Ram's Head Saloon [Mod-Sanctioned C/CLT, v4]

[New Castillan Empire]

Astre's eyes sharpened at the two guards. Septette took the box and began reading the back cover of the box.

Astre groaned and pulled a DVD player and monitor out of hammerspace. While he struggled to set it up, Septette opened the box.

"It doesn't feel right watching these by oneself." Septette said as she put the disk in.

...

"Huh?"

And like that, white noise started sparking up followed by a black man on a recliner, elderly-looking in manner and wearing a safari outfit.

"Hello, my friends. Today, we will be reviewing one of the darkest chapters in the history of mankind; the Okumbe era. The most vile, obscene and utterly monstrous of humanity was released in a mere century or so, costing about the lives of a billion or so minorities under the brutal regime of the Afrikaaners Ryk and Pieter van der Blekkenhorst. Now, prepare yourself, for what you are about to see is extremely, and I mean EXTREMELY, disturbing in nature." The man said in an odd Nigerian accent.

An hour and three quarters of Afrikaaner war crimes, experiments, rape complete with graphic depictions later...

"And, at that, mankind recieved a grim reminder, and watching the very events unfold before you, so you have as well. I hope you have learned a lesson or two from this, unlike mister Blekkenhorst. Goodbye, everyone." The black man said before swiveling back around to his campfire.

Meanwhile, far away and watching the two watch the horrific scene, the two guards were trying to conceal their near-maniacal laughter at their successful little ruse.

[Veise]

Septette buried her face in her hands. Astre, with an overwhelming darkness in his eyes, stood up and drew his rapier and began walking towards the guards.

Astre soared forwards and his rapier began to, in physics function a little more like a Home Run Bat than a blade as he did the obvious.

[New Castillan Empire]

Septette buried her face in her hands. Astre, with an overwhelming darkness in his eyes, stood up and drew his rapier and began walking towards the guards.

Astre soared forwards and his rapier began to, in physics function a little more like a Home Run Bat than a blade as he did the obvious.

The guards were cracking up as Astre stormed over to them, Alejandro ceasing his laughter as Antonio was presumably flung from the swing of his rapier.

Alejandro's face went from one of maniacal, tearful laughter to one of fear as he drew his lightsaber on him.

"Aha! Now you are evenly matched! Prepare yourself, as I-" He went to say before the lightsaber's blade suddenly deactivated. "Oh, shit, battery's dry... er..."

"Now, look, amigo, it was just a prank, si! Harmless little prank!" Alejandro pleaded as he put his hands up, dropping the lightsaber. "Look, camera's right there!" He said, attempting to fool him by pointing at a glass of wine.

[Veise]

Astre swiped his blade through the air, pointed the blade upward, and careened forward with rocket speed and slashed. Akin to Marth's Final Smash, the attack had no cutting power but absurd knockback.

Septette sighed and gave a grim, freaked out look to the Afrikaaners.

[Afrikaaners Ryk]

Astre swiped his blade through the air, pointed the blade upward, and careened forward with rocket speed and slashed. Akin to Marth's Final Smash, the attack had no cutting power but absurd knockback.

Septette sighed and gave a grim, freaked out look to the Afrikaaners.

As the attack on Pieter's nerves had presumably ended from the other challenge by the general and guards, and he gathered himself together, the group of Afrikaaners looked on back at Septette.

"What in the name of P.W. Botha is going on with Mr. Clean's sister?" Pieter commented.

"Those Castillan guard, whom had just been eliminated, had shown them what I'd presume is an unlawful documentary on the Ryk's more grievous endeavours in our campaigns across Africa and Equestria, probably in a timeline that takes place after an even which somehow cause our glorious Ryk to fall." Williem Barnard stated.

"Don't worry, it's nothing a little bit of suave convincing and destruction of such tapes can fix." Hermen Velding replied as he went in front of the TV and took the disc out before stamping it down with his foot and smashing it to pieces before turning to Septette.

"We are so sorry about what you had just witnessed, madam. These were clearly outrageous and fabricated lies produced by the Jews. Trust me, we are honorable men." Velding said in a re-assuring tone.

[Veise]

She'd shift away from them in her seat. "Stay back! ...By God, I have not seen greater wickedness..." Septette exclaimed.

Astre sheathed his rapier and glared at the Afrikaaner group.

[Fatatatutti]

"Ek sal nie sê Zeppelin nie... Meer soos 'n oond waar die n***ers na hul straf gegooi word." Pieter said, chuckling. "Besides, this not just hot air, my friend. It's mere fact. The n***er problem has been solved, and there is nothing you can do about it."

"Ons het 'n klomp swart mense in Fatatatutti - en 'n klomp ander kleure wat jy haat. Moenie mislei word deur die blonde hare en blou oë; Ek is half-Polynesian. Jou oplossing is 'n mislukking."

[Afrikaaners Ryk]

She'd shift away from them in her seat. "Stay back! ...By God, I have not seen greater wickedness..." Septette exclaimed.

Astre sheathed his rapier and glared at the Afrikaaner group.

Velding himself would walk backwards to the rest of the gang in faux confusion. "I'm sorry, madame, but I assure you, we are a kind and hospitable people. We would never do anything of this calibre, especially not to you..."

And conveniently, as he said that, two other guards, armed with heavy-calibre semi-automatic rifles marched in, nodding to the ANZAC-like regular infantry of the Ryk as they kept their guns on the magical creature whilst the much more bulkier soldiers accompanied the Afrikaaners. The soldiers had no masks, though, and if one looked closely, they'd seem to look very similar to Astre himself, albeit more muscular.

"Ah, Voormeulen, I see your little cavalry has turned up. Wonderful display we have here... I honestly feel like crying tears of joy for our first true super-soldiers... God bless the Ryk." Pieter said in glee as he wiped a tear from his eye.

"Oh, don't worry, my leier. Back at the office, we've got another little something waiting for you in your office." Voormeulen said.

"Excellent, dear doctor. You never fail to impress me. Or, well, most of the time..." Pieter said.

[Veise]

Astre stared at his likenesses in horror. He slowly turned to the Afrikaaners. "Wh...the hell?" He mumbled.

Septette was, however, only moderately taken aback. "They look a lot like you do, Astre..."

[Afrikaaners Ryk]

Astre stared at his likenesses in horror. He slowly turned to the Afrikaaners. "Wh...the hell?" He mumbled.

Septette was, however, only moderately taken aback. "They look a lot like you do, Astre..."

The two gigantic guards would stare back at Astre and his sister in an emotionless manner.

"Ah, I see you haven't met the end product of my latest endeavours of science." Dr. Voormeulen said. "Super soldiers. The very dream any military wishes to strive for, and one we're succeeding in thanks to only the finest of technologies hoarded from war reparations after the end of the Mekishiman war. Our military might will not be challenged for a long time... all thanks to the power of science."

"Oh, and as for the similarities, well... I had a bit of an epiphany after I had been able to... sneakily claim a blood sample via delicate technologies. I was curious as to how your kind looked so... perfect. Your sister, your guardsman and you. All grand examples of the human body at its' greatest peak. So at first I only wanted to look into your racial profile, your ancestral background, the natural selection that made you one of the finest races I'd seen since the Japanese and Chinese. But then, I found an anomaly... I had found your genetic code was somewhat unusual.

Despite your body type saying otherwise, your genetical structure had provided a blueprint for some sort of concealed superpower, an irregular genome of sorts that had brung with it certain abilities that even dwarf our former Doodsmagte special forces. After some trial and testing, I had come to the conclusion that you weren't just the perfect human, my vriend... you were beyond it.

And then it hit me... I can use this strand of DNA to create a structure for a clonable super-soldier, one who would not rest, one that would not tire or fear, and would ultimately fight to the end and show great stength and power in doing so." Voormeulen said as he slapped the soldier on the back with glee as he chuckled in an evil manner. "I had finally given power to the Ryk as I'd never have been able to imagine... all thanks to your common superhuman blood I'd somehow manage to find in your sister."

[Veise]

Septette remembered the mosquito from earlier. "You...that dammed bug was yours!" She scoffed. "What was that rhetoric about being honorable fellows?"

"This is an outrage! How dare you sully my sister's royal blood like this!" Astre exclaimed. He'd hover his hand over his rapier, watching his clones carefully as well as the others.

[Afrikaaners Ryk]

Septette remembered the mosquito from earlier. "You...that dammed bug was yours!" She scoffed. "What was that rhetoric about being honorable fellows?"

"This is an outrage! How dare you sully my sister's royal blood like this!" Astre exclaimed. He'd hover his hand over his rapier, watching his clones carefully as well as the others.

"I'm sorry, but the offer was too tempting. Your genetic structure was like none other we had seen of a human being. You must have been something else, something greater. And what better use to make of such things than to shift that DNA into hundreds of thousands of cloned super soldiers!" Voormeulen said. "I thought you would've been flattered. This is YOUR royal blood, prevalent and pure as ever, inside of a generation of superhuman clones serving the one of the greatest empires in mankind's history. Don't you find that amazing?"

"Yes, and also inside the Leier's office and giving him a reason to use that viagra." Barnard whispered to Velding, both of them giggling.

[Veise]

"I'm sorry, but the offer was too tempting. Your genetic structure was like none other we had seen of a human being. You must have been something else, something greater. And what better use to make of such things than to shift that DNA into hundreds of thousands of cloned super soldiers!" Voormeulen said. "I thought you would've been flattered. This is YOUR royal blood, prevalent and pure as ever, inside of a generation of superhuman clones serving the one of the greatest empires in mankind's history. Don't you find that amazing?"

"Yes, and also inside the Leier's office and giving him a reason to use that viagra." Barnard whispered to Velding, both of them giggling.

"My royal blood, creating likenesses to be your slaves? No matter how much you blather about the superiority of your people, you are still lowborns!" Astre said. "You are not fit to be the head of such a force!"

"Those are imperfect copies of Astre, because..." Septette began. "If they were real, they'd have already devoured their master!"

"It's 'bitten', Septette. I 'bite' people to death -- but her point be clear as day!" Astre turned. "And what are you two giggling about?"

[Afrikaaners Ryk]

"I'm sorry, but the offer was too tempting. Your genetic structure was like none other we had seen of a human being. You must have been something else, something greater. And what better use to make of such things than to shift that DNA into hundreds of thousands of cloned super soldiers!" Voormeulen said. "I thought you would've been flattered. This is YOUR royal blood, prevalent and pure as ever, inside of a generation of superhuman clones serving the one of the greatest empires in mankind's history. Don't you find that amazing?"

"Yes, and also inside the Leier's office and giving him a reason to use that viagra." Barnard whispered to Velding, both of them giggling.

"My royal blood, creating likenesses to be your slaves? No matter how much you blather about the superiority of your people, you are still lowborns!" Astre said. "You are not fit to be the head of such a force!"

"Those are imperfect copies of Astre, because..." Septette began. "If they were real, they'd have already devoured their master!"

"It's 'bitten', Septette. I 'bite' people to death -- but her point be clear as day!" Astre turned. "And what are you two giggling about?"

"Oh, but they aren't copies of you. Not at all; they only share your looks and maybe your strength. Their mindset has been altered heavily to that of a heavily disciplined and willful soldier. akin to the Spetznaz or the Imperial Japanese Army. They're not snotty aristocrats whose powers one can easily exploit, they're mighty warriors, each with your exact physical capability. In short, they only retain your powers and physical identity, not your mental mindset." Voormeulen explained.

"I cannot see why you are so upset. We have made the world's most strongest, efficient and fearsome footmen, who will prove the Ryk to be unstoppable forever on... all thanks to you and your precious genetic structure. And on top of that, once you are gone and you're but some cursive scribble in the history books, you will still have a legacy in our world. A legacy as the very Adam and Eve who brought upon the world's mightiest army who crushed the inferiors and rocketed the Ryk to becoming invulnerable."

Velding then turned to Astre to answer his question. "Oh, er... nothing at all! Just some... er... personal side developments. We'll classify the rest, thank you very much."

"Ek sal nie sê Zeppelin nie... Meer soos 'n oond waar die n***ers na hul straf gegooi word." Pieter said, chuckling. "Besides, this not just hot air, my friend. It's mere fact. The n***er problem has been solved, and there is nothing you can do about it."

"Ons het 'n klomp swart mense in Fatatatutti - en 'n klomp ander kleure wat jy haat. Moenie mislei word deur die blonde hare en blou oë; Ek is half-Polynesian. Jou oplossing is 'n mislukking."

"Wie het gesê dat ek iets teen die Polynesiërs gehad het?" Pieter explained. "Our racial classification isn't as straightforward as 'we hate all the non-whites', you see. We only take out the races we truly see unfit, we don't go slaughtering willy-nilly because they simply are just not Caucasian. Blacks, Jews, Gypsies, Albanians, Ponies... they all deserve to be wiped out, those vile bastards, those mistakes of God himself punishing mankind for his own gullibility. But that's the bottom line. For instance, a man of Polynesian ethnicity would be able to live a life of great quality here. Same if you were or from descended from an Italian, Native American, Greek, Brythonic Celt, Japanese, Chinese, Turkish, Elven or even Arab. Of course, the Afrikaaner race is above all else, but that doesn't mean we just want to kill absolutely everyone who is not of colour... that comes after we deal with the n***ers and kikes."

"And if you decide to keep your black minority, go ahead. Crash into a piledrive like the Swedes and French, or have your history completely turned into a basket case of guilt like the Americans. It'll happen eventually." Pieter speeched.

[Cult of the Black Beast]

Around 5 or so seconds as she went into the ritualistic speech, Pieter began to feel an immense, burning pain. Voormeulen was still dazed, althought the other Afrikaaners had seen this and backed off quickly.

The guards, on the other hand, soon picked up that the chant was presumably harming Pieter, and immediately drew their rifles from their shoulder straps as both guards aimed their assault rifles at the being and fired two shots beside her, hoping it'd throw off the spell, with the female general even joining on the fun as she drew her cutlass and pointed it at her.

"Cease your magical attacks immediately or we will use lethal force!" The general ordered, as Pieter was somehow making the pain slightly more bearable by resisting the attack. The wisdom damage would probably be nonexistent, since the level of hate and negativity inside him would probably negate any moral attacks on his psyche.

Dødmyrdet opened her mouth, exhaling a breath that reeked of metal and putrid flesh. She watched the bullets fly past her. She proceeded to make a yawning motion. "Muskets? A saber? You have no notion of what you are dealing with." She stepped away from Pieter slowly.

"Lethal force? Don't talk to me about lethal force. What you could possible output is but a fraction of what my sisters and I endure on a daily basis, to protect the creators. What you could do to me pale in comparison to what I could do to you. Lethal force... it has a face. Here, let me show you." The slaktkriger concentrated and forcefully grabbed the assault rifle of one of the guards with telekinesis, before bringing the weapon into one of her huge, outstretched metal hands. Once in her grasp, she crushed the weapon into a useless, deformed shape effortlessly, with just the one hand. "That is what your 'lethal force' means to me. It is a sad, pale imitation. Just like you."

Dødmyrdet slowly over to the bar counter. She let out another telepathic message. "I... don't suppose you have fresh cadavers, do you? Any kind will do, as long as they have blood, but I would like 1 keel of bodies. "

OOC: It isn't a "moral attack". It is an attack upon his perception, will power, common sense, and intuition. And the damage is only temporary, in any case; a few days of bed rest and he'd recover. That said, a strong enough will could resist the attack. (Though failing to resist the attack would make it harder to resist a second time... in 24 hours, as she can't successfully affect a person she's already affected with it within 24 hours. Not an actual limit per day, nor even limit of how many times per day she can try to hurt someone with it, but rather a limit on how many times she can successfully affect someone with the ability. Weird, I know. Don't look at me, I didn't make up her abilities.)

Also, concentration actually is where it actually matters if it was a spell or not. (It isn't; both of the things used so far are supernatural abilities, not spells.) Spells have concentration checks that can be thrown off by any number of things, from injury to violent, bumpy motion. Supernatural abilities... don't.

*This is telekinesis. For a slaktkriger, this is a spell-like ability, not a spell. (Dødmyrdet does not have any levels in casting classes; in other words, she can't cast spells, only things that every slaktkriger can do.) This does require concentration though.

[Veise]

"How dare you sully Crestet blood..." Astre narrowed his eyes. "What are you giggling about?! Answer me!"

[Afrikaaners Ryk]

Around 5 or so seconds as she went into the ritualistic speech, Pieter began to feel an immense, burning pain. Voormeulen was still dazed, althought the other Afrikaaners had seen this and backed off quickly.

The guards, on the other hand, soon picked up that the chant was presumably harming Pieter, and immediately drew their rifles from their shoulder straps as both guards aimed their assault rifles at the being and fired two shots beside her, hoping it'd throw off the spell, with the female general even joining on the fun as she drew her cutlass and pointed it at her.

"Cease your magical attacks immediately or we will use lethal force!" The general ordered, as Pieter was somehow making the pain slightly more bearable by resisting the attack. The wisdom damage would probably be nonexistent, since the level of hate and negativity inside him would probably negate any moral attacks on his psyche.

Dødmyrdet opened her mouth, exhaling a breath that reeked of metal and putrid flesh. She watched the bullets fly past her. She proceeded to make a yawning motion. "Muskets? A saber? You have no notion of what you are dealing with." She stepped away from Pieter slowly.

"Lethal force? Don't talk to me about lethal force. What you could possible output is but a fraction of what my sisters and I endure on a daily basis, to protect the creators. What you could do to me pale in comparison to what I could do to you. Lethal force... it has a face. Here, let me show you." The slaktkriger concentrated and forcefully grabbed the assault rifle of one of the guards with telekinesis, before bringing the weapon into one of her huge, outstretched metal hands. Once in her grasp, she crushed the weapon into a useless, deformed shape effortlessly, with just the one hand. "That is what your 'lethal force' means to me. It is a sad, pale imitation. Just like you."

Dødmyrdet slowly over to the bar counter. She let out another telepathic message. "I... don't suppose you have fresh cadavers, do you? Any kind will do, as long as they have blood, but I would like 1 keel of bodies. "

OOC: It isn't a "moral attack". It is an attack upon his perception, will power, common sense, and intuition. And the damage is only temporary, in any case; a few days of bed rest and he'd recover. That said, a strong enough will could resist the attack. (Though failing to resist the attack would make it harder to resist a second time... in 24 hours, as she can't successfully affect a person she's already affected with it within 24 hours. Not an actual limit per day, nor even limit of how many times per day she can try to hurt someone with it, but rather a limit on how many times she can successfully affect someone with the ability. Weird, I know. Don't look at me, I didn't make up her abilities.)

Also, concentration actually is where it actually matters if it was a spell or not. (It isn't; both of the things used so far are supernatural abilities, not spells.) Spells have concentration checks that can be thrown off by any number of things, from injury to violent, bumpy motion. Supernatural abilities... don't.

*This is telekinesis. For a slaktkriger, this is a spell-like ability, not a spell. (Dødmyrdet does not have any levels in casting classes; in other words, she can't cast spells, only things that every slaktkriger can do.) This does require concentration though.

"Oh, how you underestimate us." The general said, sheathing her sword and picking up the mass of scrap that once was a gun. "You as an individual have much power, I can see. But the Ryk is not you. We're united under ideology, we will use any means necessary to achieve our goals, and, arguably, we smell better."

Several trucks soon arrived, and out came a line of Afrikaaner soldiers, around 10, followed by at least a hundred African civilians, in 10 rows of 10, lined up outside the salloons, kneeling to their ground whilst being blindfolded with their hands tied behind their backs. More trucks came in later, followed by missile launchers, the same 10x10 formations being sprawled out in the distance. "You gave us your demonstration, witch. Now, let us show you our own capabilities."

Unsheathing her sword once more, the Afrikaaner raised it upwards and yelled for the soldiers to fire upon the formation, the assault-rifle fire tearing through the civilians, mass screams, gasps and death rattles being heard amongst the gunfire. One child who was in the firing range had a bullet hole in his thigh, and somehow breaking the bond, went to comfort his dead mother, before the child was picked up by a soldier and thrown into the ground, curbstomped, and finally finished off as the soldier drew a pistol and fired it into his head.

"And we do this on a regular basis. To people who underestimate us like you do. They come armed sometimes, too." The general boasted as she then also pulled out a pad, showing even more blacks being crowded in a sort of remote area. "If you like, we can show you our more epicized firepower, just so you know what's going to happen if my leier is come under greivous harm."

"How dare you sully Crestet blood..." Astre narrowed his eyes. "What are you giggling about?! Answer me!"

"Well... okay, simply put... your sister's replicate clonage may have... *ahem* been repurposed... for, um... more unspeakable manners."

[The Russian Nations]

Nikonov sighed,pulling out his PDA Again.

"People man....people."

[Afrikaaners Ryk]

Nikonov sighed,pulling out his PDA Again.

"People man....people."

"Well, it's giving our soldiers something to do. Or, well... nothing out of the ordinary. Killing n***ers is like a sport to the buggers. A few come out with PTSD and morals up the arse, but a little reconditioning fixes them right." The general explained.

[Veise]

Astre growled. Veins and eyes bulging, pupils shrunk, teeth grit. He was pissed.

He let out an animalistic scream of rage as something electrical crackled across his brain. He drew his sword and exploded forward, only to have his attack presumably parried by his clones. The two struggled, pushing against each other.

In the background, Septette clutched the sides of her head and looked down as an expression of shock was upon her face.

[Cult of the Black Beast]

"Oh, how you underestimate us." The general said, sheathing her sword and picking up the mass of scrap that once was a gun. "You as an individual have much power, I can see. But the Ryk is not you. We're united under ideology, we will use any means necessary to achieve our goals, and, arguably, we smell better."

Several trucks soon arrived, and out came a line of Afrikaaner soldiers, around 10, followed by at least a hundred African civilians, in 10 rows of 10, lined up outside the salloons, kneeling to their ground whilst being blindfolded with their hands tied behind their backs. More trucks came in later, followed by missile launchers, the same 10x10 formations being sprawled out in the distance. "You gave us your demonstration, witch. Now, let us show you our own capabilities."

Unsheathing her sword once more, the Afrikaaner raised it upwards and yelled for the soldiers to fire upon the formation, the assault-rifle fire tearing through the civilians, mass screams, gasps and death rattles being heard amongst the gunfire. One child who was in the firing range had a bullet hole in his thigh, and somehow breaking the bond, went to comfort his dead mother, before the child was picked up by a soldier and thrown into the ground, curbstomped, and finally finished off as the soldier drew a pistol and fired it into his head.

"And we do this on a regular basis. To people who underestimate us like you do. They come armed sometimes, too." The general boasted as she then also pulled out a pad, showing even more blacks being crowded in a sort of remote area. "If you like, we can show you our more epicized firepower, just so you know what's going to happen if my leier is come under greivous harm."

"How dare you sully Crestet blood..." Astre narrowed his eyes. "What are you giggling about?! Answer me!"

"Well... okay, simply put... your sister's replicate clonage may have... *ahem* been repurposed... for, um... more unspeakable manners."

"It is also your greatest weakness. I don't care how many defenseless humans you kill. I fight creatures that end whole civilizations. You fight people who can't even fight back. If you want a battle, you would lose." Dødmyrdet mentally said. "You lose on many fronts, mortal." she said, grabbing and picking up Pieter, then unfurling a massive pair of metal, bat-like wings that she had concealed by wrapping around her this entire time. The wings dripped blood everywhere as well, and had an enormous wingspan of nearly 50 meters from metallic tip to metallic tip.

"You wouldn't dare make any attack upon me, or your precious 'leier' will come under such harm that there won't be enough of him left to bury. Tell your tin soldiers to stand down, or I will crush his skull with my thumb and grind his corpse to blood. Any sign of threat, no matter how futile, will be taken as as reason to kill the hostage." she said. "But I know you can't, you won't. Unlike the creatures I fight, you follow predictable routines."

[Afrikaaners Ryk]

"Oh, how you underestimate us." The general said, sheathing her sword and picking up the mass of scrap that once was a gun. "You as an individual have much power, I can see. But the Ryk is not you. We're united under ideology, we will use any means necessary to achieve our goals, and, arguably, we smell better."

Several trucks soon arrived, and out came a line of Afrikaaner soldiers, around 10, followed by at least a hundred African civilians, in 10 rows of 10, lined up outside the salloons, kneeling to their ground whilst being blindfolded with their hands tied behind their backs. More trucks came in later, followed by missile launchers, the same 10x10 formations being sprawled out in the distance. "You gave us your demonstration, witch. Now, let us show you our own capabilities."

Unsheathing her sword once more, the Afrikaaner raised it upwards and yelled for the soldiers to fire upon the formation, the assault-rifle fire tearing through the civilians, mass screams, gasps and death rattles being heard amongst the gunfire. One child who was in the firing range had a bullet hole in his thigh, and somehow breaking the bond, went to comfort his dead mother, before the child was picked up by a soldier and thrown into the ground, curbstomped, and finally finished off as the soldier drew a pistol and fired it into his head.

"And we do this on a regular basis. To people who underestimate us like you do. They come armed sometimes, too." The general boasted as she then also pulled out a pad, showing even more blacks being crowded in a sort of remote area. "If you like, we can show you our more epicized firepower, just so you know what's going to happen if my leier is come under greivous harm."



"Well... okay, simply put... your sister's replicate clonage may have... *ahem* been repurposed... for, um... more unspeakable manners."

"It is also your greatest weakness. I don't care how many defenseless humans you kill. I fight creatures that end whole civilizations. You fight people who can't even fight back. If you want a battle, you would lose." Dødmyrdet mentally said. "You lose on many fronts, mortal." she said, grabbing and picking up Pieter, then unfurling a massive pair of metal, bat-like wings that she had concealed by wrapping around her this entire time. The wings dripped blood everywhere as well, and had an enormous wingspan of nearly 50 meters from metallic tip to metallic tip.

"You wouldn't dare make any attack upon me, or your precious 'leier' will come under such harm that there won't be enough of him left to bury. Tell your tin soldiers to stand down, or I will crush his skull with my thumb and grind his corpse to blood. Any sign of threat, no matter how futile, will be taken as as reason to kill the hostage." she said. "But I know you can't, you won't. Unlike the creatures I fight, you follow predictable routines."

"Ah, a good old hostage crisis against a demon. But what good is a hostage if he's not even there?" Pieter said as he grabbed a knife and peeled off his own face, revealing a robotic endoskeleton. "This has happened to me more than once, you know. Really, I like to keep wary with appearances. Don't think you were the first, or the last, you demonic wooden hag."

The robotic decoy then ripped off the suit jacket to reveal a traditional suicide vest with several sticks of dynamite attached to himself. "See you next weekend, everyone. And remember, those who follow in the future, if you try and kill me, I WILL be one step ahead. Always." The voice said as then it abruptly stopped and static came out of his mouth, the Afrikaaners immediately running out of the bar, the cloned soldiers still in parry, following the pulling of the cord on the vest as the machine exploded with the force of a C4 breaching charge, the shrapnel barely missing the other patrons and hopefully damaging Dodmyrdet, as well as taking out one of the clones, the other one still barely walking with a piece of shrapnel down his back, shielding Aste

[Veise]

Astre hit the ground with a hard thud. He was kept awake by his anger alone, and reached out to his escaping targets with a shaky, rapier-wielding hand. As he came to terms with the current futility of the situation, his eyes slowly shut and he stopped moving.

Septette, bleeding from the head and currently unable to hear much more than ringing, crawled over to Astre and weakly shook him. It was useless, and she just started to sob.

[Greater South]

Astre hit the ground with a hard thud. He was kept awake by his anger alone, and reached out to his escaping targets with a shaky, rapier-wielding hand. As he came to terms with the current futility of the situation, his eyes slowly shut and he stopped moving.

Septette, bleeding from the head and currently unable to hear much more than ringing, crawled over to Astre and weakly shook him. It was useless, and she just started to sob.

Demoman roared in laughter at the explosion from the back. "Now THAT'S a good bloody explosion right there."

The Medic, however obliged he was to keep the players' characters from being killed off, marched over to Astre and Septette.

"Hmmph... looks like zhe dummkopffs have once again tried to fight dirty, and only got myself more verdammt work to do. As much as I'd like to kill you off..." As soon as the Medic was done doing that, he rolled his eyes. "The healing really is not as rewarding as the hurting..." He said in a sotto tone to Septette, grabbing her by the back of the head and yanking out a piece of shrapnel from her bleeding head, looking at it for a moment before finding an olive-sized chunk of brain matter on the end.

"Ooh! How unfortunate. I'm sure chunks of your sacral nerve plexus can simply grow back though!" The Medic assured her in a caring tone before turning to the rest of his team and whispering "No, they can't."
He then whipped out the Medigun and healed the injuries Septette sustained, then playfully flicked the chunk of her brain back at her carelessly. "Here vas that part of your little brain if you vanted it, fraulein. Don't worry; the only short term effects of this are probably occasional temporary loss of feeling in your legs and maybe a prominent foot or calf fetish. Zhat part's out of my hands. I mean, I don't even have a license!"

"Now, as for your freunde here... with all the visible injury he's sustained, with current medical technology, he may not make it. But let's at least check for zhe pulse first!" The Medic urgently said as he put two hands on his wrist.

[Veise]

Septette would yelp loudly in pain as the shrapnel was removed from her head. The healing sort of helped but now she had a dull headache. She'd sit back up with her knees together and clutch her head, ceasing her sobbing and it being replaced by apprehension.

Thankfully, the Luminary Prince was still alive. He had probably just hit the ground hard enough to knock his superhuman body out. Septette shuffled forward and placed her brother's head on her lap. She felt something cold and realized Astre had a bleeding blunt force wound on the back of his head. "Oh no..." She mumbled, shuddering.