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Decision at Tarentum

Discussion in 'Civ3 - Stories & Tales' started by unscratchedfoot, May 20, 2002.

  1. Red Door

    Red Door Man of Mayhem

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    Why did you come back and update your story after 4 years gone?
     
  2. Tribute

    Tribute Not Sarcastic

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    I agree. What made you come back?
     
  3. unscratchedfoot

    unscratchedfoot War is a good thing.

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  4. unscratchedfoot

    unscratchedfoot War is a good thing.

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    Oh well, if you are all offended by me continuing my story, too bad for you. I didn't see anything in the forum rules about time limits between chapters.
     
  5. IronMan2055

    IronMan2055 Korra 2011

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    well i like the story since the giant robots of death coincide with my general additude of being evil
     
  6. unscratchedfoot

    unscratchedfoot War is a good thing.

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  7. IronMan2055

    IronMan2055 Korra 2011

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    but do they they cause massive amounts of death and carnage?
     
  8. unscratchedfoot

    unscratchedfoot War is a good thing.

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    Going by the demonstration they put on yes, a terrific amount of hurt can be applied by these babies. But how well do they dance in combat when outnumbered to a silly degree? We'll have to see.
     
  9. Jakt

    Jakt Chieftain

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    Keep it up, Unscratchedfoot! You have an interesting story going here. It started well, (albeit 4 years ago), let's see it finished well! I'll be following it.
     
  10. unscratchedfoot

    unscratchedfoot War is a good thing.

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  11. mmm...donuts

    mmm...donuts Chieftain

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    i like the story i'm glad u picked up after all this time
     
  12. unscratchedfoot

    unscratchedfoot War is a good thing.

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    Fight to the Death

    Strongpoint Brundisium
    Minutes before the German northern schwerpunkt slammed into it.



    A sentry entered the stone blockhouse which was the command centre for the isolated town turned fort. "Sir, report from recon!"

    Commander Alfeo Abaspagettio looked up from his porno magazines with a surprised snort. The room was thick with marajuana smoke, beercans and other stimulant paraphernalia scattered around, mixed in with fast food containers still half full of spoiling junk food. It looked more like a university dorm than the quarters of the highest ranking officer in the garrison.

    The sentry tried to ignore the matted, greasy hair of the commander dressed in a toga, and the delirious, bored look on his unshaven face. Alfeo was a typical, groveling flunky like the rest of the Italian commanders. The sentry addressed him for what it was worth. "Sir, HQ confirmed we are now cut off by land and air by the Germans. If we are attacked there will be no place to retreat to and we cannot be resupplied. Air recon reports armor and infantry columns in attack formations and coming our way. Their numbers are not confirmed but in the thousands sir!"

    "Who cares? The robot will protect us." slurred Alfeo. "Leave me alone."

    The platoons were at half strength due to soldiers on leave, desertions, illnesses, and general AWOL. Not surprisingly all of those off-duty had headed south before the war started to escape the inevitable siege of the town. Morale among the troops remaining was so low that even the bark of a dog would likely have sent them all screaming and running to their homes like kids being chased by Michael Jackson. Most of the soldiers were just as stoned and the only thing keeping them on duty was the hope that the massive metal monster, or 'Mech Legionary' as it was called, would be able to crush any attack force all by itself. High Command bragged they were so lethal that the top of a helmet rising from behind a log or rock up to 10 kilometers away would be torn apart before the wearer could even get a look at the monstrosity. Though likely an exaggeration considering the 50mm rounds would not be able to accurately hit targets at such a long range, their was nationwide excited anticipation of what they would do to the German attackers.

    The fort of Brundisium had one Mech Legionary, one chance at survival. And that was about all it had. The fort itself was built in the middle ages by the English in their war against the arabs. It had been upgraded with heavy cannon in the centre with a sizeable magazine. To protect the munitions, the magazine was stored underground with a 5 meter thick layer of reinforced concrete and stone over it. There were guns of various calibres for anti-tank and anti-personnel roles fitted in the turrets of the fort and along the walls. Concrete stuctures were never expected to hold up against cannonfire so the artillery of the fort was expected to conduct counterbattery fire if the defenders were to survive for any amount of time.

    Cut off from reinforcements and resupply, the fort had little chance to win a defensive action. In fact it was sheer madness. At best they could hope to hold out for a few hours longer so Commander Alfeo could smoke another joint and inhale a bag of gas.

    Alfeo stretched out on his Roman sofa and bellowed, "Viviana, wine and dine me woman. I want to feast on good food and wine while listening to the sweet sounds of battle." A seductive woman and her assistants brought out trays of food with bottles of wine. They sat around the fat, prone man stroking and massaging him while he took a couple of savage bites out of a leg of chicken. Alfeo eyed one woman with lust and ordered, "Rachele, dance for me. Let me see some skin woman." He tossed the half eaten drum over his shoulder onto the floor and Viviana handed him another piece of chicken while Rachele danced and stripped.

    The shrill whine of incoming rounds did nothing to interrupt Alfeo's dinner arrangements. A drizzle of plaster from the roof followed each explosion and the female servants rushed to hang tapestries across the ceiling to stop the dust from landing on Alfeo and his food. There were screams and shouts from stricken soldiers outside, and the demoralizing sounds of crumbling, collapsing walls hit by artillery rounds. Then finally the fort shook as the Italian heavy guns replied and a few cheers went up among the troops.

    to be continued...
     
  13. unscratchedfoot

    unscratchedfoot War is a good thing.

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    German troops and tanks poured across the fields around Brundisium. Explosions knocked holes in their ranks flinging soldiers and parts of them here and about. Heavy machineguns and anti-aircraft guns chewed up the oncoming soldiers. German tanks dinged a terrific racket with the small arms automatic fire bouncing off them. From one tank the crew threw themselves out of the hatch holding their ears in sheer agony and the dinging turned to thumping of rounds impacting on bodies. Other tanks stopped abruptly and popped into flames.

    One of the defenders looked up at the Mech Legionary which stood proudly while shots bounced off its armor like water off a duck's back. So far it had just stood there without firing even a single shot. An armored piercing round then struck the robot in the torso and blew its way right out the back of the robot. The soldier looked unbelievingly and shouted up at the robot, "C'mon you metallic sloth! Do you need a buck of oil dumped on your to get going or what?" The soldier kicked the foot of the gigantic robot.

    Just then a German artillery shell scored a perfect hit on the robot leg which the soldier had just kicked. The exploding shell filled the unlucky Italian with red hot shrapnel and the man writhed about on the ground screaming. The robot itself had it's leg blown off at the knee and the whole apparatus keeled over on top of the defenders along the line.

    "Nooooooooo the robot is falling!" shouted someone and the robot crashed down incurring further injuries upon the hard pressed defenders. "It's a fake! The robot is a fake!" shouted one. "It was put there for aritificial moral support!" yelled another. Whatever the case, the robot did nothing and just lay there being knocked about by incoming fire. It was clear that the weight of the fallen robot was no where near as heavy as the Mech Legionary was purported to be. A few Italians desperate for some cover from the hail of incoming fire, found holes in the robot and hid inside its hollow metallic shell. They fired rifles from the holes until a German grenade made it inside the robot body.

    German artillery continued knocking down the walls of the Italian fort and the defenders rolled on down with the chunks of concrete which along with all the incoming fire mashed them into enchilada. The masses of Germans made it to what was left of the walls and chucked stick grenades into the rubble to mess up the Italians still lurking within. Screams and body parts flew up over the rubble rewarding the Germans' efforts. The tanks ground their way through the holes in the walls and hosed down the whole area inside with machinegun fire and blew the inner walls down with their cannon. German infantry followed in behind the tanks ,and Italian riflemen who had survived by taking cover behind chunks of rubble used their carbines to pick off the Germans with accurate single shot fire.

    "Run to the inner fortress!!" shouted an officer and Italian soldiers rose up out of the rubble ran like they like to do. About half of them made it to the inner fortifications and gun emplacements while the rest were cannonfodder for the German tanks belching fire with submachinegunners in support. Many Italians fell with rounds in their backs but they were used to that sort of treatment.

    Some defenders at the inner wall wheeled out a 20mm autocannon and used it to good effect. German soldiers were literally slapped around by the big rounds blasting holes through them. Some of the Germans fell among the rubble moaning and screaming about lost limbs and begging the tanks not to run them over. But the German war machine has no use for critically injured men who are obviously out of the fight. Even the Italians cringed at the sights and sounds of wounded Germans being squished by tanks. One Italian officer even shouted orders at a German tank to stop the foul play against their own wounded and the tank answered the officer by decapitating him with a well placed burst of machinegun fire from the turret coaxial. Grenadiers applied MP 44 fire to the 20mm autocannon crew who responded by doing a lively jive. The fighting continued and much smoke from fires, burning debris and gunfire as well as dust kicked up almost completely blinded the fighters.

    The brutal slaughter closed to handshake range and some of the tanks were neutralized by satchel charges and even by a flamethrower someone had brought up. The flamethrower hosed down a good swath of area the Germans were advancing through and many a screaming invader could be heard and smelt roasting away in the smokey hell. Burning tank operators stumbled out of their tanks to continue burning along with their infantry comrades. Spray and pray machinegun fire from the German side turned the owner of the flamethrower into a human torch along with the rest of his squad. Machineguns, rifles, grenades and sometimes bayonets were in full action. Both sides fed men in the smokey meatgrinder with a speed and rhthym almost equalling that of a grill operator in Macdonalds. And the results were equally distasteful. Smoldering corpses, screaming wounded, and well uniformed and trained soldiers lay about in ghastly caricatures of death.

    Thed Italians were fighting unusually well knowing that surrendering was worse than dying in battle. Had they a choice, most of them would have run pellmell out of that fort filled with death, but for several months before the war, the Italian media had regularly aired infomercials on TV showing Germans kicking down houses of homes and bayonetting the inhabitants to death. Other ads showed death marches of captured Italians being forcemarched while undisciplined yahoos took potshots with rifles at the Italian marchers and others pissed on them as they passed along with some of the usual bayonettings that were a regular part of German prisoner handling procedures.

    The battle went on into the afternoon with the Germans slowly advancing through the fort and reducing it to a heap of rubble. Italian dead piled up in the inner parts of the fortress and the Germans used the dead as sandbags for forward positions to provide coverfire while their comrades rushed up to throw grenades among the remaining defenders. The heavy Italian guns had long since been silenced by the German artillery which had ranged into and obliterated the central part of the fort. Fortunately for both sides, the magazine had not been penetrated yet. The desperate defenders held submachineguns up from behind broken off stones and fired blindly into the advancing Germans. Suffering casualties to this dirty way of fighting ignited the ire of the Germans who ran forward in a furious charge. A few were gunned down but the surprised Italians got the worst of it and were shot or chopped to death by the Germans who overran their positions.

    The fight was pretty much over. Soldiers breached the Italian artillery block in the centre of the fort where a handful of Italians who had hid there traded fire until they were killed off. While soldiers went around finishing off the wounded, German field officers discussed how to handle the fort commander who's sanctuary had not yet been rushed. One officer wearing a trenchcoat, an iron cross and a popular Rommel-type cap, ordered his junior officers in a Gestapoish voice to take the commander alive if possible, or just shoot him if he caused too much trouble. Women were to be spared for the officers' evening entertainment and the robot hulk was to be filmed and aired on international news channels to both demoralize the Italian nation and amuse the German citizens.

    The Germans lined up outside the commanding sanctuary and prepared to rush in. It would technically be the final fight, but they sure would not have called it a fight had they known what kind of a slovenly slob was lounging on a sofa on the other side.
     
  14. mmm...donuts

    mmm...donuts Chieftain

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    good update. i like ur story real good
     
  15. unscratchedfoot

    unscratchedfoot War is a good thing.

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  16. unscratchedfoot

    unscratchedfoot War is a good thing.

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    The Germans taped a small piece of dynamite on the thick wooden door set in the stone walls. They backed well away from it, waited for the blast and then ran in through the smoke. There was a burst of fire inside and then some squealing from women.

    "Hold ze fire!" ordered the captain. "Ve must keep ze women for ze evening entertainment."

    But it was too late. A glamorous lady lay dead on the floor in a pool of blood. Several more well-clad and curved gals were backed up and frozen in shock at the shooting. Alfeo, however, was standing proud in a full suit of Roman centurion armor and decorations. He had on obviously custom made metal armor that fit the shape of his big fat belly perfectly, and along with it was the fine centurion helmet complete with cheek plates and a big red plume decorating the top. Apparently he had spent the last while preparing for the end.

    When the Germans saw Alfeo, they snorted and burst into laughter. The captain had some fun with it. "Trying to make a fashion statement or just entertaining your fantasies of being a real Roman?"

    Alfeo said, "I'm prepared to die like a real Roman does. In full battle dress on the battlefield."

    "What an idiot." The captain looked around the room and sneered at the all the junk food wrappers and other rubbish. In amongst the clutter on the table was a metal plate with a dusting of white powder on it. "Hmmm I can see where your bravery comes from." The captain kicked Alfeo with a jackboot into the soft belly just under where the armor ended. Alfeo fell to his knees making a sound more like a harp seal in labor than a proud centurion.

    The captain looked at the fallen Roman with vulture eyes. "Oh, and you can look forward to a lot more of that in the next little while." The other German soldiers snickered together. "Before we begin that, allow me to introduce myself. I'm called Cleric the Black Snake Pliskin."

    Alfeo looked up and managed a weak laugh, "Heh, that sounds like some 3rd grader with an inferiority complex trying to be tough." Cleric responded with a series of kicks, mostly hitting armor and scuffing his jackboots while Alfeo fell over onto his back. Viviana, one of Alfeo's mistresses, tried to hold back Cleric and the angry captain wound up and smacked her hard across the face spinning her around, knocking her over the back of the sofa and onto the floor.

    Cleric was breathing hard after his exertions and said, "Alright then. If that's the way you want it, I'm taking you..." Cleric pointed at Viviana as she struggled off the floor. "...into the back room for some lessons in love while my boys here are gonna teach this weak fool that he's not a real centurion."

    Alfeo stood up and said, "I heard the German army was professional and well ordered. I never heard nothing about raping going on. That's the way the Russians treat women." Alfeo braced himself to be kicked or beaten.

    Cleric replied, "You're right. But this here brigade that took over your fort is a special one. We're the Love Brigade." Some of the German soldiers standing behind punched their fists into the air and shouted, "Ya baby!!"

    "We're gonna have to raise a little hell." Cleric grinned evily and eyed the women. "Hmmm I feel something else rising..."

    Cleric grabbed Viviana by the hair and started dragging her into the back room and then he stopped and looked at her red cheek which was starting to swell from the smack he had given her. "Wait. This one is bruised. I like my women healthy. Learn to take care of yourself wench!" He pushed Viviana away and pointed at another. "You! What's your name?"

    "So...Sophie." her voice was quivering.

    Cleric grabbed her hair and yanked her into the back room and ordered a couple of his men to accompany him as guards. While this was going on, the rest of the Germans surrounded Alfeo in preparation to beat him. The door to the back room was closed by a guard and then came the sounds of Sophie screaming, clothes ripping and some commotion. "Stop struggling! I warn you, I only get more excited when women resist me!" yelled Cleric from behind the closed door.

    Alfeo didn't like what he was hearing and the cocaine he had snorted was having it's effect in full. He was super alert, moreso than he had ever been unstimulated, and so filled with energy and that he could have flown had the inclination occurred. He drew his gladius short sword, a weapon famed for its ability to slice off entire parts of a man's body with ease, and slashed at the soldier standing infront of him. The Germans were taken by surprise and seeing their comrade's head flop backwards completely severed except for the spinal cord holding it onto his torso spawned sheer terror in them. A fountain of blood jetted out from the arteries in the sliced neck.

    They attacked Alfeo and the drugged Roman went into a frenzy slashing and twirling about. He felt the blade repeatedly gouging the bodies of his attackers and there was a monsoon of blood upon the floor. One of the Germans took time out to vomit his lunch onto the blood washed floor after he saw a severed arm complete with shoulder being kicked about in the struggle. Another slipped on a pile of entrails and landed violently face first onto the corner of the table with such force that his skull cracked and one eye popped out. A pack of reinforcing soldiers came rushing through the door from outside, and Alfeo instinctively pulled the pin from a grenade on one of the attackers. The man with the live grenade panicked and tried to run out before the grenade went off and took out most of those trying to enter the room. Liking the result, Alfeo pulled a few more grenade pins on his attackers inbetween slashes.

    Explosions, blood and mayhem finally halted the German assault on Alfeo. The Germans pulled back to regroup and try and get their heads thinking straight. Taking advantage of the lull, Alfeo barged into the back room where Cleric was holding onto Sophie's hair while engaging in his style of brutal lovemaking. Alfeo chopped up the two guards who were hesitating whether to shoot or await orders. Cleric stopped in midstroke and stood there in shock. "I... I don't understand. My men should have beaten you to a pulp."

    Alfeo was gasping hard for air in a desperate struggle to catch up on a massive oxygen deficit. His drugged body had pushed itself way further than it was naturally fit for him to endure. He closed the door to the room and then stood there with his gladius dripping in blood and managed to gasp out between breaths, "After what I am about to do to you, there will be a new definition in the dictionary for the word 'chopstick'."

    Cleric looked down first at his exposed parts and then at his luger pistol still in its holster on his pants. Unfortunately his pants were down around his ankles. He started to beg in a whiny voice, "No... no, no please! I didn't mean this to happen. We were ordered to do this to break the morale of your people. I had nothing to do with it."

    Alfeo wasn't convinced. "Get on your knees evil pervert."

    Cleric burst into tears and stood there wailing like a baby who had pooped his diapers. Sophie detached herself from him and tried to pull together her ripped clothes. Her face was wet with tears and a couple of bruises were left from the prerape struggle. Just then, the door slammed open and a pack of German soldiers ran in. Alfeo rammed his sword into them and then sliced back and forth. Cleric behind him lunged for a submachinegun dropped by a sticken guard earlier and snatched up the weapon. While lying on the floor, he fired full auto into the melee hitting everyone. Bullets chewed men up and snapped loudly as they punctured the armor Alfeo was wearing. In his hysteria, Cleric emptied the magazine and then dropped the weapon in shock and despair. Everyone in the melee was now lying on the floor either dead or dying.

    Still unnaturally stimulated by the cocaine, Alfeo pulled himself to his feet while his armor bled like a sieve. He raised two MP 44 submachineguns dropped by his attackers and shouted "Heeeeyyyyyyyyahhh!"

    BRATATATATATATATAT!!! Machinegun fire from outside the room riddled the crazed Roman who somehow managed to wield both his guns and return a double burst into his enemies before falling down again. In the last few moments, he grabbed several grenades from the bodies he was lying on and tossed them at the attackers in quick succession. One of them was thrown back and landed on top of Alfeo just as it went off. The ferocious Roman was splattered and out of the fight.

    In the aftermath, Cleric staggered out of the room clutching his face. "You idiots. I got sprayed with grenade fragments."

    A medic ran over to him, ignoring moans from the wounded soldiers lying about on the floor. "Can you see captain?"

    "Yes I can see, but I don't want these slivers I got in me to leave any scars. Women don't like scars."

    And so ended the battle of Brundisium. The Italian fort defending the town had been completely invested by the Germans and the town itself was taken over without any more resistance. This piece of land had forever been a thorn in the side of the Germans since the Italians had started a town there in the wastelands of the destroyed arabs. Now it was 'reunited with the motherland'.

    The German High Command looked to Tarentum in the south for the main battle to begin. With the destruction of the bulk of the Italian army there, the rest of the campaign would be little more than a mop-up operation. Cleric recovered from his light wounds and was awarded oak leaves to go with his iron cross for his bravery in the assault. His troops had gained much valuable experience in the battle, and after a period of rest and reinforcement, they were sent south to join in the big battle. The 'Love Brigade' was considered to be a crack unit to be used in the most difficult of attacks where normal infantry units would have no chance.
     
  17. unscratchedfoot

    unscratchedfoot War is a good thing.

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    After the fall of the fortress and the death of their commander Alfeo, the Italian garrison of Brundisium panicked and tried to flee the town despite knowing they were surrounded. Historians are fond of the phrase 'the dead carpeted the ground' and this picture enshrines that idiom as well as any slaughter could. The Italian dead lie scattered on the streets infront of German soldiers who were just moving into the town to secure it when the panicking crowd showed up. Like any good butcher would, the Germans massacred them quick and mercifully. Had the Italian garrison dug in and defended the town as well as the ancient legionaries used to, they could have charged the Germans a second pricey bill of blood for the day.

     
  18. IronMan2055

    IronMan2055 Korra 2011

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    what game is that?
     
  19. unscratchedfoot

    unscratchedfoot War is a good thing.

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  20. unscratchedfoot

    unscratchedfoot War is a good thing.

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