Well, I'm certainly looking for a big gun, but don't hope for a gatling gun. That will be a bit over the top, or will it?
Now THAT would be worth waiting for...
But THAT will give me a headache, since I have to pick which gun(s) for Rommel.
-
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Well, I'm certainly looking for a big gun, but don't hope for a gatling gun. That will be a bit over the top, or will it?
But THAT will give me a headache, since I have to pick which gun(s) for Rommel.
Why not a combination magnum/machine pistol? Aka Assault Rifle.
That is almost fifty years away from Rommel. Although I'm planning on given him something even more powerful than an AK.
Boredom Production presents:
(My little gunboat of 1940, based on trekaddict's Thames Class Gunboat)
Okok, I'm working on the update. Should come before friday at the latest.o
(My little gunboat of 1940, based on trekaddict's Thames Class Gunboat
)Okok, I'm working on the update. Should come before friday at the latest.
o
Ok, folks, update time. Sorry this is again a bit late, since I got a new video game. o (Ohh, well it gave me new ideas too, so not too much of a loss?)
PlaceHolder, plus warning, this update may be a bit too messy right now since I simply scrambled it up, will try to fix it later when I have time. Plus no pics yet, got to find them later too.
btw, to get an idea of how bad Rommel and folks' situation is, use this as a reference.
o (Ohh, well it gave me new ideas too, so not too much of a loss?)...
PlaceHolder, plus warning, this update may be a bit too messy right now since I simply scrambled it up, will try to fix it later when I have time. Plus no pics yet, got to find them later too.
Just as the woman was about to make contact with Rommel, Rommel turned swiftly and slammed a piece of rubble right into the face of the woman. The woman was thrown off her balance and fell onto the ground a few metres away.
“…” Rommel did not know how he sensed the coming danger. He stared at the fallen woman, who was still licking her wounds made on the face, growling hostilely at the same moment.
The woman leapt at Rommel again, this time Rommel immediately drew out his bayonet mounted Mondragon, and stabbed the woman straight in the heart in mid-air. Blood immediately gushed out like a geyser from the open wound.
“Rargghhhh...” the woman continued to growl viciously, and struggled violently as she hung in mid-air struck up by Rommel’s rifle.
“… as expected,” said Rommel as he drew his shotgun with his other hand before placing the end of the gun barrel of the gun right before the woman’s head. Simultaneously, Rommel pulled the trigger of the Mondragon and his shotgun at the same moment, blowing off the upper torso of the woman off to bits. A few specks of blood stained his clothing and his cheek. It was over as the remains of the woman dropped lifeless onto the ground.
Rommel slowly wiped off the blood on his face with the back of his hand. It was too easy, too easy compared to last time. It was true that he had faced off many “dangerous” situations and manged to pull off with nothing more than a few scratches. However, it seemed as his strengths grew compared to what he was before.
“… probably just because my adrenaline levels are up,” thought Rommel.
Rommel continued to transverse through the rubbled filled streets. It was not the weather’s fault obviously that strolling on the streets was a bad idea to consider. However, it seemed to Rommel there wasn’t much of a choice. He had to meet up with Churchill and Mata Hari as soon as possible. It was very likely that some of their worst nightmares may soon meet up with them.
Running at a relatively quick pace Rommel noticed that unlike his previous experience, the streets remained largely lifeless. Not because of the abudance of the dead, but because of the lack of the living. It was true there was blood everywhere, and the same goes with the moaning and cries of pain. However, it was still too quiet, as if someone had anticipated the attack and had moved a large proportion of the population away. It could also simply because the war had already removed its share of the city population away, but it seemed more and more distant from a clear answer to the lifeless streets Rommel was strolling pass quickly.
Turner around another corner, Rommel suddenly a man standing by himself. He was familiar enough for him to recognize. The man also noticed his presence almost immediately, most likely because of his panting sounds.
“Monsieur Rommel? Why are you doing here?” asked Quatermain.
“I can ask you the same question, Monsieur Quatermain,” replied Rommel as he regain his normal breathing pace. Suddenly Rommel could feel the presence of others.
“You are not alone, correct?” said Rommel in a slightly colder tone.
“That’s correct. Your senses are strong, Monsieur Rommel,” answered Quatermain. At that moment, two men appeared with a battered looking woman out of a heavily damaged building.
“So we have meet again… Monsieur Rommel?”
“You are… ?”
“I’d have appreciate if you remember my name, Monsieur Rommel. We met before in Italy, am I right?”
“So you are the ones in Naples…”
“So you still do remember, Monsieur Rommel. I shall introduce myself and my assistant again. I’m Holmes, Sherlock Holmes, while my assistant here is Dr. Watson,” said Holmes with Watson standing beside him helping the battered woman.
Rommel remained silent. It wasn’t really the time for him to meet up with acquaitences, especially those who had showed hostility.
“Although this might not be quite the time to say this, To be honest, we’d like to ask for your assistance…” began Holmes once again.
“Just before that, please allow me to ask you one question. What are the three of you doing right now?” Rommel interrupted Holmes suddenly.
“Ohhh, you come at a very good timing, we’re here to assist some survivors out of this bloody mess that came out of nowhere. This lady we have here seemed to be in particular bad shape,” answered Holmes.
“I see… However, it will be better for us to talk later, Monsieur… Holmes,” said Rommel as if he noticed something strange about the woman. The woman seemed almost lifeless like a doll, and was simply squating down on the floor quietly.
Suddenly the air around them became heavy, obviously because of the changing moods, but also because of a horrible stench that was piercing into everyone’s sense of smell. As if that was not bad enough, a strange but strong moaning and sobbing of multiple women can be heard.
“What the hell…?” muttered Holmes.
“Monsieur Holmes, I cannot believe that I can suddenly become so attractive to women, especially those “survivor” ones like damsels in distress,” remarked Rommel sarcastically, while trying to back everyone, especially Watson who was the closest, away from the “survivor” Holmes and Watson saved. The woman too began to let out a strange sobbing that made Rommel and all so uncomfortable to the bone. Watson seemed too startled to even make a sound before backing away.
“We never thought that we might need your assistance this very moment, Monsieur Rommel,” remarked Holmes as if he noticed something that cannot simply be described by “bad” coming their way.
“Don’t worry, think of it as a mutual assistance,” replied Rommel as he eyed their surroundings rather nervously.
“Looks like we have to hunt or be hunted, Monsieur Rommel,” remarked Quatermain as he rasied his Mauser up.
Dozens of pairs of eyes, perhaps even up to a hundred of them, were watching their every move like the ones of predators. A gruesome carnage seemed unavoidable.
“…” Rommel did not know how he sensed the coming danger. He stared at the fallen woman, who was still licking her wounds made on the face, growling hostilely at the same moment.
The woman leapt at Rommel again, this time Rommel immediately drew out his bayonet mounted Mondragon, and stabbed the woman straight in the heart in mid-air. Blood immediately gushed out like a geyser from the open wound.
“Rargghhhh...” the woman continued to growl viciously, and struggled violently as she hung in mid-air struck up by Rommel’s rifle.
“… as expected,” said Rommel as he drew his shotgun with his other hand before placing the end of the gun barrel of the gun right before the woman’s head. Simultaneously, Rommel pulled the trigger of the Mondragon and his shotgun at the same moment, blowing off the upper torso of the woman off to bits. A few specks of blood stained his clothing and his cheek. It was over as the remains of the woman dropped lifeless onto the ground.
Rommel slowly wiped off the blood on his face with the back of his hand. It was too easy, too easy compared to last time. It was true that he had faced off many “dangerous” situations and manged to pull off with nothing more than a few scratches. However, it seemed as his strengths grew compared to what he was before.
“… probably just because my adrenaline levels are up,” thought Rommel.
Rommel continued to transverse through the rubbled filled streets. It was not the weather’s fault obviously that strolling on the streets was a bad idea to consider. However, it seemed to Rommel there wasn’t much of a choice. He had to meet up with Churchill and Mata Hari as soon as possible. It was very likely that some of their worst nightmares may soon meet up with them.
Running at a relatively quick pace Rommel noticed that unlike his previous experience, the streets remained largely lifeless. Not because of the abudance of the dead, but because of the lack of the living. It was true there was blood everywhere, and the same goes with the moaning and cries of pain. However, it was still too quiet, as if someone had anticipated the attack and had moved a large proportion of the population away. It could also simply because the war had already removed its share of the city population away, but it seemed more and more distant from a clear answer to the lifeless streets Rommel was strolling pass quickly.
Turner around another corner, Rommel suddenly a man standing by himself. He was familiar enough for him to recognize. The man also noticed his presence almost immediately, most likely because of his panting sounds.
“Monsieur Rommel? Why are you doing here?” asked Quatermain.
“I can ask you the same question, Monsieur Quatermain,” replied Rommel as he regain his normal breathing pace. Suddenly Rommel could feel the presence of others.
“You are not alone, correct?” said Rommel in a slightly colder tone.
“That’s correct. Your senses are strong, Monsieur Rommel,” answered Quatermain. At that moment, two men appeared with a battered looking woman out of a heavily damaged building.
“So we have meet again… Monsieur Rommel?”
“You are… ?”
“I’d have appreciate if you remember my name, Monsieur Rommel. We met before in Italy, am I right?”
“So you are the ones in Naples…”
“So you still do remember, Monsieur Rommel. I shall introduce myself and my assistant again. I’m Holmes, Sherlock Holmes, while my assistant here is Dr. Watson,” said Holmes with Watson standing beside him helping the battered woman.
Rommel remained silent. It wasn’t really the time for him to meet up with acquaitences, especially those who had showed hostility.
“Although this might not be quite the time to say this, To be honest, we’d like to ask for your assistance…” began Holmes once again.
“Just before that, please allow me to ask you one question. What are the three of you doing right now?” Rommel interrupted Holmes suddenly.
“Ohhh, you come at a very good timing, we’re here to assist some survivors out of this bloody mess that came out of nowhere. This lady we have here seemed to be in particular bad shape,” answered Holmes.
“I see… However, it will be better for us to talk later, Monsieur… Holmes,” said Rommel as if he noticed something strange about the woman. The woman seemed almost lifeless like a doll, and was simply squating down on the floor quietly.
Suddenly the air around them became heavy, obviously because of the changing moods, but also because of a horrible stench that was piercing into everyone’s sense of smell. As if that was not bad enough, a strange but strong moaning and sobbing of multiple women can be heard.
“What the hell…?” muttered Holmes.
“Monsieur Holmes, I cannot believe that I can suddenly become so attractive to women, especially those “survivor” ones like damsels in distress,” remarked Rommel sarcastically, while trying to back everyone, especially Watson who was the closest, away from the “survivor” Holmes and Watson saved. The woman too began to let out a strange sobbing that made Rommel and all so uncomfortable to the bone. Watson seemed too startled to even make a sound before backing away.
“We never thought that we might need your assistance this very moment, Monsieur Rommel,” remarked Holmes as if he noticed something that cannot simply be described by “bad” coming their way.
“Don’t worry, think of it as a mutual assistance,” replied Rommel as he eyed their surroundings rather nervously.
“Looks like we have to hunt or be hunted, Monsieur Rommel,” remarked Quatermain as he rasied his Mauser up.
Dozens of pairs of eyes, perhaps even up to a hundred of them, were watching their every move like the ones of predators. A gruesome carnage seemed unavoidable.
...
btw, to get an idea of how bad Rommel and folks' situation is, use this as a reference.
Ah, coming along quite far since I was last caught up, gaiasabre... I'll have to get back into the swing of the elder Rommel's adventures.
Ok, I admit I'm a bit mean to Rommel and folks, but at least there's four of them, ready for "left 4 dead".
"How to kill a early 20th century feminist"
I think Rommel will need a book like, "How to make women more friendly to you with a shotgun"
This aar might become a bit more bizzare as you read.
Ok, folks, instead of writing another update for this AAR, I wrote the first update for my HOI3 AAR. Of course, it's a continuation of this AAR.
Check it out!
I also used it as my entry work for the HOI3 writing contest, and to celebrate my 500th post here. Enjoy!
Check it out!
I also used it as my entry work for the HOI3 writing contest, and to celebrate my 500th post here. Enjoy!
You...mentioned...me.
In an unflattering light.
Granted, I would deserve it if I were standing like that.
In an unflattering light.
Granted, I would deserve it if I were standing like that.
You...mentioned...me.
In an unflattering light.
Granted, I would deserve it if I were standing like that.
Alternatively, we can also treat it as helping you with an itch.
btw, two things to I should mention to people:
It is likely that I'll update my entry work for the contest every now and then till the voting begins. So you might as well check every few days.
Also, here's something I forgot to mention right from the beginning of this AAR. Rommel the elder is born in 1860, so he should be 37 in 1897, not the 35 I provided. Oh, well, I guess age doesn't matter as long as he remain cool.
Last edited:
Ok, people, update time.
But before that I present the final version of my HOI3 contest entry AAR. click me Yet, it is still possible that I might add some more finishing touches.
Ok, now update, perhaps this is the end of the current chapter.
But before that I present the final version of my HOI3 contest entry AAR. click me Yet, it is still possible that I might add some more finishing touches.
Ok, now update, perhaps this is the end of the current chapter.
...
“To the right!” yelled Holmes at the top of his voice.
Rommel responded to Holmes cry perfectly, turning to his right and slashed an incoming woman in the torso. Blood gushed out of the wound made, and the woman was temporary reeled back in pain, but soon lurged forwards again. However Rommel was ready with a grenade. Pulling the pin of the grenade out with his mouth, Rommel forcefully stuffed the grenade into the wide opened and shrieking mouth of the woman. The woman was sent almost flying back to a pack of her own kind but the sudden move, and before she could remove the grenade from her jaws, a small explosion ripped her head away.
“Over here!” cried Quatermain whilst taking another shot at the incoming “horde”. The grenade seemed to have bought Rommel and the others some time as “it” was still recovering from the explosion. After a short run, the four men hid from their pursuers in a small alley, with their backs against the wall for support.
“Jesus Christ! What’s wrong with all of them?” cried Watson as he panted heavily and forced every word of his out.
Rommel thought as he tried to get more oxygen into himself. If Churchill and Mata Hari were facing this, they probably could not even survive for a minute.
“What’s wrong, Monsieur Rommel,” asked Quatermain who was beside Rommel.
“To tell you the truth, your wife is also in this chaos.”
“You mean my wife is also in this?” Quatermain’s face appeared shocked as he spoke.
“I’m afraid yes, Monsieur Quatermain,” replied Rommel sternly.
“We should first worry about ourselves, gentlemen,” said Holmes worriedly. The voices of the women can be heard louder as time went by, until the two ends of the alley were both bottled up with eyes of red, hot hatred.
“… I cannot agree more… ” said Rommel as he dashed ahead and opened fire with his shotgun.
“I have always thought of being chased by women, but this is too many!” cried Holmes as he ran. Running away just wasn’t he speciality.
“They are not just some kind of women, they are damn, bloody witches!” cried Watson in response.
“Over there!” yelled Quatermain as he pointed a battered building with his finger. The rest of the group followed Quatermain as they struggled to get themselves into the partially blocked entrance.
Once inside, the four of them rested while trying to catch their breaths. Nothing could be heard but the screaming of “witches” outside and the panting of men inside.
“It looks like that we are in need of a good plan to get us out of this,” said Holmes quietly, breaking the silence.
“At least we’re not out of luck,” said Quatermain after he looked behind him.
The other three looked behind them. Dozens of bottles of liquor were lined up behind them, and well placed in multiple wooden shelves. It appeared that they were hiding inside a bar.
“Wait! This isn’t a time for some booze… ” began Watson.
“What luck can we have more? Good elephant guns,” remarked Holmes as he lifted two large rifles from somewhere. “Have one, old mate,” said Holmes to Watson as he threw one of them to Watson, which Watson caught but without a small wince on his face due to the heavy weight of the gun.
(This is for people who'd like to have some fun fun time.)
After a brief while, the four of them appeared to have workout something together. Although Watson still appeared to have some doubts with the plan.
“Ohh, well, ready, gentlemen?” asked Quatermain to the others.
Just as he said that, it appeared that the witches had found them, and were shrieking hysterically as they tried to get into the building.
“We’ve to be ready if we’re not…” said Rommel.
The four of them all knew, if they did get in, they’ll be cornered and that will be the end.
“Here we go!” cried Quatermain as he threw bottles of liquor into the air, and the others follow suit. Without waiting for them to land, Rommel shot all the bottles with his pistols and rained down flames of death on the horde. Soon enough Rommel and the others had a river of flames right before them.
“AARRGGGHHH!!!!” The shrieks of pain of the witches threatened to shattered the ear drums of all those nearby.
“Now!” cried Quatermain as he and the others scrambled outside of the bar with their weapons raised and ready. It was true that the horde was weakened by the flames. Killing them become much more easier. Rommel was able to get into close-quarters with the witches, and used his shotgun to great effect by blasting chunks of flesh in flames away. Quatermain covered Rommel with his Mauser, while it seemed that Holmes and Watson were having some fun fun time playing with elephant guns on human-sized objects.
After what seemed to be an endless carnage, what remained of the horde let out some chilling hisses, and left with great speed.
“It appears that they are at least retreating…” remarked Holmes.
“You’re right, Holmes. I should have stayed in England instead of risking my own life with you here,” said Watson as his knees failed him. It seemed that he already had enough adventure for his lifetime. The other three men were too tired to response.
Unexpectedly, a four horse-drawn wagon suddenly appeared to the four exhausted men.
“My lads, how are you all?” asked Mata Hari who was holding the reins. Churchill also became visible behind Mata Hari inside the wagon.
“Monsieur Churchill, Mata Hari! So the two of you are alright,” called out Rommel.
“Yes, but still a bit shocked about how the city has become…” said Churchill wearily.
“Did you met anything… unusual?” asked Rommel worriedly.
“If you really are to ask me, the dead of the streets…”
Rommel felt sorry to heard what Churchill said, but at least he and Mata Hari did not met anyone of the “undead”.
“How did you get this to here, my wife?” asked Quatermain surprised.
“I suppose we may all need a ride home after this, so getting some kind of transport was one of my priorities,” said Mata Hari with a sparkling smile.
“My beloved wife! You’re truly a savior,” remarked Quatermain cheerfully.
The six of them were finally leaving out of this mess. But just as he was turning his back, Rommel suddenly noticed a small figure in the corner of his eyes.
It was a small girl, perhaps just little over ten. Her blonde hair was cut short, and she was dressed in fairly battered clothing that was more like rags. Her face was emotionless, with her eyes half-closed.
“… Survivor?” thought Rommel suspiciously.
Although he was just fooled once into thinking one of those “witches” was a survivor, Rommel choose to believe what he saw, or perhaps he wished to believe what he saw. It was just a little girl, a little girl in need of help.
Rommel knew that he did not have the best appearance he could have at the time. To be honest, his clothes were battered, not to mention that he was covered with blood after the fierce battle with the horde. Nevertheless, Rommel approached the little girl slowly but surely as gentle as he could.
Suddenly Rommel’s eyes met with the little girls’. For a second Rommel thought that he had seen those pair of eyes somewhere. But just as he was thinking the little girl literally disappeared in front of him, as if she just evaporated into thin air.
“… Wha…” began Rommel, but he didn’t finished what he was about to say.
Rommel suddenly felt something warm flowing out of him. Some liquid, warm and sticky was flowing under his shirt. Rommel hesitated to look down, and when he did, he found something not belonging to a human pentrated his torso from behind.
At the same moment, Straßburg, German Empire
“Uhhhh…”
Admist the crowds, a small cry of pain was made.
“What’s wrong, Arietta?”
“Oh, no. It’s nothing,” replied Arietta to Rachmaninoff. However, she worriedly looked at the blue sky as she tried to hide the pain in her heart.
Rommel responded to Holmes cry perfectly, turning to his right and slashed an incoming woman in the torso. Blood gushed out of the wound made, and the woman was temporary reeled back in pain, but soon lurged forwards again. However Rommel was ready with a grenade. Pulling the pin of the grenade out with his mouth, Rommel forcefully stuffed the grenade into the wide opened and shrieking mouth of the woman. The woman was sent almost flying back to a pack of her own kind but the sudden move, and before she could remove the grenade from her jaws, a small explosion ripped her head away.
“Over here!” cried Quatermain whilst taking another shot at the incoming “horde”. The grenade seemed to have bought Rommel and the others some time as “it” was still recovering from the explosion. After a short run, the four men hid from their pursuers in a small alley, with their backs against the wall for support.
“Jesus Christ! What’s wrong with all of them?” cried Watson as he panted heavily and forced every word of his out.
Rommel thought as he tried to get more oxygen into himself. If Churchill and Mata Hari were facing this, they probably could not even survive for a minute.
“What’s wrong, Monsieur Rommel,” asked Quatermain who was beside Rommel.
“To tell you the truth, your wife is also in this chaos.”
“You mean my wife is also in this?” Quatermain’s face appeared shocked as he spoke.
“I’m afraid yes, Monsieur Quatermain,” replied Rommel sternly.
“We should first worry about ourselves, gentlemen,” said Holmes worriedly. The voices of the women can be heard louder as time went by, until the two ends of the alley were both bottled up with eyes of red, hot hatred.
“… I cannot agree more… ” said Rommel as he dashed ahead and opened fire with his shotgun.
…
“I have always thought of being chased by women, but this is too many!” cried Holmes as he ran. Running away just wasn’t he speciality.
“They are not just some kind of women, they are damn, bloody witches!” cried Watson in response.
“Over there!” yelled Quatermain as he pointed a battered building with his finger. The rest of the group followed Quatermain as they struggled to get themselves into the partially blocked entrance.
Once inside, the four of them rested while trying to catch their breaths. Nothing could be heard but the screaming of “witches” outside and the panting of men inside.
“It looks like that we are in need of a good plan to get us out of this,” said Holmes quietly, breaking the silence.
“At least we’re not out of luck,” said Quatermain after he looked behind him.
The other three looked behind them. Dozens of bottles of liquor were lined up behind them, and well placed in multiple wooden shelves. It appeared that they were hiding inside a bar.
“Wait! This isn’t a time for some booze… ” began Watson.
“What luck can we have more? Good elephant guns,” remarked Holmes as he lifted two large rifles from somewhere. “Have one, old mate,” said Holmes to Watson as he threw one of them to Watson, which Watson caught but without a small wince on his face due to the heavy weight of the gun.
(This is for people who'd like to have some fun fun time.
)After a brief while, the four of them appeared to have workout something together. Although Watson still appeared to have some doubts with the plan.
“Ohh, well, ready, gentlemen?” asked Quatermain to the others.
Just as he said that, it appeared that the witches had found them, and were shrieking hysterically as they tried to get into the building.
“We’ve to be ready if we’re not…” said Rommel.
The four of them all knew, if they did get in, they’ll be cornered and that will be the end.
“Here we go!” cried Quatermain as he threw bottles of liquor into the air, and the others follow suit. Without waiting for them to land, Rommel shot all the bottles with his pistols and rained down flames of death on the horde. Soon enough Rommel and the others had a river of flames right before them.
“AARRGGGHHH!!!!” The shrieks of pain of the witches threatened to shattered the ear drums of all those nearby.
“Now!” cried Quatermain as he and the others scrambled outside of the bar with their weapons raised and ready. It was true that the horde was weakened by the flames. Killing them become much more easier. Rommel was able to get into close-quarters with the witches, and used his shotgun to great effect by blasting chunks of flesh in flames away. Quatermain covered Rommel with his Mauser, while it seemed that Holmes and Watson were having some fun fun time playing with elephant guns on human-sized objects.
After what seemed to be an endless carnage, what remained of the horde let out some chilling hisses, and left with great speed.
“It appears that they are at least retreating…” remarked Holmes.
“You’re right, Holmes. I should have stayed in England instead of risking my own life with you here,” said Watson as his knees failed him. It seemed that he already had enough adventure for his lifetime. The other three men were too tired to response.
Unexpectedly, a four horse-drawn wagon suddenly appeared to the four exhausted men.
“My lads, how are you all?” asked Mata Hari who was holding the reins. Churchill also became visible behind Mata Hari inside the wagon.
“Monsieur Churchill, Mata Hari! So the two of you are alright,” called out Rommel.
“Yes, but still a bit shocked about how the city has become…” said Churchill wearily.
“Did you met anything… unusual?” asked Rommel worriedly.
“If you really are to ask me, the dead of the streets…”
Rommel felt sorry to heard what Churchill said, but at least he and Mata Hari did not met anyone of the “undead”.
“How did you get this to here, my wife?” asked Quatermain surprised.
“I suppose we may all need a ride home after this, so getting some kind of transport was one of my priorities,” said Mata Hari with a sparkling smile.
“My beloved wife! You’re truly a savior,” remarked Quatermain cheerfully.
The six of them were finally leaving out of this mess. But just as he was turning his back, Rommel suddenly noticed a small figure in the corner of his eyes.
It was a small girl, perhaps just little over ten. Her blonde hair was cut short, and she was dressed in fairly battered clothing that was more like rags. Her face was emotionless, with her eyes half-closed.
“… Survivor?” thought Rommel suspiciously.
Although he was just fooled once into thinking one of those “witches” was a survivor, Rommel choose to believe what he saw, or perhaps he wished to believe what he saw. It was just a little girl, a little girl in need of help.
Rommel knew that he did not have the best appearance he could have at the time. To be honest, his clothes were battered, not to mention that he was covered with blood after the fierce battle with the horde. Nevertheless, Rommel approached the little girl slowly but surely as gentle as he could.
Suddenly Rommel’s eyes met with the little girls’. For a second Rommel thought that he had seen those pair of eyes somewhere. But just as he was thinking the little girl literally disappeared in front of him, as if she just evaporated into thin air.
“… Wha…” began Rommel, but he didn’t finished what he was about to say.
Rommel suddenly felt something warm flowing out of him. Some liquid, warm and sticky was flowing under his shirt. Rommel hesitated to look down, and when he did, he found something not belonging to a human pentrated his torso from behind.
At the same moment, Straßburg, German Empire
“Uhhhh…”
Admist the crowds, a small cry of pain was made.
“What’s wrong, Arietta?”
“Oh, no. It’s nothing,” replied Arietta to Rachmaninoff. However, she worriedly looked at the blue sky as she tried to hide the pain in her heart.
Rommel had to do it, I knew it.
And Margaretta couldn't bring some body armours with the wagon?
And Margaretta couldn't bring some body armours with the wagon?
Perhaps even with body armour it will still have the same results.
Small spoiler, the one who did it will be named "00". No, not 11 because I'm using it already.
Why do they always come from behind?
Btw, what kind of person speaks to his wife 'My beloved wife, .....'???
Btw, what kind of person speaks to his wife 'My beloved wife, .....'???
00 is so...plain...why not U3? (Beating Professional difficulty (in general) was a tough slog )
(Beating Professional difficulty (in general) was a tough slog )
Well, it might be more exciting this way.
Btw, what kind of person speaks to his wife 'My beloved wife, .....'???
Then what should they say? "Hey, my bitch"?
I think me made it clear that it's a "her".
00 is so...plain...why not U3?
There will be another name for her besides 00. Btw, beating prof with handcannon is eaaaaaaaasy.
Ok. Well, you don't exactly have it on the first run. At least I only died 21 times - my first run on normal was about 25/26, with later runs being much less.