lego slayer
Cultivation Area 03
A simple mission. Liberate the small farming collective from the soviet communists, minimize damage to the crop and equipment, and wait for reinforcements from the 14th Grenadier Division. The Reds didn't even put up a fight, there was no more than thirty of them waiting we dispatched them fast enough with no casualties. The people in town seemed indifferent to us. During our search of the town, the sun began to set. Curious, it was only noon and the sergeant hadn't come back from town hall yet. A blood moon started to rise over the fields, illuminating the the entire complex with a deep red hue. Light reflected off the tractors, shadows were cast in ways that didn't make sense. Some stretching up walls, some looping into themselves, some didn't exist at all. Those were the one's we should've paid attention to. An MG42 ripped into the darkness engulfing the opposite side of the street, panicked men opened fire, but when the shooting stopped the only thing we found where the bodies of the machine gun team. Broken, shattered, looks of terror frozen on their faces, blood and brass mixing in the dirt next to them. Without warning, I watched something appear out of the shadow and turn Jörg into two clean section at the waist. Someone threw a grenade and Karl dissipated in the explosion, his blood splattering my face. Men we're being torn apart around me I ran. I ran back towards town, to escape, to get my sanity back, to live. Doors were shuttered, windows covered, nobody would answer my cries for help. Basking in the glow of that blood moon I felt a chill run through my body. The gunfire by the warehouses had stopped. A rifle shot to my left, maybe someone from the division, maybe the sergeant, he'd know what to do. It was the only thought I could cling to as I made my way over. The town hall was close, I could see floodlights illuminating the streets, fighting back the shadows, a ring of safety. I wept at the sight, relief flooded my body. A flash illuminated the second story balcony, a rip tore through the air, the rounds stitched their way across my body, and I still felt nothing but relief. That wherever I would go next is free of the terror of Cultivation Area 03.
13-10-1942
Report: Book of Veles recovered. Division losses ninety-nine percent. Acceptable results. Operation Winter Storm can commence within 48 hours.
~Life update: I won't be at BFVA, and my debit card got hacked so anyone that bought stuff from me I can't ship until I have access to my money again sometime within the next 5-7 days (unless the USPS and the bank totally fuck me again) will throw in some freebies to make up for it
Cultivation Area 03
A simple mission. Liberate the small farming collective from the soviet communists, minimize damage to the crop and equipment, and wait for reinforcements from the 14th Grenadier Division. The Reds didn't even put up a fight, there was no more than thirty of them waiting we dispatched them fast enough with no casualties. The people in town seemed indifferent to us. During our search of the town, the sun began to set. Curious, it was only noon and the sergeant hadn't come back from town hall yet. A blood moon started to rise over the fields, illuminating the the entire complex with a deep red hue. Light reflected off the tractors, shadows were cast in ways that didn't make sense. Some stretching up walls, some looping into themselves, some didn't exist at all. Those were the one's we should've paid attention to. An MG42 ripped into the darkness engulfing the opposite side of the street, panicked men opened fire, but when the shooting stopped the only thing we found where the bodies of the machine gun team. Broken, shattered, looks of terror frozen on their faces, blood and brass mixing in the dirt next to them. Without warning, I watched something appear out of the shadow and turn Jörg into two clean section at the waist. Someone threw a grenade and Karl dissipated in the explosion, his blood splattering my face. Men we're being torn apart around me I ran. I ran back towards town, to escape, to get my sanity back, to live. Doors were shuttered, windows covered, nobody would answer my cries for help. Basking in the glow of that blood moon I felt a chill run through my body. The gunfire by the warehouses had stopped. A rifle shot to my left, maybe someone from the division, maybe the sergeant, he'd know what to do. It was the only thought I could cling to as I made my way over. The town hall was close, I could see floodlights illuminating the streets, fighting back the shadows, a ring of safety. I wept at the sight, relief flooded my body. A flash illuminated the second story balcony, a rip tore through the air, the rounds stitched their way across my body, and I still felt nothing but relief. That wherever I would go next is free of the terror of Cultivation Area 03.
13-10-1942
Report: Book of Veles recovered. Division losses ninety-nine percent. Acceptable results. Operation Winter Storm can commence within 48 hours.
~Life update: I won't be at BFVA, and my debit card got hacked so anyone that bought stuff from me I can't ship until I have access to my money again sometime within the next 5-7 days (unless the USPS and the bank totally fuck me again) will throw in some freebies to make up for it