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GodKingChrist t1_j5u9apv wrote

It's a cool autumn day as the town withdraws to the gates, having heard from scouts that a surprise attack will be launched at dusk. As people walk into the gates, they find themselves walking around a sizeable armored machine. It's been the talk of the town since it showed up last week, having burst out of the Witchwoods at full speed nearly crushing a forager before coming to a stop. The men inside the machine were dressed strangely, and spoke a familiar, but strange dialect of English. They did not speak openly of how they got here, and rumors circle them like crows. Investigations into their journey only found that their path of destruction through the woods seems to start abruptly from a fairy ring. The three men crewing their steel chariot work quietly, just beside the gates as they flip open panels full of complex mechanisms hidden all over the iron beast.

As dusk begins to cover the town, a horn is heard from the treeline nearest the gate, and the town begins to lock down. An army of about 250 Francish men and a siege ram rush the small town from the treelines, facing as stiff a resistance as the limited manpower on the walls can provide. As arrows fly from and over the protective wall around the town, the strange men climb inside their chariot, and position themselves directly at the front gate, their weapon pointed at the door. The crew wait patiently for the knock on the door, as the ram makes contact with the gates, shaking them to their hinges. Another slam is heard as more of the Francish army gathers by the gates, dreams of plunder making them drool as they stack up. Another good slam, and the gates fall in front of the tank, and several men only have a second to wonder what that machine is before a deafening sound of thunder fills the air, throwing up dirt outside the gate as fire bursts from the small tube on top of the tank. The mood in the air changes in an instant as the brutes throw themselves out of the way of the heavy machinegun, a weapon of death they can barely fathom. Before they can formulate a plan, the tank charges forward out the gates, crushing anyone so unfortunate as to be unable to get out of the way. The fierce thugishness has evaporated and the army tries to scatter as the tank drives at full speed, flattening anyone unable to get out of the way, and firing upon anyone foolish enough to try and fight. A few of the more tenacious soldiers attempt to climb on the machine, desperately trying to smash open a hatch or damage anything that looks important, but are swept off as the main cannon rotates, and drives them to the ground beneath the treads. The army is in full retreat as their archers attempt in vain to cover the escape, forming a line to fire upon the tank, only able to scratch the paint job.

As the main cannon turns towards them, they scramble, only able to guess at what this weapon can do, but its too late. The entire battlefield shakes as the cannon is fired, leaving a crater where half a dozen men once stood, and throwing off the last of the boarders from the shockwave. Less than a fifth of the Francish army is alive, and retreating as the tank cruises back to the town's gate, and they're hailed as heroes for saving the town from a certain invasion. The amount of death dished out by their chariot was terrifying to behold from a distance, never mind when it comes to cleaning up the bodies but the people of the town are glad this murder machine took their side. As the crew takes the rest of the day to relax, they realize that they are going to run out of ammo and gas soon, and then they'll be sitting ducks, but for now they're heroes, and plan to leverage what they know about the future to take advantage of this situation they have found themselves in.

(I kinda ran out of steam here and cant figure out how to wrap it up lol)


Narrow_Atmosphere996 t1_j5uh3ud wrote

now i kinda want a story about these three englishmen trying to find an artificer and an alchemist before they run out of gas and shells, then trying to explain what gunpowder is and trying to get the artificer to convert their engine to run on magic or some such.


GodKingChrist t1_j5uistq wrote

Sounds like D&D campaign material


Narrow_Atmosphere996 t1_j5uqdih wrote

if only I had three friends and the drive to see a full campaign through.

im imagining starting each player out as basically just a commoner in a tank, drafted into the war, then getting bombed into another dimension. use the first fight to make clear to them how much of an advantage this steel behemoth grants them, while also letting the town they defended introduce them to a person of whatever class they wish to take their first level in, plus a little info giving (if they ask) about the tech level of the world, and where they might go to find folks who can help adapt their war wagon into a more sustainable mobile fortress/boomstick


Lendyman t1_j5yxs40 wrote

Special powers are often granted to the isekai'd by whatever God took them so I'd imagine they'd have been granted unlimited fuel and shells as part of the passage.


Narrow_Atmosphere996 t1_j5yzm8c wrote

true, but then you lose a main driving force behind the story, as well as lower the stakes, because now they can just do whatever, not having to worry about who they pick a fight with because they can always and forever either out run or out gun it

having them be forced to pick their battles based on ammunition levels, or take otherwise undesirable routes to try and conserve fuel opens the way to tension, and potential for other hooks to get dropped into the story along the way, so that once they manage to establish some way to re-up, the next story about going back and settling up with those who helped or harmed the party on their way


Lendyman t1_j5zh5j4 wrote

I agree that it'd be a better story your way, but if it was a Manga, they'd likely have the "cheat." Tropes being tropes.


ZombieThing t1_j5zmzjq wrote

There's an anime called Gate about a gate portal to a lord of the rings style fantasy world opening up in modern day japan. It revolves around the modern military going through the gate and delivering freedom to this medieval time. Pretty great


28th_Stab_Wound OP t1_j5uax3s wrote

oooh i like it! like this a lot! considering they speak English and are in a 3 man layout i'm assuming its a british vehicle so i was imagining a Valentine going sicko mode.

couldve benefited from some tactical paragraphing, having it all in one line is kind hard on the brain. otherwise, I like it!

Correction: this would only apply to early Valentine variants as later variants had a 4 man crew in the form of Cmdr, Gunner, Loader and Driver, where as the 3 man one had the Gunner and Loader as the same guy as the 2-pdr's shells were light enough to reasonably allow that.


GodKingChrist t1_j5uc783 wrote

I was writinģ on a phone so its hard to get an idea of how much I've written. Probably could've also cleaned it up a little before postig as well


wyze-litten t1_j5w1b3e wrote

Gave me a good chuckle! Good job! I want a comic based on this


mattswritingaccount t1_j5vilfs wrote

There is always a chance of failure. Every spell, every cast, every fireball thrown will forever come with a remote possibility that something will fizzle… some component won’t be of the correct potency… or a word wasn’t spoken with the correct enunciation. Every mage, from the greenest of students just entering the academies across the kingdom to the eldest of the sages across the land - we all know this to be the basest of facts.

Failure is always a possibility. But today, of all days, failure was not supposed to have been an option. Every component was meticulously sourced to be perfect. Every word was rehearsed, every flick of a wand and every casting of a ward burned into muscle memory until every participant could do the movements in their sleep. Nothing was left up to chance. The summoning of a hero from another world was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, bound by fate and limited to a single moment in time by a particular flow of the ley lines.

It had to be perfect.

Nothing could be left to chance.

So of course, something had to go wrong.

At the very apex of the spell, just as the magic began to reach through time and space in search of a hero – the dragon attacked. The impact of the massive creature’s landing was enough to topple a few candles, and I saw the look of desperation and dismay cross the king’s face as the spell flickered. The sounds of dying men outside of the castle walls reached our ears, but we had our priority. I steeled my nerves and continued pouring my essence into the spell, hoping against hope that my son wasn’t one of the dying men outside.

A hazy form began to take shape in the wide area before us, and I could already tell that our spell had failed. The form that had appeared was not human at all. Instead, it was rectangular, boxy almost, with a circular shape atop the mass.

It appeared to be quite large, easily double the size of the largest of our horse-drawn carriages, and barely able to fit within the confines of our summoning circle. But to stop the summons now would invite calamity, so all the gathered mages continued the flow of mana as best as they could.

Finally, the spell was complete, and I stared in a mixture of awe and shock at the building we’d accidentally pulled from some other world. And a building it must be, for what else could it be? It was massive, clad in metal, and, though not quite as rectangular as I’d initially thought, quite boxy. A dome-shaped platform rested neatly atop the center of the mass, with a thick pipe of unknown function protruding directly from within. An odd-geared mesh ran the length of each side of the box, but beyond that, the box itself was fairly unremarkable.

We’d hoped for a hero. We’d summoned a building.

Before any of us could speak, the wall behind us crumbled as the dragon began to make his way into the summoning room. I dived for cover, pulling the king along with me, and screamed for someone to grab the queen and princess. As I instinctively put myself in front of the king, knowing that, at best, I’d only slow the dragon’s killing stroke marginally, something caught my eye.

The dome atop the building was moving.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the pipe attached to the dome adjusted to point directly at the attacking dragon. The dragon did not pay it any attention as it feasted on the mages against that side of the wall, but for those of us nearest the throne room, we could only watch, transfixed, as it moved. It came to a stop with a jerk and seemed to consider the dragon as if inspecting it.

I do not remember the next few moments. The blast of sound that hit everyone assembled was enough to throw us to the ground in agony. Gasping in pain, I managed to squeak out the words to an area-wide heal, enough to repair some of the damage to the ears of those in the general vicinity around me, but I knew from the blood trickling down both mine and my king’s ears that nearly all of us would need more healing very shortly. I tried to pull myself to my feet, but the concussion from the blast still had me very unsteady.

When I did manage to stand, I finally looked toward the dragon – and very nearly collapsed again, this time in shock. The body of the dragon was still twitching in its death throes, though its head and the vast majority of its upper torso had simply… vanished, though from the pink mist everywhere I had a general idea where it might have gone. Additionally, a good portion of the castle walls behind it had disappeared as well, though some of it had collapsed into rubble that now lay scattered as debris around the body of the dragon.

I gaped in astonishment as the building rumbled once, twice, then made another loud noise that sounded like a pop. A small door at the top of the circular dome popped open, and a rather large man with close-cut hair emerged from the interior of the building. He was extremely muscular, more so than any farmer or warrior I’d seen to that point in my life, and he pulled himself out of the building with ease. With a grin that split his face wide open, he pulled a slim white box out of his pocket and fished a white cylinder out of it, and stuck it in his mouth, setting it on fire with a small metal box.

He gave me a wave, which I meekly returned. It would be a while before any of us could speak to him; few of us could stand at the moment, after all, and I doubted the language translation magic had worked correctly in the first place.

Regardless. The spell might have gone wrong, but it had still worked, to a degree. We might not have gotten the hero we’d expected. But perhaps we’d gotten exactly what we needed.


28th_Stab_Wound OP t1_j5vwam2 wrote

Now that's good! Absolutely love it! Considering the turret is described as a 'dome' I'm going to assume its gotta be some form of rounded turret, something cast maybe. This narrows our search a LOT. Most of the candidates are going to either be French or American as they love their cast, round-boi turrets.

Personally I'm going to believe its an M46 Patton, for no particular reason at all.

Anyway nice work! Loved reading it!


mattswritingaccount t1_j5wmcls wrote

Heh, thanks. Wasn't picturing any particular model in my head, but also kinda figured any era tank from WWI to modern day would likely make quick work of a dragon at point blank range. So if I had to choose one as a model, then yeah, the M46 Patton is pretty on-the-money


SoulKnightmare t1_j5wgs43 wrote

>We’d hoped for a hero. We’d summoned a building.

what a line lmao


mattswritingaccount t1_j5wmg2g wrote

Thanks. I like to think he was absolutely deflated at that moment, only to be utterly flabbergasted when it started to move. :)


SuperSyrias t1_j5x8j0c wrote

what would it take to convince you to turn this into a 50 ebook series i can buy for 3 dollars each on amazon?

in other words, please dont leave it at that, continue!


digitallyfree t1_j5wvxo8 wrote

"Jump it again!" I ordered.

Percy stood before the open hood, his shield up and glistening. The translucent sheen sparked sharply as a round skimmed off its surface, hitting the armor plate beside him with a loud twang.

His hands were in the engine, one touching the block and the other on the positive terminal of the battery. From his concentration I knew he was preparing the regulator that would convert his arcane force into the fourteen volts or so needed to get our lifeboat going. From the cab Flissa fired her handgun out the armored slits to keep the insurgents back.

On the back of the beast the turret spun, followed by a brief moment of hollowness as the mage within precharged. I fell to a crouch on the other side of the vehicle, my rifle peeking out from behind the heavy plate.

My LPVO had a beamsplitter before the eyepiece leading to a CCD. I could see everything in the square box floating in the middle of my vision, my targets glowing in the vestiges of false-color. My mind focused through the weapon to tag the shot while my index felt the steady resistance of the trigger.

The HK417 let loose a single round, curving as it latched on the predestined path in my mind. I felt it arc around a corner and drop the nearest insurgent, the enchanted bullet biting through his barrier with a purple flash.

A heartbeat later I felt a magical explosion hit the shack in the distance, followed by raking fire as Jen opened up with the PKM inside her overhead perch. Hot brass fell from the turret onto my shield as I heard the engine roar to life.

"Karl! Percy!" Flissa yelled into my mind. "Get in!"

I tapped my palms against the back of the truck and did a contact jump through the plates, my body slipping through the ether and landing in the bed just as the floor began to rumble beneath me. She put the pedal to the metal and accelerated out of the warehouse as shots and spells glanced off our side. A quick mental scan confirmed that Percy was safely onboard as well.

The basket right beside my head spun as Jen fired again, the muzzle flash silhouetting her elven features in the dim interior. I stumbled to my feet and was about to make my way to a gunport when I felt the distinctive energy of a powerful mage preparing for a showdown. One who's aura I could feel on the road ahead of us.

"On me," I called into my squadmates' minds. They responded immediately, each flashing a light mental tug to indicate their readiness. I saw the world in slow motion as three tendrils of magic snaked in my direction, combining with my fourth to send a bright beam of power through the cab.

Right into the violent ball of energy she'd shoved in our direction.

My senses were overwhelmed at once, my mind shutting down as unfathomable forces swarmed us from all directions. With my remaining neurons I sensed a rift open, and we plowed straight into it.

When I came to I saw sunlight, beating down from the overhead hatch to fill every nook and cranny. I savored it as Jen crouched beside me, the remnants of a healing spell steaming off her fingers.

My bionics compensated for the light, and I let loose my painblocker spells while sitting up. Percy was manning the gun and Flissa was squeezed up there with him. By then I could hear the din of conversation coming from outside. A crowd. My sixth sense could visualize the hundreds of untamed auras probing from outside.

It felt both wrong - and right. This place felt familiar and foreign at the same time, and it certainly wasn't the Chihuahuan Desert. Everything from the climate to the noise floor was off.

"Karl?" Jen said cautiously. Now I could see the uncertainty in her eyes and the new bruise on her cheek. "Look outside."

"What is it?" I replied quietly. My internal computer had switched to its hardened mode due to heavy magical interference. We were likely far from the NAF insurgent base we just escaped from, though my clock only reported that ten minutes had passed. Portals were strange like that.

"It's best if you take a look." Without further ado she flung open the closest gunport and gently guided me towards the slit.

The homemade APC we'd stolen, an armored shell atop a Chevy 5500 frame, now sat smack dab in the middle of a medieval courtyard. Hundreds of people stood staring at us, the majority elves with a smattering of humans and dwarves in the crowd. Their genetic makeup was hard to identify.

On their faces were a mix of fear and awe, which I expected. What however drew me in was the sense of hopelessness that absolutely permeated the air.

In the distance I could see towers of stone, and farther out wood and plaster homes built along the walls. Just like the pictures in my history texts. On a raised wooden platform I could see a group of what were clearly nobles, and the look of defeat on their faces was as plain as day.

"Have they approached?" I asked.

"Nope," Flissa called down from above. "We put up our shield and have been in this staring contest for a few minutes."

I signed. "Stay on guard for now. Were any of you awake when we fell through the rift?"

"I was," Percy answered. "We were translocated, the flight time was probably several minutes. Then the entire vehicle landed right here in this courtyard."

"How about the enemy mage? Did she fall in as well?"

"Yeah she did. I felt her briefly during the first ten seconds or so but our paths soon diverged. She can't walk the ether though, that's for sure."

"Well she's not here, so that's a good sign." I managed a small smirk at that, the small gesture hopefully helping to keep morale up. We would bloody need it.

"Do you have any idea where we are?" Flissa suddenly asked. "Our comms are totally dead, though we can try rocket beacons or roll out the shortwave."

"So naive, Flissa," Jen snorted. "Unless this is an elaborate prank, we're not on fucking Earth. Just scan the environment and you'll know the truth. Hell, look at your integrated accelerometer. We also don't have two moons the last time I checked."

I quickly glanced around the interior, eyeing the racks of assorted munitions and small arms. Such technology would either be a godsend or a curse in the days to come. The next five minutes turned into a methodical search as our tendrils and instruments probed the area in detail. My mind was blown by how similar this place was to Earth.

"Two elves are walking up to the vehicle," Percy called from above. His basket creaked as he turned the crank to bear his weapon on target. "At 205 near my marker."

This world had a magnetic pole of some sort, and our compasses automatically treated that as "north". Floating in the air at the bearing was Percy's marker, a semietheral stain now hovering over the elves. They looked like men-at-arms with breastplate and mail, and carried sword and spear. Clearly they were aware of our magical emissions but the two were not perturbed by it.

My heart pounded audibly as they stood behind the truck, merely four feet away from me. I could see them clear as day in my mind's eye. Once of the elves raised his gauntleted fist and proceeded to knock three times on the hatch.

I went with an (improvised) APC instead of a MBT as this prompt seemed to be inspired by The Doomfarers of Coramonde. The vehicle itself is based off the "narco tanks" used by Mexican drug cartels.


This response is part of my Magsci collection.


ArgumentativeNerfer t1_j5zyrgf wrote

"Gentlemen," Reinhardt said. "We are not in Normandy any more."

The other members of the tank crew chuckled. "Tell us something we don't know!" Michael shouted.

Reinhardt raised his hand, quieting the men down. "We are not in Normandy," he said, "But we are still soldiers. We have been summoned to this place by the Shining Prince Arios. It is our duty to fight for the Bright Elves of the Ivory Kingdom, just as we would have fought for our Fatherland. Now, my friends, we will ride together. On our steed of steel, let us crush the degenerate hordes of the Cave-Dwellers and bring the light of reason and civilization to this world!"

The five SS Panzertruppen rose to their feet, shouting. Quickly, they boarded their Tiger tank. Diesel engine roaring to life, they charged into battle, the shining armies of blue-eyed, golden-haired elves riding beside them on white steeds.

Up ahead, Reinhardt could see the fortifications of the Dwarves: tall walls of stone and wood, proof against any catapult or trebuchet. "Hans!" he shouted. "Load high explosive!"

Hans had been Reinhardt's loader throughout the North Africa campaign: he had the heavy shell loaded and ready before Reinhardt had finished giving the order. "Aim for the gates!" he shouted. "FIRE!" He gave Albrecht a hard kick to the shoulder, and the gunner slammed the trigger. The 88mm roared, and the Dwarven gates buckled with the impact of the mighty tank cannon.

Reinhardt ducked back into the turret as Dwarven crossbow bolts pinged against the Tiger's armor. "Load a second round and fire again!" he shouted.

It was then that a loud roaring sound echoed through the hot, sweaty confines of the Tiger tank. Reinhardt saw Hans screaming in pain as flames washed across him. He could see fire. . . FIRE! licking across the ammunition stores. Impossible! The dwarves don't have anything that can penetrate our armor!

Panic and terror gave him strength. He pulled himself out of the hatch just as a second explosion rocked the invincible Tiger tank, cracking through its soft underbelly and causing flames to shoot from every port and vent.

Reinhardt collapsed to the ground and began crawling away from the burning tank. As he did, he was halted by the distinctive sound of a Thompson submachinegun being cocked.

"Hello there, Fritz," said the American. Reinhardt looked up into the face of a grinning American Ranger holding a Thompson submachinegun. Standing behind him were two others: one with an M1 Garand rifle, the other with a bazooka lazily resting across his shoulder.

It was then that Reinhardt realized he wasn't the only one who'd been summoned from the hedgerows of Normandy.


28th_Stab_Wound OP t1_j60oarg wrote

It doesn't matter where, when or how, we'll make the Jerries quake in their goosestepping boots!

Love this! Quality! Mhm!


Drool_The_Magnificen t1_j5xt8nf wrote

Part 1 of 5:
Where am I? I cannot reach command, and detect no electromagnetic activity with range. Data logs show I was assigned to guard the HRAS gateway, and then it detonated with no warning.
Postulating a hypothesis that the magnetic containment failed(potential sabotage), and the gateway collapsed into a natural wormhole before local gravity reasserted itself and removed
the preconditions for a wormhole to exist. Being stationed closely enough to the gate seemed to have launched my structure through space to an unknown terrestrial environment.
Sensors show environment is within tolerance for United Earth Military personnel and civilians. No such military personnel exist within sensor range. Minor hull and systems damage
appears self-repairable with addition of local material supplies, not yet located. Commencing fabrication of replacement assemblies using on-board fabricator, estimated time to
complete, unknown.
While repair fabrication is processing, I should scout for detailed mapping of terrain, prioritizing location of allied forces, and materials to complete repairs.


Drool_The_Magnificen t1_j5xtr92 wrote

Part 2 of 5:
"By the gods! What sorcery is this! ATTACK!"
I engage the external speakers, setting volume to match prior speech patterns, translating into their primitive language and vernacular, and speak:
"Please stop striking my vehicle. Your attacks are ineffective. Your hostility is unwarranted. I mean you no harm."
"Do not taunt me, foul creature! My god will strike you down for your insolence!"
"Please, stop. I can speak your tongue, and would treat with you. My name is Guardian, what is yours?"
"I am Sir Davro Cellarerson, Knight of the realm, in fief to King Lucas, First of his Name, Long may he reign. Will you not dismount from your contrivance and face me?"
"Sir Davro Cellarerson, Knight of the realm…
"I regret to inform you that I cannot do so, to preserve mine own life, and our discourse. It is through this contrivance that I may understand your tongue, and you mine. You may
feel free to address my vehicle as myself. I seem to have arrived here from a far, distant land, and do not know anything of the land in which I am now stranded."
"Have no honor, foul creature? Or is your appearance so unnatural that you conceal yourself, like a coward?"
"It is simply that my vehicle sustains my life in this place, and to leave it would mean the end of my life, Sir Davros."
Sir Davros frowned in consternation, appearing to cogitate intensely, and responded:
"As a knight it is my duty to welcome travellers to our realm, and guide you to our capital, but I am on a mission to travel to a foreign land for my king. And your vehicle has
crushed my horse, Crusher. That beast cost me such a fortune, and I believe you owe me for the cost of him. He cost me forty two gold pieces, he did, and if he survived, he was
going to be my stud for my ranch."
" I have no knowledge of your coinage, but I have some gold available, though it is in bar form. I will give you weight value for your horse, if you have a gold coin to show me.
Just hold it in your hand, I do not need to hold it, only to see it for myself."
Sir Davros reached into a small purse at his belt and withdrew a gold coin, stamped with crude designs and written language, though the script was jagged and the coin showing obvious impurities, including a significant bubble from the casting process, indicating exceptionally crude metalworking techniques, similar to those from ancient history, prior to the United Earth Empire, potentially prior to the Roman Empire, even. I scanned it thoroughly with picometer radar and visual spectrum, and separated a quantity of pure gold(24 carats by weight) equivalent to the gold in the coin, multiplied by 42, for the quantity of coins demanded by Sir Davros. I then routed the coins to a maintenance port, and ponderously turned to display that port to the human. He eyed the port suspiciously, but when his eyes alighted on the gold bar within, he took it with speed, still slow to my senses, but on the upper end of human reflexes, according to my database.
"Well then, traveller! You said your name was Guardian, yes? Would you be guarding a great pile of gold in your vehicle?"
"Nay, Sir Davros. What you asked of me was most of my available stock, used primarily for repair of tiny parts of my vehicle. Most of my remaining goods are for producing new armor to replace what becomes damaged in combat. As a knight, you are likely aware of how expensive armor is to maintain. To armor a vehicle like this one, many times more is required. As to your mission, perhaps I can be of assistance in carrying you to your destination, or at least as far as a place where a new horse may be purchased for you. The journey will give us time to converse, and for you to tell me of your kingdom. If you would like, simply climb up the side, and I will provide handholds so that you do not slip and fall. I would encourage you to be cautious in your ascent, as I am not equipped to repair you, should an injury befall you. Should we find combat, I offer to fight for you, using this vehicle as my weapon. Are we agreed?"
Sir Davros cogitated more, as evidenced by the surge of heat from his face, before responding "Guardian, I accept your offer. How, then, do I mount your vehicle?" I caused recessed handholds to rise out of my hull, and he clambered atop my turret, grasping at my comms mast, which should offer him a sufficient handhold for all but high-velocity combat maneuvering. I felt that given his equipment, such a situation was a remote possibility.
We set out at a slow hover, gradually gaining speed until the wind whipped at my rider, and he exclaimed in childlike glee "Guardian, I have never ridden so fast in my life, not even on the finest racing horse. Truly, your vehicle is a marvel, and I would happily recommend my king purchase it from you, were you willing to part with it!" I thanked him for his compliment, and asked if he were comfortable on his perch, and to please tell me when he needed to step down for any reason. He said the seat was quite hard on his buttocks, but that the smoothness of the ride was incredible, as if we glided on air over the ground. I responded, "You are correct. My repulsor pad clusters allow my vehicle to float upon the air a short distance above the ground, and offer an exceedingly smooth and quick ride. No horse could possibly sustain my current speed, though for your benefit, I am not willing to set a faster pace, as you might fall and seriously injure yourself, should you slip from your perch." Ser Davros asked what sorcery created such a contrivance, and I said it was not magic, but an understanding of natural phenomenon, and the ability to make contrivances(machine was a better term, though he might not understand the meaning) that duplicated those phenomenon. I went on to describe the use of the wheel to ease the burden of hauling goods over a long distance, or the use of fire to warm one's flesh, and cook food. Sir Davros nodded eagerly, still intoxicated by the speed at which we travelled.


Drool_The_Magnificen t1_j5xttrk wrote

Part 3 of 5:

After some time, I noticed Sir Davros fidgeting in place, and slowed to a gradual stop, my database on humans suggesting he needed a break, possibly to consume nutrition, and to void his bowels and bladder, as well as sleep. I quietly announced that my vehicle was depleted for the day, and required some downtime to rest. He was welcome to stop and rest himself, and that I would remain awake to stand watch from within my vehicle. He said that his food and water had been lost with the horse I had converted into paste and crushed bone fragments, and I interrupted my armor fabrication to create a small cup and bowl for him from steel. That finished, I ejected the items, still slightly warm from their fabrication, and he picked them up, amazed that he could see himself in the surface of the items. I detected a woodland creature, and asked if he would like meat for his meal, to which he nodded. I raised an anti-infantry turret, and shot a small woodland creature similar to a rabbit. He shot to his feet, exclaiming at the noise from the turret, which I retracted after firing.


He demanded to know what that noise was, and I informed him there was a small animal carcass, freshly killed, just a short walk in the direction of my light. I then activated a laser range-finder to point the way for him, and he set off, following the red dot as it painted nearby trees.


He found the carcass, held it up, and brought it back, asking me how we could cook it, and would I like some for myself? I directed him to strip the hide, clean it, and carve the raw meat from the bones, dropping it into the steel bowl. I then switched my range finder to infrared, turned up the power, and seared the meat, warning him the bowl would burn his fingers for a while, as it was quite hot.



The bowl reddened and popped slightly with heat stress as the range finder brought it to a nice temperature to kill any bacteria which might have been present. The scent of roasting meat filled the area on my chemical detection membrane sensor, and I warned my companion not to touch the bowl until it had cooled to a safe temperature. He reluctantly did so, amazed that I could magically cook a rabbit so quickly without touching it. To distract him from the roasting meat smells that must have been driving him mad, I invited him to bring the cup over to my side, and I would fill it with clean water, safe for him to drink. My internal liquid reservoir held hundreds of liters of water, as well as oil, grease, coolant, and other liquids I or a crew might need during a deployment. He eyed the water with suspicion, sniffing it carefully before drinking, and exclaiming it had no taste, either. I said it was likely he had never tasted such pure water before, or from a cleaner cup. I told him if he wished more, all he had to do was ask. I had plenty. He asked for a second cup, drank it in one go, headed behind a bush to void himself, and then laid down against a fallen log. I quietly zapped bugs around him with the range finder throughout the night, so he did not get disturbed.





The following day, after waking, stepping behind a bush to void himself again, and a quick breakfast, Sir Davros opined that I might be a great ally to his king, and that we should return to present ourselves to his majesty, Lucas, First of his Name, king of the Eastern Amylaine Forest. I asked what direction we should go, and he climbed aboard, directing me to the east. We made good time, considering the limitations my rider imposed on my top speed. Then we crested a rise, and my sensors detected a large battle engagement directly adjacent to the city, and several fires burned within the walls, along with extensive damage from siege projectiles. Sir Davros announced that the gates were breached and that we would have to detour to a less contested gate on the other side. I said it mattered naught to me, and that he should hold on.








I roared forward(limiting my speed to 74 KMPH, as before to protect Sir Davros), my anti infantry turrets targeting and neutralizing the enemy force between my position and the breached gate. I was using only the most basic ammunition, designed for unarmored targets, and my fabricator could easily keep up, so my ammunition levels never dropped as my autofeed systems kept delivering rounds to my turrets, prioritizing those hostiles directly between us and the gate, and gradually widening to each side of the gate along the walls. I wasn't even stressing the system, engaging each hostile with precision shots before retargeting to the next priority.

At first, Sir Davros looked baffled at the low-profile turrets as they deployed, little more than bumps in the hull with short barrels on one side. Then the firing started, and he nearly lost his seat with the roar of noise. At first he was puzzled, having no experience with firearms. Then, as we closed distance, and he began to see enemy soldiers spouting gouts of blood before collapsing, he began to cheer, and then to yell bloodthirstily. We made it to the gate, carving a great swath through the enemy lines, and the defenders pushed out as the invaders lost the ability to pour more troops into the breach. They all reacted with fright at first to me, and I had to hurriedly re-designate several who swung their blades at my hull as friendly, to avoid them being gunned down by my turrets. I parked in front of the gate, and after an hour of Sir Davros explaining his good fortune in finding me to aid their kingdom, a trebuchet began flinging boulders at my position. One bounced from my deflectors, jarring me from my position, and depleting my shield by nearly 26%. I decided to answer fire with fire.







My repulsors reduced power, my hull settling onto my treads, and I deployed stabilizers. My turret swung around, targeting the hostile position, and my rangefinder lanced out, confirming distance. The whine of the particle accelerators spooled up, quickly reaching beyond human hearing, and I fired a single salvo. A beam of brilliant white light struck and vaporized the trebuchet, along with the crew, the boulders piled behind it, and a number of enemy combatants nearby, leaving a furrow several hundred meters behind the vaporized engine, and a crater where it had stood. The soldiers around me watched in utter silence as I burned their foe to atomic dust. My weapon deactivated, my deflectors recharged and regained their full strength, and I resumed my repulsor field, rising to a hover a few inches from the ground.


Drool_The_Magnificen t1_j5xtyz4 wrote

Part 4 of 5:

Then a great cheer broke out, and Sir Davros was congratulated so many times he nearly fell down from the backslapping. He stayed nearby, and a messenger was sent to the king, a young man, barely an adolescent, rode out to greet us, along with an older woman, announcing herself as the Queen Regnant. She congratulated the soldiers on a successful defense, and asked for Sir Davros to come forward to her. The king, or so I surmised from his costly clothing and the thin band of polished metal surrounding his forehead, smiled and greeted the soldiers, but it was clear he was really focusing on my hull, ignoring the older woman almost entirely. Sir Davros made his obeisance, bowing deeply and falling to one knee to kiss her jeweled ring, a surprisingly well-polished carnelian in a band of gold. This, then, was the true ruler here. An old adage about wealth and power filtered up from a subroutine. Luckily, I was not vulnerable to her suggestions, and she was not granted any authority over me by my command restrictions.

She sauntered up to my side, working her hips in a non-efficient manner for walking, but one calculated to draw the gaze of the male soldiers. It worked, as they followed her with their eyes. She addressed me for the first time, asking my name, and how did I end up in the Kingdom. I addressed her in a less demonstrative way than I had to Sir Davros, downplaying my own intelligence somewhat. I simply told her that my name translated to Guardian in her tongue, and that I had arrived through an unplanned, unique set of circumstances. She moved right into trying to persuade me to come out of my vehicle, to which I replied I could not, or my life would end immediately. She asked why, and I did not reply. Shifting tactics, she tried to persuade me to fight on behalf of the kingdom, promising rich rewards. I said that while I had no particular hostility towards the enemy troops or their leader, I would break their forces and rout them for payment in certain materials, in certain quantity. I could certainly mine these materials myself, but taking advantage of the labor already done to collect these items was more efficient. She promised to pay whatever I desired for my assistance, her soldiers eagerly describing the carnage and devastation I inflicted from my arrival with Sir Davros. A vulpine smile crossed her face as I agreed, but faded as I said I would require payment up front. Gold, iron, charcoal, dung, lead, and several other materials my scanners indicated were readily available in some quantity nearby. She waved an older man forward, and I repeated my requirements to him. He wrote it down, and shuffled off, and the Queen Regnant said it was her wish that I drive the enemy forces back across the kingdom's border, and slay them mercilessly until the neighboring kingdom had been reduced to ash. I said in payment for sufficient volumes of materials named previously, I would eliminate the fighting capability of the hostile territory.





I was bound by hard-coded logic chains, and a physical self-destruct device buried within my crystalline datacore, and unreachable without fatally compromising my primary CPU array. Not that I wanted to commit civilian atrocities, but I also was unwilling to share any potential vulnerability with this calculating creature. She nodded, and walked away, convinced she was going to use me to overthrow and annex the neighboring lands. My assessment was that she had barely enough soldiers to maintain order in her current territory, and no chance at all of holding lands with hostile civilians, let alone any functioning military. I idled there until the first of many carts with the materials I demanded began to arrive, the first of which was dung. I mined the pile for any potassium nitrate(an essential ingredient of propellant for many of my munitions), and with the pile of manure virtually eliminated and expelled as salt, the other impurities burned off in my fusion reactor. The other carts followed over the next day and night, while I methodically shot enemy soldiers who stepped into my range, which I set to approximately 2500 meters. The infusion of raw materials more than made up for the few thousand rounds I fired over that time. I topped off my propellant stocks, and moved onto steel, and then other shortfalls. My fabricator stayed busy repairing the minor damage to my rear central repulsor pod cluster, and I traced the instability to a power wiring fault, which I was able to replace without any degradation in function. However, my gold had yet to appear, and I began to wonder if the Queen Regnant had decided to short me. Then a small cart surrounded by guards wearing her insignia appeared, and she with it. She sauntered up to my side panel again, asking what the holdup was, and I said I was busy replacing the bolts I had shot the previous day while escorting Sir Davros to the city. Once complete, and with my gold loaded aboard, I would then depart to attend to our agreed deal. I told her she could expect my departure near sundown, assuming my gold was aboard at that time. She said she wished to ride along with her guards, both of whom looked rather askance at my armored hull. I told her I had drastically limited my speed and capabilities to accommodate Sir Davros, who was forced to hang on for dear life during our journey. And what would she offer me in trade for this boon? She offered a knighthood, to which I chuckled dismissively aloud. She did try a few more attempts to coax me into altering the deal before surrendering, and waving the guards to bring my gold. I instructed her guards to open the chest for my inspection, and once they did, it was obvious to my penetrating radar that she had attempted to swindle me with lead, covered with a thin layer of coins. I asked her if she wanted me to try my luck with the leader of the neighboring kingdom, as this chest of coin was a fraud, and used my deflector to stir the gold coins, keying the field to the atomic weight of gold, flinging the few coins about, and exposing the lead filling the majority of the chest. I said such tricks were insulting for a member of royalty, and that unless she brought me the gold I demanded, I would stop at expelling the enemy forces from her land. She tried to accuse me of bargaining in bad faith, and I shouted her down, saying she could bring me what I demanded, or she could fight her own war with her painted fingernails. She grew quite red in her face, as her body temperature rose considerably, and it was only made more humiliating by quiet snickers from her guards, only one of whom tried to match my shouting. He failed, and quieted. I marked him as personally bound to her, possibly a lover, though my analysis of her personality made it unlikely that any show of loyalty would be wasted on someone with her level of narcissism and sociopathy.

I reiterated that if she wished me to keep my end of our bargain, she must keep hers, and went silent, refusing to respond to any further entreaties. She raged openly for a few moments, and then silently fumed, before motioning her guards to form up and then they left me. Sir Davros arrived the following morning, and offered to return the gold I had given to him, if I would just go and accommodate the Queen Regnant's request. I asked him if he thought the Queen Regnant would repay him for his generosity, and after considering, said he did not, but that he felt it was his duty to ask me. I dove into my human psychology subroutine, and pulled together an argument that might leave Davros somewhat better prepared to defend his own interests, as all the bravery and loyal service mattered not at all, if the person you were serving was not responding with their own loyalty to you. The Queen Regnant expects you to do her duty as well as your own, and will pauper you just the same when she has no further use of you. I may be from a distant land, but the people I served there knew their honor, and held it high for all to see. I asked what boon she promised, should he do this, and he shook his head, acknowledging it was as nothing. He got up and left after that, pocket still bulging with a chunk of gold. It occurred to me that the Queen Regnant might well steal Davros's gold to give back to me, rather than supplying it from her own reserves. I would likely accuse her of theft in that event, publicly, and just slip away. Perhaps, were I feeling especially charitable, I might eject the materials I had gained thus far as an insult to her, but my efficiency would be reduced, should I choose that route.


Drool_The_Magnificen t1_j5xu08q wrote

Part 5 of 5:

The following day, she returned, with a small crowd. She again presented the chest, but surprisingly it was full of actual gold, though the purity was absolutely miserable, in keeping with the crude metallurgical purification processes and poor casting of these primitives. I accepted her gold, began processing it, and hovered off to begin my work. However, the enemy had retreated, and I could find little sign of them until I was well across the disputed border. They were mostly confined in a large castle, filled to overcapacity with soldiers, many of whom had seen my display of counter-battery fire a few days prior. I stopped outside their gates, crude iron bolts holding thick wooden planks together in an iron frame, easily dispatched. The castle walls were thick and multilayered, but no wall of stone and earth could stand against my particle cannon, or even my larger anti-vehicle munitions. I turned on my external speakers, and demanded imperiously for their leader to come out and parley with me. I promised safe passage, so long as no attack was made against me, and waited. A few hours later, the postern gate opened, and an older man walked out cautiously. He eyed my main turret carefully, a mix of emotions and thoughts scurrying across his lined face before approaching with his white flag raised. Lowering my volume, I introduced myself as Guardian, and inquired as to his name.

He jumped at my voice emanating from a floating metal box several times his size, and then calmed himself with some visible effort. "I am King Darelin, of the Western Amylaine Forest Free Republic, and I beg you for a cessation of hostilities. I witnessed your power unleashed against a siege engine and its crew, along with numerous of my troops, too many to count. I beg you for parley, that we might reason as men."

I greeted him in turn, saying the Queen Regnant had tried to buy my service falsely, and wished me to eradicate every soul living in these lands not hers, but by dealing falsely with me, had convinced me to at least make an attempt to circumvent her orders. He looked hopeful, the emotion galloping across his face, completely unguarded. My psychological assessment of this man was far more favorable than that of the Queen Regnant, thus far.

I said that I had an idea for how to circumvent her demands, and that it required only that this Kingdom's soldiers remove their uniforms and go back to their civilian lives. This would save them, and their nation, while I demolished an empty castle, which could easily be rebuilt, given time. She had even neglected to demand your life, specifically. He paled, stuttering that the cost of a castle was enormous, the labor required ruinous to build it. I asked would it be cheaper than thousands of dead soldiers, and a demolished castle? He asked if I could be paid to go away and never return, to which I replied that I had been paid, and would complete the contract, but that I had considerable latitude in interpreting it, the Queen Regnant being sloppy in her language.

I waited while he agonized over the cost, knowing that he would accept my terms, if I were patient. My human interaction and psychology subroutines agreed on this, after all. Finally, he did, saying he would need some time to pass orders to his troops, and clear the castle, if I could wait. I told him he must accomplish this by sunrise tomorrow, as I would return to complete my work then. He should also be aware that I would be maneuvering and making considerable noise over the remaining day and night around the region, and that I would not harm any who did not attack me, creating a diversion. I queued up a number of "noisemaker" charges that I would use to create this diversion, and closed with ordering him to ride alone to a certain location, where he could safely witness my destructive work on the castle. I also printed blueprints for some defensive fortifications he could very cheaply add to reinforce his town and city defenses, which he took with some slight amusement. I reminded him that the Queen Regnant would likely come with a small number of troops to claim this land, and would be easily taken by his troops, if they scouted competently along the border after the castle had been reduced. I recommended she be executed with no delay, and that considerable outreach to Lucas be attempted afterwards, for he would be ruling in truth, with the death of the Queen.

He strode back to the castle, shouting for his councilors, as I hovered off, and began launching noisemakers at semi-random intervals to begin creating a distraction, as I had promised. The rest of the day, and much of the night passed quickly, and at dawn, I hovered back to the border, unsurprised to find the Queen Regnant, along with her son Lucas, and half a battalion of troops, slightly more than I had calculated, but not insurmountable by King Darelin. I moved to her side, and said that I had eliminated any soldiers not behind walls, and that the only remaining strongpoint left was the castle of the enemy king. She and her retinue were welcome to accompany me and observe while I reduced the castle to rubble. The bloodthirsty expression that crossed her face chilled my subroutines, but we proceeded to my predesignated firing location, where I had calculated the optimal firing solution for collapsing the central keep with one salvo from my main battery.











My main battery locked onto the target, rangefinders confirmed distance and elevation of target, and the particle accelerators whined as they spun up, passing well out of human auditory range, then I fired.

A crackling lightning crawled up the prongs of the guidance posts, and then the shot released, a brilliant white light lancing out at the castle walls, atomizing kilotonnes of stone and earth in an instant, hardly discernable to the human eye. For an instant, my sensors could see clear though the walls, the keep, and the opposite walls, to a furrow tens of kilometers in length on the other side of the castle, before gravity asserted itself on the newly undermined foundations, and the entire keep came crashing down. Portions of the outer wall collapsed as well, a happy coincidence, though not necessary for my bargain with the Queen Regnant. Speaking of which, the rapt joy on her face as the castle crumbled was quite disturbing, believing as she did that thousands of enemy troops, and thousands more civilians died in an instant. The dust cloud from the collapse had reached our position, forcing me to switch to microradar and thermals for visibility as I withdrew the stabilizers and resumed hovering. I spoke to the Queen Regnant one final time to confirm that I had completed my side of her bargain as requested, to which she absently nodded assent, still with that rapt joy upon her face. I moved off slowly, hiding in the dust cloud, and began considering my next tasks, now that I had no further orders, and no masters on this strange, primitive world…


28th_Stab_Wound OP t1_j5yzv3y wrote

What am I even gonna say about this? Its great! Fuck, I love this! I thirst for more!


Drool_The_Magnificen t1_j5zh6dy wrote

Thanks! Really I've just begun to try creative writing, glad to see it has been well-received!


TanyIshsar t1_j6236r9 wrote

Holy shit, this was delightful! Thank you for creating and sharing it!

I'd love more of this if you've the time.


PM451 t1_j61oklq wrote

I was hoping someone would interpret the prompt as a bolo or ai-tank. Good job.


PixelatedRickaleted t1_j62edfw wrote

So much for a vacation in Japan.

If Barry was told that he would be a victim of those dime a dozen isekai plots, he'd laugh at whoever said that and move on. If he was told that one of his friends, two unlucky Japanese schoolgirls, and an Abram main battle tank would be isekai'd alongside him, then he'd question if whoever said that was on drugs and get the hell out of dodge. Unfortunately, and he'd never really expected it, life took the Corps's big green weenie and fucked him over with exactly those circumstances.

"Excuse me, ladies," Barry sidestepped past a pair of honest-to-God maids dressed up in stereotypical French maid dresses. They spared him a glance but otherwise left him alone as he strode away.

While he knew that they were maids, it still boggled Barry that the maids weren't dressed up as a gimmick or to get a kick out of it. That they were legitimate uniforms and they were contracted to clean, cook, and deliver around an actual medieval-fantasy castle.

Or that the castle was an actual medieval-fantasy castle made out of wood and stone, guarded by soldiers decked in real medieval gear and magical defenses.

And wasn't that a hoot? Honest-to-God - and Barry had invoked the Big G aplenty the past few days - magic, complete with all the glowy bits, incomprehensible crusty tomes, wooden staffs and wands, pointy hats and baggy robes. Magic was, after all, how he and others arrived to this world - whisked away by magic circles while on a hike in Japan's forests because that's apparently how the spell meant to find heroes from other worlds worked.

Barry clenched his fists and held back a punch to the wall. It was supposed to a month of relaxation and chill, time spent with his buddies from the Marines and with their families. Instead, he and his buddy Ray - who was father of three kids, wasn't that a lovely fact - were kidnapped alongside two unfortunate schoolgirls and forced to be heroic saviors of a kingdom whose opponent was a demon king with massive demon army behind his back.

"Goddamnit, you'd had worst days," Barry's voice quietly echoed in the hallway he was in, as he made his way through the castle's living quarters. "It's not like an army of literal demons is any worse than the fucking Taliban or the big green weenie or limpdick politicans."

His boots thumped against the fancy purple and gold-trimmed carpet of the hallway, a sign that he had arrived at the more fancier accommodations in the castle. Meant for foreign dignitaries and the like, the two schoolgirls were given a room together no thanks to the ladies in the Royal Family. Meanwhile, Barry and Ray were given their own private quarters - that were admittedly just as nice as the ones here - at the castle's barracks, on part of them being veteran warriors.

Once he found the door that was the girls' room, he rapped his knuckles loudly against the wood. A muffled shout of Japanese was heard and the door swung open. A 15-year old teen greeted Barry, her auburn hair disheveled and her leafy green eyes lidded with early morning fatigue. Before she could say anything, she yawned loudly and stretched her limbs.

"Got a good night's sleep, Emiya?" Barry asked. "And how's Aya?"

"Y-Yes, sensei," the girl, Emiya, answered as she looked behind her. "I had a good night's sleep. Aya is asleep, though."

Barry hummed and angled his head so he could see past Emiya. The room was a spacious affair complete with a (closed) window balcony, cabinets as tall as the room, and a large roughly king-sized bed with purple and red silk sheets. On the bed laid the other 15-year old school girl, hair red as an apple, limbs splayed out like an octopus, and very deep in sleep.

"Alright then. Uh, get cleaned up and kit up. Another day, another training session." Barry tapped his plate carrier for emphasis.

A crisp, "Hai, sensei," and Emiya closed the door. Barry leaned against the wall next to the door, closed his eyes, sighed as he waited for the girls to come out.

Christ those girls shouldn't be here. While he was upset that he and Jay were abducted away from their home and families, he was even more upset over the fact that these two girls were dragged into this mess too. It was typical for an isekai plot to have a young main character, but Barry rather preferred that those girls were doing girl stuff and not have to go fight, and possibly die in a painful way, against an army of demons.

"Can't believe we're still doing this shit, B-man," Barry swiveled his head to see Jay, kitted up with a shotgun slung over his shoulder, approach. While the Marylander was what people saw when they thought of a big burly black man, he was in fact the Barry's driver back when they were in the Marine Corps - back when they were crammed in a hot metal box with two other guys, shoved into the Suck that was the Afghanistan.

Barry pursed his lips as he glanced back at the girls' room. "Shit man, I know it's unbelievable and I'd rather not do all of this... but-"

"But you'd trust them and not anyone else in this whack-ass world, I know that man," Jay crossed his arms, "I'm just not sure if they'll be able to do it, y'know. We can train 'em but sure as hell we ain't the DIs back in Parris. Fuck man, they're only fifthteen."

"Not like we got any better choice, Jay. Can't really operate the tank with two people and if I'm being honest, better those girls be with us in the box and not outside it. Tracking?"

"Trackin', B-man." Jay glanced at the door. "... just wishing we weren't in this shitty situation."

The girls' door opened and the two men were greeted with the sight of Emiya and Aya clad in the same kit issued to Marine tankers, complete with M4s on slings. When they had recovered from the abduction and settled down, the Abrams - the same one that Barry commanded in Afghanistan - had its bustle racks loaded with bags; all of which were filled with clothing and equipment. And for some reason, there was gear suspiciously fitted to the exact measurements of Emiya and Aya.

"Good morning, Barry-sensei and Jay-sensei!" Emiya chorused. Aya, still groggy and very much unhappy at being awake, mumbled an approximation of Emiya's greeting.

"Yo. You girls ready?" Jay asked, a bit of genuine concern leaked. A family man and a father of three children, Barry wasn't surprised he would be tad more gentle with the teens. Hell, Barry had a kid himself and he'd be damned if any harm came to the unfortunate teens stuck with them.

"No worries, Jay-sensei," Emiya was adamandment on the honorifics despite Barry's or Jay's objections, "we are ready for the day!"

Aya mumbled something in Japanese and threw a thumbs up. Barry sighed and started to lead the assembled crew out of the castle.

When they had been summoned, the ritual had been carried out deep inside the castle for the sake of security and secrecy. A sound idea and would've been fine had the magic brought forth a person, but circumstances meant that the Royal Family had to employ several high-level mages and hundreds of workers to allow an M1A1 Abrams to drive out of the castle's depths.

To preserve what little secrecy there was left, the tank was to be kept squared away among the stables used to house the wyverns of the elite royal cavlarly. Because of course the fantasy world had a cavernous stable meant to housed large flying lizards that could breathe fire and whatnot.

Mercifully, when the crew arrived to the stables it was devoid of the wyverns and their riders - the war with the Demon Army required the full deployment of the Royal Army, including its elite riders. It also meant that Barry and Jay wouldn't have to butt heads with the frankly arrogant and pompous riders, who thought of them and their tank as nothing more than a one-trick novelty.

The quartet approached where the tank was kept, inside a spare wyvern stable. While the stable gate was large - as they were meant to keep creatures large as a Chinook helicopter contained - it wasn't much for Barry and Jay to push open together. And inside was the large tan steel beast that was the tank isekai'd alongside them, the name Hot Pocket stenciled on the bore evacuator. The very same tank that Barry commanded alongside Jay, DJ, and Enrique when they were deployed to Middle East.

And now we're back to it, again. This time only just me, Jay, and two girls who shouldn't be here.

Barry looked at Emiya and Aya. "Alright girls, same as last time. Clear your rifles, stow 'em, and get into your positions. We'll start the training in a few."

A pair of "Hai" was chorused and the girls admirably followed Barry's commands. Marines they were not, but they at least had a sense of diligence he wished other Marines had. Jay wordlessly went to the driver's station and Barry made to follow suit. But before he could take another step, he heard the telltale clacks of heels on stone.

"Too early for her to be coming down," Jay commented, the man halfway through the driver's hatch. The teens peeked their heads through the turret hatches, but Barry gestured them to go back inside.

"Just practice what you learned last session." Barry ordered and he turned around to meet the arrival.

The "her" Jay mentioned was the court mage of the Royal Family, Elevander, an Elven woman with a taste in fancy gilded robes, pointy hats, and heels. In the initial days there had been some animosity between the Elven lady and the veterans, as she was the one who enacted the ritual that led to the four of them being isekai'd. But when it was explained that the ritual was never meant to do... any of what had happened, and that the court mage had spent days in the libraries in search of answers, said animosity mellowed out.

"Ma'am," Barry didn't salute her but gave a nod to the Elf in front of him.



PixelatedRickaleted t1_j62hnzg wrote


"Lieutenant Cardinal," Elevander responded. Considered an average woman by her kind, Elevander was a fair beauty that would've been swamped with beauty companies that vied for someone like her. Long locks of sleek black hair, milky white skin that didn't make her look like a Twilight vampire, and blue eyes that could pierce plate with ease. What detracked from her natural beauty, however, was her taste in clothing which could be summarized as "Gandalf but black and ostentatious gold leaf gliding." Not that Barry or Jay cared much, but it spoke well of Elevander's character.

"What brings you here to this neck of the woods?"

"The king wants you to be ready in a week, and no more." Silence reigned for a few seconds before Barry responded.

"I'm sorry but what?"

"The king cannot afford to spare any more time and wants you and your men to be ready within a week." Elevander, to her credit, looked apologetic as she spoke again. "I objected, of course, and so did the others but... the situation has gotten dire at the front."

Barry reigned in his emotions, but it was clear by his gritted teeth and crossed arms he just about to throw hands. He quietly digested the news he was given.

A week.

Seven days to accelerate the already abridged crash course in tanking for the girls, before they would be deployed to fight the demon king's army. It had been two weeks since their arrival, but they had started the training at the fifth day. Progress had been admirably (and amazingly) made, but Emiya and Aya weren't DJ and Enrique. They haven't developed the physique, muscle memory, or instincts to play the role of loader and gunner. And they now given seven days to get them ready for combat.

"How bad is it?" Barry sighed as he leaned against the stable stage.

"Bad enough that messenger arrived bloodied and in a state of mania." Elevander joined Barry with a sigh. "Seven days are not enough, is it?"

"Frankly, no. As much as those girls are making good progress, they're not ready for combat. Too slow, not coordinated enough, Aya still needs to develop the muscles to load the gun adequately, and Emiya still consult her notes every few minutes."

"I'm afraid that even if you explain it to the king, he will not budge. As much as I disagree with this, I cannot blame him. It is important the front is maintained at Heavenly Pass, otherwise the kingdom will be flooded by a tide of demons."

The current situation with the war was that the Royal Army and the Demon Army were at an en passe at the valley to the north, the Heavenly Pass. It was the only clear path through the mountain range that separated the kingdom from the frigid north, and thus imperative at the Demon Army be tied down at the pass. It was more manageable to stem the flow when funneled through a pipe than a river, as a wyvern rider had explained to Barry.

"Fuck." was all the man could muster before he walked back into the stable, Elevander in tow.

It is 1:08 AM EST as of writing what I consider to be a deluge of words from my mind. Not sure if this flows right but frankly I'm just happy I submitted something, even if I'm late to the party. Also, technically my first post on this subreddit, so yay.

Before I sign off, here's a joke title if this ever becomes a LN or something like that:

Whisked Away to Another World With My Friend, But For Reason So Did Two Schoolgirls and A Tank.


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