not only that but this dinosaur was over a hundred years old.

I have no idea how they managed to find all the parts needed to get a Douglas Dakota back in the air but these feudal era monster girls also demanded to have it converted into a ground attack aircraft. And thus Puff, the Magic Dragon flies again and here I am stuck in the copilots seat next to my rapist of a Flight Lieutenant. She is some hoity-toity Hellhound that jumps me whenever she is drunk and now I have to sit beside to her for the next few hours. That is assuming this fifteen thousand kilogram Vietnam War museum piece doesn’t fall apart in the air. God help us all.
- - -


The flaps bit into the slipstream as I brought the gunship around for the payload run. The fanciest toys on the other world would spin around and dance in the air with the simple turn of a controller. That must be how human woman could be pilots. It made me glad to be a Hellhound. It made hadndling the controls easy.

It certainly was more fun to wrestle with than the tease in the copilots seat. He had been coming onto me for weeks, dishing out his best compliments and what not. Then when I returned his advances, he tells me that he isn’t into women. Says he only likes other guys. I don’t get why that changes anything. I mean if he likes ass then that’s fine. I have it on good authority that mine is quite nice. And with a strap-on I can give it as good as I can take it. So what’s the big deal?

I’ve just about given up trying to reason with Alp Bait. Earth humans are strange indeed. Let the Manticores and the Amazonesses break them in, I say. I’ll find a proper, fun loving mate in the Marines or in Glilia.

“Guns hot,” A voice calls out over the earphones.
“Guns hot,” I acknowledge. “Commencing final approach.”  The engines roar louder as the flaps cut further into the air when I tilt the plane on it’s axis. At least I could worry about maneuvering the gunship without lining up the three guns. Some Earther weapons chief was in the back of the plane with a magic box that did the targeting.

“Firing in three… two… one-”
“Holy shit!’ I barely hear my own voice shout. I expected a surprise but damn! I was told about the three ‘miniguns’ in the two rear windows and side cargo door being able to plow up a game stadium in a few seconds. Intellectually, I could appreciate that meant many, many bullets ripping into choir boy and paladin fortifications but actually experiencing it was something else.

It was the ear splitting sound of metal being continuously ripped as the plane rattled and shook. “Fuck me blind.” The copilot breathed. Damn him and his mixed signals. “look at that.”  I strained my neck to look out the window. Our target, a wood sailing ship anchored in the harbor. Now, It was little more than fiery hot splinters.

. . .
(This next segment is based on an obscure German plan from WW2 that involved using converting a Junkers JU 88 bomber into a flying bomb and directing it to a desired target by a smaller piloted aircraft that would detach once it was heading towards the target. In that configuration, the command aircraft was usually a Focke-Wulf Fw 190. The aircraft Katsumi is using was a reproduction of the Fw 190 of which only a small number were ever made.)

“What did she say?” The shrine maiden asked as her vulpine ears twitched. The lady mechanic’s accent was rather thick and it made understanding her very difficult.

“Halabi is asking if your Grace is certain about accepting this ‘honor.’ I take it she means flying this crazy contraption.” The second mechanic translated. His words showed lack of faith in the machine they had worked on but the way he was affectionately caressing one of the twin engines showed his true feelings. Earth Humans were different in many ways and yet so familiar.

Katsumi’s tail brushed against the wing of the ‘lower body.’ “But of course. These pilots need a calming voice to help them carry on with the mission. As the Wing’s priestess, I have a responsibility to be with them and set a good example.” She said jubilantly. To her this was another thrilling challenge to tackle. A quick fix for her addiction to flying. ‘Vati und Sohn’ is what the Earth clan called these two. The lower half was some aircraft called a titan and was meant for passengers.

The engineers and mechanics had dutifully converted ‘Cessna’ into a flying bomb. The upper part, the ‘Command Module’ as the refit team referred to it was a ‘Flugwerk 190’ that was mounted to Cessna by struts. Katsumi would lead Cessna to the target in the 190 and detach to send it on its way. After that, Katsumi could use the 190’s cannons for strafing attacks.

“If anything goes wrong I can trigger the explosive bolts early or ditch out and get picked up in the water.” She said as ground crew rolled the ladder up to the side of the piggybacked aircraft and drone.

The priestess and flight commander of the 22nd Attack Squadron, climbed the ladder to her aircraft, she would be leading ‘Katsumi’s Fluffy Tail Divers’ as they were called. A pair of consultants from the U.S. Air Force and the Luftwaffe came up with it and the name stuck. The art on the nose of her 190 showed a white five tailed fox lashing out with the inscription ‘Fluff From Above.’ That was also a suggestion from former pilots from Earth.

The newly christened Mutual Defense Air Corps took many of the traditions of its Earth counterparts.

. . .

(This segment was simply titled “Cheshire Ace and Hellhound Kommando” and takes place sometime after 2050)

“My favorite prey was their warships.” The Cheshire Cat answered before putting the drink on her mess tray. “Swoop in, drop a penetrator on them like a bunker and it'll go all the way through the ship and blow up like a torpedo underneath. The explosion then rips the ship apart before the mice ever realized the cat stopped in to say nya~” The pilot explained to the Holstaur that politely nodded. The lady bovine was quickly losing her appetite.

“What good is a sinking destroyer?” A Hellhound retorted. The cashier was ringing up her order when she overheard the conversation. “At least we saved some of the Korean tubs from annihilation. Now they proudly sail for the King.”

“Oh look, it's one of the Marines that spoiled the Air Corps' fun. If you and those pirates hadn't commandeered so many ships then we could have kept the battle going for a few more months.”

To the cow girl, it sounded like the two veterans could start fighting at any moment. And in order to get at each other, the fighter ace and the Kommando would need to get through her gentle and large chested self. Not that she was in any real danger. Veterans and active service members always make a sport out of mocking the other military branches. Not doing so is simply distasteful, like only halfheartedly cheering for your country's football team. All the same, the bovine civvy got away from them as soon as her food was paid for.