Stories: Fun and roleplay
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Re: Stories: Fun and roleplay
Twinkle Twinkle little freelancer,
How i like my Rheinland cruiser.
up above manhattan so high,
Blowing immy's outta the sky.
Twinkle Twinkle little freelancer,
Violence is always the best answer.
Twinkle Twinkle little star,
how i wonder what you are.
up above the world so high,
like a diamond in the sky.
twinkle twinkle little star,
how i wonder what you are.
How i like my Rheinland cruiser.
up above manhattan so high,
Blowing immy's outta the sky.
Twinkle Twinkle little freelancer,
Violence is always the best answer.
Twinkle Twinkle little star,
how i wonder what you are.
up above the world so high,
like a diamond in the sky.
twinkle twinkle little star,
how i wonder what you are.
Guest- Guest
Re: Stories: Fun and roleplay
Hush little stalker don't you cry.
Pseudodogs might be nearby.
And if the pseudodogs dont bark,
Bloodsuckers might just tear you apart.
And if the bloodsuckers are away,
Snorks could be waiting for you to cry.
So hush little stalker shut your mouth,
Or something bad might happen, there's no doubt.
Don't know the original..
Pseudodogs might be nearby.
And if the pseudodogs dont bark,
Bloodsuckers might just tear you apart.
And if the bloodsuckers are away,
Snorks could be waiting for you to cry.
So hush little stalker shut your mouth,
Or something bad might happen, there's no doubt.
Don't know the original..
Lord'Doom- Staff Sergeant
- Location : Somewhere in Skyrim, crawling up Alduin's backside.
Age : 38
Number of posts : 446
Lord~Hughsinkler- Lieutenant Colonel
- Location : Lord Stores Room, trying out the new nukes
Age : 31
Number of posts : 2411
Re: Stories: Fun and roleplay
thanks man
i really like both lukes and dooms. doom your one is like hush little baby dont cry... something like that..
good stuff...
i really like both lukes and dooms. doom your one is like hush little baby dont cry... something like that..
good stuff...
Guest- Guest
Re: Stories: Fun and roleplay
I wrote this story, yes I might sound a bit cliched but my teacher gave me top marks for it . and i mean no disrespect to any Germans.
The Beach
“Give me a rifle, a bullet, and point me towards Paris!” –The common saying of our boys.
Not just boys; brothers. Brothers that all have green faces at the moment. Damn the brass, I’d like to see them out here in this crap weather, rocking around on this God-forsaken sea. We’re all going to go before we even get to the sand.
I look to the beach. Nothing but waves lapping at the shore, and ghostly concrete bunkers slowly appearing through the haze. Eerie. Is this dullness the war? Suddenly, the haze lifts. Shells, bodies, and the stench of death.
Reaching the shore, I jump out of the leaky tub, rifle in hand. Sand in my boots, the lingering cold of the water running up my legs, I don’t care. A Kraut machine gun emplacement ahead. Fireball. Got the bastards.
A storm of excitement, of gunpowder, the thrill of it all. Then in the next sudden moment, shockwaves envelop me. Quietness, peace, the blur….
“Get to the damn shingle, you cowardly dogs! To Victory!”; The Captains’ barking. A good idea not to get on his bad side or you’ll wish that the Krauts get to you first. Better get back into it.
The bittersweet strength of vengeance coursing through my veins, fuelling the rage. I’m immortal – “Tremble before my wrath!” Jerry hits the sand. Again, and again. I lose count, I don’t care. Got to get to the shingle. I look back to the tub. It’s returning to the fleet. A huge mass of metal, seemingly ungodly, but all united under His service, for freedom.
Bang!
A sharp twang on my head and ringing in my ears. Lucky I had my steel helmet on. That Kraut’s popped off. Sandy boots hit the shingle. Their stomping; merely a small part of the thunderous crash, only stopping when the enemy is eliminated.
Warbirds. “Schnell! Schnell!” Ack-Acks can’t do much; the Flying Grim Reaper will get his souls…
Silence. The beach is secured. Dead linger on crimson French soil, evidence of a bloodbath. For now, calm, and one can rest his weary soul. Dark clouds dissipate to reveal beautiful sky. Beauty, that’s something I haven’t seen in a long time.
I close my eyes. A bird’s chirping. Opening my eyes, I see it sitting in a blackened tree. An exploded bunker is next to the tree And so is a dead Kraut half-buried by debris.
In his hand is a photo. Wife and kids.
A family. Like Mine
I turn away.
The Beach
“Give me a rifle, a bullet, and point me towards Paris!” –The common saying of our boys.
Not just boys; brothers. Brothers that all have green faces at the moment. Damn the brass, I’d like to see them out here in this crap weather, rocking around on this God-forsaken sea. We’re all going to go before we even get to the sand.
I look to the beach. Nothing but waves lapping at the shore, and ghostly concrete bunkers slowly appearing through the haze. Eerie. Is this dullness the war? Suddenly, the haze lifts. Shells, bodies, and the stench of death.
Reaching the shore, I jump out of the leaky tub, rifle in hand. Sand in my boots, the lingering cold of the water running up my legs, I don’t care. A Kraut machine gun emplacement ahead. Fireball. Got the bastards.
A storm of excitement, of gunpowder, the thrill of it all. Then in the next sudden moment, shockwaves envelop me. Quietness, peace, the blur….
“Get to the damn shingle, you cowardly dogs! To Victory!”; The Captains’ barking. A good idea not to get on his bad side or you’ll wish that the Krauts get to you first. Better get back into it.
The bittersweet strength of vengeance coursing through my veins, fuelling the rage. I’m immortal – “Tremble before my wrath!” Jerry hits the sand. Again, and again. I lose count, I don’t care. Got to get to the shingle. I look back to the tub. It’s returning to the fleet. A huge mass of metal, seemingly ungodly, but all united under His service, for freedom.
Bang!
A sharp twang on my head and ringing in my ears. Lucky I had my steel helmet on. That Kraut’s popped off. Sandy boots hit the shingle. Their stomping; merely a small part of the thunderous crash, only stopping when the enemy is eliminated.
Warbirds. “Schnell! Schnell!” Ack-Acks can’t do much; the Flying Grim Reaper will get his souls…
Silence. The beach is secured. Dead linger on crimson French soil, evidence of a bloodbath. For now, calm, and one can rest his weary soul. Dark clouds dissipate to reveal beautiful sky. Beauty, that’s something I haven’t seen in a long time.
I close my eyes. A bird’s chirping. Opening my eyes, I see it sitting in a blackened tree. An exploded bunker is next to the tree And so is a dead Kraut half-buried by debris.
In his hand is a photo. Wife and kids.
A family. Like Mine
I turn away.
Lord~Hughsinkler- Lieutenant Colonel
- Location : Lord Stores Room, trying out the new nukes
Age : 31
Number of posts : 2411
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