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  • File : 1277349713.jpg-(398 KB, 1600x1200, spetsnaz operators2.jpg)
    398 KB Spetsnaz guy 06/23/10(Wed)23:21 No.10702457  
    February 8 2005. A small squad of the Vympel group of the Russian Spetsnaz stalks their way through the mountain sides of chechnya.A Death Squad,operating under orders to hunt down chechen militants, torture them for information and execute them,nothing new to them, in retaliation for the Beslan school massacre.These men were there,Saw the carnage, Cried tears of blood as they struggled to save hostages, save friends.Those names still fresh in their minds.Chechen blood still fresh on their hands.They are hunting down one of the masterminds of this tragedy. working from intel gained from a recent prisoner, they have chased their target to a house in the Caucus mountain range. The few defenders are quickly and quietly dealt with.The house is stormed,cleared.it's empty.Strange runes and sigils cover the small houses interior. They realize to late it is a trap.They fell for it hook line and sinker,Walking straight into it and activating the ancient ritual.theyy are transprted to a world that is not theirs, a world where humans are regarded as little more than cattle.The Underdark.What lengths will they go to to return homw,to complete ther mission? What dangers will they face?

    So,/tg/ sound interesting for a campaign setting?
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:23 No.10702484
    A group of badass Spetsnaz soldiers turned loose in the Underdark? Sounds awesome.
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:23 No.10702485
    Suddenly a wild PUTIN appears!
    >> Mediocrates !!tG3QhWVtE/n 06/23/10(Wed)23:24 No.10702501

    >> Spetsnaz guy 06/23/10(Wed)23:24 No.10702502
    oh and pic related it's the squad. >>10702457
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:25 No.10702516
    basically a female drow will dominate them with clerical magic

    sodomize, emasculate, and sacrifice them to lolth

    underdark, where females are stronger than men because of magic
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:26 No.10702539
    Like a re-hash of that old Nazis vs. Drow thread.
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:26 No.10702544
    I'd play it. What system are you using?
    >> NF 06/23/10(Wed)23:27 No.10702549
    Well, let's say they've all got a combat load of 300 rounds a piece, not unlikely for a death squad. Once they run out of that, they're still spetsnaz, so essentially midlevel monk/rogue/ranger gestalts.

    Yeah, they oughtta be able to kill their way to a wizard powerful enough to shift them back to their Prime Material.
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:27 No.10702559
    "I haff never met man smarter than boolet."
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:27 No.10702561
    I'd fap to it.
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:30 No.10702609

    10 magazines with 30 rounds each is what I lug around, though I usually keep additional loose ammunition in my pack too.

    Do these guys have any vehicles with them?
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:31 No.10702625
         File1277350272.jpg-(420 KB, 694x1100, 1272614042522.jpg)
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    You had me at "sodomize, emasculate, and sacrifice."

    >> Spetsnaz guy 06/23/10(Wed)23:32 No.10702643
         File1277350335.jpg-(44 KB, 576x432, LOOK OUT.jpg)
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    None.i came up with the idea in the recent "Why does /tg/ hate drow" thread.Decided to make it into a setting and present it to the board,see what was thought about it. I may use it later on though.
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:33 No.10702663
         File1277350420.png-(648 KB, 604x453, славтред.png)
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    >> NF 06/23/10(Wed)23:36 No.10702699
    So two heavy machine guns, a light machine gun, a DMR, assorted assault rifles, an UBGL and some anti tank rockets?

    They've got night vision, they are stealth experts, they should be okay. Though the native fauna may well cause them issues. Spellcasters are less of a problem than you'd think, they have to know you're there to cast at you, and could be dealt with quite handily by the man with the VSS there.
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:36 No.10702707
    We're talking standard DND Underdark and not Sue'd out DT setting right? Totally would play the former setting, other one would be a curb stomp.
    >> Spetsnaz guy 06/23/10(Wed)23:39 No.10702750
         File1277350759.jpg-(39 KB, 353x479, spetsnaz operator.jpg)
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    the former makes much more sense for an enjoyable game.But i would absolutly love to rub it in that chumps face if they were able to come out on top vs. the Mary sues.
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:41 No.10702784
    interesting? very.

    as for how well the Spetsnaz do? that depends on how fast they adjust and how much they learn about their new world.

    they could easily wander into something they dont relize is a total party kill and think they can kill it.
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:43 No.10702828
    They're likely to wander into an ambush set up by a moderately-incompetent illusionist. One covered pit trap and you've got a man down, permanently. If they move in to help him out, they get sniped by someone with invisibility and a poisoned crossbow's bolt.
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:44 No.10702838

    The drow... well, once they figure out that hand crossbow darts are poisoned, they're only going to engage when it benefits them. The drow are fucked. Now, the OTHER stuff that populates the UD, like hook horrors, jellies and slimes, and other big nasties, are going to be a whole other ball o' wax. How do you fight an angry bowl of jello that can dissolve your bullets?
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:46 No.10702870
    God made grenades for a reason.
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:46 No.10702871
    The best bet would probably have at least some of the unit familiar with the concept or at least "lore" of magic. The concept of getting teleported via a dark ritual would probably at least cement belief in magic to a decent portion of the group, so others would start questioning what is truely possible.
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:46 No.10702880
    by riddling it with more bullets. or grenades.
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:47 No.10702886
    That, or allow their electronic devices to immunize them against illusions. Or both.
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:47 No.10702900
    and what do they do when they run out of bullets in enemy terratory with no clue amout magic or the locals
    >> Spetsnaz guy 06/23/10(Wed)23:48 No.10702904
         File1277351291.jpg-(68 KB, 800x316, RPO SHMEL.jpg)
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    The RPO SHMEL thermobaric rocket launcher.
    Would melting it with fire work? Because this thing would do the job.
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:48 No.10702911
         File1277351323.jpg-(17 KB, 310x230, ballistics10.jpg)
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    Ever seen what bullets and explosives do to Ballistic Jelly?
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:50 No.10702932
    Start strangling Drow by hand, using rocks, knives, harsh language and good ol'-fashioned Russian headfuckery.

    In combat, they're master trolls.
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:50 No.10702938
    Always thought Spetsnaz were trained to conserve ammo and resort to stealth maneuvers whenever possible?
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:51 No.10702960
    You pour some vodka on it, get out a spoon and dig in, of course! Field rations don't just prepare themselves you know.
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:52 No.10702963
    Would depend on a lot of things really; is magic mail bulletproof? How much time do they have to realize things have gotten weird before they get in to combat? Will they be able to communicate with some of the less-than-instantly hostile races down there?
    >> Spetsnaz guy 06/23/10(Wed)23:52 No.10702966
    Video of it in use and of its development.It is in russian.
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:52 No.10702968
         File1277351542.jpg-(8 KB, 250x141, Heavylaugh.jpg)
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    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:52 No.10702978

    No resupply. You're going to want to save those for serious problems. Like the aforementioned hook horror. Or a room full of Drow casters. You can use escape and evasion to get clear of a jelly or pudding.

    Besides, I don't think these guys are too keen on racking up the XP. They don't have to kill everything they see.
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:53 No.10702989
    Expecting at least a few losses of personnel before they wise up.
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:54 No.10702997
    Conversations in the Drow colony nearest the Russians:
    >My Queen... we have had limited success in contending with the invaders.
    Explain yourself, slave.
    >They have magic weapons which spew fire and penetrating pellets, some of which have proven lethal to our strongest fighters... and... erm ....
    Cease your insolence, you bloody fool! Out with it!
    >..They ate a gelatinous cube.
    >... raw. They're looking for more, my Queen. Heading this way.
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:55 No.10703022
    In the real world:
    Two days after the operation begins, 80% of the group is combat ineffective due to vodka related AK74 accidents, and the other 20% is either lost or suffering from wildlife injuries.
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:56 No.10703031
    while they could kick a lot of ass most of them would probally die if they stumbeled apon anything both bullet and punch proof or anything with illusion/mind powers that notices them before they can kill it.
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:58 No.10703073
    Sounds like an awesome concept. Most interesting is what they would resort to once they run out of bullets. Would they switch to crossbows or just use their combat knives?

    Is there a way to get back home? Why the fuck would someone send them to the UD?
    >> Anonymous 06/23/10(Wed)23:58 No.10703076
    Day six: out of drinkable fluids, they resort to distilling wildlife and fauna for alcohol.
    Day nine: after abandoning their clothing in exchange for mud and cave moss, they are now the leading cause of death for kobolds and deep gnomes, who refer to them as "Those Who Drink Our Blood in the Darkness and Sing Weird Songs".
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:00 No.10703110
    The Underdark is treated to some strange music, as well.
    Drow begin losing sleep.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:05 No.10703211
         File1277352333.png-(154 KB, 394x410, explosion.png)
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    >>Or a room full of Drow casters

    "We've found the invaders! Attack!
    "Whats this? They throw rocks at us? Pitiful humans they-
    *see pic*
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:07 No.10703233
    >Why the fuck would someone send them to the UD?

    Illithiri. For teh lulz. Watching drow bested by "a slave race" is endless entertainment.
    >> Spetsnaz guy 06/24/10(Thu)00:07 No.10703249
    Adventuring parties of drow who enter a certain cave system never return.....but those who do return with their arms noses and ears chopped of with strange words, спецназ,carved into their skin.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:09 No.10703276
         File1277352586.jpg-(37 KB, 416x312, Flying Russians.jpg)
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    When the only way to kill a drow is with mythical flying Russian special ops.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:10 No.10703290
    >Arshun, Pankov, go grab their weapons and ammo.
    Brief activity. Forty seconds later...
    >.. no guns. Few knives, though.
    Pause, CO examines the collected gear.
    >What the fuck is this? Looks like a .. metal rod.
    >... that... was unexpected.
    >Someone sweep up Krilov, we're out in three minutes.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:10 No.10703295
    I thought it was 'granata'
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:13 No.10703330

    I wonder what they'd think of one of the signature weapons of Lolth priestesses, a multi-headed scourge made of animate snakes.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:14 No.10703346
    this could work...

    if there were more than seven than them. as it is half of them will probally be killed or crippeled due to that sort of thing
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:15 No.10703361
         File1277352924.jpg-(69 KB, 640x512, Spetsnaz.jpg)
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    good, we've plenty of that.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:16 No.10703377
    >Pankov, your turn up at bat. Figure out what *this* batshit thing does. Captain's orders.
    All others step clear, take cover.
    Five minutes pass.
    >Its just a weapon, I think. SNAKES NO SNAKES SNAKES
    Three minutes pass.
    >Krigor, you're next. Figure out the staff-looking thing.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:16 No.10703389
         File1277353003.jpg-(187 KB, 600x400, Spetsnaz2.jpg)
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    this thread is now about russian soldiers backflipping and throwing sharp objects.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:17 No.10703419
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:20 No.10703455

    They chop off the snakes and eat them,
    snakes good eatin.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:20 No.10703471

    It was already about that, haven't you been paying attention.

    I immediately thought of Delta Green, but nah - this would actually be more interesting.

    Night vision goggles = darkvision
    >> NF 06/24/10(Thu)00:23 No.10703515
    So let's say instead of a squad we make it a detachment. 30-40 men, a couple jeeps and a Hind, all ported in via some colossal ritual.

    How long before they've established their own little domain of caves, based out of a small holdout built around the hind, and start reloading brass with gunpowder made from cave lichens and kobold shit?
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:23 No.10703522
    This could make a hilarious comic plot me thinks.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:24 No.10703540
         File1277353440.png-(903 B, 300x180, just that.png)
    903 B
    Priestess of Lolth, reclining in her private chambers, hears a noise in the darkness. Her eyes accustomed to it, see ... nothing. A brief puff of wind behind her, and she turns, seeing ... again, nothing. Shrugging, she looks back to the corner, seeing:
    >pic related
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:24 No.10703550
    Thats not as fun as the small deathsquad, there's faces on the men with small numbers at least, instead of a semi-large force. Sides I don't think they could have fit a hind D into the ritual room.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:24 No.10703554
    Drawfag GET IN HERE NOW.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:25 No.10703575
         File1277353542.jpg-(198 KB, 1280x960, img_19_21983_11 1232559101.jpg)
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    There were no dragons.

    Just Hinds terrorizing poor villages.

    Better yet, Hinds/Black Sharks vs. dragons, all that crazy shit.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:26 No.10703594
         File1277353582.png-(1 KB, 300x180, just that.png)
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    Two tenths of a second later, she sees this...
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:27 No.10703606
    >30-40 men

    They're still in serious trouble unless they adapt fast.

    >a couple jeeps

    Meh. The additional mobility would be nice, but calling attention to themselves is just a faster path to death.

    >and a Hind

    Everyone else is fucked. Elder dragons stand a fighting chance.
    >> Spetsnaz guy 06/24/10(Thu)00:27 No.10703617
         File1277353651.jpg-(1.06 MB, 1108x1600, ridiculosly cute.jpg)
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    .......This deserves some writefaggotry.Anyone agree?
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:27 No.10703622
    I would like to sign up for this assignment.
    >> NF 06/24/10(Thu)00:28 No.10703632
    Well yes, but realistically 6-7 guys could well all be lost in the first random fuckup. They come across Drow and Orcs, they'll acclimate, but if the first thing they bump into is a cadre of Mindflayers... game over man.

    A larger group gives opportunity for sustainable losses. The Hind is really more of a flavor thing anyway, taking this from merely a storytelling standpoint. Say the ritual was a whole town rather than just the hut and it's not implausible.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:28 No.10703645
    What is that?
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:29 No.10703661
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:30 No.10703679
    So how long before they carve out their own underground kingdom of drunken, insanely violent immigrants from a distant land, sent there with little else but some barely edible food and a handful of weapons, and with everything else trying to kill them?

    Also, do we assume that this Spetsnatz team has women in it, so that they can actually breed more Spetnatz children to take into battle?
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:31 No.10703684
    Im up for it, but itll take time.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)00:31 No.10703687
    Who wants to name our merry band of badasses?
    Unit identification a plus, motto a major perk.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:31 No.10703691
    One could still have certain soldiers acting as the main characters. This option just gives them some Red Shirts so they have a little breathing room to figure out what's what.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:32 No.10703718
    I have a friend who was working on something somewhat like this for a setting. One of the factions in the setting are (were) a Russian equivalent of Black Mesa, with minor manufacturing capability, and extremely heavy military presence. Teleportation experiment failure, and BAM.

    They have extremely limited resources, and try to refrain from using them, but if they want something from your wooden-palisade-and-town-guard village, you're fucked.
    >> MS-06FUCKYEAH !!rJGvHLVN3on 06/24/10(Thu)00:32 No.10703733

    Also, I support this thread wholeheartedly.Something that hasn't been noted is they'd prolly have Flashbangs and Incendiary Grenades. Flashbangs would probably be deadly to most Underdark Creatures, or at least Burn-your-eyes-out non-lethal.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:33 No.10703746
    This is pretty fail in generally. Whoever believes that special forces infantry soldiers with modern firearms wouldn't wipe the floor with the drow is eating shrooms or something.

    You thing a couple of mid-level rangers or rogues are bad? Picture a ranger with a fully automatic, extremely powerful weapon, extremely well versed in squad tactics (the best group of adventurers ever, basically) loaded to operate behind enemy lines.

    Sure, there would be a learning curve. Would it be difficult? No. "Hey look, a floating jellyfish. Isn't that wierd. Let's fuck it!"

    No. If they see something wierd, they are likely to shoot it dead first, and never ask questions. And a wizard? I know they are fairly powerful, but what? Versus eight trained men with rifles?

    C'mon guys. In very, very tight cave confines it would be difficult for these men, but not much so. In the large cave complexes of the underdark? What.
    >> Spetsnaz guy 06/24/10(Thu)00:33 No.10703751
         File1277354018.jpg-(5 KB, 160x99, Spetsnaz in afghanistan.jpg)
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    5th platoon Vympel Russian FSB
    Motto:Leave not a one alive.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)00:33 No.10703753
    Judging by the relevant information I can drag up about Vympel group, they specialize in taking down captured reactors. One mishap with the Russian Large Hadron Collider, and its goodbye, Moscow, hello, Underdark.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:34 No.10703759
    Squad meets Beholder. Roll up new squad.

    Aboleth wants new slaves. Roll up another squad.

    Illithid gets hungry and sees food or wants slaves. Roll up a new squad.

    Spetznaz would be dead in hours.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:34 No.10703761

    There's also the matter of fuel. I'm not sure about hinds and russian jeeps, but I believe the engine of the M1 Abrams tank can run on anything that's reasonably combustible. If their vehicles run the same way they could probably find a local equivalent.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)00:34 No.10703774
    5th platoon Vympel Russian FSB, it is.
    >Motto:Leave not a one alive.
    Excellent motto is excellent.
    Shall I proceed?
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:35 No.10703794

    I dunno, a giant eye against fast moving metal shrapnel? They might stand a chance.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:35 No.10703798

    All those guys are completely immune to bullets, huh?
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:36 No.10703805
         File1277354166.jpg-(102 KB, 450x450, Break the law.jpg)
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    Either a laser mount for their rifles or Russian night-vision goggles that terminate into one "eye". Though, I doubt it actually glows red and only meant for dramatic effect.
    >> Spetsnaz guy 06/24/10(Thu)00:36 No.10703806
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:36 No.10703809
    do so.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:36 No.10703814
    Fuck that. Floating eyeball against guys who carry bear mace? FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:37 No.10703828
    Just got a mental image of that.
    am now laughing my ass off.
    >> Spetsnaz guy 06/24/10(Thu)00:37 No.10703831
         File1277354243.jpg-(41 KB, 336x400, psycho cute.jpg)
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    it might be wise to archive this on sup/tg/.just a suggestion.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:37 No.10703835
    Hell yes! This is what I love about /tg/.
    >> 01011001 !!0e0rM3tVUOn 06/24/10(Thu)00:37 No.10703838
    Laser sight.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:38 No.10703848
    Anyone up for a game of Spetsnaz Fortress? I here Comrade Toadyevich should have the latest build ready soon...
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:40 No.10703907
    Spetznaz aren't immune to psions or magic. They'd die horribly.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:41 No.10703912
    Maxim Valerievich Dubov "Maks"
    Alexander Petrovich Krylov "Sanya/Sasha"
    Illia Nikolaevich Posadniy
    Igor Pavlovich Nevski "Gosha"
    Nikolai Antonovich Trubnoi "Kolya/Truba"
    Sergei Sergeevich Lomkin "Lom"
    Vassili Ivanovich Medniy "Vasya"
    Artem Fillipovich Sedoy "Temka"
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)00:41 No.10703930
    Our heroes, the FSB's nastiest, brutish bastards, are deployed in response to a terror alert sent out by the Russian Nuclear Power Administration's security office: the planned test firing of the Russian LHC, known as PYOTR (or Peter the Great), has been interrupted by the appearance of a rogue faction of Chechen separatists.

    Gathering a full platoon's compliment of first-responders, they are deployed by the team's Hinds and Mil Mi-24s, rappelling down onto the cooling tower adjacent for easy intrusion, mixed with a half-strength group from the local FSB's training facility.

    Converging on the lab, they encounter sparse guards and no resistance of note and merit; knives and silence lead the way.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:41 No.10703933
    Immune? No. Some of them would require something .50 cal or bigger to do more than piss them off though. Not saying they couldn't possibly win in any of those scenarios, but it would be a huge deciding factor which side initiated the fight, and if the Spetsnaz had a chance to put in some prepwork.
    >> TheDeathMerchant !!SVhC87/S7i2 06/24/10(Thu)00:43 No.10703974
         File1277354605.jpg-(15 KB, 200x271, [small][AnimePaper]scans_Those(...).jpg)
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    I'm guessing someone recently watched THOSE WHO HUNT ELVES
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:43 No.10703980
    >> Spetsnaz guy 06/24/10(Thu)00:44 No.10703998
    No.but i am looking for some good reads. do you recommend it?
    >> Alpharius 06/24/10(Thu)00:46 No.10704025
    I will also be writfagging this, but I will have to research more about the underdark and mine will take a while.

    Expect the story same time tomorrow.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:46 No.10704044
    I would so run this sort of scenario as a Spycraft campaign.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:48 No.10704064
    >Whoever believes that special forces infantry soldiers with modern firearms wouldn't wipe the floor with the drow is eating shrooms or something.

    Psionics. Magic. Drow are also stealth specialists and use POISONED HAND CROSSBOW DARTS.

    Yes, the Spetsnaz are ultra-badasses. But they'll be completely out of their element. Drop a high level drow priestess into a modern battlefield and they'll be just as dead.
    >> NF 06/24/10(Thu)00:48 No.10704065
         File1277354889.jpg-(163 KB, 482x750, 303n1.jpg)
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    I'm happy to help develop the idea.

    Two characters need to be present amongst our Spetsnaz: Firstly this guy
    >> NF 06/24/10(Thu)00:48 No.10704072
         File1277354921.jpg-(245 KB, 800x600, Sonny.jpg)
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    and then this guy
    >> TheDeathMerchant !!SVhC87/S7i2 06/24/10(Thu)00:49 No.10704090
    It's a quirky little anime, more meant to be fun anyways.

    A Karate Master, an Oscar winning Actress, a school girl with a knack for firearms, and an M1 Abrams get sucked into a fantasy setting. They have to gather parts of a ritual from certain elves to be able to go home, hilarity ensues.

    It's a good time
    >> Spetsnaz guy 06/24/10(Thu)00:50 No.10704106
         File1277355016.jpg-(10 KB, 249x238, cute as hell.jpg)
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    Sonny! 303 guy! Good idea!
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)00:51 No.10704135
    The group, guided by the once-disgraced war hero of the Afghanistan campaign, Maxim Valerievich Dubov, known to his compatriots as "Maks", leads the first charge into the lab. Bearing a strong forward rush, the group splits into smaller pairs: Alexander Petrovich Krylov, known as "Sasha" - the team's lead sniper, leading up squad Alfa;
    Illia Nikolaevich Posadniy, taking charge of squad Vita, comprised of team mechanic Igor Pavlovich Nevski ("Gosha"), squad demolitions expert Nikolai Antonovich Trubnoi "Krazny", Sergeant Sergei Sergeevich Lomkin, the former police detective who captured the 'Butcher of Moscow' and the short, defiant Vassili Ivanovich Medniy "Vasya", the team's medical officer and former interrogator for the KGB's outpost in Siberia.
    Artem Fillipovich Sedoy takes up the former lead position of his commanding officer, serving as support for the remainder of the first unit to enter the LHC's main control room.

    Their surprise at finding not only token resistance was surpassed by their shock at finding a pulsing sphere of glowing blue light, sending out shockwaves of almost-invisible power, rending metal, concrete and plastic alike into a thin, gray smoky material.

    A moment later, and a small object ejected from the corridor behind them; a grenade, courtesy of a left-behind Chechen resistance fighter, hiding cowardly in the duct work overhead.

    The group, thinking less of the apparent danger of the pulsing sphere, more of the imminent grenade blast, dives into the path of an oncoming wave of power, vanishing instantly.

    ... in moments, there is only blackness, the sense of falling, and the sudden sharp impact of unforgiving rock beneath them.
    >> Spetsnaz guy 06/24/10(Thu)00:52 No.10704149
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    I'll probobly Archive this here in a little while unless some one more experienced wants to do it.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:53 No.10704163
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    I personally would prefer the Ruskies be teleported into DT just to curb the living shit out of the drow there.

    I just picture it, a Spetsnaz holding a up scared drow mistress by the neck. The Spetsnaz's face is concealed by a balaclava, but his eyes are fully capable of showing his sheer contempt for the mistress. Whispering poison into her ear: "You will know the true meaning of pain, my little zaichik..."
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)00:56 No.10704239
    needs moar!
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)00:58 No.10704272
    Maxim rises to his feet, surveying the immediate area, donning his nightvision goggles. With a barely perceptible noise, they power up, revealing the interior of a long, damp tunnel, dripping with water from a variety of stalactites. The floor is spongy with an slightly-glowing fungal bloom, giving an eerie red hue to the green world of the night vision suite. A moment's confusion is set aside for the basic requirement of a field officer: the survival of the mission, above its manpower. To lose is to die.
    The one word command simultaneously rouses and orders his troops to their feet, donning their gear.
    >Hand count.
    One by one, each member of the team gives a team mate a handshake, moving slowly down the line; the left hand bearing a weapon, only the right is used.
    The silence is deafening, an answer eventually arriving back at Maxim.
    A turn of his head, observing the tunnel's compliment of Russia's finest, he gives a slow nod.
    The group splits into trios, edging forward, eyes alert in all directions. The passageway slopes downward in both directions; forward is the only logical direction.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)01:01 No.10704340
    my anticipation in the watching these guys go to town on elf scum is riseing.

    my you type as fast as the wind.
    >> Spetsnaz guy 06/24/10(Thu)01:11 No.10704547
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    Ok officialy archived.here's to our beloved writefag!may he live long and prosper!
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)01:13 No.10704597
    The group moves forward in silence, questions set aside until the first break. In the passing hours, they find no dead, no discarded gear, nothing - just more fungal blooms, glowing in a variety of colors. Some remove their goggles and allow their eyes to adapt; others don their gas masks and continue forward with whatever dubious protection it offers in this alien landscape. One word in the silent passageway.
    The group sets a perimeter watch, hoisting aloft its AEK-97s, AK-74s and the ubiquitous AK-47's, keeping a watchful eye on the rear and forward positions, overlapping fields of fire spread clear through. The stopping point, has a trough-shaped depression in the floor, marring the otherwise smooth walls, ceiling and floor of the hemispherical room, continuing forward at a downward slope of a few degrees inclination.
    >Doctor, check for wounds.
    Broken from his reverie, Vasilli moves down the line, running an expert hand along thighs, calves, biceps, forearms, backs of the neck, returning with an open palm gesture.
    >Nothing to worry over.
    Maxim gives a slow nod. Looking to each group of men, he sees the same worried expression on men who have eaten things best left unconsidered and come back fighting. This is not his native environment, nor his active mission - two facts which weigh heavily upon his mind.
    >Lomkin, to me.
    The police detective-turned-soldier approaches, the medic stepping aside momentarily to admit his passage.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)01:13 No.10704598
    Russians do what they usually do when they march into a country full of assholes: rape the women, burn down the houses, drink the alcohol, and kill everyone.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)01:19 No.10704718
    Normally I would be acting like a paladen. about the whole, rape pillage kill thing.
    but its drow.
    drow are... a special case.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)01:20 No.10704744
    >You wish my thoughts, sir?
    Maxim smirks. The man knows him well.
    >Yes. Your theory?
    A brief sigh, and Vasilli mutters quietly.
    >I believe we have moved from Earth to a different planet. This .. this is not rock I am familiar with. I believe we have traveled to a distant star, perhaps somewhere outside of even that range. The scientists.. they meddled with God's plan, I think. God is no fan of science.
    The three wizened men give sage consideration of this, frowning in the darkness. Maxim rises to his feet.
    >Two watches, fifteen each. half hour nap. Alfa sleeps last.
    The group splits into thirds; two sections cover the tunnel, the third find rucksacks on the floor to make bedding of.
    >We move out in ninety minutes.
    The group beds down, grave quiet except for a few murmured words between friends and the terrified troopers. Moving amongst his men, each squad leader reports back in ten-minute intervals to Maxim, offering up only hand squeezes in lieu of phrases well-known; all is well, given the circumstances.
    At eighty-nine minutes, forty-eight seconds, he rises up, taking a few strides into the center of the room. A single glowstick is cracked; the first of the entire affair, casting the hemisphere into reddish light. His features given a shadowy cast, he speaks:
    >Somewhere, down here, we will find those who can reverse our path, taking us home, from wherever we are. I swear this to you: we shall march again on Red Square. Until that time, you are all Russians - behave accordingly.
    Dropping the glowstick, he clears the path for the squad leaders; moving down the line, the troops reassemble their gear into marching shape, adjusting straps for the first time; masks are abandoned temporarily, but goggles are kept in polished conditions: to lose their sight would be a crime of the worst magnitude.
    >Second squad, take point. Alfa, rear.
    The group moves forward, downward into the darkness.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)01:21 No.10704788
    Please don't post this on /k/
    >> -|- Reichsguard -|- !!bOOhb8C7gxV 06/24/10(Thu)01:22 No.10704793
    I can hear the little bones of her neck crunching a bit when the spetsnaz soldier tightens his grip slightly, I can see her slim body wriggling, her hand trying to pry away the russian hand gripping her at her throuat. Her legs flailing above the ground , her eyes bloodshot and full of contempt and fear, looking straight at the russian. And he stands like an immovable statue, monument to the times to come, as he tightens his grip more and more, with a faint smile on his face. Finally, the drow stops it's useless struggle, limbs limp and her eyes now devoid of all life. He releases his grip, and the body hits the ground like a sack of potatoes. He turnes around and leaves, her body unatended will soon atract the attention of local scavengers, and will serve as a warning to others of her race.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)01:25 No.10704850
    What if the Spetsnaz in question are Genre Savvy(ie. they're aware of what the underdark entails)?
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)01:26 No.10704887
    ah but that ruins all the fun.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)01:28 No.10704939
    As they descend into the darkness, they are being viewed up unseen forces; a group of well-trained orc troopers keep pace with them, almost half a mile behind. With magically silenced steps, they edge into the tunnel's deeper reaches, finding the group's first resting spot, smelling semi-familiar odors: humans, sweat, fear, confusion. The group's commanding officer, Krusk, smiles broadly.
    >Soon, foolish men, we shall be upon you.
    They march into silence once more, muttering their guttural tongue's finer phrases of promised death, torture and mutilation.

    Ahead, Artem Sedoy gives a squeeze on the bicep to the man ahead of him; this motion carries forward, arriving at the bicep of Maxim himself, no further. A pause is called for with a tug on a backpack strap to the men ahead.
    The nervous electronics technician gives a wry smirk.
    >We are being followed, sir. Sounds like forty, fifty of them. They speak a strange language. Sounds like Norwegian.
    Maxim smiles.
    >You bugged the watering hole, even knowing our current predicament and lack of supplies?
    Sedoy gives a shit-eating grin.
    >Of course, sir.
    Maxim gives the man a forehead-to-forehead gesture; the unit's equiivalent of the ubiquitous bro-hug.
    >Take charge of the ambush, Sedoy. I want four alive.
    Sedoy gives a tilt of his head in the darkness.
    >And the others?
    Maxim turns back, seeing the forward group already returning,t he point men walking backwards, weapons ready.
    >Make examples of them.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)01:30 No.10704974
    Russia is criticized for absorbing an entire world into its own.
    >> NF 06/24/10(Thu)01:33 No.10705046
    I'm smiling like a well fed shark, moar please.

    Let Sonny do some knife work...
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)01:36 No.10705088
    Behind the Russians, one of the more elaborately dressed orcs moves through the huddled ranks, finding Krusk's side.
    >My spirit guides tell me they plot an ambush upon us.
    Krusk looks to his shaman, confusion briefly surfacing on his porcine features.
    >How? Ahead of them, five wheels (equivalent distance: miles) is nothing but further tunnel. We shall overtake them within the hour. Their pace is cautious.
    The shaman, knowing his place amongst a forward unit, shrugs and steps clear of his in-theory subordinate; the clergy's advice is often followed, but Krusk's Raiders rarely relies on holy men or spellcasters as a matter of pride.
    >As you wish, Lord Krusk.
    The shaman steps lively, moving to the rear guard, taking with him a select group of associated clergy-engineers.

    Ahead, Sedoy finishes his squad's work, smiling with satisfaction.
    Each man in the group pulls back, one at a time, moving behind a massive fall of boulders, weapons ready, eyes alert. Nestled on the ground behind them, a scattering of helmet liners and wrappers for glowsticks litter the glowing puddles of fungus.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)01:39 No.10705161
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    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)01:46 No.10705285
    Krusk's band arrives at the boulder fall, spreading into groups; military thinkers in every world recognize the utility of grouping forces into small units, rather than large mobs: orcs are no different, save for mass combat, which has no doctrine but blood will fall, lives will be lost and swords shall drink deeply.
    >Lord Krusk, they have dropped.. debris. I have never seen its like before.
    A scout returns, holding a cyalume packet, empty of its glowstick. Krusk examines it, handing it back moments later.
    >Take it to the shaman. See if he makes sense of their witchcraft.
    The trip back is interrupted, however - the sudden appearance of a gigantic flower of light, casting long shadows and echoing wisps of brightness down the endless corridor. Overhead, a group of PFM-1's, the infamous Russian Toe Popper, detonate with precise force and overwhelming effect; each group catches no less than four each, sending orcs to the ground in clusters of shrieking agony. The remote-detonation method is nothing found in a combat manual, but is found with red underlining in Igor Nevski's private journal under the heading:
    >Things To Try Out At Least Once.
    The fire teams which erupt from atop, alongside and in one case, underneath, the boulder fall begin a process of precision firing and mop-up. Suppressed shots ring out, each round finding a new home in muscle, bone, brain.

    Twelve seconds later, and the orcish pantheon has 39 new residents. Five still stand, shock and awe having full effect - nothing of its like has happened in the dark world below.
    Hands raise on the orcs, the universal sign of surrender.
    >I said four.
    A knife flashes out of the shadows, finding a throat.
    A gurgle later, and there is exactly four left.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)01:49 No.10705336
    needs moar
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)01:49 No.10705353
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)01:51 No.10705386
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    >The remote-detonation method is nothing found in a combat manual, but is found with red underlining in Igor Nevski's private journal under the heading:
    >>Things To Try Out At Least Once.

    This pleases me.
    >> Spetsnaz guy 06/24/10(Thu)01:52 No.10705396
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    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)01:54 No.10705451
    The four survivors, the shaman amongst them feeling distinctly out of place, stand in terror before the black-clad figures stepping through the gunsmoke haze. The rocks give small tink-like sounds as shrapnel dislodges from cracks, bones give way to boots as the final wave of mop-up ends.
    >Do you speak English?
    Maxim's voice is clear as his knife is sharp, withdrawing it from Krusk's trachea with a slight effort.
    The shaman pauses, his loincloth now in dire need of a cleaning spell. He swallows nervously, speaking mystic words in a forgotten language. His voice warbles on the last syllables, becoming intelligible words briefly.
    >I can speak your languages, yes.
    Surprised, but showing nothing, Maxim nods. A few motions later, and the four are trussed up in plastic bindings, securely fastened to one another, back to back.
    >Good. This will save me the time of teaching you English with this knife.
    He holds his blade up, revealing the gore stuck to its surface. He motions for the survivors to sit, well away from their now-stripped gear, weapons and extraneous attire.
    >You want information, correct?
    Maxim nods, motioning with the knife, lazy circle made in the air. The shaman eyes it carefully, knowing what cruel men with knives can do to a captive.
    >I know nothing of who you are, how you arrived or what you want. I can tell you we are both in deep shit.
    >> 000 06/24/10(Thu)01:55 No.10705458
    rolled 3 = 3


    I... I have to agree. This is awesome. It's the Salvation War all over again. That level of badass.
    >> 01011001 !!0e0rM3tVUOn 06/24/10(Thu)01:57 No.10705496
    Why are they trying to get the orcs to speak English?
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)01:57 No.10705504
    >Implying Spetznaz would not have Nightwatch and Daywatch operatives to bolster its anti-magic capabilities.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)01:58 No.10705527
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    Fuck yes this is getting better and better!
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)01:59 No.10705534
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)01:59 No.10705546
    So they can't understand them when they speak Russian. English is commonly spoken enough that it isn't improbable that some of them know it, so it nicely allows them to only tell them what they want to.
    >> 01011001 !!0e0rM3tVUOn 06/24/10(Thu)02:02 No.10705587
    Makes some sense, anyway.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)02:02 No.10705590
    >Explain or bleed.
    Maxim's words are precise, clipped. His troops do not lean an ear to his conversation, but to the tunnels fore and aft. Field interrogations rarely move quickly, quietly or without incident.
    >Your people and .. what is left of mine .. are in the territory of a great and powerful .. 'leader''s.. territory. They are a terrible people, rife with cruelty and brutality.
    Maxim smiles.
    >I like them already. Continue.
    The shaman pales.
    >My spirit guides tell me you are from another world, where magic was once potent, but is now lost. They tell me you are a war hero, a veteran of sand and blood.
    Maxim stiffens, glaring at the orcish holy man.
    >Yes. I've seen plenty of both. Some of which may be yours, if you don't arrive at a point. Magic is a myth, freak.
    The shaman stares deep at Maxim, taking in his hardened, cork-blackened features.
    >I hear my spirit guides speak of science akin to magic, which brought you here. My god is silent on your fate. My own, and those of my people... I already know. I ask only you make it quick, and you put our faces to the ground, so we might see our afterlife approach us.
    Maxim nods. Most prisoners of war accept their fate. These, apparently, faster than most.
    >So be it. Tell me of this army. Tell me of this world.
    The conversation takes almost three hours; what is offered freely takes up ten minutes of that. The remainder, the knives tell.
    Maxim stands tall amongst the carnage, surveying the bodies, stripped of intel-bearing gear, weapons, waterskins.
    >Cut the heads off, plant them all face up.
    A look to the remnants of the holy man.
    >Fuck your god.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)02:05 No.10705639
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    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)02:06 No.10705647
    Chaotic Evil? Sweeet.
    >> 000 06/24/10(Thu)02:06 No.10705652
    rolled 13 = 13

    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)02:08 No.10705693
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)02:11 No.10705744
    >We move out in thirty seconds. Keep the knives, booby trap the weapons. Vasilli, poison the waterskins.
    The group moves in silence once more, tasks accomplished. Downward, they spiral into the darkness, bearing more information than fear - enemies known of, tactics to keep an alert eye for, traps commonly exposed. Wordlessly, the group is bolstered by their surprise success, their kill ratio high. Slowly, starting from the back, a tension is released; victory can be accomplished - all warriors can meet their makers, and 5th platoon Vympel Russian FSB are the kind of people who can arrange that kind of appointment ahead of schedule.

    The squad leaders carry their knives with pride; the trophy blades and their issued alike. Soon, they'll be drinking blood from an unmet foe: the Drow.

    Meanwhile, in the city of Menzoberranzan, a Seer of House Xorlarrin gives a brief cry of dismay, rushing from her private quarters, awakened from her reverie by a dark dream, filled with songs of death, blood and men covered in sand.
    >My Lady!
    She calls out to her House Matron, panic-stricken. Moving through the maze-like hallways, she arrives at the library, finding her employer/sibling resting with a large tome hovering nearby, the pages turned by a castrated male-child of her own brood.
    >My Lady! We ... we have a problem.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)02:11 No.10705746
    They're Russian, what the fuck did you expect?

    They're basically real-life Dorf Fortress dorfs.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)02:14 No.10705805
    Problem, ....Drow?
    >> Spetsnaz guy 06/24/10(Thu)02:15 No.10705813
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    a little music for mood
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)02:17 No.10705862
    The Matron of House Xorlarrin, Ziracti of the Nine Souls, gives a tsk-tsk gesture with her third arm, the other three preening her luxurious snow white hair, the worrisome green streak along the temples growing a little more every year, a source of private concern.
    >Speak your tongue's will, Seer. Your input is always welcome.
    The Seer gives a polite bow, mindful of the four-armed Matron's frequent exorbitant arm motions.
    >My Lady, our orcish mercenaries have been struck down by .. I can only surmise some sort of exploration party of large size. They appear to be armed with mystic weapons and practice a deadly effective form of fire magic. I was far-seeing through the eyes of the orcs' leader, as you commanded, when I found myself ...
    The Matron stared deep at her pet Seer, frowning unpleasantly. Lives were lost for less than that expression.
    >Found yourself, what?
    The Seer darkens, her skin flushing with embarrassment.
    >I found myself trying to breathe an entire knife.
    The Matron pauses, confused.
    >That's a new one.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)02:20 No.10705930
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    >The Seer darkens, her skin flushing with embarrassment.
    >>I found myself trying to breathe an entire knife.

    What a slut.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)02:22 No.10705948
    >I found myself trying to breathe an entire knife.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)02:24 No.10705991
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    I accidentally the whole knife!
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)02:26 No.10706033
    >Meanwhile, back at Spetsnaz forward command post two...
    >Tell me again about their bodies' internal structures, doctor. I am intrigued.
    Maxim examines the body of the recently killed sentry outside an orcish field camp, nestled in the now-smoke-filled ravine, the river running a deep red with spilled blood.
    The doctor nods, gesturing with his captured Bowie-like dagger, indicating the aforementioned region.
    >They appear to be oxygen-breathers, gestate their young internally, although I am uncertain about their breeding cycle's length... I have several theories which...
    >...are irrelevant, as of now. They'll not be breeding while we're at work. Are they immune to our tear gas or not?
    The doctor looks to the nearest captive, pulling a small canister from his hip. A brief spray, and a series of heaving noises fill the immediate area; trying to vomit through a gag is tough work, at best.
    >It induces vomiting, apparently.
    Maxim nods, looking to his crews at work, stripping the dead of clothes, weapons, equipment, heads.
    >Stack the bodies by that cave, the heads all go face up.
    Nevski stepped beside Maxim, moving along with him down the length of the cave; at its terminus, a set of cages. Inside the cages, the rotting bodies of humans in a variety of genders and stages of decomposition.
    >Sir, we have finished with the tunnel entrance. The noise will be a problem, but the flash has been minimized by tamping the blasting agents.
    Maxim gives a curt nod, approval written across his features.
    >What are you tamping the charges with?
    Nevski gives no emotion when he replies:
    >Their young, sir.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)02:28 No.10706066
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    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)02:30 No.10706102
    Will they have enough orc babies?
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)02:33 No.10706143
    If they dont they can just chop em into bits to use.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)02:33 No.10706158
    your level of sadism inspires me, good sir
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)02:34 No.10706176
    >Their young, sir.

    Spetsnaz confirmed for my next modern horror game.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)02:35 No.10706188
    >Meanwhile, on the surface...
    Good King Verlow finishes his blessing upon his emissaries, handing each one a sacred scroll, all bearing his royal sigil; protection under a king's sword - the threat of war on those who would harm or waylay his scholarly envoys.
    >Go forth, my troops of peace, unto the darker realm. You bear the gifts befitting the queen they are intended for. Upon your return, each of you shall bear the title of noble-lord, and be peers of my realm.
    The court began a slow, rhythmic clap, accompanied by the chant-song of the peaceful accord the envoys were assembled for. From far and wide, the call had gone out for scholars knowledgeable of the Underdark, guides with strong wills capable of leading them in and fighting men of all stripes to protect them throughout the journey.
    As the envoys left, two porters, each laden with the magically-lightened, but still unbalanced baskets carrying survival materials and precious stone for the envoys, exchanged a few words:
    >Why do they never mention us, the men who are carrying these jackwipes' toys and trinkets? I ask you, do we not merit at least an honorable mention, just once?
    >Hush, Flarius.. Soon enough, we'll be carrying back empty sacks and heads full of nightmares, once more. I do so hate these awful trips into the underworld.
    A grunt, a sigh and a slight cough, and Flarius speaks again.
    >True... just wished the Drow would let some of the prettier women live. Be nice to have some feminine company on the way back.
    A chuckle from his compatriot.
    >True enough. Well, we're off to witness these idiots get slaughtered and robbed... just like the last six envoys.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)02:36 No.10706195
    I haven't read this thread, but I hate Chechens, so I approve.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)02:39 No.10706248
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    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)02:39 No.10706253
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)02:41 No.10706276
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)02:42 No.10706295
    >Xorlarrin House, once again....
    >My Lady... are you certain?
    The Matron of the House examined her Seer's face, seeing no signs of disloyalty's disease, merely concern. Briefly, her heart was warmed, returning to the ice block it remained again. The sensation was not a pleasant one.
    >Yes. These shall suffice. They have ample experience with the 'adventurous' sort. Hardened survivors, one and all.
    Standing before the full array of her newly-acquired troops, she gave the orders to them.
    >Kill all but the leaders. Eat the rest. Bring their weapons to me for examination. Succeed, and honor shall be yours. Fail, and I shall do nothing on your behalf.
    The troops shuffled out, legs skittering in the darkness, receding into the distant tunnels curving to the surface.
    >Are you sure this is wise, My Lady? Dealing with drider ... it seems so .. unseemly.
    The Matron ran all four of her manicured, sharpened-nail hands down the face and neck of her Seer, her lips a hairs'-breadth from contact, the rush of sweet air from her mouth reflecting back at her.
    >Of course it is wise. We're blaming House Horlbar for the entire affair. Documents have been forged, promises extracted. Soon enough, they'll appear as dirty as we wish them to be.
    A pause, the nails sweeping an errant hair from the Seer's long-empty eye sockets.
    >Go dream. Tell me of their progress.
    The hair fell to the floor, severed by a mithril needle-blade, the sound unheard by most.

    Except for one set of ears...
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)02:42 No.10706301
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    inb4 the drows have chechen advisors.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)02:52 No.10706444
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)02:53 No.10706458
    >Spetsnaz, day four, camp three.
    Igor replaced his goggles, frowning unpleasantly.
    Ahead of him, a passageway was blocked by a sheet of what appeared to be rusted iron, knobbed with odd dents and bulges. To each side, the tunnels were both marked as dead-ends, never finished efforts long abandoned. Clicking his throat mike, he gave a status report to his squad leader.
    Nikolai, known as "Krazny" or "Red" to his fellows, had the unpleasant task of reporting this information to Maxim in the midst of his shaving routine; carbon-bladed razor at his throat, he absorbed the information without comment or emotion, merely continued to shave until finished.
    Consulting with the squad leaders at the remains of an old pillbox-like structure from some long-ago battle site or military fortress, a plan began to form.
    >Blow it open.
    Simple enough for men with the training to drop a reactor core, even with their dwindling supply of conventional explosives. This, however, would not be according to standardized Soviet combat manuals.
    Again, a new plan was called for.
    >Use that fire-spitter from the holy man.
    Grinning, the demolitions team set up their equipment, taking cover behind a small outcropping of the strange black rock they'd been experiencing the deeper they traveled.
    >On my mark... eight..
    The fire-spitter was placed in the now-empty rocket tube.
    An RPG-experienced demo tech took careful aim.
    The fire-spitter was sealed inside the tube, placed against the iron wall.
    >...two ....
    The fire-spitter's rocket tube opened it hatches on remote, right on schedule.
    The world became lit by a newborn sun; the wall became a flash of vaporized iron. Physics was told to go fuck itself.
    >Move in.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)02:55 No.10706487
    >Physics was told to go fuck itself.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)02:56 No.10706501
         File1277362595.jpg-(985 KB, 1600x1200, Çeçen.jpg)
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    chechens everywhere
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)02:59 No.10706550
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:01 No.10706587

    Chechen rush?

    Oh yes, Chechen rush.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:02 No.10706610

    A while ago I tried building a setting in which a D&D world and modern earth was forcibly merged. Earth nations had more population than the other one, and were better organized, so they were still mostly in control, but between the marauding monsters, wizards, the sudden appearance of half a billion immigrants worldwide, and the motherfucking underdark, their resources were stretched thin. PCs would be either heroes from the other world adapting to technology, or modern people adapting to magic.

    I had planned on adapting the twilight 2013 combat system to D&D fluff, but that system turned out to be too ass-backwards to use. Trying for Twilight 2000 v2.2, but the rulebook there is difficult to navigate. Setting is currently in limbo.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)03:02 No.10706614
    >Meanwhile, at the envoy's camp....
    A full three dozen heads poked out of tents, alert to a sudden noise of thunder and shrieking metal.
    >What in the name of Good-King Verlow was that?
    The paladin, Renwith, stood with his hands on his hips, his eyes blinded by the darkness, vigilant in these unholy lands.
    >What by the nine names of the sacred flower of truth was that?
    The cleric of Gordia, goddess of purity and light stood, rising from his nightly prayers, even in the infernal dark world of the Underdark.
    >What the shit was that?
    Flarius stood in the middle of the tent, momentarily having been cock-deep in an assistant priestess of Gordia, goddess of purity and light, always eager to get laid, even in the face of certain death.

    Scouts set at the camp's perimeter began to filter the word down the line, arriving at the lead envoy's tent.
    >My Lord, it appears someone has set off an extensive trap. Our warmage has reported a flux in the magical tapestry nearby. He claims it is fire-based, unusually potent and within a mile of us.
    The Lord of the envoy, Lord-Baron Poire of the Six Fiefs clan, gave a nod.
    >Break camp, prepare to repel harbingers and harriers.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:04 No.10706633
    They look like retarded, drunken bandits in fatigues. Which means they are either really good, or retarded, drunken bandits.
    >> Spetsnaz guy 06/24/10(Thu)03:05 No.10706650
         File1277363119.png-(547 KB, 563x598, Who.png)
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    What do you expect.They're muslim extremists
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:05 No.10706652
    Lol, penis.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)03:09 No.10706723
    >Meanwhile, back at the Spetznas...
    >Did you see that? Whole fucking thing ... just gone.
    Maxim smiled; his teeth, long replaced by ceramics, were a gleaming star in the darkness, broken by the hue of reddish, cooling iron of the formerly-intact, once-existent iron blockage.
    >Take note. That thing is a combat engineer's wettest dream.
    >Beats using Semtex, that's for sure.
    The lead engineer matched his CO's grin, ear to ear.
    Moving in silence once more, the commando unit was a sheet of black upon the sea of darkness, gear silenced by tape, lashings and water-boiled leather straps.

    Below them, a sweeping vista of a plains-like environment, the cave's ceiling lost in the cloudy formations above, the furthest wall a mere suggestion in the distance. The cavern seemed to stretch for a mile, unbroken and unmarred except for a line of light, moving towards them in the murkiness. The lead figure appeared to be wearing some kind of slightly-shiny metal armor, the clanks almost audible.
    >Oh, good.
    Maxim gave a reassuring squeeze to the nearest trooper; Ivan Horlich, the half-German, half-Serbian nightmare.
    >Fetch me a prisoner, Ivan. Knives only.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:14 No.10706803
    Moar, don't stop please!
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:16 No.10706826
    You sir, are awesome. keep writeing this.
    because I have a feeling this is gonna be the
    Salvation war setting for d&d, and it roxxors boxxers.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:16 No.10706828
    "So, dudes. My names Bane, you probably haven't heard of me, but I'm thinking maybe if I give you guys a hand here, you could do me a little favor later on?"
    >> Spetsnaz guy 06/24/10(Thu)03:16 No.10706842
         File1277363818.png-(324 KB, 700x496, sadako8.png)
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    I'm off to bed. I hope the best for all of you! Especially you Writefag. Take care every one!
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:17 No.10706847
    about halfway through this sentence is where they shoot him in the face. they dont need no damn help.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)03:17 No.10706850
    In the darkness, motion. In the silence, slow breaths taken through muffling cloth. In those breaths, forward steps between gravel and stones.
    The man moved in, a whisper in a dark realm, knife pressed against his thigh, the blade blackened by a gray silk rag. Moving towards the sound of a man moving towards him, he perched atop a boulder, seeking the sweet spot for the upcoming ambush.
    Overhead, a noise. A brief tremble of the rock beside him. He frowned, feeling something curve under his jaw, steel - ready to bite. Word unfamiliar to his ears were heard.
    >You didn't think catching me would be easy, did you, fuckwit?
    And Ivan's boot finished the sentence, knocking the man out cold with one field goal-style kick.
    Carrying his charge back over his shoulder, walking backwards, gun readied and knife half-drawn in its scabbard, he dropped the load at Maxim's feet.
    >Played cat and mouse with this idiot for five minutes.
    Nodding approval, Maxim examined the bound figure, the handcuffs and stripwire binders functioning well enough for now.
    >See if it speaks English, doctor.
    The man was abandoned momentarily, still watched by a dozen pairs of eyes. The pointy ears, the strange clothes, the odd hands... it made them nervous.
    When they got nervous, things died.
    >Do you wish it to live, sir?
    The doctor knelt beside the strange humanoid, unsure what to make of it.
    >Your call.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:20 No.10706891
         File1277364011.png-(121 KB, 366x324, Medicoktoberfesttaunt.png)
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    Can't help but imagine the doctor as the TF2 Medic, only Russian and shit.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:20 No.10706896
    Please do continue with east European clichés.
    Just thinking of a Serb/German in spetsnaz makes me giggle uncontrollably.

    I so dearly wish to see others.
    Czechs, Slovaks, Bulgarians, Romanians, Kazakhs from Kazakhstan.... the whole gamut
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:21 No.10706903
    No, but his divine spark would be useful. Suddenly, Spetsnaz Pantheon.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:22 No.10706918
    >When they got nervous, things died.
    Still loving it.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:22 No.10706931
    hmmmmmm, I guess you got a point.
    >> An0nymous !gkWeiOwuW2 06/24/10(Thu)03:23 No.10706935
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    To you writefriend. Gentlemen and scholar you are.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)03:25 No.10706964
    >Meanwhile, back at the envoy's parade...
    The scouts reports began to filter in: shadowy figures keeping watch on their progress, hiding amongst the rocks above. No active engagements, but a single forward observer was missing, his partner abandoned during a game of cat and mouse with someone of apparently prodigious skills and strange footwear.
    >Most disturbing.
    Lord-Baron Poire shook his head, his shaven scalp covered by its traditional hood.
    >Send out Brother Cerek.
    The guards nearby shivered briefly. The furthest one made a prompt exit, moving to the closest friend.
    >Poire is sending out the beast.
    The word spread like wildfire, even in the dark quiet of the depths. A single figure exited the procession, eschewing all guards and accompaniment.
    A scout tripped over a rock, nearly falling off of the cliff front the trail clung to like a drowning man to a raft.
    A robed sleeve jetted forward, grasping hand extruded like a black glove of unwholesome leather.
    >Careful, now.
    The figure's eyes flared red, then settled into cold blue, nestled behind the masked hood.
    >Don't want anyone falling...yet.
    >> An0nymous !gkWeiOwuW2 06/24/10(Thu)03:27 No.10707006

    Spetznaz vs high level monk?

    ... ohboyohboyohboy!
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:27 No.10707009
    yes... give them psychopaths, serial killers, mass murderers...

    (not that being spetsnaz doesn’t make you all of the above, but ...)
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:30 No.10707052
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)03:31 No.10707063
    The Russians advanced slowly, their pace quickened by the sudden appearance, and subsequent disappearance, of someone from the long strand of torches and mystically-glowing spheres hovering over the troops below.
    >Keep eyes alert. That one seems trickier than most.
    Maxim cut his radio, looking to his captive. The doctor had made a brief examination, presenting his findings succinctly.
    >Its not human.
    Maxim frowned. Maximum displeasure evident, he nodded.
    >No shit.
    The doctor, shrugging, continued:
    >It claims it is an elf. Some kind of long-lived race of human-like creatures. Says it is almost three hundred years old.
    Maxim paused, tilting his head, looking at his captive.
    >It speaks Russian?
    The doctor shook his head.
    >No. It can speak many languages, through a gift bestowed upon it by its 'god', apparently. Something called a 'wish'.
    A chuckle from the nearest squad leader was cut short by Maxim's hand to his throat.
    Turning to the doctor again, he nodded.
    >Tell it to tell us why it is here, or it'll be meeting its god in increments.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:35 No.10707130
    Maximum displeasure evident

    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)03:37 No.10707165
    >The envoys...
    Silent prayers muttered, hushed wishes made, weapons clutched tightly in supplication to the god of battles called Please Not Me, the guards and scouts continued forward...

    >The Spetsnaz:
    Silent prayers muttered, hushed wishes made, weapons clutched tightly in supplication to the god of battles called Probably Not Me, Likelier You, the commandos continued forward...

    >The robed figure...
    No prayers. No weapons. No hushed voice. Just silent footsteps forward, assured and confident. A target comes into view, passed without incident, a brief puff of air the only noticeable sign. A few heartier steps, wider than before, and the terrain vanishes into a blur, lost in the cyclone of feet on stone.

    A tall man, standing above his fellows by almost a full six inches, comes into view.
    >You'll do.
    A shriek of noise, a blast of light, a pungent cloud of acrid smoke, a few random shots pfft'ing into the darkness, ricocheting on a distant rock shelf, then nothing.

    Only a void where once stood Maxim.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:37 No.10707174
    just remember
    "It's not rape if it's elf"
    is a long standing custom on /tg/... please do not disappoint
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)03:39 No.10707202
         File1277365146.jpg-(48 KB, 410x361, just a cat.jpg)
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    Enjoy this picture for the duration.
    Its just a cat.
    >> An0nymous !gkWeiOwuW2 06/24/10(Thu)03:39 No.10707210
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    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:41 No.10707233
    Excellent, I will watch warmly while I wait.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:41 No.10707243
    This rule is mainly for female drow.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:41 No.10707245
    Fuck yes, battle commences!
    >> An0nymous !gkWeiOwuW2 06/24/10(Thu)03:43 No.10707269

    Ahhh. Okay. Besides thats like saying hello in the Underdark.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:47 No.10707314
         File1277365631.gif-(61 KB, 300x321, putin.gif)
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    No it's not. That's not a cat. That's Vladimir Putin, shapeshifted. Look at the eyes.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:48 No.10707341
    My god. This Putin Cat is watching our Spetsnaz thread.
    >> An0nymous !gkWeiOwuW2 06/24/10(Thu)03:50 No.10707373

    Putin would make a great arch mage.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:52 No.10707397
    You mean he isn't one?
    >> An0nymous !gkWeiOwuW2 06/24/10(Thu)03:53 No.10707405

    Shh we might blow his cover.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:53 No.10707417
    >Obviously too awesome for archmage

    We need a new class/PrC.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:54 No.10707427
    >Putin would make a great arch mage.

    I actually got the shivers for a second thinking of Putin as the BBEG for a campaign.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)03:56 No.10707448
    Darkness. Then light. Shapes become sharp, from a dull cotton throb of pain behind the eyes. Wincing, Maxim surveyed his new surroundings: some sort of hemispherical dome, a swirl of colors trapped behind some kind of glass-like visual effect.
    >Welcome, stranger. You're well away from your friends.
    The voice grew into a shape, the shape into a source. A man wearing a red robe, a plain hood across his head. His features were that of a noble man; in Russia, he would be a high party member or a medium-level gangster. Both, most likely.
    >Tell us who you are. Why you are here. Where our man is being held. To save you a question: yes, we speak through a magical means, your language remains a mystery to our scholars.
    The words sounded like oil, evincing a shudder from the Russian.
    >I wish to tell you nothing.
    His voice felt odd, as if it were not his own. He could feel a throb behind his mind, forcing his will to bend to the interrogator. He'd heard the orc shaman speak of this: he was in a zone of non-lying. Steeling himself, he smiled.
    >You should release me before a lot of very, very bad things happen.
    Lord-Baron Poire sighed, staring deep into the eyes of the cold-blooded killer before him; he'd seen it a hundred times, usually before sentencing them to life in prison or exile to a distant colony.
    >Your threats are meaningless. We have magics to protect us.
    Maxim smiled.
    >In my homeland, we once fought a war... many consider it a foolish war. We sent in our children, our idiots, our prisoners, everyone ... if you could walk, you were told to fight, to protect the homeland.
    Lord-Baron Poire quirked a brow. The scholar-mage to his side nudged him, shrugging.
    >He's speaking the truth, as he knows it.
    A nod, and Maxim continued.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)03:57 No.10707464
    >During this war.. our men were afraid. Afraid to die. Dying was seen as a bad way to lose a war. Most wanted to build, or survive, or even breed new warriors, but not fight on those terms. So, there arose a new battle order, carried out with ruthless efficiency: not one step back. Where we come from, when winter rages, it freezes bodies into ice. It breaks everything: food, drinking water, horses, all things. Except it could not break one thing.
    Lord-Baron Poire examined the man's magical bonds; bands of force magic held him in place, steadied by his strongest wizard's spells.
    >It could not break our spirit. We fought in trenches where we once had our homes. We killed deserters who ran from overwhelming odds. We filled our fields with our dead and made them into stepping stones, all so we could die in such numbers, our hated enemy could not see it and avoid flinching.
    He smiled, vicious eyes flashing.
    >My family were of those men who shot their brothers for deserting and being cowards. They were the commisars.
    His features went blank, eyes dead.
    >And the offspring of those commisars is flowing in the veins of them who will kill every single thing in their path today, until I am released unharmed. For every hair I lose, they shall make a night of shrieking misery your gods would weep tears of blood over. You, whomever the fuck you are ... have just found the wrong people to piss off.
    Maxim spat, landing one good shot at Lord-Baron Poire's gaping mouth, causing him to gag uncontrollably.
    >Release me, or release Hell itself. I care neither way.
    He lowered his head, smiling.
    >> An0nymous !gkWeiOwuW2 06/24/10(Thu)03:57 No.10707473
    >Maxim smiled.

    Oh shit. Run.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:59 No.10707494
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)03:59 No.10707500
    Shit bought to go DOWN!
    >> Lapland 06/24/10(Thu)04:02 No.10707527
         File1277366528.jpg-(509 KB, 1500x2000, Spetsnaz drow ears wip.jpg)
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    It's a pretty rough sketch for now, seeing how I also have a class today. I need to sleeep.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:05 No.10707550
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    This thread is the only thing keeping me awake.
    >> An0nymous !gkWeiOwuW2 06/24/10(Thu)04:05 No.10707566
         File1277366758.jpg-(18 KB, 320x181, deadliest warrior spetznas guy.jpg)
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    I see Maxim as this guy.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)04:06 No.10707570
    Lord-Baron Poire exited the spell, the caster beside him.
    >Klarius, I can say without sense of impropriety or lack of honesty when I say that the man inside that Leomund's Tiny Hut is one of the most insane and dangerous creatures I have encountered, and I am including a Kyton demon in this roster.
    He shuddered. Gesturing to his bodyguards, he gave new instructions:
    >Seal this camp, close our borders through any means necessary and expect an attack within moments. We are in dangerous territories enough, and this man's people are more than enough to warrant unveiling one of the gifts to the Queen of Below.
    The guards nodded, rushing to find the appropriate treasure bundle while their lord washed his mouth out with cheap, thinned wine.
    >Dear Lord-King Verlow, what has that man been eating?

    >Meanwhile, back at the Spetsnaz staging grounds...
    The doctor looked to his associates, the corpsmen, and offered a steaming limb from the boiling stew pot.
    >Turns out, elf is good eating. Better than expected.
    The men of Spetznas did not hunger long in enemy territory.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:07 No.10707603
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:08 No.10707606
    >Turns out, elf is good eating. Better than expected.

    So, the Russians should get along just fine with dorfs, right?
    >> Lapland 06/24/10(Thu)04:08 No.10707617
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    Sweet mother ef god, I wish to sleep, but I must continue reading.
    >> An0nymous !gkWeiOwuW2 06/24/10(Thu)04:09 No.10707636
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    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:10 No.10707644
    >They who hunt elves.
    >To eat them.


    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)04:11 No.10707657
    >Meanwhile, further down the cave...
    >I smell meat cooking. Elf, I think.
    The first of the five sniffed the air, catching a hundred new scents.
    The second gave its opinion.
    >No, no... its elf.
    A brief scuffle later, and there were only four standing, the fifth reclining on a rock, rubbing a wounded scalp, feeling a distinct bump rising.
    >Fine. "ELF".
    The group moved forward, ten voices quietly exchanging details determined from a full compliment of senses: tastes in the air, scents on the breeze, texture changes on the rock floor; nothing was above their scrutiny nor beneath their notice.
    >You six, move around that way.
    An arm gestured clockwise.
    >We're moving this way.
    The opposite arm rotated counter-clockwise.
    >When you've breathed a thousand breaths, move in.
    In the darkness, new players had entered the board....
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:13 No.10707705
    I wonder if dryders count as shellfish... the spider parts anyways... I bet I'd be like lobster...
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:15 No.10707732

    Driders have nothing but poison flowing through their veins. Eating drider is death. Even carrion crawlers leave them to rot in the open air.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:16 No.10707742
    ah ok
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:18 No.10707770
    Good thing the writefag is not making the Spetsnaz all RAPE KILL PILLAGE

    They are still special forces. They're crude but effective, like most Russian weapons.

    Also remember, every squad in the Russian army has a guy with a sniper rifle (usually a SVD or SVU, could be a VSS in the case of Spetsnaz) to extend their long distance killing capability.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)04:18 No.10707777
    Nikolai sat on his haunches, viewing the scene below. Maximum displeasure was not an expression he could produce; a nerve agent had damaged his facial muscles, reducing him to either a slightly-comical sneer or deep smile. Neither were present as he examined the options.
    >Well, fuck.
    Rare was the day he swore, but that day was not the usual chain of events. However, if the FSB had a specialty, it was hostage rescue; moreso if they had unlimited losses permitted amongst hostage takers.
    >Snipers, report in.
    One by one, two dozen rifle-bearing grudge-packing sneer-faced snipers stared down Russian steel sights, acquiring target after target. An initial shot was fired, revealing a force field-like effect surrounding the entire camp to a height of fifty feet.

    Therefore, the entire sniper group elevated itself to eighty feet, clinging to rock walls with deeply-planted spikes and lashing their belts in place. They were immobile, but remarkably clear in their lines of sight... right over the barrier.
    >On my mark, drop one each second for three seconds.
    Standing at his full height, concealed behind a hand-built barricade of rock slabs, he turned on the bullhorn, using the microphone at the full extension of its cord.
    >Release the captive. One, two, three, four, five.
    Six second passed.
    Eight seconds.
    No motion.
    >Drop 'em.
    >> Fligh/tg/uy 06/24/10(Thu)04:20 No.10707806
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    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:22 No.10707829
    >Drop 'em.


    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:23 No.10707856
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)04:25 No.10707878
    Nicolai froze in place, locked solid by the sudden voice behind him, the feel of a very sharp blade against his neck.
    Standing tall on eight legs, the drider tilted its head, leaning in on him.
    >..or I shall drop you.
    Deep inside Nicolai, a debate raged; two sides of a coin flipped in metaphoric theory, uncertainty abounded. Drawing a breath, he took a stance and committed to a course of action.
    >Fuck you, spider man.
    And he gave the mother of all uppercuts to a creature born not of man, elf or spider but an unwholesome conglomeration of sorcery and a goddess' wrath.
    The shot accomplished exactly dick.

    >I like you. You're a keeper.
    And the drider punched him back.
    Nicolai never felt the separation of his vertebrae as his spinal column broke; he never felt his jaw shoot through his face and into his forebrain.
    He never felt better, though, than knowing he died giving the signal to fire, either.
    >You heard him. 'Fuck' is the go word.
    >> An0nymous !gkWeiOwuW2 06/24/10(Thu)04:26 No.10707894

    Manly tears.

    Bravo sir. Bravo.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:27 No.10707911
    Ive been listening to the red army choir for most of this thread. f5 f5 f5 f5 f5 f5 f5 f5
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:28 No.10707917
    For the Glorious Motherland! He shall not be forgotten.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:29 No.10707924
    Inb4 angry Russian spirit lingers and helps the Spetz as a revenant of some sort
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:30 No.10707945
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:31 No.10707952
    for the love of god somebody archive this shit
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:31 No.10707959
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:32 No.10707967
    Spirit jumps from weapon to weapon among the group as to personally experience as much of the bloodletting as possible.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)04:33 No.10707983
    >Meanwhile, under hostile Russian sniper fire...
    Chaos, panic, terror, death raining down from above on invisible perches. Fish in a barrel had better chances; the gun might have gotten wet. This was wholesale slaughter...
    ... and it ended before the second volley of shots.
    Magic missiles found their marks, reducing precariously perched riflemen into ballistic meat darts; fireballs bloomed like miniature nuclear weapons, sent out by wizards protected from normal projectiles, their skins as thick as stone itself. None of the snipers failed to take a life each, but none of them would have to climb back down again; they either cooked to death on the spot or dropped in stoic silence. Most held extra magazines in their mouths, making them into final meals on impact.

    The voice boomed out from the air over the cave's ring of force, making a gigantic speaker of it; the God of All Things Acoustic took a brief note, nodding approval.

    >Not even close, motherfuckers!
    And down came a new rain: skulls, bones, body parts. They had been busy eaters, and did not like being hungry.

    The siege had begun in earnest.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:34 No.10707996
    The spirits of the fallen imbueing the weapons of the living so that they may avenge them, and after that makeing it so that they also fire HATE imbued bullets... yes please..
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:40 No.10708075
    >Fish in a barrel had better chances; the gun might have gotten wet.

    So fucking stolen.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)04:40 No.10708077
    >Meanwhile, at the driders' hideout nearby...
    The first amongst the group, their erstwhile leader, dropped the body of the former commanding officer at the front pair of his feet.
    >This one had spirit.
    The wisest, most adept of all things magical, grinned evilly.
    >Then, by all means... let's hear what it has to say.
    And then they began to speak with the dead. And the dead talked. And talked. And talked.

    >Back in the fishbowl...
    Flarius, a veteran of life in bad conditions, moved from tent to tent, using a "borrowed" wheelbarrow for cover. Slowly, he gathered up necessary supplies for a long, long trip: magical rations which regrew nightly; an everful mug of water; a torch which never exuded heat; eyes of the wolf, to see in the darkness; a goat, because its going to be a long, long journey and its just complicated.

    >Meanwhile, back at the Russian siege command center...
    The roster was shortened, but so were their collective fuses. Squabbles were rare, but intense. A few teeth, a dislocated knuckle, hurt feelings. One of their own was a captive: this, they did not abide. They knew what tortures they could commit with neither tools nor time; their enemy below had both, and magic to spare...
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:43 No.10708124
    None sense! Russians never talk to the enemy, even in death they hold their tongue.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:43 No.10708132
    Nah, he likely has some pretty insults.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:43 No.10708135
    goddamit thread, hit the post limit already so i can sleep ;_;
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:44 No.10708142
    Ah! Then he shall show them the vocabulary of a true son of the Motherland!
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:44 No.10708147
         File1277369085.jpg-(16 KB, 650x231, ks23m.jpg)
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    They need a ks-23m.
    Its a Russian 4 gauge shotgun designed to shatter engine blocks. Lets see a drider live through that
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:47 No.10708176

    talk with the dead force the spirit to say only the truth
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:47 No.10708177

    I'm curious as to how the mages found the Spetsnaz snipers.


    The spirit has a CHANCE to rez. He might've failed his saving throw.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:47 No.10708188
    He can speak the truth and still say a load of shit.
    Muzzle flash.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:49 No.10708208

    I wonder how magic missile can reach the range of the sniper rifle ?
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:50 No.10708226
    It's okay 4 gauge if you're a Eurofag. Using Amerifag reckoning, it's a little over 6 gauge.

    >proceeds to gb2 /k/
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:51 No.10708230
    that guy that only takes metamagic feats
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:51 No.10708235

    Nonsense. You don't send a sniper to an open perch without flash suppression.


    Yeah, my two concerns were a valid target and not out of caster range. Fireball, however, is a great way to end snipers.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)04:51 No.10708244
    >Meanwhile, at Drider Central....
    The driders gathered around, staring at the body sitting upright, still singing the bizarre song quietly. Somehow, the topic of a national anthem arose, and the sounds of a corpse singing it were beyond unearthly, even to their abberational ear nubs. What it had said of its life and times were sickening; its history was that of a grotesque legend, at best - better dismissed with a flash of the evil eye, to ward away the spirits of that .. thing's ... horrific people.
    Its horrific people who were still out there... hiding in the darkness, still clutching knives thirsty for blood.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:51 No.10708245
    Samefag. "Only", not "okay". Fuck, the mistakes you make when it's late.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:52 No.10708269
    yeah but thats still freaking huge
    nope try again
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)04:52 No.10708273
    >The besieged....
    Lord-Baron Poire looked to his magically-bound, helpless captive and said with a wicked grin, his hand resting on his personal dagger:
    >Another cookie? They're delicious.
    The bastard.
    Maxim gave another futile struggle; he knew his bonds tightened, but the effort was the important part. So long as you're still struggling, they'll have to keep a watch on you - every moment they're watching you is another minute they're not watching for unfriendly arrivals.
    >Go to Hell.
    A pause.
    >Actually, yes. I'd like a cookie. I need something to choke to death on.
    He grimaced; he was growing to hate the zone of non-lying on a deep, spiritual level. The wizard in the corner had long-since edged away from him, after hearing a full thirty minute dissertation on what he'd like to do to him with a fork and a bag of birdseed.
    >Can't have you dying in our custody. No chance of that, I'm afraid.
    Lord-Baron Poire gave his traditional noble/gangster smile.
    >You're correct.
    Maxim looked up, his voice still warbled by the spell's effect, but bolstered by a newfound insight.
    >You are afraid.
    The Lord-Baron rose, exiting the tent. Maxim grinned inwardly; another point for him. He knew some of his men were lost, but ... such is life in the Soviet Army.
    Looking to the wizard in the corner, he grinned.
    >Would you like to hear what I'm going to do, the moment I get free? It involves a spoon and some birdseed.
    The wizard cast protective spells against evil, to no avail: Maxim remained very, very talkative.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:54 No.10708294

    these are RUSSIANS right? the Russian national anthem isn't badass. The SOVIET one, however, makes you want to fucking launch submarines!
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:54 No.10708302
    Seems like the writefag is running out of steam. Excellent fucking job so far though, honorable level of badass here.
    >> An0nymous !gkWeiOwuW2 06/24/10(Thu)04:55 No.10708316

    I... am horrified and curious... birdseed?
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:56 No.10708326
    Gouge out holes in his flesh, fill with birdseed, let birds devour him alive?
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:56 No.10708327
    Naw man, they're Soviets. Look at the last entry.
    >such is life in the Soviet Army.
    They're scared because they want to launch submarines -and have no idea what these insane devices are-
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:56 No.10708330

    Защо никога в никой >>славтхред
    няма България :(
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)04:58 No.10708355

    защото сме толкова славяни, колкото макетата са македонци


    the music is the same, the text is different
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:02 No.10708412

    I don't think it's what he's doing here, but an old interrogation tactic is to let the subject's mind do the torturing. So you get up to walk out of the interrogation room, and you tell the door guard ready a length of surgical tubing, a hacksaw, and a dozen live rats for when you return. Leave him to stew for a few hours.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:02 No.10708414
    well i hope this thread is still here in the morning, im off to bed. good show, OP. good show.
    >> -|- Reichsguard -|- !!bOOhb8C7gxV 06/24/10(Thu)05:03 No.10708429
         File1277370197.jpg-(24 KB, 180x207, Blowout 2.jpg)
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    Curse your mortal fingers why can't you type faster
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:04 No.10708445
    I'd imagine he knows quite well what to do with such tools. He just wants to see the look on the man's face.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:04 No.10708446
    Silence, impudent tripfag! Let the man do what he does.
    >> An0nymous !gkWeiOwuW2 06/24/10(Thu)05:04 No.10708448

    .... now!

    I think I'm mentally indoctrinated to think that whenever I see that picture.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)05:04 No.10708458
    >Siege Command...
    The squad leaders held a quiet court, giving a verdict no one wanted to admit to being necessary. Sighing, they cued up their radios: the order went out - shoot to kill Maxim on sight; full sweep and clear.
    The mission would continue, forward motion at all costs. One by one, they grouped into the tactical squads, bearing supplies from the dead they could retrieve, abandoning the rest to the elements of the cave and its scavengers. Taking command of the entire, Segei Lomkin gave the order himself to his men.
    >Leave not a one alive.
    They prepared for the siege breaker maneuver.

    >Sieged envoy...
    Slipping through a crack in the rock floor, Flarius slid under the force field, shielded by an immense slab of rock - the spell did not penetrate downwards further than a few millimeters. Carrying his load, but abandoning the goat behind him reluctantly, he threaded through the cavern floor, moving up and away from both the shrieking monstrosities who threw corpse chunks and the ominous song being sung by something with raspy lungs.

    As he made careful, quiet progress, he felt something press against his shoulder.
    A long, slender leg, tipped by a sharp point.
    A wide body, bearing a torso laden with a freshly-acquired Russian camouflage jacket and matching balaclava, red eyes glaring down at him.
    >Going somewhere, foolish creature?
    Flarius needed new pants.
    >Pray to your god. You're meeting it shortly.
    The creature lifted the mask, revealing its fanged maw, arcing downwards for the poisonous bite, so often fatal it was the literal kiss of death...

    ... and it met a rock-hard fist on its way up.
    >You'll do.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:06 No.10708482
    ohho! now this be geting EVEN more interesting.

    Please continue my good sir.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:09 No.10708511
         File1277370549.jpg-(188 KB, 1162x841, 1275533587876.jpg)
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    This sounds like a bad-ass monk.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:11 No.10708534
    Smart enough to get scared when suddenly bumping into a Drider, experience enough not to lose his marbles, good enough to punch it out.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)05:12 No.10708542
    Flarius had heard of divine intervention, but was unaware it wore sandals and reeked of incense.
    The drider toppled over in an elaborate gesture to shame the finest of the Bolshoi Ballet. Few things strike as hard as a fist swung by a professional, even fewer than by those who teach banned arts of war on prison colonies.
    >You reek of sewage.
    Flarius nodded, panic rising.
    >Take off your pants and put this on. It'll cut the stench.
    A robe erupted from within the robe of the broad-shouldered figure. For a moment, it looked like it was breeding parthenogenically; a nightmarish proposal for anyone who has witnessed a drider being knocked out by a single punch.. no less one capable of rendering it fangless and broken jawed.
    Quickly donning the new robe, Flarius asked:
    >Are you going to kill me?
    The robed figure, Brother Cerek, shook his head inside the hood.
    >Seems an awful waste of a good robe, wouldn't it?
    Moving past Flarius, he moved towards the unwholesome song, still being sung from within a deep, dank cave of unnatural darkness.
    >You'll want to keep up. Should be four more of these things.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:15 No.10708586
    Ah, now it's clear. Too many names for my puny mind to handle.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:16 No.10708599

    This is going to end in hand-to-hand fighting, Monk on Spetsnaz, and they're both going to nod in recognition and walk the fuck away. Michael Bay would cum explosions at the tableau.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:17 No.10708606
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:17 No.10708616
    How many Spetsnaz are dead now?
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:18 No.10708624
    Nah. Nicolai didn't even make his drider flinch, and this monk knocked one out cold in one hit. And I have little doubt that his skin is thicker than that of a drider. Nothing a Spetsnaz soldier could handle.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:18 No.10708632
    Too few for the Drow.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)05:19 No.10708640
    >Inside the drider's cave....
    Standing in a circle around the corpse, still upright, still singing, the listeners were in rapt awe. It showed a level of devotion unheard of to sing the entire song, alone.. let alone after death.
    Igor Nevski spoke:
    >This cave has the best trajectory to drop the largest collection of stalactites on that camp. I estimate a complete extermination of the camp's contents.
    The crew continuing to assemble the fire-spitter made final adjustments to the angle of attack, stepping clear when finished.
    >Once that is done, we release 3-MF canisters and let them choke to death on the dust.
    What driders?
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:20 No.10708655
    how the hell did the drider one-shot Nicolai? they aren't that strong.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:22 No.10708668
    These are normal humans, tough as they may be. They can't take a dozen arrows in their gut like D&D humans can.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)05:22 No.10708673
    >Where the driders are..
    Four puzzled expressions. Four sets of eight legs shuffled in place. The siege command center was empty, devoid of all motion and signs of life. Just strange debris on the floor.
    >What are these things?
    One of the four held aloft a cylinder of plastic wrapping, unsure of its form and function.
    >They're... everywhere.
    All around them, helmet liners, cyalume wrappers, debris of many flavors.

    >Drider cave...
    A smile, listening to a left-behind radio's signal.

    And the sun rose again in the cave.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:22 No.10708675
    driders only have 15 STR
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:23 No.10708680
    Earth humans have to make up for D&D plothax with guns and grit.

    I'm ok with that.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:23 No.10708681
    Clarification: Like they can when used in actual gameplay with stats and health. Driders are monsters created by a Goddess, and they're big, and their skin is hard, so it stands to reason that they should be strong.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:24 No.10708689

    if so... MWAHAHAHAH
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:24 No.10708690
    Bull's Strength fixes that.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:24 No.10708692
    >implying russians are normal
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:25 No.10708701
    6:25 in the morning? Fuck it, I'm pulling an overnight!
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:25 No.10708707
         File1277371532.jpg-(40 KB, 230x225, tennantglasses.jpg)
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    Yeah. Uhh. As good as this writefaggotry is...

    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:28 No.10708730
    Drowtales. /tg/ hates the main story, but this comes from one of the "premium" section that does porn. Goddamn the art is good though.

    More discussion over at: >>10705459
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:28 No.10708731
    Don't they have flashlights? They would be extremely effective to use against drow and driders to incite confusion after a few grenades softened them up. Same with flashbangs, they would probably make them permanently blind.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)05:28 No.10708733
    >The besieged...
    The sudden flash of a thousand ray of light, the echoing boom of chemical thunder, the appearance of a brand new stream of urine down the wizard's leg...
    His boys were back on the job again.

    >His boys, back at the drider's cave...
    Brother Cerek had his hands held high, motionless. Beside him, Flarius stood in sheer terror. The darkness revealed itself in a dozen spotlights, each one connected to a rifle, each rifle connected to a Soviet, each Soviet attached to a blood feud against all things foreign.. and domestic.
    >Talk or die.
    Brother Cerek smiled beneath the hood; his kind of people. Nodding, he removed the hood. The gasp went out audibly. Before them stood...

    >Meanwhile, under a pile of rubble...
    A lone drider leg flexed.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:29 No.10708735
    Drowtales. Google it and shh, Spetsnaz is doing things.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:29 No.10708742
    Brother Cerek confirmed for Lenin.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:32 No.10708773
    >> An0nymous !gkWeiOwuW2 06/24/10(Thu)05:32 No.10708777

    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:34 No.10708791
    I bet it's putin
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)05:34 No.10708792
    >The drider cave..
    ...a man with a Soviet symbol carved into his face: the hammer and sickle. The sharp contrast between them made evident by varying degrees of burned skin's scar tissue.
    >I have seen your world, and I find it marvelous.
    Nobody dropped their rifle, most adjusted to the man's forehead.
    >Shall I sing you a song?
    Grinning, he began to sing, the native Russian flowing from him like a grateful prisoner.
    >The tanks were rattling like a thunder
    >The soldiers went to their last fight
    >And here they carried young commander
    >With head all broken outright

    >An armor-piercer hit his vehicle,
    >So say good-bye to his Guards crew.
    >Just four more corpses in the hillside
    >Will add to fair morning view.

    >And as the vehicle is burning,
    >Wait for the shells to detonate.
    >You want to live and see next morning,
    >But you're too weak and it's too late.

    >When they extract us from the wreckage,
    >They'll put our bodies in a strip.
    >Then salvos by our turret gunners
    >Will set us down to our last trip.

    >Now mournful telegrams are flying
    >To every friend and relative
    >To read: "Your son will not be coming,
    >Nor will he ever get a leave."

    >His old mom will sob in a corner,
    >His dad will wipe a silent tear.
    >His fiancee will never learn now
    >What kind of end got her love dear.

    >And there's his photo in her old books
    >Collecting dust in their sad gloom,
    >His uniform with shoulder-straps on...
    >And he's no longer her bridegroom.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:34 No.10708795
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    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:34 No.10708797

    He said "a gasp", not "the men threw their rifles to the ground, openly weeping, clutching at the hem of the Great Revolutionary's cloak.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:34 No.10708800
    Glorious Leader, he has returned to bring the message of equality to this world!

    Workers of Faerun, unite!
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:34 No.10708801
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:35 No.10708812
    The monk was too badass not to be a Soviet badass! I fucking knew it!
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:35 No.10708819
    Too lazy to google, does anyone know the song?
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)05:36 No.10708833
    >Beneath a pile of rubble...
    >That... really hurt.
    A leg became a torso, struggling to free itself from the morass of stone and drider parts. Standing tall again, the erstwhile spellcaster cleaned off his robe, coughing slightly. A noise behind forced his attention.
    >You think that hurt? Baby, we just met...
    Five Ettin began a beatdown party which would shame the LAPD. The god of Beatdowns took a brief notice, nodding his approval.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:37 No.10708837
    I believe the Soviet Tankmen's Song
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:40 No.10708859
    >god of Beatdowns
    >god of battles called Please Not Me
    >god of battles called Probably Not Me, Likelier You

    I smell the starting of my next pantheon.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)05:43 No.10708898
    >Meanwhile, back at the besieged...
    The last of the Spetsnaz slid under the rock slab, the point man bringing the attention of his squad leader to something momentarily.
    >Found this goat, sir.
    A brief, puzzled silence.
    >Good job, soldier.
    The group continued to infiltrate the camp, knives sliding from scabbards with moist rags covering them; the sound was negligible at best. The spellcasters who had doomed their friends to die in fires or falling had given away their positions; one by one, they'd die in them, too.

    >Back at the no-longer-appropriately-named Drider Cave...
    Open mouths greeted the end of the song. Five of the dozen men were murmuring while holding their fire steady; one mistake, and the monk would have to try his luck at catching multiple bullets.
    >Yes, I was a Soviet soldier. I have been here for approximately sixty or so years.
    Stepping forward, Igor Nevski said:
    >Comrade, we are recruiting you for the duration of hostilities, until we reacquire our targets and complete our mission.
    He then gave a textbook salute, face displaying maximum pride.
    Without hesitation, it was returned. The smile could have killed a thousand Nazis. Probably had.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:45 No.10708909
    The difference between the Ork pantheon and Crazy Hummie pantheon is that the Ork pantheon is less crazy, more naturally violent and cozy. Human war pantheon is more psycho, hard-as-nails batshit insane. I'm not sure which one is better.
    >> An0nymous !gkWeiOwuW2 06/24/10(Thu)05:45 No.10708916


    Take a look at the religions and festivals.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)05:51 No.10708987
    >In Lord-Baron Poire's tent...
    Maxim leaned back, one of the few positions he could accomplish. A brief gust of wind outside the tent told him a story, and he liked the ending already.
    The scent of Soviet sweat, gun oil, the cheap vodka the men always hid on operations, the fungal blooms of the first corridor which stuck to everyone's boots. It spoke of vengeance. It spoke of knives in darkness. It spoke his language.
    >Are you a wizard?
    The robed magician looked up, startled.
    >If you believe in your gods as strongly as I believe in what is about to happen, you should start praying.
    Maxim waited; he loved a good story.

    >Back at the now-Soviets-only Cave....
    With a few brief exchanges, the men brought Comrade Cerek up to date, and were likewise brought abreast to his condition.
    >So.. you traveled through a portal ... in Poland.. and wound up here?
    With a sagelike nod, Comrade Cerek said:
    >It was a glorious day. We'd been killing Germans most of the afternoon when I found a witch who was helping them escape. I must have broken her concentration when I hit her with my sledgehammer, because she sent me and those five bastards through... and ever since...

    >Meanwhile, back at the goat...
    A heaving gasp, and the stone slid aside. The first of the Ettins came through.
    >What's with the goat?
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:52 No.10708995
    and I spoke to god and asked him to deliver such great writefaggotry that any man would weep at the sight of such awesomeness displayed and god delivered.

    To the writer of this, if I find you in person one day I will blow you for such a display of unrelenting awesome!

    ps: no homo because I'm a woman
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:52 No.10708998
    The little fuckers may have a lot to curse the gods for, but that is not us! For we are Humans, strong, hardy, glorious and supreme!
    >> An0nymous !gkWeiOwuW2 06/24/10(Thu)05:53 No.10709008
    >sledgehammer, because she sent me and those five bastards through... and ever since...

    Awesome. So awesome.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:54 No.10709022
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)05:56 No.10709044
    I'm a man and I would do that same.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)05:58 No.10709051
    >Back in the tent next to the captive Maxim's tent...
    A knife returned to a sheath, a body turned on its side, its face contorted in that way that only a well-placed shivving can accomplish.
    >Shit. Not him.
    A quiet prayer to the god of Soldiers Who Break Noise Discipline was muttered, then followed up with a quick look around. Seeing nothing of note and merit, the blade-wielder kept his second, recently-acquired weapon in hand and moved to the next tent over...

    >The next tent over...
    The robed figure in the corner, leg still damp from Maxim's earlier conversation, shook momentarily and was still once more.
    >Morning, sir.
    >Good morning, Alexander.
    The spell broke with the death of its caster. Rising to his full height, Maxim approached his savior.
    And decked him.
    >No noise next time, Alexander.
    The Gods are fickle motherfuckers.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)06:00 No.10709069
    Oh God, I want to know what his newly aquired weapon is and how it is going to be used...
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)06:00 No.10709075
    Very nice.

    But you're dancing around scenes a lot. Could you try to consolidate so that it's easier to follow?
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)06:00 No.10709076
    Alright, now I love gnomes.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)06:00 No.10709079
    >god of Soldiers Who Break Noise Discipline
    >punches Alexander
    Maybe he and the god of sucker punches and beat downs are all the same guy? Regardless I like your pantheon writefriend. Your work pleases.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)06:02 No.10709096
    >Are you a wizard?

    I really don't know if that's a meme-shout out or just regular talk.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)06:03 No.10709104
    I'm listening to Daft Punk and this thread is gold.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)06:06 No.10709128
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    The pure and unabashed win and awesome of this writefriend make me want to be russian and join the spetsnaz only to possible get dragged into such amazing situations

    < this picture is for anyone who doesn't realize the godlyness of this writers work
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)06:06 No.10709141
    >In Soviet Cave, mean whiles you...
    It is said that a Soviet knows how to fight off a cold, defend his homeland with nothing and survive a winter offensive without training... provided he has prepared a small stash of vodka nearby.
    This was such a time as preparations paid off.
    Two swigs, an empty bottle and a sworn oath to the people who first brewed vodka out of pure spite, and the newly-acquired Comrade Cerek had a suggestion.
    >Aim it at that big wagon over there. Trust me.
    Smiles from mouths like his traditionally go with trips into the basement at KGB headquarters. Two of the men reflexively crossed themselves.
    Shaking his head, Igor said:
    >No one is left alive. That was the plan. No changes.
    A shrug.
    >Have it your way, Comrade.

    >Meanwhile, at or around the goat...
    The five Ettin moved in relative silence through the thinned ranks of the bled-out spellcasters and guards. The envoy was short on manpower and high on casualties. A few well-placed club shots ensured the ratio was climbing away from envoy-survivability.

    >Meanwhile, sixty feet from the Ettin...
    >Alexander... go check out that noise.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)06:10 No.10709191
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    Dear WriteFriend

    I may not be gay, but if you need a lover I will be that man in a second for this!
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)06:11 No.10709206
    >Sir.. you'll want to take a loot at this.

    >Fee fie foe fum, I smell the blood of a motherland son!
    Five torsos, bedecked in Iron Crosses; Orders of the Knights Crosses; SS logos. Requisite daggers, reforged into punch daggers for massive hands.
    Nazi Ettins.

    >Wait... you said they became Nazi giants with two heads?
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)06:12 No.10709220
    >Nazi Ettins
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)06:12 No.10709221
    Writer, you write good book! write more good book !
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)06:13 No.10709223
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    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)06:13 No.10709225
    >Nazi ettings
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)06:16 No.10709261
    This thread makes me want to play a Spetsnaz in ANY GAME. Dark Heresy, Mage, Pathfinder, Mousegu-. . .I've just had a brilliant idea. Mousespetsnaz,

    Oh god. Fucking Nazis.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)06:16 No.10709263
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    Vladamir Putin doesn't want this thread to end
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)06:18 No.10709284
    >Cave of the Soviets...
    Twelve men made eye contact. Twelve silent oaths. Twelve smiles. Twelve grudges.
    >Show us how to get in.
    Some orders supercede all other orders.

    >Camp, just outside of the cleric's tent...
    A knife, dripping blood, returned its thirsty scabbard.
    >Now.. where are the rest of your people hiding, strange man?
    Artem would not be answering; one needs a head for that. The cleric and his half-nude assistant would similarly be impaired.
    Lord-Baron Poire stalked forward; his prowess on battlefields was legendary, even before he'd sold his soul to Lolth for temporal power. This mission was critical to the success of his House's over-arching plans to take out House Xorlarrin, once and for all. His skin became coal-black as it ceased to be sheathed in human guise...
    >> An0nymous !gkWeiOwuW2 06/24/10(Thu)06:22 No.10709312


    Wait wat?
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)06:23 No.10709326
    >Maxim's area...
    Before him stood a crew of ferocious beast-men, each bearing a head adorned with a swastika, etched deep by methods unknown; across their chests, well-oiled Lugers, the handles refitted for their mitt-sized hands; jackboots made from tattooed skin. They were all things loathesome and overpoweringly evil, displaying their regalia on a world innocent of their level of atrocity..
    .. and that just made Maxim madder.
    >This world deserves a better class of assholes.
    He drew a shotgun from Alexander's sheath, ratcheting the pump action with one hand, face displaying maximum rage.

    Stalin, viewing the scene from where good Soviets go when they die, nodded his approval.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)06:23 No.10709327
    >Nazi Ettins
    >Lord is a drow
    >Monk is a Great Patriotic War veteran

    This story brought to you by M. Night Shyamalan.
    >> Politruk Alpharius 06/24/10(Thu)06:25 No.10709347
    Writefriend, we hereby present to you Order of the Hero of the Soviet Fa/tg/uys, First Class.
    >> An0nymous !gkWeiOwuW2 06/24/10(Thu)06:26 No.10709354


    Present arms!

    >> Demiurge !E1yyNEjdEc 06/24/10(Thu)06:26 No.10709358
    Holy mother of God...

    >> Demiurge !E1yyNEjdEc 06/24/10(Thu)06:27 No.10709370
    We're Autosaging...

    New Thread?
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)06:28 No.10709377

    Already archived, ten pages before it'll dust. No worries.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)06:29 No.10709387
    >Soviet Cave area, plus around half a mile...
    The twelve ran in bursts of speed usually reserved for taking hostile fire; in this case, they were determined to be delivering it. The distance seemed difficult, but the determination ran high. The monk lead the pack. Hell followed with him.

    >The Camp...
    Ten smiles, ten swastikas. Ten sets of angry thoughts, with one focal point: Maxim, the man with one shotgun and no backup, beyond Alexander.
    Ten puzzled expressions.
    >You're not the one we were looking for.
    Maxim seemed taken aback. Rebuffed by a Nazi?
    >> Demiurge !E1yyNEjdEc 06/24/10(Thu)06:29 No.10709391
    It's not showing up on sup/tg/
    >> An0nymous !gkWeiOwuW2 06/24/10(Thu)06:31 No.10709413

    Its there, but whoever did the tags messed up.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)06:32 No.10709421
    >Running Russians...
    The group arrived at the barrier's limit.

    The last spellcaster lost his throat to a well-placed bootheel and a thrown shovel. Never again would Comrade Belsen refuse that being able to throw a shovel while flipping was impractical knowledge.

    With a sharp crackle, the barrier fell, the forces-based effect diminishing instantaneously.

    >Russians rushin'...
    They did not notice nor care about the barrier; they had planned to hate their way through.

    One head sniffs the air.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)06:35 No.10709443
    "This world deserves a better class of assholes."

    If I had any photoshooping skills (Or indeed, photoshoop at all) I would make you that damn medal, Writefellow.
    >> Politruk Alpharius 06/24/10(Thu)06:38 No.10709459
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    Good job, tavareesch.
    Doesn't really need to be changed, does it, tavahreesch?
    Now salute, damn it, if you don't want to be sent to the gulags!
    >> An0nymous !gkWeiOwuW2 06/24/10(Thu)06:38 No.10709464
    Well I'm off to bed. Its 4 AM here now.

    Someone update the thread? Also Write friend, you're good people.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)06:40 No.10709482
    A smile spreads across the dual features of Hauptmann Franz Müller. A familiar scent fills his nostrils.
    >Ahh. There he is.
    And all Hell arrives.

    Gunfire flashes in the night-dark cave, making splatters of fire-red daylight, sharp reports fill the air, whizzing bullets rebound in all directions.
    Glowing softly in the dark, five amulets around five necks; they seem protected from projectiles in a most upsetting fashion; it takes two full magazines each for the Spetznas to discover this.
    >Our turn.
    One by one, they begin to vanish.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)06:42 No.10709514

    oh no, those Nazi bastards have magic, the fiends!
    >> An0nymous !gkWeiOwuW2 06/24/10(Thu)06:44 No.10709545
    Remember to update the /tg/ archive thing.

    Otherwise it will only record what was written when you submitted the archive.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)06:45 No.10709546

    I Salute Comrade Writefriend!
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)06:45 No.10709549
    The collective Soviets move their backs towards one another, noticing their dwindled numbers - the assault on the camp was not without incident, and definitely not without further losses.

    Abruptly, one of the troopers is lifted from his feet, vanishing into a shimmering wave of illusion, his loss leaving a gap in their defensive position.

    A scream echoes from far overhead, followed by a wet thud; he has reappeared, sans arms, face-first onto the stone floor. Teeth grit in silent rage, the group begins sweeping through the tents, kicking them flat; no further cover for anyone.

    Overhead, mocking laughter...
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)06:50 No.10709600
    One by one, the progression of the camp's destruction takes its toll; a pair missing while kicking out a wagon's wheels; a singleton while removing a horse trough's viability as cover with well-placed shotgun blasts.

    As the Soviets suffer losses, they learn their foe has the ability to blink in and out of a given area, provided no other object blocks their path. They've inadvertently given them an advantage, it seems.

    Comrade Cerek stands alone, stepping from the now-fifteen strong assault force, drawing attention by removing his robe; beneath, the remnants of a uniform long-since patched up so often, it has become a veritable quilt.
    >You want me? Come and get me!

    Holding his hammer and sickle free of their back-mounthed sheaths, he glares at the ceiling.
    >I owe you sixty years of pain, you bastards.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)06:52 No.10709613
    >Holding his hammer and sickle free of their back-mounthed sheaths,

    holy shit
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)06:54 No.10709628
    They arrive, en masse.
    Five sets of jackboots, marching in lockstep, the sound echoing in the cave's joyous acoustics. The fire team holds their fire, waiting for the right moment.

    >Let us fffinish vhat ve started in zat field in Poland, shall ve?
    Cruel laughter; the voices of ten men, where only five should stand.
    >Hitler died in his bunker. He poisoned his dog and whore of a wife before he ate a bullet.
    If shock were meat, the cave would be a slaughterhouse.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)06:59 No.10709674
    >If shock were meat, the cave would be a slaughterhouse.

    Equally stolen. You, sir, are a warrior-poet of the blackest speech.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)07:00 No.10709687
    If one of my players suggested this character to me, I'd rule a warhammer counted as a special monk weapon. He deserves it.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)07:03 No.10709715
    And so it begins.
    Fists fly, kicks flail, boots collide, thunderous rage bellows... and meets a wall of defense which earns the name its creator gave it: the Iron Curtain. Nothing clears Comrade Cerek's blur of sickle and hammer, save for wounded fists with broken knuckles and elbows with inch-deep gouges. One by one, the floor beneath the Etinnazis turns to reddish-gray mud; blood falls like snow in a German offensive in Russia - too fast, too much, too soon.

    >In the days those boys come from, your tribe is dead, you pathetic animals... they can not even display a single swastika in Berlin without being spat upon.

    Comrade Cerek, enduring the onslaught of ten industrial-sized fists, gives a series of roundhouse kicks which shatter their amulets like glass.
    >The Fatherland has forgotten you.

    Fifteen rifles cycle their bolts, chambering fresh rounds.
    >The Motherland didn't.

    And the souls of a generations' worth of victims finds a channel, through the barrier between worlds; haunted graveyards go silent in a war-torn world.

    The shells never seem to stop falling.

    A small rock arcs over the crowd of men, landing on Hauptmann Franz Müller's now-deflated head.
    >That's for killing my goat.
    Flarius takes his vengeance, as well.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)07:10 No.10709776
    The smoke clears, the bodies leak, the men reload.
    Stepping into the circle of flung gore and mashed bodies, Maxim surveys the now-dead Ettinazis, nodding his approval. Clutching his fist tightly to his chest, Comrade Cerek looks up to his commanding officer, smiling through gory teeth, drenched in blood.
    >Permission to speak freely, sir?
    Noting that Comrade Cerek was in the middle of the fire zone, now prone, appearing weak, he says:
    >Granted, Comrade Cerek.
    Comrade Cerek opens his hand, revealing fourteen bullets, still smoking in his callused palm.
    >I recommend further target practice for your men, sir.
    He passes out, a smile breaking the drying blood on his face.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)07:13 No.10709802
    cerek better live
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)07:14 No.10709814
    I don't think I've read anything as awesome as this, thank you Writefellow!
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)07:17 No.10709845
    You should rewrite this, or rather adapt it for a normal page count. With chapters that goes between the different P.O.V.'s. On sup/tg/ that is. Once you've finished it all.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)07:17 No.10709849
    The current campaign is wacky anything-goes character builds. I hereby swear that my next character will be a Soviet monk wielding hammer and sickle, scar and all. Fucking genius.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)07:18 No.10709855
    Of course, he has the WILL OF THE MOTHERLAND.

    And apparently Catch Arrows. Which, being a badass, he can use on bullets.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)07:20 No.10709882
    >How very touching, Cerek. You grew a sense of humor.
    Knives drawn, the troopers stare at the advancing figure of Lord-Baron Poire, now fully attired in his Drow regalia.
    >Maxim, you and I have an appointment to keep. Our destinies are entwined.
    A wicked smile; purple-black skin, broken by white teeth.
    >Eat shit.
    The smile dies, a patient barely kept alive on life support.
    >...what did you say?
    Maxim draws his knife, staring at the Drow.
    >*Eat.* *Shit.* You deaf as well as stupid?
    Grimacing, Lord-Baron Poire draws his sword from his hip, blade a flickering of shiny steel, edge almost ripping the air apart.
    >You'll die for that remark, peasant.
    Dead eyes meet furious eyes.
    >You first.
    Dead eyes smile at furious eyes' frown.
    Spetsnaz excel at two things: distracting targets and knife throwing.
    Flavius. Rocks. He ain't got much, but he shares it willingly.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)07:23 No.10709907
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)07:23 No.10709915
    Soviets specialize in catching bullets, he just learned to do it with his hands instead of his torso.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)07:27 No.10709953
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    God damnit I swear to god if I hear one of you mother fuckers say that /tg/ is dead I will reach through the internet and strangle the life from you, one by one.

    Not after this thread. Writefag, much love.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)07:29 No.10709960
    best thread in probably ever, thats some nice writefaggin
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)07:31 No.10709988
    Few humanoids experience an entry into the next world with the same level of shock, outrage and perverse pride as Lord-Baron Poire did. The camp was scoured for medical supplies by the corpmens, additional munitions by the other troopers and the second camp goat by Flarius, because its complicated.

    In the fullness of time, the wagon trail left the cave; it made it to the surface. The good Comrade Cerek recovered, becoming a new member of the team, just after they realized they'd have to go through training around six times worse than their own just to qualify as a bad monk. The wealth, in the true spirit of Communism, was shared equally... between the brothels and the bars and the weapon shops and the armor shops and the dry good shops.

    It also purchased a nice chunk of a island chain, just off of the coast of the mainland.

    So begins the story of the glorious People's Republic of Faerun.

    Oh, and an additional bit..
    >Meanwhile, in Menzoberranzan, at House Xorlarrin...
    >Well, fuck. Now what?
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)07:33 No.10710006
    Have him grow up in a commune of some sort. Essentially, a Commune-ist.

    Flavius, I think I love you.
    >> Sgt. Varn 06/24/10(Thu)07:36 No.10710034
    And there was much rejoicing!
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)07:37 No.10710040
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    all I can hear now is Pendulum's "Slam" when thinking about how this glorious story ended. Thank you /tg/ and an mega thank you to the writemaster who entreated me to such a tale! To you good sir I salute and would gladly catch a bullet for any day to see your career as a master of the written word continued.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)07:37 No.10710046
    Well done, writefellow. Well done. Summer /tg/ is a lie, people like you make it worth visiting.

    Sidenote: I can see the sequel now, the island is somewhere up near neverwinter, or some frigid place, that sees a lot of darkness. A few years have passed, children have been born, adventureres and mercenaries have been conscripted, and as the sun sets and ushers in the month long night in the dead of winter, House Xorlarrin begins the siege of Cerekgrad.

    >Besieging Russians in winter
    >"I've got a better idea, I've got a better idea-oh it's the same idea."
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)07:38 No.10710057
    Much carousing was there to be had
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)07:39 No.10710059
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    Elegan/tg/entlemen, it was an honor and a privilege.
    Thank you all for being supportive with my first writefagging attempt.
    >pic related
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)07:43 No.10710087
    No problem man, that was truly awesome.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)07:43 No.10710089
    Good lord, this was your first writefagging? Here's hoping more will come someday!
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)07:48 No.10710113
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    Also: not sure who used to own it, but you can now see the adjusted map for Faerun.
    Welcome to the new Cold War.

    I plan to continue this series. It was an addictive experience. Next time, audience participation, I think.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)07:49 No.10710120
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    >>10708995 here!

    I think I love you writer, in a way that will move my previous proposal of a blowjob move to the scale of full on sexings. please do not have a girlfriend because I will ruin your feelings toward her with the debauched acts your amazing writing have moved me to commit upon you.

    < what I hope you won't do
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)07:51 No.10710137
    Unexpected bonus is unexpected.
    Still single.
    .. so ronery ..
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)07:53 No.10710157
    Here's hoping these two don't live on opposite sides of the world.

    And that >>10710120 isn't a Nazi spy.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)07:55 No.10710182
    Oh god, the possibilities are endless.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)07:55 No.10710187
    here is to hoping they get into cyber sex in about 2 h....
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)07:56 No.10710194
    and stream it live so we can watch :P
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)07:58 No.10710206
    Can you imagine how good he would probably be at cybering?

    Yeah I went there.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)08:00 No.10710223
    So, which kingdom or whatever actually owns the island off of the coast of Icewind Dale?
    >whenever I see that name, I keep thinking "Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers". I need help.
    Seriously, though - if its a sovereign nation, as it is, my next writefaggotry will center on invading and occupying that area. It might, just on general fucking principles, actually.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)08:02 No.10710231
    I used to write erotica, actually. Some of it is published online (oh yeah, I'm internet famous, fucking whoo hoo, oh god so lonely.) and rarely have problems finding something sexual to write about.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)08:03 No.10710238

    here's hoping you live in the eastern time-zone. If you do expect me to cash all the favors I have to visit sexual ruination on your crotch! No man of such talent should go unrewarded for such amazing ability, besides writers always make the best lovers because imagination goes a long way in bed.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)08:04 No.10710248
    ... gnnnk...
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)08:05 No.10710267
    Who wants to take the bet that he doesn't live on the East Coast?
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)08:08 No.10710295
    Alright, I'm leaving this thread while I'm still very happy. Good day to you, wonderful writefag you beautiful thing, and to you, /tg/.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)08:09 No.10710299
    I dunno, YEEEE seems close to YEEEEES or YEEEEHAAAA or YEEEEEEEAH!

    Sidenote: I'm glad that Cerekgrad stuck as a name.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)08:13 No.10710334
    If its all Kool and the Gang with y'all, I'm going to get back to work on writing up my campaign for Solid!: the Blaxploitation RPG. If you get a chance, check it out - a game wherein racism does not actively apply. Its the opposite of hate.
    And that is awesome.

    Also, I'll be writing up additional moar for this story; I'm hooked, damn you all, hooked, I say.
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)08:16 No.10710368
    I'll keep an eye out for you, comrade.

    . . .although I'm perversely curious if you're going to hook up with that other anon.
    >> Underdark Russian Writefag 06/24/10(Thu)08:18 No.10710393
    I'm not on the East Coast, or near the timezone.
    I'm going to walk away now.. being strong.. being brave..
    >so ronery
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)08:21 No.10710425
    I hope you know I've never frowned harder in my life. Hopefully the stars will one day allow me to cross your path and give the appreciation that you so greatly deserve. Till then walk tall with your shoulders back Writer, for someone in this world loves you and your work!
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)08:22 No.10710444
    You friggin tragic romantics...

    In two days its saturday...
    you can be in east coast, west coast, europe or asia and manage to set up a video chat,
    with some cybersex!!!!
    >> Anonymous 06/24/10(Thu)08:23 No.10710449
    Could someone compile all this and post it on 1d4chan? I'm working on a DH character right now and will probably forget before I get around to doing it. I know the thread is archived, but still.

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