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 The Red Wedding Effected by Minecraft

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Registration date : 2007-04-26

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PostSubject: The Red Wedding Effected by Minecraft   The Red Wedding Effected by Minecraft EmptyMon 11 May - 11:44:39

The Red Wedding Effected by Minecraft

Whilst we recovered from the raid Holly decided to cut her losses and disappeared by bike for pastures new. I meanwhile cut a deal with some remaining comrades for selling off some of my hard forged illicit drugs. Petrova and Harvey tracked down a likely buyer and after some tense stand-off moments involving Harvey, his strong box and a change of underwear, he returned triumphant with six barter.

Sadly I had to pay both Petrova and the Dyker Bykers one and Harvey another, so my profit vanished. Strange, I seem to remember dealing being a lot more profitable than this. Flask meanwhile appeared to have made just as much sitting around doing nothing.

Meanwhile as we contemplated moving on with varying degrees of geographical realism*, Petrova and a number of minions appeared to be feeling unwell, possibly as a result of the all rice diet. Some investigation on possible contamination or drugging of the rice revealed nothing, but psychic examination of it gave rise to disturbing visions of various symbols and insignia, dominated by the communist hammer and sickle.

*Harvey for example, previously a fan of China now seemed to inexplicably favour Alaska, a destination he also seemed to feel could be reached overland.

We were not to unravel this particular enigma however as our discussions on a destination, still ongoing in our impressive command tent were interrupted by the arrival of Kettle, or at least a large percentage of him.

The missing part was an arm, but he managed to convey a warning to us. ‘They’re coming’ he managed to croak out before he, well, croaked out. As warnings go, it wasn’t the greatest to be fair bless him. The scream of incoming shellfire for example made it impossible for those more than a few feet away to even hear him, and the howl of 155mm howitzers is always pretty strong in the warnings department.

The tent exploded as we scattered and took to our heels, those of us not already blown over. I headed for a van, stepping over a pair of legs that looked suspiciously like Kettle’s. Amongst the smoke and flame I saw one of Eddie’s guys blown apart, and then Flask went down, badly mangled by splinters. For some reason I stopped to pick him up, which is why I saw the smoke grenade being thrown from the farmhouse, marking it as the location of our artillery spotters.

I dragged Flask to the medi van and began to stabilise him, meanwhile Harvey had stormed the farmhouse and killed two traitorous followers on the first floor. He then shouted new random coordinates into the radio link which switched the shellfire away from us for a few minutes at least.

We shipped out at speed having made several miraculous escapes. One shell had rolled down the roof of the main outbuilding and ended up in the gutter, had it exploded it would have been highly embarrassing for those of us nearby.*

*Even in these progressive post-apocalyptic times there is a certain stigma attached to being a corpse with no head.

We put some distance between our home and the enemy batteries, Harvey driving his artic, Eddie driving me in the van with the wounded Flask in the back. The surviving bikers were around us, one in a car. Time to relax perhaps after a close call. Harvey decided to relax by driving over a landmine which blew his vehicle over and suddenly we realised we were in the middle of a minefield.*

*The mine being the give away

We could see heavy concentrations of enemy troops around the perimeter and we decided to hit and hope. I began firing and Harvey, Petrova and the bikers charged in various directions. The mines were being set off manually so we figured if we could keep the enemy heads down they wouldn’t be able to trigger the mines at the wrong moment.

This theory proved flawed as the van was blown over by another mine. I rolled clear avoiding injury but Eddie and Flask were not so lucky. Flask in particular was mortally wounded by a RPG that burst through the windscreen and detonated, he flooded the area with psychic emissions as he faded from existence. I found myself feeling all warm and fuzzy, remembering the good times we had enjoyed together. This didn’t take long of course; we were never close.

But now a serious and terrifying new problem presented itself. The fiendish enemy had laced the field with exploding giant rabbits. The devilish plot was undone however as I could see their foul giant pink ears giving away their positions and I cleared my path of them with a few well-placed shots from Tinkerbell before turning her ire on the enemy.

Eddie’s disciples meanwhile were pouring RPGs at the enemy, taken from a secret stash built in to the van. The enemy who had been firing RPGs of their own did not enjoy being on the receiving end of the deadly bombs.

I was on fine form, Tinkerbell picking out luckless skulls and hearts with every shot, overhead Eddie had his drone going and Petrova and Harley were doing well too, they seemed to be aware of the position of the fiendish bunnies as they were avoiding them, and I concentrated my fire on supporting Petrova.

Now though, another tragedy struck, the van containing Eddie was hit by a mortar shell erupting in a ball of flame. Eddie heroically leapt from the inferno, grabbed a passing grenade and charged a nearby enemy conscript who had foolishly tried to close with us.

He hammered the grenade into the soldier’s face and it exploded blowing Eddie and his opponent to smoky ash. Only Eddie’s backpack and arms remained to show he had ever existed. A few moments later, his faithful drone crashed gently into the smoking crater of congealed Eddyness, sealing that chapter of our heroic little band.

The enemy line, already ragged owing to our combined efforts now broke as I took out the enemy commander from distance. We were victorious despite impressive minecraft by the communists. But at what cost? Davi and his daughter were nicely barbequed following the explosion of the artic, Flask, as the montage in my head continually reminded me, was no more and Eddie was currently facing an extensive bill in the workshop celestial before he could pass his Afterlife MOT.

Petrova’s gang is sadly depleted and she hasn’t even shot any of them lately. Eddie’s acolytes remain, awe inspired by his heroic passing, great, we’ve probably just seen the founding of a new crackpot religion.

And so we move on, mostly on bikes now with just one car left, trying for a Baltic port to sail for Helsinki or Stockholm or anywhere but here frankly. We have stocked up on loot from the many commie corpses we left in our wake, but it’s hardly a glorious future that awaits in this zombie infested Polish hell.

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