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- Not sure what to call this story yet
- >A few years after both the Merge and the Collapse
- >Things haven't gone back to normal yet
- >they probably never will, but we're getting used to it
- >No news from the Feds in a while
- >Seems like they have given up and are leaving us alone
- >they can't defend us, so why would we pay taxes?
- >they did not agree with our stance at first
- >but a few ambushes and fallen trees have convinced them
- >Sadly, the feds were not the only ones who wanted to "tax" us
- >Orkish warbands ranging from small to not-so-small have attacked us relentlessly
- >But for a few months, it's been strangely calm
- >Not sure if they're planning something or if they just got tired of it
- >Probably neither, they're not smart enough and all they like is fighting
- >And that's why we have sentries like me
- >We don't have alarms set up, all we got are bells. Electricity is for radios only
- >We've guessed power lines have been destroyed or the Dams shitted up by the Greens, or both
- >Only radio signal we've been picking up clearly is really weird
- >What sounds like Mongolian Throat-Singing, 24/7
- >And it's more than just one track, doesn't sound like it's looping
- >No idea where it's coming from really, we only got one antenna
- >Anyways, we have larger fish to fry
- >We've gotten used to this way of life well enough, thanks to some preppers and our older townsfolk
- >Some of them were of those who farmed this land in the fifties, when there was barely any infrastructure
- >they know how to do stuff the old way, no running water or electricity needed
- >We've managed to keep the town safe and well-fed
- >We've also received refugees from nearby towns who got raided and razed by the Greens
- >We needed their expertise and manpower, and over here, we stick together
- >Ork attacks were hard to fight though, the only weapons we had were hunting rifles
- >Some of us are knowledgeable in metalworking and gunsmithing, we even built some SMGs ourselves, along reloading ammo
- >We repaired the guns the Orks had too
- Cont
- >My turn on the watchtower tonight
- >It's pretty cold up here, but I'm used to it
- >Only me, my Double-Great-Grandpa's old 1891 Dragoon Mosin and a bottle of Moonshine
- >He was a Russian Cossack and fought in WW1
- >My Grandpa told me he fought the Commies from Kuban to Siberia, fled to Canada in 1921 after the Whites lost Vladivostok
- >He hopped on a boat to Canada as the city fell, few of his comrades made it
- >Only spoke French and Russian, so he moved to rural French Canada
- >We've passed down this bad boy for generations, along with his Shashka, both in great condition
- >Once again it is used for war
- >This time, it's not to hold back the Reds, but to hold back the Greens
- >While examining the masterful engineering of the Hexagon bolt, I take a sip form my canteen
- >Moonshine is pretty good, but mixed with water because I don't want to be blind drunk on watch
- >It was a gift from Jean-Pierre, the local Doctor and Bartender
- >I've heard rumors about him cooking up Pervitin in the back of his bar
- >He's a good christian, but I don't blame him
- >Fuck it's hard staying awake
- >Maybe this alcohol is still too strong
- >It's been Six Months since the last raid, so I guess I could take a nap...
- >FUCK YOU RETARD
- >DON'T THINK THAT YOU MORON, YOU'LL JINX IT
- >I slap myself in the face
- >The sharp pain on my cheek reminds me of Mama
- >I did retarded shit back then, I don't blame her
- >She cooked really well, was a great woman
- >She wasn't here to see what happened, died in a Car Accident
- >Rest in peace Mama
- >Although she wasn't here to witness all the weird shit that went down
- >The blanket she made for me is pretty darn warm, great for sleeping outside
- >it almost seems like she knew about what was coming
- >Honestly, I wouldn't care that much if we could still watch Hockey on TV
- >The Sun is rising and the Town is waking
- >I'm no longer needed, I can go back to sleep
- >I'll stay up here, this place is not that bad.
- >Pull my Expos Cap down and drift into sleep
- Cont
- >Next day, chilling with Bros at JP's Tavern
- >Had no Tavern in town prior to the Collapse, so it's a big log cabin we built a while ago
- >He has a distillery at the back, and a room for himself
- >Bob the Carpenter made some chairs and tables, antique store had a really old Pool table
- >I always sucked at pool, but it's fun
- >Playing with Mike and Frank while Steph is throwing knives at a target hung on the wall
- >Frank wins again, Mike was probably distracted by his own thoughts
- >He's probably thinking about his weird conspiracy theories
- >Frank buys us drinks because he won
- >It's supposed to work the other way, but we accept it
- >Ok bro we know you really want that place in heaven, but this is a bit much
- >We order some drinks, try to make smalltalk with JP
- >He's a bit jumpy, maybe the rumors are true
- >If yes, his supply could come in handy in emergency situations
- >I remember reading about a Finn that downed his entire squad's supply of Pervitin
- >His squadmates, stunned, saw him disappear into the woods at warp speed
- >probably melted tracks in the snow
- >They find him a few weeks later, 400km from his previous position, in a pit in the snow
- >He has no ammunition, no food except for some pine buds in his pack
- >His pulse was 200 beats/minute and he had dropped down to 43 kilos
- >As long as we don't take 30 tablets in one shot like he did, we would probably be fine
- >Extra energy could save our lives, and those of the whole community we swore to protect
- >Back on track.
- >As the bartender comes back with our drinks, Mike goes on one of his legendary rants
- >He sounds almost exactly like Alex Jones
- >Something about how the Government is run by interdimensional child-molesting demons
- >Also according to him Elves are an Hoax
- >As he's getting to the part where the RCMP is teaming up with Orks to destroy Catholic Communities, a familiar figure approaches
- >It's Chief, the guy in charge of the town's Militia, our Boss
- >He's a big guy (UUUU)
- Cont.
- >He explains to us that the Radio silence has been broken for the first time in months
- >And it isn't another Mongolian Music Station
- >Apparently a some kind of Caravan got stranded in the woods around a hundred clicks from here
- >Said their horses and cattle disappeared during the night
- >Sounds like bullshit, but Chief says they'll pay us if we guide them back to safety
- >in weapons
- >ShieetNegroThatsAllYouHadToSay.webm
- >As expected, Mike, Frank and Steph volunteer too
- >We decide to not use the main roads
- >We would risk getting spotted, and fucked by snow anyways
- >We grab our gear and our guns
- >But not Steph, he grabs his knives
- >Once all our gear is ready, we go rest in the barracks
- >Tomorrow we leave at dawn
- Next Morning
- >Frank wakes up first, cooks us some eggs and venison for breakfast
- >so much for leaving at dawn
- >It's pretty good, we probably won't have eggs in the woods but we can hunt
- >We say our goodbyes and disappear innawoods
- >We aren't boy scouts by any means, but we aren't retarded
- >Our lads have gone in the woods before to help refugees (not the rapey kind, the useful kind)
- >We haven't gotten any more refugees since a while back, all towns around us probably got raided bare
- >Luckily, the position of the Caravan is pretty close to somewhere we've already been
- >It was a great spot to ambush RCMP patrols
- >It's a small clearing, with cliffs on both sides of the road
- >It's a great spot for an ambush
- >Caravan guys are fucking retarded if they thought that was a good spot for a camp
- >Fuckers are asking for trouble
- >We've been walking through the woods for a while, it will probably take a hand of days to get there and back
- >Find a good spot near a creek for camp
- >I mean it would be nicer if it wasn't completely frozen
- >Gets pretty cold at this time of the year, but seems like it got worse since the merge
- >But we're not urbanite niggers, we can handle it
- >Frank and Steph go hunting while we set up a fire and a camp
- Cont
- >Coming back to camp with firewood in my arms
- >Wait nigger I think I heard something
- >While Mike is fixed on disassembling and cleaning his M1, something is fucking with our packs
- >I quietly lower the wood on the ground and whip out my trusty Hi-Power
- >with shaking hands, screw on a silencer (I threaded the barrel a while ago) as fast as I possibly can without making too much noise
- >one of the fuckers raises his head
- >It's a little fucking bunny cunt
- >LOOKSLIKEMEATISBACKONTHEMENU.pdn
- >shoot the fucker in the head
- >pink mist all my rucksack
- >we'll deal with that later
- >before the stealing niggers can even react, they have already met their maker
- >Mike almost gets a heart attack, jumps from his seat
- >he whips out his 1911, and mag-dumps into the woods while screaming "FUCK YOU GAY JEWNIGGERS"
- >1911 Jams before he empties his extended mag
- >kek, but at least his hand is fine
- >Knowing his luck, his gun would've blown up if it was a glock
- >He racks the slide but somehow accidentally drops the mag
- >Madman freaks out, throws his 1911 at a tree, making some bark come off
- >Having heard the shots, Frank and Steph come back running
- >WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GUYS DOING? YOU DUMB ANIMALS ARE GOING TO GET US SPOTTED AND YOURSELVES KILLED!
- >I've never seen Frank this mad
- >I explain what happened while Mike picks up his gun and his mag
- >We laugh it off, Mike included
- >Steph explains that they were coming back when they heard the gunfire, they dropped their catches though
- >I show Frank the dead rabbits, and Steph leaves to get the Turkeys they caught
- >When he comes back, we've already got the rabbits skinned and roasting
- >That shit's great, tastes even better when you caught them yourself
- >Turkey's great too, maybe we can keep some for letter to supplement our rations
- >Aaaaand it's gone
- >Too bad, we'll catch more game later
- >I fall asleep in my Hammock with a full stomach, hugging my nugget, wondering about who the fuck is in charge of Chinggis Radio
- Cont
- Two Days later
- >We've been walking for a while, nothing much happened yesterday
- >Found some more rabbits, but nothing more
- >Better than nothing, they tasted great
- >We're getting close to the Caravan's last position
- >Maybe a day more or so, but we need to find a crossing first
- >most of the river is frozen, but the ice isn't thick enough in most places
- >We're following the river, looking for a possible crossing
- >Mike just WONT SHUT THE FUCK UP
- >He wasn't too annoying at first, but damn when it's been 3 days of him schizo-ranting
- >He even scared away a deer before we could shoot it
- >I like the guy, but for fucks sake can't he shut the fuck up?
- >Frank seems fine with it, like nothing can annoy him
- >Steph randomly throws knives at trees in front of us, then picks them back up
- >He's getting really good at this
- >The sound of him sharpening his knives have helped me fall asleep for the last few nights
- >I wonder if Knife Sharpening ASMR is a thing
- >Or was a thing, not even sure if the internet still exists
- >not up here at least, maybe when it's all over he can start an ASMR channel
- >/K/omfy /K/ommando Noises or something like that
- >Told him about it, he likes the idea
- >Maybe if Elon Musk gave us satellite internet instead of giving it to Africans we could do it
- >too bad, everyone knows Nigerian children need to be taught about JavaScript
- >It's getting darker, we should set up camp soon
- >Would be nice to find a crossing today
- >Oh, talking of the devil
- >Seems like this not as wide
- >Frank is poking the ice with his walking cane to see if it's good enough
- >No idea why he uses a cane, he's as old as we are, plus he has good legs
- >Of course, Steph, not giving a fuck, just runs past him to the middle of the river
- >I think he saw something
- >With a crazed look on his face, he takes out a fucking SS dagger and starts stabbing the ice
- >niggerwhatthefuckareyoudoing.jpeg
- Cont
- >he makes some kind of round hole in the ice with a few precise stabs
- >leaves his SS dagger on the ice, takes out his switchblade
- >with the switchblade in hand, he looks at the water, 100% focused on whatever the fuck he is trying to do
- >still has a faint smile on his face
- >after a few long seconds of us looking at him, dumbfounded, he takes a single stab at the water
- >he plunges his other arm in the freezing river
- >his hand comes back out with a fucking trout in it
- >it doesn't take long before it stops wriggling, the switchblade still in its side
- >he slaps the fish on the ice
- >LOOKSLIKEMEATISBACKONTHEMENUBOYS_2.webm
- >still frozen by what we had just witnessed, he gets up and turns to us with a shit-eating grin
- >we walk up to him to examine his catch, still amazed
- >"NIGGER HOW THE FUCK?"
- >Steph looks me dead in the eyes
- >he simply whispers one word
- >"Anime."
- >ok fair enough
- >We pick our shit back up
- >Frank wants to empty the fish NOW
- >Ok foodbro, do your thing
- >As he gets his tools out, I hear faint rustling in the bushes from the other side of the river
- >OH SHIT
- >Me, Frank and Steph leg it to the other side of the river and take cover
- >I get my Nugget out and go prone behind a fallen tree
- >A few paces on my right, Steph is crouched behind a rock
- >He already has knives in both hands, and one in his mouth
- >How many fucking knives does he have?
- >No idea where Frank went, but I know he's a good shot with his Ruger American, I trust him
- >A few seconds pass, and after what feels like eternity we hear more rustling
- >As a human figure wanders out of the woods, I take my aim
- >Oh, we're retarded
- >It's just Mike, he was probably taking a piss
- >"Hi guys sorry I had shit to do in the bushes wait what is that fucking hole in the-"
- >His is interrupted by the crack of a gunshot from his side of the woods
- >As Mike's body falls limp, a small streak of dark blood descends from his scalp
- Cont.
- >My mind goes from DEFCON 5 to DEFCON 1 in less than a heartbeat
- >Faster than that time my Dad found me wanking to Lutty Schematics
- >I frantically look for hostiles
- >Somewhere far to my right, I hear Frank yell "THERE'S SOMETHING IN THE TREES"
- >Good news, it wasn't one of us
- >Bad news, we've got friends
- >Before I can say anything, Steph leaps from behind his rock shouting something about Gooks
- >As he darts towards the other side of the river, gunfire erupts from the treeline
- >Not missing a beat, I start shooting towards the muzzle flash to cover him
- >Seems like Frank is doing the same, as I hear more gunshots from our side
- >Not sure what the fuck Steph is doing, we need to catch up to him before he gets killed
- >Gunfire from the other side are getting less disciplined, Steph is distracting them
- >We seize the opportunity and run to the other side as well
- >I almost trip in the fishing hole Steph made, but I make it to the treeline
- >I can see Steph wrestling something, I get closer to get a better shot at it
- >As I take my aim from behind a tree, Steph ends up between me and my target
- >I see another figure approach from his side, and I switch targets
- >It has some sort of dark brown longcoat on, but I can't figure out what it is
- >Shoot the fucker before he shoots Steph's ass
- >Frank comes out of nowhere and points his snub nose .357 at Steph's wrestling buddy
- >The thing's head get turned into mush, and both Steph's face and the snow is turned red
- >Fuck I hope they didn't have AIDS
- >Before Steph can complain about it, another figure comes out from behind the trees
- >It tries to shoot its AKS at Frank, but misses and hits a tree, sending shards flying
- >Steph turns and throws a knife at the thing
- >CRITICAL HIT
- >It falls backwards, magdumping into the sky
- >We stay silently in cover
- >Seems like that was the last one
- >Steph whips out his SS dagger with the same grin as when he caught that fish
- >It's probably still on the ice
- >Just like Mike
- >Fuck
- I haven't written anything in a while, sorry about that.
- >We examine the corpses
- >no idea what the fuck these things are, their skin is white, and their faces fucked
- >they look like skinny albino retard-orcs with down syndrome
- >Their guns seem functional, but we don't have any .22 lr or 7.62x39
- >We couldn't find any ammo on the bodies, it's like all they had were the mags
- >weird
- >I'm no doctors, but these thinks don't look like their were healthy
- >rotten teeth, hands black and rotting like they got gangrene
- >two out of the tree of them had a missing eye
- >what the fuck
- >this nigger's throat was torn open
- >Steph says it wasn't him
- >that fucker was trying to kill us moments ago, how in the fuck was he alive?
- >After Steph takes out some Canine teeth, says it's for a necklace
- >I've seen weirder, whatever floats your boat
- >We go back to the river, Mike is still laying on his back
- >That empty look in his eyes, looking into the sky
- >F
- >At least he got shot with .22lr, otherwise it would be a closed casket
- >Frank closes his eyes, and we carry him into the woods
- >We find a nice spot under an uprooted tree
- >The hole is pretty big
- >The ground is completely frozen, we can't do much better
- >Spend a few hours pilling up dirt and rocks to bury his body, along with his Garand
- >Steph makes a crude cross out of some thick branches, carves out Mike's name in it
- >Frank gives him one last prayer, and we go back to the river
- >We'll miss you brother
- >We won't let his death be in vain, we have to carry on with our mission
- >Probably a day's march more through the woods
- >We grab our stuff (and the fish) and go
- >We barely talk to each other, and walk as quietly as possible
- >There are probably other retarded downy-ork shitters in the woods, we gotta be careful
- >We make silently make camp, and it feels awfully quiet without Mike's ranting
- >We fall asleep quietly, the moon obscured by the trees and snowfall
- Cont.
- >wake up the smell of cooking fish
- >Tastes great, but there's not much
- >"At least I only have to share with two guys"
- >fuck off Steph
- >it's not funny you damn knife-wielding snowgook
- >we pack up and continue towards the objective, we're getting close
- >we don't have GPS equipment, so we're using a map and a compass
- >Talking of compasses, they started acting weird since the merge
- >we've figured out a couple months earlier that they point slightly more towards the east than they used to
- >easy fix, we just opened them and rotated the scales
- >thank god, Boss was a Astronomy nerd
- >The compasses are still weird though, they act a bit erratic sometimes
- >from time to time, the pointer starts shaking left to right for a while
- >only happens a few times per month, probably due to some fantasynigger phenomenon
- >Not much of an issue, usually it doesn't last for too long
- >We've gotten used to shit like this, a bunch of other weird shit has happened since the merge
- >Back on track
- >We're getting really close to Caravan's location, but it's awfully quiet
- >Strange for a group of a few dozen, maybe they encountered the same fucks we did
- >We arrive to the clearing next to the road, but there's no one here
- >There are a bunch of horse-drawn carts (with the horses missing), two carriages pulled on the side of the road
- >There is a small ring of stones with burnt wood, probably a fire spot
- >We look around to find any clues about what happened to the Caravan
- >we've already found multiple weapons and other equipment, but no bodies
- >"Huh... Guys? Come look at this"
- >Me and Steph get to where Frank is, and we're welcomed by one horrifying sight
- >There's a corpse in one of the Carriage, and frozen bloodstains the the walls
- >The guy is missing part of the back of his skull, and his jaw is open
- >the door is stuck shut, but after Frank opens it with a crowbar he found
- >The body falls to the ground, along with a snub-nosed .357
- >what the fuck happened here
- Cont.
- >We look through the corpse's stuff
- >had a New Brunswick driver's license, name was John Smith, age 62
- >Seriously?
- >After looking around the clearing for a second time, we haven't found any more bodies
- >I find what looks like an FN FAL partly buried in the snow, wood furniture
- >His previous owner probably won't need it, I dig it up to look closer
- >The thin layer of ice around it, separating the fresh snow from the older snow, breaks as I dig it up
- >the snow under it looks a bit pink
- >oh no
- >I put the FAL back on the ground and remove more snow
- >under the fresh snow (it had been snowing for a few days), the old snow is red with blood
- >After telling the others, we get to removing the top layer around where I found the FAL
- >the more we clear, the more we can see some kind of trail of blood
- >We follow it and continue revealing it
- >it leads into the woods
- >someone's corpse got dragged around, if they had limped it wouldn't look like that
- >our quiet talking is interrupted a distant, but clear sound of marching and voices
- >somewhere down the road, there's some kind of group approaching
- >We're not sure who these guys are
- >but knowing the fate of the caravan, we aren't risking it
- >without even having to talk, we immediately agree to go back in the woods from where we came
- >we quietly disappear into the woods, moving a bit slowly to avoid getting spotted
- >as the voices get closer, they also get clearer
- >doesn't sound like any language I know, but it's somewhat familiar
- >we carry on onwards, it sounds like there's many of them, it's not worth confronting them
- >first time we've seen or heard an hostile party around here, we have to tell the others
- >Fuck our mission, the Caravan is gone, dead men need no guides
- >Maybe the cunts who destroyed it are the same who killed mike
- >And the same as those on our tail
- >My thoughts are once again cut short by something unexpected
- >Gobbo right up front
- >And his little shitnigger eyes are on us
- Cont.
- >Reacting quicker than I could've, Mike throws a knife at the gobbo
- >it hits the gobbo in square between its eyes
- >the little fucker's dead before he can even react
- >before his little skelly body can hit the ground, our ears get raped
- >I have earplugs on, so no shit Orkshits heard it
- >It's coming from the dead goblin
- >fucker had a dead man's switch on itself
- >sentries with dead man switch alarms?
- >fuck that's actually a pretty good idea I guess
- >if your sentries are expected to die of course
- >No more time to think, we have to get the fuck away
- >We start running faster than blacks athletes during the olympics
- >Jumping over roots and shit
- >there's not too much snow because these woods are dense as fuck, thank god
- >Over the sound of our own footsteps, we hear Hooting and Hollering behind us
- >fuck
- >it's soon followed by gunshots and the sound of bullets whizzing past
- >there are wood shards flying everywhere, one hits me in the leg
- >FUCK
- >tap into my French genes
- >start running even faster despite the 3 inch piece of wood in my leg
- >we're loosing them, gunshots are fewer, they're trying to catch up
- >quickly look over my shoulder
- >gobbos running on all fours, followed by running orks
- >an Ork stops and takes aim
- >I get a tree behind me and it
- >I still hear the thunder of his niggerrigged AK
- >It is soon followed by the sound of a 7.62x39 bullet tearing it's way through flesh
- >Frank lets out a scream
- >look over my shoulder again
- >silverware spills everywhere out of his pouch as he falls
- >he takes out his Hi-Power, starts firing wildly
- >A goblin runs through the gunfire, gets dangerously close to him
- >pistol empty, he picks up a fork on his right and stabs the goblin under the jaw
- >"KEEP RUNNING, I'LL HOLD EM O-"
- >He gets shot in the face, and the snow around him is turned pink
- >"RUN FAGGOT IF YOU DON'T WANT TO BE NEXT"
- >thanks for the advice Steph
- >Turn my head back, hit a tree
- >Head hurts like hell, get back up and keep running
- Cont.
- >Continue running despite the pain
- >leaving a trail of red snow behind me, can't lose them
- >Must. Keep. Running.
- >Trip on a root
- >break my fall with my hands
- >get back up, keep running
- >Maybe I can get away
- >They stopped firing,
- >realize Steph is still here
- >He's running a bit slower than I am
- >he's also limping a bit
- >our pursers are gaining on us
- >Steph gets his foot stuck in something
- >trips and falls, but he isn't able to get up
- >I catch up to him, I try to help him up
- >"More than my ankle's fucked. Go."
- >I look down at his shirt, it's bright red and looks humid
- >I'm not leaving you alone, not with these greenniggers-
- >"Look kid, I'm done running. In fact, I've been waiting for this moment my whole life"
- >He pulls out his SS dagger and a stielhandgranate
- >"It just came sooner than I expected. Go tell the others: fun time's over."
- >he takes out a Mauser broomhandle
- >first time I've seen him with a gun
- >"See you in Valhalla brother!"
- >G-Goodbye brother
- >I get up and run, leg still hurting, but I won't let him die in vain
- >I hear multiple gunshots behind me, but I can't look back
- >Maybe I heard him yell "Meine Ehre heißt Treue" but I'm not sure, my german's rusty
- >As the gunshots grow distant, my pain becomes worse
- >Just. Keep. Running.
- >The now almost inaudible gunshots are silenced by a loud explosion
- >inhuman screaming resonates through the dark forest like the howling of wolves
- >I keep running, but my conscience becomes weaker
- >Have I lost too much blood?
- >Am I going to die?
- >before I can think any more about it, I trip over a root
- >I fail to regain footing, the ground disappears from under me
- >right shoulder hits a tree trunk
- >everything around me is moving
- >world keeps changing from normal to upside-down and normal again
- >hit more branches and roots as I tumble down the cliff
- >Hit my head on something hard on my way down
- >last thing I can hear is the rushing of water
- >everything goes black
- >finally I can rest
- >Gunfire
- >Snow
- >Fire
- >The Smell of burning wood
- >I stand up
- >Everything is on fire
- >But everything is silent
- >Houses are burning all around me
- >Home
- >Screams
- >It's from the tavern
- >Run towards it
- >Deep snow makes slow down
- >I sink into the snow
- >Up to my knees
- >Up to my waist
- >Cold
- >Door of the tavern opens
- >It's mike
- >He's looking at me
- >his own blood staining his clothes and his face
- >His eyes are closed
- >Dig my way out of the snow
- >get inside the tavern
- >Mike is dead on the floor
- >Frank is against the wall, disfigured, bloody hole in his left temple
- >Hear steps from the backstore
- >Hello?
- >Nothing
- >then, a voice
- >"Ich schwöre bei Gott diesen heiligen Eid,
- daß ich meinem Volk und Vaterland allzeit treu und redlich dienen
- und als tapferer und gehorsamer Soldat bereit sein will,
- jederzeit für diesen Eid mein Leben einzusetzen."
- >what
- >it's Steph
- >run to the backstore
- >nothing there
- >I look on the floor
- >His SS dagger, broomhandle and Stielhandgranate
- >the cap on the grenade is removed, and the string and bead have been pulled
- >run out of the tavern
- >it explodes when I reach the doorstep
- >I get thrown into the snow
- >black out
- >All I feel is cold
- >Wake up
- >I'm on the shore of the river
- >clothes aren't even wet
- >how in the fuck
- >I fill my canteen from the river
- >Despite being dry, I feel awfully cold
- >and hungry
- >I check my pack
- >rations are completely gone
- >Well, fuck
- >As I get up, I notice something shimmer on my left thigh
- >it's the scabbard for Steph's nazi dagger
- >how in the fuck
- >did he give it to me before I left?
- >Did he give it to me before I passed out?
- >No, I had heard his grenade, and his ankle was fucked
- >I'm alone here, others are dead
- >I need to get back to the Village
- >Were the fuck am I?
- >I don't recognize this place
- >Maybe if I find a road or a landmark or something
- >But right now I'm hungry
- >I need to kill something before the sun sets
- >I pack up my stuff and walk into the woods
- >I've been walking through the woods for a while
- >No signs of game or enemy activity
- >Found out I still had some hardtack in my pack, so I'm fine for now
- >The woods are quiet, all I hear is the sound of my own footsteps in the snow
- >The sun is starting to set, and I'm getting tired
- >I think I know which river I'm following now
- >Not long ago I encountered a recognizable river bend on the map
- >It's pretty far from the caravan though
- >How much time has passed since I blacked out?
- >The cunts we encountered are probably still traveling up the road
- >I take out my map, trying to find a way to avoid that road
- >They were travelling west right? They came from the opposite way we came
- >Oh fuck
- >That road is pretty long, but it leads directly to our village
- >I need to get there before the white orkniggers do
- >I need to find my way and haul ass
- >Not going to sleep this early, I'm no bitch
- >Three of my comrades died, no way I'm letting the whole village get murdered
- >Fuck I miss them
- >Almost tear up right there, but no time for that
- >If I head north-east now, I should be able to get there pretty quick
- >If I'm where I think I am
- >I'll stop walking when I get too tired to stand
- >humming to pass the time
- >getting confused between the lyrics of "SS marschiert in Feindesland" and "La Légion marche vers le front"
- >It's the same melody
- >but different languages tho, you fucking retard
- >really need to take a break
- >take out my hammock
- >wait what
- >has tears and holes in it
- >look at part of the pack it was in
- >holes are torn in it like it got shot
- >how in the fuck
- >dig deeper into the bag
- >it smells like alcohol
- >my moonshine flask has two holes in it
- >Mike was right all along
- >9mm is a weak caliber
- >Thank god for JP's moonshine, without it I would have bled out in the river
- >maybe
- >Attach the hammock between two medium-sized trees
- >Try to fall asleep while hugging my nugget
- >it's a bit harder without Steph's knife sharpening ASMR
- Cont.
- >next morning
- >wake up scared, sweaty and confused
- >what the fuck is happening
- >probably just a dream
- >I sit in the hammock, locking left, right and behind
- >not white niggers
- >yeah definitively just a dream
- >look through backpack for a snack before going
- >almost no hardtack left
- >jerky bag is gone
- >after smashing my last hardtack supplies, I refill my canteen and pack my shit up
- >according the map, I should run into a logging trail that follows the river for a bit
- >start walking, following the river
- >soon enough, I hit the trail marked on the map
- >it's a bit overgrown and covered in snow, but I can make out the trail by it's absence of trees
- >if I follow it for a while, I should run into a small creek
- >follow that creek and then I'll be back on our original trail
- >...our trail
- >not really "ours" anymore, the others are gone
- >fuck
- >well, no yet time for mourning
- >that comes later
- >for now, I need to get to that creek
- >then I get to town, alert town about what's coming and help organize a defense
- >focus on the task, mourn after
- >but fuck, it's hard not to think about it
- >Mike's empty stare
- >The way Frank's blood tainted the snow
- >How that yellow-ish glow lit up the trees in front of me when Steph's grenade blew
- >Will I ever see them again?
- >Hopefully not so soon, I got things to do
- >can't afford the whole town ending like them
- >still hungry
- >having my mind set on other shit helps though
- >snow is starting to fall
- >damn that's a lot of snow
- >the pine trees are protecting me from most of the snow
- >but it doesn't take long for it to pile up on the branches, causes them to bend a bit
- >snow randomly falls in small avalanches around me
- >I'm often looking up to avoid getting turned into a snowman
- >spend too much time looking up
- >trip on a root under the snow
- >fall face first into the snow
- >really fucking cold, try to get up from the soft, almost quicksand-like snow
- >as I'm getting up, I hear a branch above creak
- >For Fuck's Sake
- >Get up again and shake out the snow
- >Notice my coat is a bit torn on my left arm, probably because of branches and shit
- >I'll patch it up later, got worse problems to deal with
- >Continue walking forwards, keeping my eyes open for small animals that could be hiding in the snow or whatever
- >Can't really use the tracking skills Steph showed us these past years together, I have to hurry
- >I'll have Steak, Corn and Potatoes' at JP's when I get home
- >the three elements
- >also beer
- >kind of like plasma, doesn't really fit in but still there I guess
- >So if Steak is Solids, then which one is gas?
- >Plasma is closer to gas, and Grain is closer to Beer
- >but you can make Vodka out of Potatoes
- >can you make Alcohol out of Corn?
- >realize how fucking retarded these thoughts are
- >maybe despite what the psychologist said when I was little, I have doubts about not having autism
- >-haha Anon you're so qwerky and random xd rawr :3
- >holy fuck you're a pathetic nigger
- >-hey, shut the fuck up, you stop thinking about this shit when everyone you know could end up raped by fantasy niggers
- >I guess you're right
- >-also, pretending you have voices in your head doesn't make you look relatable or misunderstood, just makes you look retarded
- >then shut the fuck up nigger
- >keep walking
- >left, right, left, right
- >start humming FMJ marching songs
- >what exactly do they say after the eskimo pussy thing again?
- >good for you? good for me? Mighty cold?
- >fuck I don't remember in which order
- >my mind just drifts off and disconnects after a while
- >I'm completely distracted by my own thoughts, my legs are working by themselves
- >holy shit
- >A COYOTE
- >it looks angry
- >it's snarling at me
- >Shoulder my Mosin
- >Fire in the air to scare it away
- >it jumps back a bit
- >but it doesn't leave
- >FUCK
- >as I work the bolt to fire another warning shot, the fucker charges me
- >Fucking jumps on me
- >catches me off guard, jumps on me
- >it's mouth is drooling with white saliva
- >FUCKFUCKFUCK
- >it's trying to snap it's yapper at my face, but I'm holding it back with my arm
- >trying to find Steph's dagger
- >my frozen fingers touch the glorious product of teutonic craftsmanship
- >grip the handle and try stabbing the wannabe wolf under the jaw
- >before I can get the blade in the fucker, he manages to break free of my left arm
- >react quickly, jump forward and pin it to the ground
- >stab him again, this time he can't dodge
- >the now reddened steel hits him right in the soft spot under the jaw, near the neck
- >it works with zombies in movies and video games, why not for nigger dogs?
- >with an iron grip, twist the blade using my whole arm
- >Hear something snap, and the animal goes limp
- >I don't even have to think about it, I'm already skinning the fucker
- >soon I realize what I'm doing
- >what the fuck?
- >decide not to eat it, because eating carnivores is for niggers
- >also it could have diseases
- >still getting the skin though
- >while I'm finishing the job, the adrenaline wears off
- >I feel some pain on my left hand
- >look at it closer
- >notice what looks like small scratches on my knuckles
- >wipe the coyote blood off in the snow
- >hurts a bit, but I know cold helps with injuries
- >look again
- >the lines are deeper than I thought, they're cuts
- >hurts like a bitch now, I rub more snow on them
- >rip some fabric off my spare shirt and wrap it around the injury tightly
- >oh fuck
- >I remember how the coyote was drooling
- >it was also very aggressive
- >Hope I'm not getting rabies
- >I think we got medicine in town
- >just another reason to get there fast
- >I don't want to end up like that Coyote
- >Clean the skin the best I can with snow, still a bit dirty
- >fix the bayonet on my mosin and hang the coyote skin on it
- >as I walk, the rifle is slung over my shoulder with the skin on it, and it's flapping around a bit
- >realize that it wasn't a great idea
- >attach it to my bag with some rope, now it's better
- >I think I can hear the creek now, I'm getting closer
- >I don't feel as cold anymore
- >not sure if I'm getting better or just used to it
- >as long as my legs don't freeze solid I should be fine
- >my beard would probably have ice in it if it was longer
- >haven't shaved it in a while, but it's still short
- >I need more facial insulation
- >gotta get that homeless man look
- >everything helps when it's this cold outside
- >get to the creek, I just need to follow it for a while then turn east
- >stop for a while, cleaing the coyote skin a bit more and salting it
- >read on /out/ that it prevents it from rotting
- >the scenery is quite beautiful, almost forget that I need to hurry
- >if the white orks or whatever get to town first, we're fucked
- >fill up my canteen, pop a tablet in it and head up the creek
- >left leg hurts like a bitch
- >probably because of that 3inch shard of wood I removed a while ago
- >can't really run or jog, so I'm just taking fast, long strides
- >virginwalk.png
- >I should get to the bigass rock that marks the point where I need to turn east
- >we used it as a landmark, we have a few things like that marked on the map
- >snow starts falling hard
- >I though it was finally over, I had like at least 6 hours without snowfall in the last week
- >and it's back again
- >once I get out of the creek's clearing it won't be able to slow me anymore
- >the trees usually block most of it for a while
- >also protects from most of the wind
- >through the thick white fog created by the snowfall, I notice the shape of the rock
- >thing's hard to miss, it's like at least 16 feet tall
- >natives probably venerated it back in the day
- >I wouldn't laugh at them, that rock's an absolute unit
- >check my compass real quick
- >the needle's freaking out, moving left to right very fast with no discernible pattern
- >what in the fuck
- >it has done this since the merge, but never this intense
- >it still somewhat points north, doesn't conflict with what my map shows
- >turn towards what I think is east and carry on
- >I should arrive before nightfall
- ===============================================
- >Night has already fallen, and I'm not there yet
- >my wounds don't help, caught my hand on a branch and re-opened the coyote's cut
- >As I try to hurry, branches keep slapping me in the face
- >tried taking a shortcut, ended up going through a denser part of the woods
- >I should still arrive to town soon
- >as I stop to take my breath, the quiet sounds of the forest are suddenly accompanied by distant, but clear gunfire
- >oh fuck not again
- >I wipe my brow of both sweat and melted snow, get up and haul ass the best I can
- >the sounds of gunshots are from the town's direction
- >fuck fuck fuck
- >orks can't have gotten there already
- >Leg still hurts like a bitch, but the adrenaline helps a lot
- >Every stride hurts still, but I have to carry on
- >A wounded leg is nothing next to a massacred community
- >Break into a sprint, avoiding roots and getting branches out of my way with Steph's dagger in hand
- >As I get closer to the gunfight, it grows louder
- >explosions, gunshots, the roar of fire
- >yells and screams
- >I cut my way through the forest, and I end up in a field outside town
- >several farmhouses and barns are on fire, and parts of the pallisade is down
- >the moon is almost completely blocked by black smoke
- >once I cose the distance with the gate, the gunfire has grown more sparse
- >I get my Mosin out and rush through the gate
- >the MG nests we had set up are completely gone, and the sandbags have spilled dirt and sand on the snow
- >beyond the gate, half the town is on fire
- >the light of fires is almost blinding, and the heat is getting worse
- >Orks are walking down the streets, executing survivors and stacking bodies in carts
- >Trying not to alert them, I follow walls and get to the first semi-intact building I can find
- >The view through the windows of the tavern is obstructed by frost
- >I decide to go in anyway, I can't afford getting seen
- >after a few tries at opening hit, I kick down the door
- >I am faced with two orks in the process of looting corpses
- ===============================================
- >Oh fuck
- >they're loudly arguing about who gets to keep a watch
- >they haven't heard me
- >Shoulder my mosin, aim at the back of the one closest to me
- >Their shouting is rendered inaudible by the beautiful sound of Russki Retribution
- >Glorious 7.62x54r goes straight through the fucker, pulverising the floorboards behind him
- >Soaked in his own brother's blood, the other ork turns and rushes me
- >No time to work the bolt
- >He swings a crude machete at me
- >Barely avoid getting my arm chopped off
- >Swing my mosin around and hit his jaw with the butt off my rifle
- >While he's still dazed, I kick him in his left leg
- >I'm no taekwondo expert, but it's still enough to make him fall to the ground
- >he tries to jump back up, but his face meets my right knee
- >pull out Steph's dagger and stick it in the soft spot under his jaw, turning it slightly
- >he collapses to the ground, spraying blood all over my coat
- >fuck now I have to clean it
- >pick up the watch they were fighting over
- >mfw it's broken
- >stupid orks
- >the dead guy is some old boomer who came here often to rant about the government
- >was a nice guy, but his wife and children had gotten killed during one of the early raids
- >at least he won't be sad anymore
- >pocket it and get to the backstore to see if anyone's there
- >door is unlocked, but there is some resistance
- >slowly creak it open
- >room seems open, wedge myself through the door
- >look at what was blocking the door
- >there's a dead body slumped against the door
- >move around it to examine it
- >pull his head back to see his face
- >It's JP, the barman and local schizo
- >his eyes are rolled over, and he has dried blood running down his nose and scalp
- >close his eyes with my fingers
- >rest in peace mein negger
- >His Webley is laying on the ground, emptied
- >the room reeks of a weird, chemical smell
- >I notice something covered by a large piece of cloth at the back of the room
- >curious, I gently pull the drape from it
- >oh shit
- >the rumors were true
- ================
- >there's a bunch of lab equipment on a table, with metal tanks of various sizes
- >no idea what any of the equipment is really, but I know what it's for
- >after looking through it for a while, I see it
- >a small box labeled "Papa's Pervitin: L-Methamphetamine"
- >"DANGER: Keep Away From Children"
- >like that ever stopped anyone
- >open it up
- >inside it are what looks like a few dozen or so paper penny rolls
- >but they aren't filled with pennies
- >fucker has been mass-producing this shit
- >and making it into tablets
- >I hear orkish-sounding shouts outside the building
- >fuck they probably heard me assblasting that nigger
- >grab as many tubes as I can and stuff them in my pack
- >Hearing footsteps in the room other side of the door, I get my mosin out
- >I shatter the window with its buttplate
- >as I climb out, an ork kicks the door open, throwing JP's body on the floor
- >I freak out and clumsily roll through the window, ending up in the snow
- >Not injured from the glass shards, but my clothes are slightly more fucked
- >get up and metal gear my way out of there
- >hugging walls and jumping from shadow to shadow, I get ever closer to my parents' house
- >It was maintained by a family friend, John, while I spent most of my time in the barracks
- >I never really liked doing home maintenance anyways, and living in that house without them felt weird
- >As I get closer to it though, I see orks lighting homes on fire and rounding up townsfolk
- >fuck fuck fuck
- >I hurry the fuck up, a new rush of adrenaline making my leg pain almost vanish
- >as I get closer to it, the smell of burnt wood and other things I can't identify gets stronger
- >there's a huge fucking fire down the road, bigger than those we light every year for St-Jean-Baptiste
- >I try to shield my face from the blinding light and the heat with my hand
- >but now I can smell it better
- >burning flesh and clothes
- >they're burning bodies on the pyre
- >and judging by the screams
- >some are alive
- >whatintheactualfuck.satanism
- ==========================
- >I stand there for a few seconds, shocked
- >I soon realize they could spot me any moment, and I retreat back into the shadows
- >I take the long way around, avoiding roads and light
- >Orks are busy looting and burning, so they don't seem to notice me
- >As I leave the town center, the roar of fires becomes distant and quiet
- >I'm coming home
- >as I get on top of the valley that overlooks the lake where our house is, I hear gunfire from down the valley
- >I look towards the origin of the sound
- >Someone bunkered up in a building close to our home
- >Every so often, the eerie silence floating in the air is broken by a rifle shot and inhuman screams, and another ork raider hits the ground
- >After getting my binos and looking at the houses for a while, I spot him
- >some fudd boomer is sitting in a chair on his balcony, his rifle rested on some sandbags and furniture
- >he has pretty good aim from hunting with his DURR rifle
- >Orks can't see him from where they are
- >as soon as they get in sight of him, they get blown the fuck apart
- >I lower my binoculars are start sneaking towards his fudd fortress
- >One ork gets lucky and manages to get a shot off towards McFudd before getting dome'd
- >The boomer flinches, and knocks down a lantern with his elbow by accident
- >the lantern hits the ground, and flaming oil is splashed across the frozen ground
- >McFudd's position is compromised
- >As I get closer and closer, Orks rally and start a balls-to-the-wall assault against McFudd
- >He does not miss a single shot, but the Orks are many and his rounds are few
- >As Flames from the broken lantern's fuel lick the wall of his home, his assailants close the distance
- >Curses are heard and orks are shot down one by one, but it is all in vain
- >molotovs are thrown, further feeding the brazier that is now the Little Fudd That Could's funeral pyre
- >In cover behind a low stone wall, I try to cover Fudd's retreat by shooting his attackers in the back
- >I'm not letting this faggot die
- =============================
- >As Sgt Boomer McFudd tries to retreat back into his domicile, he gets hit
- >Fuck no, it's not over for you yet
- >fucking orks won't fucking have it this easy
- >this is my fucking town god damnit
- >these are my people
- >I get one of JP's paper tubes of finnish autism out of my pack, and I try to take a tablet out
- >can't fucking get it out
- >fuck it, if I'm doing this, I'm going the whole way
- >rip the fucking open and down the hole thing with some weak-ass beer
- >I get up and sprint towards the backs of molotov-throwing Orks, cheering after having finally hit their target
- >before they can notice someone is running towards their backs, I'm behind the one closest to me
- >fucker isn't much taller than me, so I spin and hit him in the back of the head with the buttplate of my mosin
- >he trips and falls to the ground, and before he can get up, I smash the back of his skull with the heel of my boot
- >the crack is heard by every single fucker around me
- >before one of them can fire a shot, I put a fist-sized hole in one of them
- >jumping to the ground, I avoid a volley from anothers' pipe gun
- >one of them, feeling braver, jumps on top of me
- >I use my rifle like a stick, deflecting his blow
- >I swing it back around, striking the left side of his jaw, dislocating it
- >while he is screaming in pain, without missing a beat, I get back on top of him
- >he tries to shield his face with his hands, but it doesn't stop my dagger from plunging itself several times through his eye socket
- >I get up while grabbing his limp body, shielding myself from their puny bullets
- >the ork is heavy, but my time helping farmers and working out seems to have paid off
- >or maybe it has more to do with the potent mix of adrenaline and meth flowing through my veins
- >doesn't matter, I rush towards the nearest living ork and throw myself at him, knocking him to the ground
- >he looses grip of his SMG, which looks like a crude grease gun
- >I pick it up and empty it's magazine in his neck and face
- ===================================
- Archive Updated 6/21/19
- =====================================================================
- NEW CHAPTERS UDER HERE
- =====================================================================
- 25.
- >Looking up, I see a white ork standing a few meters from me, jaw dropped
- >his skin is pale, even for white skin, but his shaking had has a sawed-off in it
- >I roll on my side towards my nugget
- >the orks shoots at me, but misses his first shot, and his second is sent in the air because of recoil
- >before he can reload, I have already grabbed my nugget and worked the bolt
- >my barrel pointed towards him, he freaks out and drops his gun
- >he turns around and runs as fast as is orkanly possible, but it is all in vain
- >these fuckers didn't spare any of my brothers or any of my people
- >I shoot the fucker through the spine, and he collapses to the ground screaming
- >Looking around for a second, I see three more orks hurrying towards my position, alarmed by the screams of their brothers
- >prone behind a corpse, I send shot after shot into their group
- >there are now three more burning casings on the ground, along with three new cold bodies
- >McFudd's house is now completely drowned in flames, threatening to set other nearby buildings alight
- >I run down the street towards my home, and thank god, it isn't on fire
- >I spot a group of of orks, maybe a dozen or so, hurrying down the street
- >before they get close enough to notice me in the dark, I enter and close the door behind me
- >my eyes are by now accustomed to the light
- >it looks exactly like it was 11 years ago, before they left me
- >it almost seems like I've entered another dimension, one that is like ours but stuck in the past
- >same couch, same tapestry, same furniture...
- >it's strange and uncanny, but somehow comforting at the same time
- >I head up the stairs and down to the corridor, towards the main bedroom
- >Seems like John has been sleeping in the guest room this whole time, because it hasn't changed either
- >Same bed covers, same end table, same tall hardwood dressers
- >Same pictures on the walls...
- >One of them catches my eye
- >Something seems off about it
- 26.
- >It's a picture of a man that looks to be in his 30s, along with his wife
- >He is sporting a pretty cool mustache, and somewhat Asiatic features
- >They are both dressed nicely for the occasion, but still somewhat modest
- >I notice small, white letters scratched into the bottom edge of the picture
- >I have to squint my eyes a little bit to read it
- >"Alexander A. Aurlovin (Aleksandr Alexeyevich Orlovzreniylev) and Isabelle Cloutier"
- >Oh I'm retarded
- >It's the guy my grandpa told me about all these years ago
- >his own grandfather, the Cossack soldier that fought in the Russian civil war
- >the man who brought our mosin to Canada, along with his Shashka
- >My thoughts are cut short by the crash of broken windows, followed by the smell of burning gasoline
- >They're burning down the building
- >Quickly looking again at his picture, Aleksandr seems like he's looking at me
- >looking at me like he's expecting something of me
- >maybe it's just the drugs
- >I decide to take the pictures from the wall to prevent them from burning
- >I remove Aleksandr's and his wife's from the wall, but there's something behind it
- >some kind of safe
- >I test the lock just in case
- >it's unlocked
- >I open it, and look inside it
- >a key with a label attached to it's ring
- >one single word on it
- >"Maria"
- >not sure what it is for, but I can try something
- >I've seen this brand of key somewhere before
- >I look under the bed, and I find what I was looking for
- >I drag out the large box from under the bed, and with trembling hands, I insert and turn the key in the lock
- >once opened, the sight is beautiful
- >it's my Great-Great-Grandfather's Shashka, our heirloom
- >my hands still trembling, I take it out of it's sarcophagus
- >the blade seems still sharp, almost glowing in the golden light of the fire...
- >wait
- >the fire?
- >OH MY FUCKING FUCK
- >I push the Shashka back in it's scabbard and turn towards the door
- >the whole fucking corridor is on fire, along with most of the house
- >GODFUCKING DAMNIT
- 27.
- >the heat and smell is unbearable
- >I grab my shit and get to the window
- >thanks to some mirable, that thing easily slides open, don't have to break it
- >Good thing, glass shards are a bitch
- >As the scorching heat on my back becomes ever stronger, I squeeze through the window, landing in the snow below
- >it cushions my fall well enough, and no one seems to have noticed me
- >I get up without taking time to brush the snow off, get some distance between me and the building
- >I decide look back one last time at my burning house
- >through the window, I can barely catch a glimpse of something
- >A picture of my parents was on the wall opposite of the window
- >I hadn't noticed that one when I was in the room, but thanks to the intense glow of the flames, I can see it even from here
- >It's an old picture of my parents, soon after they were married
- >I hadn't seen them in a very long time, but it seems like this will be the last moment
- >the flames start licking the bottom of the picture, and darkness spreads over it like some kind of shadow, consuming it
- >I guess I should be sad right now, but so much bullshit is coming my way recently that I barely react to it
- >it's just a picture, right?
- >I hear strange voices from the other side of the house, so I'll have to think of this later
- >they're still looking through the streets for survivors, and have set fire to most of the street
- >From my hiding place behind a brown leafless bush, I can see that there are many more of them
- >seems like the raiding party is sticking together to raze what's left of the town
- >are they sticking together for organization-related reasons, or are they together because they fear getting picked off?
- >talking of sticky, my entire fucking body is sweaty, even though it's so cold an icicle would come out if I took a piss
- >Heart is also beating out of control, seems like these meds are having an effect
- >no idea how I'm still lucid after emptying an ENTIRE tube
- >or am I?
- 28.
- >Doesn't fucking matter, too late to go back
- >I quickly look around for one last time, and decide I can't use the road
- >To many hostiles, Mosin can only have 5 rounds in it at a time
- >The house is quickly burning and staying this close to the inferno would be risky
- >They'll probably come around to the back of the houses after a while, and they would have me outnumbered at least ten times over
- >The only way I can escape is down the hill
- >Big open area, but there's a line of bushes and a lake at the bottom
- >It should be frozen solid at the time of the year, but the ice seems a bit transparent from where I am standing
- >Fuck it, I'm going in
- >I get up, and still shielded from view from the street by the burning building, I sprint towards the lake
- >I don't even feel any of the injuries I have sustained to my legs
- >All I feel is the need to get to that damn lake
- >As I'm getting closer to the bank of the lake, I hear a distant shout behind me
- >No time to look over my shoulder to check, but I assume they've seen me
- >I focus on the task at hand and get to the lake
- >I slow down to get a better look at the lake, to judge if it can hold my weight
- >VERY BAD MISTAKE
- >A shot lands right in front of me, punching a hole in the ice and cracking it
- >The ice is too weak
- >Doesn't matter, we don't have a plan B
- >I run and jump feet first into the ice
- >it shatters, and I am soon under in the frozen water
- >I swim under the ice, bullets making trails through the water around me
- >Getting away from the bank, the ice above me becomes thinner and thinner until it is completely absent
- >The ice is still goddamn freezing though
- >I get to the surface for air, swimming to the other coast as fast as a snownigger on drugs
- >Basically that's all I am at this point
- 29.
- >a new volley of bullets sends water splashing around me, so I go down under the surface again
- >I am running short of breath, but my only other option is death
- >The ice above me returns as I approach the other bank of the lake, and the gunfire stops
- >I get very close to the edge, but I hesitate to break through the ice
- >They'll see me if they are still watching the lake, and I'll be an easy target
- >I get my dagger out and wait for what feels like an eternity, slowly running out of breath
- >1, 2, 3, 4, 5...
- >I can't stay much longer, and they've probably fucked off by now
- >I stab the ice with vigor, using what little energy I have left in me
- >My mind is cloudy and my vision starts to fade, but I'm not dead yet
- >I finish digging a hole just large enough to squeeze my head through
- >I take a quick breath, then pull myself through the hole, disappearing into the woods
- >Soon, running between trees and leaping over roots, I get a glimpse of something through the trees
- >I quickly identify it as some sort of goblin scout or sentry or something like that, holding something in his left hand
- >Where I have seen this before?
- >Running towards it, I use my momentum to throw his head into a tree
- >While the goblin is dazzled, I wrap my arm around its throat, silencing him
- >before he has time to react, I grab his left hand hand take hold of the device inside it
- >dead man's switch
- >I tighten my grip around the crude switch, tightening my other arm around the goblins neck
- >I apply more pressure and something snaps, making his whole body go limp
- >I lower its lifeless body to the ground with the device still in hand
- >without letting go of it, I wrap tape tight around the thing, preventing the switch from springing back
- >I leave the body and the contraption on the ground, and continue on my way
- >I get as much distance between me and the dead goblin, in case the alarm still somehow triggers
- >They aren't getting me this time
- >but this is only round one
- 30.
- >I continue on my way through the woods
- >I'm getting pretty cold being this wet
- >swimming through a freezing lake at night tends to do that
- >I'm now deep in the woods, and out of sight of the burning town
- >my coat is starting to dry from all the running
- >it would probably freeze solid if I stop moving though
- >They'll be looking for me, and there's way too many of them
- >Fight or Flight has completely taken over my mind, all I think about at this point is running the fuck away
- >The biting cold and the dampness of my clothes doesn't matter anymore
- >I still feel conscious, but nothing else is on my mind but running
- >Time seems like just a blur at this point, feels like a weird conscious dream, but awake
- >Trees and minutes seem to simply fly by, and it seems like it will never end
- 31.
- >After what feels like an eternity, I finally wake up
- >was it all a dream?
- >I sit up from the ground, but I got a really bad headache
- >my mind is cloudy and I cannot think straight, feels worse than any hangover
- >While I'm getting my bearings, I realize that I am cold, hungry and extremely thirsty
- >I half-consciously look through my pack, but I have no rations left
- >fuck
- >Slowly regaining consciousness, but still with a painful headache, I get back up on my legs
- >I can barely fucking stand straight, my legs are fucking shaking, not from the cold, but something else
- >I feel extremely weak, but at least I'm not damp like when I went through the lake
- >did that even fucking happen?
- >I pull out my canteen to get a sip, but it is empty
- >has a bullet hole in it
- >guess that answers my question
- >I patch it up with tape
- >I pick up my shit and start limping through the woods, looking for signs of an animal or something
- >my legs don't hurt as much as they used to, but they are still shaky, probably from the hunger and thirst
- >for a while, I can't find any animals to catch, so I decide to fix the water issue instead
- >I find a nice spot where the snow is packed tight, and I start picking dry branches and stuff
- >a few moments later, I got a small fire going, and I'm melting snow in a pot
- >I filter out the dirt and stuff from the water and drink it
- >really fucking thirsty, so I have to get more to have anything left for my canteen
- >my mouth feeling slightly less dry, I continue on my way looking for something to eat
- >this part of the woods has barely any signs of animal life, so I decide fuck it
- >Finns or natives or whatever did it, so guess I could try
- >I get a knife out and I start cutting and peeling bark from a pine tree
- >I heard somewhere that the second and third layers are edible
- >guess it's worth a try, I'm fucking starving anyways
- >I start chewing on some of it
- >tastes weird, and it's really tough, but still better than I expected
- 32.
- >decide to peel off a bit more and boil some, maybe that'll help with the texture
- >still tastes a bit weird, but now at least I'm not destroying my jaw
- >My stomach slightly less wanting to kill me, I get up and continue on my way
- >priority is to find food that doesn't taste like turpentine
- >preferably of the four legged kind
- >before communications got fucked, I heard rumors about a guy that tried eating ork flesh
- >not going to repeat his mistake
- >plus those fuckers are nastier than any animal I've seen
- >I'm almost throwing up just thinking about it
- >push those repugnant thoughts away, keep walking through the snow
- >Still got a pounding headache, but my mind is slightly less cloudy now that I have taken in some fresh air
- >So, status report
- >No idea where the fuck I am, probably somewhere east of the lake, I think that's the side I crossed to
- >No idea how much time passed since then, so I could be anywhere in *that* region
- >pull out my compass, trying to figure out where the fuck I am
- >what the actual fuck
- >it's going fucking crazy, spinning erratically, like it is trying to point in every direction at once
- >compasses have acted pretty weird since shit went down I heard, but never been this bad
- >guess I got to do it the old way
- >seems to be somewhere about noon right now, I think
- >I think we are somewhere around February, but I'm not sure
- >left the town to look for the Caravan like what? Two weeks earlier?
- >no fucking idea, feels like it all happened a century ago
- >using the sun, I get a general idea of direction
- >but still, no idea where the fuck I'm going
- >town is completely razed, and I'd be surprised to find any survivors
- >only settlement in the region that was left mostly untouched until now
- >maybe if I go south I can reach civilization?
- >not sure if there's anything left honestly
- 33.
- >Guess I'll be walking for a while
- >Closest settlements are days, maybe even weeks of walking through the woods away
- >not even sure if those settlements still exist, we had no contact with the outside world save for the odd caravan
- >I'm running a bit low on ammo, and I'm getting hungry again
- >not sure what I should do now
- >closest town is too far away
- >compass is completely fucked
- >first time I've felt this aimless in a long time
- >my friends are gone, my family is gone, my home is gone
- >everyone I ever knew: dead.
- >cogsspinning.gif
- >but there's one "acquaintance" that is left
- >the ones responsible for the death of my brothers, sisters and cousins
- >Mike, Frank, Steph-
- >JP, Boomer, and all the other ones who died in the bonfire that became of our home.
- >Those responsible will pay tenfold in blood for every name
- >I haven't been aimless often in life
- >but even with the destruction of my old life, this isn't one of those moments
- >I now have one, clear goal in mind, one that I will never forget.
- >I will hunt down every single last one of these animals, and punish them for what they've done.
- >I will send these disgusting pale-as-snow monsters back where they belong;
- >not the parrallel world they came from, but their true origin:
- >Hell.
- >Since yesterday, I started counting
- >I thought it would help me keep a semblance of sanity
- >It's really hard to remember how long you've been somewhere when you don't have a calendar
- >we haven't used phones much since the collapse, cell towers are broken, and most power lines have been wrecked
- >Maybe I should've brought a watch, but where the fuck am I supposed to find batteries?
- >Guess some markings on the stock of my mosin will have to do
- >seems right to have one side for orks and one side for days
- >So I think it's been two days since the village?
- >feels like a month ago, and when we first left feels like more than a year
- >I should stop blacking out so much, it makes things confusing
- >I've been trekking trough the woods for a while
- >I don't like sleeping on an almost-empty stomach, but I'm tired as fuck
- >Taking that much pervitin sure takes a toll on ye
- >hammock is in a really shitty condition, I'll have to fix it later
- >it's really cold out there, but thank god for coyote skins
- >I need to acquire more, maybe I could make a blanket
- >...or a coat?
- >fuck that sounds nice, my clothes are basically rags at this point anyway
- >either I'm getting accustomed to the cold or my nerves are dying
- >I don't know, I'm no doctor, but turning into an ice cube sounds like a bad idea
- >I'd probably look like those cold, pale ork niggers
- >fuck those guys, fuck their children and fuck their mothers with a bayonet.
- >I swear to fucking Father, Son and Holy Spirit that I will hunt down every single one of them
- >I don't care if they end up to hell or ork heaven or whatever the fuck, they'll die
- >If Mike heard this he'd call me edgy, but fuck that
- >I'm not intent on killing them because I think it's cool, but because it's needed
- >how many have died and suffered because of those cunts?
- >I'll find where they're coming from and I'll fucking burn it
- >give them a taste of their own medicine...
- >fuck I'm gonna pass out
- >oh that's just called sleep
- >oh well
- >OH SHIT
- >WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING
- >WHERE AM I
- >THERE'S A FURRY IN MY BED
- >FUCK FUCK FUCK-
- >-oh wait
- >I'm in my hammock, that's just a coyote skin
- >shit's fine, back to defcon 4
- >Wake up, get some firewood, start boiling water...
- >I got work to do if I want to live over here, let's get shit squared away
- >looking around camp, found some tracks and deer shit (small balls, easy to recognize)
- >I'm no shit expert, but when there's shit, there's animals
- >following the trails, take out some string from my pack and set up noose traps
- >will check later, but right now I'm after bigger prey
- >I don't like using a gun in these woods, makes too much noise
- >maybe if I'm lucky I'll be able to spear the fucker
- >well maybe not
- >am I far away enough from them to use my gun?
- >maybe I should make a bow or something-
- >holy shit I almost missed it
- >brown nigger, big fucking antlers, showing off in the snow
- >probably responsible for the death of my mom (I miss you momma)
- >He'll pay back with his meat
- >shoulder rifle
- >fuck it, if they come after me so be it
- >BANG
- >birds fly away in a hurry, scarred by the thunder of my nugger
- >walk up to deer
- >time to get to work
- >thinking about using the hide for something, maybe I can work with this
- >I drag the carcass back to camp
- >ain't easy with all this snow
- >maybe I could niggerrig snowshoes with sticks and shit
- >natives did it, why couldn't I?
- >speaking of natives, I wonder what happened to them after shit went down
- >been a few years, and most of them knew how to hunt
- >they were really drunk, but unless they know how to make their own moonshine, that should be fixed
- >maybe I'll pay them a visit later
- >if I live long enough
- >campfire still has some glowing embers in it
- >I stir it a bit and add dry branches I had hung on a tree, lights up nicely
- >Before I know it the deer's carcass is mostly cleaned and prepared
- >it's a lot of meat, but it ain't gonna go bad too fast though
- >ball-shriveling cold out 'ere
- >roasted deer tastes pretty great
- >would be nice if I had some sauce or spices, but this is good enough
- >like my dad always said, "hunger is the best cook"
- >not sure what I'll do with all the left over meat
- >can't really carry it on my back, a bit too heavy
- >maybe I could figure out some kind of inuit-style sleigh for my stuff?
- >guess I got something to work on now
- >cut some small trees with my old hatchet, just big enough to work with
- >I spend the next hours working on carving skis out of dry wood
- >Then I use some leftover rope I have in my pack to tie them to branches
- >soon enough I have what looks like a crude sleigh
- >I tie what's left of the carcass on it with more rope
- >Maybe I should work on making some rope later before I run out
- >most of what I know has been self-taught amongst the milita's scouts
- >I miss my comrades, but their knowledge will never leave me
- >it doesn't take long before the sun is setting
- >testing out the sleigh, it seems to work pretty well
- >this part of the woods is less dense, so I can drag the sleigh around without issues
- >I'm not really tired yet, so I start working on making rope
- >luckily, woods up here aren't fully boreal, so I got more to work with
- >after finding a nice, young basswood tree, I strip some bark off it with my hatchet
- >the inner bark of these trees has been used for rope for generations
- >I focus solely on making rope for a while, until the sun is down and my fingers hurt
- >I lay back in my hammock, and under my coyote pelt
- >pretty comfy, about to go off to dreamland, but then I remember
- >fucking white niggers killed everyone, and are probably somewhere in the area
- >I haven't seen any, but they probably heard my gunshot
- >fuck fuck fuck they're probably coming right the fuck now
- >clutching my Mosin, keeping my Shashka and hatchet close, I barely feel safer
- >constantly waking up and looking up, thinking I've heard something
- >I finally fall asleep after what feels like an eternity
- >I open my eyes, and the quiet sounds of the forest welcome me
- >even in winter, there are many birds up here
- >There wasn't many animals in the last few days, but seems like they're back
- >Looking through my stuff to check if everything's there
- >I've noticed the cold doesn't affect me as much as before
- >it used to be a threat to my very survival, but now it feels like an old friend
- >Yesterday I was pretty worried about unwanted attention being drawn by the gunshot
- >I haven't seen any signs of them in the area, so I should be fine
- >plus I'm relatively far from where I shot the rifle, so it would take them a while to find me if they heard
- >I decide to stay in this nice clearing for a while longer, getting more time for tanning hides properly
- >after fleshing the hide, I place it flesh side up on the ground, boiling some snow for soaking it
- >meanwhile, I remove the snow from the ground, and work a small depression into the ground
- >thankfully, the last few days have been a small tad warmer, so digging isn't too hard
- >placing the hide in the depression, I empty the boiling water on it
- >if it were summer, I could've left it for a few days with warm water, but this will have to do
- >I'll leave the water in until it get cold, then remove it before it freezes
- >while that's happening, I get back to the carcass, cutting small pieces for breakfast
- >the snow acts as a freezer, so it should be fine for a while
- >I should probably protect the carcass from animals though
- >Using some leftover rope, I tie the legs of the carcass together and hoist it up a tree, rope over a thick branch
- >I tie the rope to another branch, securing the carcass up there
- >while the water is still cooling down, I get back to making more rope
- >removing the bark from some small trees, I get to the wet, fibrous layer underneath
- >I don't plan on eating it this time, I'm here for rope
- >removing the layer with a knife, and breaking it into strips, I get to work spinning and braiding
- >I end up with a respectable amount of rope
- >I could use some to make the sleigh sturdier, or maybe for something else
- >like a bow or something
- >I used to practice shooting with bows before, but I've never made my own
- >not sure what kind of wood to use, probably something that bends instead of breaking
- >I've heard natives in this area used hickory, although it's a bit rarer over here
- >after looking for a while, I recognize the bark of one
- >it's pretty young, and straight, so I'll use the entire thing
- >I am sorry little one
- >You will live on as a refined powerful tool, though
- >wait am I fucking talking to trees now?
- >...I guess that's normal when you spend enough time with nothing else to talk to
- >is this what being a native american feels like?
- >Using my hatchet, I get to work with the base of the small tree
- >I drag the tree behind me back to camp
- >I remove the branches, then split the tree down the middle, using a hatchet as a chisel, and the backside of a second hatchet as a hammer
- >I decide to keep both halves in case I fuck up the first one somehow, plus it never hurts to have a backup bow
- >Working parallel to the fiber, what was first a thin half-log starts looking more and more like a bow
- >narrowing the width of the handle, making string notches and thinning parts of the bow takes some time, but goes pretty well
- >realising the rope I made isn't well-suited for a bow, I use some leftover fibers and weave them into a thighter, stronger cord
- >my fingers are tired and cold, but after some time I have two decent bowstrings prepared
- >I tie one of the strings around the tip of the first bow
- >keeping the tied end of the bow to the ground with my boot, I bend the body of the weapon, tying the string to the top end too
- >the string and knots seem strong enough, and take the tension without showing signs of unraveling
- >While I'm finishing the second bow, the sun sets
- >the days are short, but I'm already tired
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