Tag: gaming

Lordt, The Skyrim Chronicles. “I Know That Shape”

I’d come through the back door of the East Empire Trading Company Warehouse. That is not a euphemism.

For once I’d been quiet. Lucien Lachance, however, had other ideas.

After entering through the grotto and dispatching a few paltry spiders, Lachance and I “chanced” upon a secret warehouse choc-full of chests and various other crates and wares. I had hoped for some cigars, but it was not to be.

Needless to say I took a moment to examine each chest thoroughly as Lachance proceeded to ask me for the fiftieth time if I’d heard the tale of Mathieu Bellamont.

As it happens, I had.

Walking became difficult as my pockets began to bulge with coin and gems recently acquired from said chests. I had considered putting some of the coins back to aid my stealth…and that’s when I woke up.

~

The East Empire Trading Company’s warehouse was decidedly quiet, and I wondered if we were about to be ambushed, so I took things slow.

Lanchance on the other hand strode right on out into the open announcing clearly that he “Lived again”.

Seconds later, steel was drawn and what had so far been a smooth operation turned into a somewhat boring, yet familiar situation. Namely one in which Lachance became riddled with arrows and I employed my best Linford Christie impersonation.

As I burst through the main doors of the warehouse onto the decking of the Solitude docks a character I had come to know as Deeja blocked my way.

No questions asked I shot her in the knee and ran past as if my life depended on it. As it happened, it did.

I was mildly miffed as I sprinted due to a few coins spilling across the decking. I skidded to a stop to collect them up but was nearly pinned to the spot by bow fire.

Deeja had regained herself and made her way towards me. Soiling myself I turned and ran again as a hail of arrows dropped out of the sky towards me.

Without thought I executed a perfect swan dive into the water and let my momentum and angle take me down. I heard the muffled impact arrows as they struck the water around me, but I was safe, though I couldn’t see a thing.

BUMP.

I’d hit the bottom of the riverbed.

Or had I?

I know that shape…I thought to myself.

As it turned out, my “Lewt-dar” was obviously turned up to 11 as I ran my fingers across the familiar shape and texture of an olde oaken chest.

What luck.

Despite running short on breath I prized the lid open and retrieved a tidy sum from within before fucking off up the other side of the river bank.

Next time, though, I’ll wear a less tight fitting codpiece.

~Lordt

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Lordt, The Minecraft Chronicles. “Now, Use This Wisely”

We woke up in the middle of nowhere. To be more precise it was more of a grassy knoll in the middle of nowhere.

There were trees in every direction and mountains on the horizon. Lush streams formed crystalline lakes and animals roamed free. The world was our oyster.

Taking a look around I began to notice the sun slowly set in the background and the hilltops began to glow in the twilight.

It was at this point I also noticed a throng of armed skeletons heading our way.

“Run!” I cried. But running did no good as they had bows and arrows and were using them liberally in our general direction.

“Hide!” I cried, but there was nowhere to hide…

“Dig!” I cried, but our efforts only lead to a cavern full of yet more skeletons.

This was beginning to develop into a really tedious situation.

“Build!” my companion suggested.

And thus, our first night on this virgin world was spent huddled on a 1 by 1 metre squared chunk of earth about 60 or so feet in the air.

It began to rain.

I’m glad it rained, as due to the skeletons that loomed in the darkness, I had once again soiled myself with particular vigour.

It was a long night.

As the rain eased I wrung out my trousers and eagerly awaited the arrival of the sun, which wasted no time in presenting itself fully to the host of beasts below. They combusted forthwith.

We had survived our first night.

Next on the menu was to set up home. We couldn’t risk another night trapped in the wilderness and so we dug into the side of a rock face overlooking a large pool. I suppose in our minds this created some form of natural moat. The reality being it merely blocked our escape.

As my partner chiselled away I began arranging area of the crude rooms he had carved. We got into an argument, however, after I boxed him in with some granite be accident, nearly suffocating him in the process.

Later that night we saw the creatures return, except this time we had the last laugh due to our well-constructed abode. The laughter was short-lived as whilst trying to open the door to take a look outside I accidently managed to destroy it, using up the last of our wood resources in the process.

Another night was spent in fear huddled around a crude torch we had fashioned from some sticks and coal. The creatures didn’t seem to enjoy light, and it did the trick until morning where I received specific instructions to never touch anything ever again.

The weeks passed much as the previous days. I learnt a few skills and managed not to destroy our first home, but as time passed we decided that home just wasn’t home unless it was a fucking castle.

We built high, strong and long until our castle was a fortress to behold. No creatures of the night would dare threaten our might now and soon, with the right gear, we would take the fight to them.

It was some time before my partner stumbled upon a metal seam. How we rejoiced. Real weapons and armour at last! If only there was more of it…

“Now, use this wisely” my companion explained as he smelted down another piece of ore into a fine ingot.

I nodded, though I’m not sure why.

As the days wore on we amassed enough metal to fully arm ourselves against the foes without, but then something caught my eye…

We were mining deep, stocking up on spare ore in case we needed repairs on our gear, when a golden glint formed a smirk on my lips.

Sadly, it didn’t take long for my partner to notice too and he gasped, realising we were stood on top of a seam of purest gold.

Together we mined the precious ore until we had amassed a small amount to lead riches to our cause.

Around the fire that night, my companion spoke.

“Gold. We can do so much with it. Circuitry, tracks, ornaments. There is the wealth too…” He looked up to the stars as he imagined we might create, if not today, then tomorrow.

How sad for him to awake the next morning to an empty stash.

The door to my chamber opened. More specifically, it flew of the hinges.

“All right, where is the…!?”

In the doorway stood my companion, agape.

In the centre of my chamber, stood I, clad head to foot in golden armour. The ensemble was set off by my gold broadsword with a few ingots strewn around the room for good measure.

There was a moment’s pause before my companion spoke.

“You’re an anus”.

 

~Lordt

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Lordt, The Skyrim Chronicles. “Poor Olde Titus Mede II”

Poor olde Titus Mede II.

I had learnt of his whereabouts via Amaund Motierre, the spineless goon. For some tiresome reason or another, the fellow wanted the Emperor dead. I merely replied that if the price was right, not only would I kill the Emperor (As I did his cousin Vittoria – But that’s another story), I would also perform the task wearing a gimp mask and matching leather briefs.

As it turned out, the latter was not required but the coin was good enough for me to accept the contract.

~

I knew it wouldn’t be easy, so I took my best man, Marcurio. When I say best man, I mean, only man. Stenvar, my previous companion had bought it during another adventure after proving he was indeed the buffoon we all had him down to be. Lydia I left in the kitchen still trying to make a decent broth.

On a side note, not only will I mention that Lydia is incapable of preparing a simple stew, but she insists on standing unerring close whilst trying to have a conversation. One of these days I’m sorely tempted to throw her into a deep ravine or perhaps even off the top of High Hrothgar.

I digress…

After a wet start to the campaign I reached the ship and proceeded up the anchor chain into the stern, brutalizing any guards that happened to be in my way.

I decided the only decent thing to do was to strip them naked and piled them high.

I made my way below deck with Marcurio in tow, clunking around like the Tin Man on acid. Honestly, I don’t know why I bothered trying to remain quiet.

I saw something up ahead and told Marcurio to hold fast whilst I went to investigate. A rogue sailor was moving from bunk to bunk slitting the throats of innocent guardsmen whilst they slept. I stood back and admired the spectacle wondering on how he reminded me of a young me back in the day.

I crept low and quiet behind the sailor, lifting a coin purse from each of the dead guards. Once he had finished his rounds I simply turned the knife on the man himself, catching him before he fell and then deciding to let him fall.

The sound surprised Marcurio and he bowled into the room, spilling bedpans all over the show. I decided to move on as loitering in a room slick with faeces and blood was not my idea of a good time.

The men on the next deck were wise to us and the second I moved up the stairs I received a haircut.

A short back and sides wasn’t exactly what I was going for but it’s what I got. After that Marcurio nearly burnt the ship down setting the Penitus Oculatus soldiers on fire.

After rolling the dead corpses around on the floor for a few minutes to douse the flames I warned Macrurio that any more of his shenanigans and I would be bunging up the latrine with his scrotum forthwith.

I had some success down the next corridor where I found Lieutenant Salvarus aimlessly studying an olde map. Someone should have told him it was a tea towel covered in urine.

Needless to say I slit his throat before he could raise the alarm.

Sadly, Marcurio had raised the alarm and the place filled with men at arms, including Captain Avidius himself. The captain turned out to be one hard bastard so I left him to Marcurio whilst I mopped up the lewt from Salvarus. It turned out he had the key I needed to the Emperors quarters. I say needed, but I could probably have picked it if I could have been bothered, which I couldn’t.

With everyone dead and a coin purse bulging with, well, coin, my spirits were high. Marcurio’s shit-eating grin on the other hand soured my mood and I made him knock on the door to the Emperors’ quarters. I wanted any traps that might be set off aimed at him and him only.

No response was forthcoming from the room, but a swift peek through the ‘ol keyhole afforded me a clear view of the Emperor quivering in his throne.

I considered a number of possibilities on how to approach the situation, including diplomacy. Perhaps he would offer me a bribe…

I kicked open the door and before Emperor Titus Mead II could even fully inhale to begin to speak an arrow shaft protruded from his eye socket.

Seconds later I was wearing his robes and spending his gold Solitude.

What a pleasant afternoon.

And Marcurio? My warning was duly noted and his scrotum remains stretched over the ships second deck shitter to this day.

 

~Lordt

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Lordt, The Conflict: Denied Ops Chronicles. “Communication Issues”.

General Ramirez had led his reign of terror for too long.

This time, Lang and I had him like an animal in a cage.

The problem was that about a cool half century of your typical stock men-at-arms and a few heavies stood in our way.

We’d been fighting all day to get this far and I wasn’t sure we’d make it due to Lang taking more than his fair share of damage from some of my frags. Well, he just got in the way…

I broke out olde painless and let rip. I then began to fire the gun.

Graves took up a decent position to begin his sniping work, but I made a mockery of that as I filled the area with smoke grenades and yet more frags.

I then relieved a few corpses of their grenades before adding them to the mix.

I looked up to see Lang staring at me.

“WOULD you stop?” he asked behind gritted teeth.

I was out of grenades anyway.

By now half the army were dead, but half our cover was also gone thanks to your truly.

Lang hit the deck as an RPG flew overhead.

“RPG!” I called out after the event.

We began mowing the area as a solid team; Three to four head shots on one man for Lang to take them down, occasional spray and pray winging hits from myself murdering anything I looked at.

Ramirez was here somewhere.

A tank burst through the gates to our right, and I’ll be honest, I touched cloth.

I looked over at Lang and saw him flick last night’s curry out the bottom of his combat trousers.

In a fit of hysterics I blew up every canister I could see, taking away any potential collateral damage in seconds.

The look on Lang’s face led me to believe he had banked on using some of those canisters to take down said approaching tank.

The wall next to me exploded and more men hoved round the corner.

I welded my finger to the trigger.

As I cut through the enemy, Lang shouted my way.

“One thing…gotta remember…when we reach Ramirez…kill him”

“Yeh yeh, I got it!” I replied over the noise of my machine gun and mounted grenade launcher. I smirked as I noticed Lang wonder where thee fuck I got those extra ‘nades from. I hope he didn’t check his pack…

Besides, the tank was on to us now and I ran for a rocket launcher conveniently propped up by a nearby wall. Nobody seemed to care about Lang at this point and I was summarily reamed by all and sundry.

Scrambling to my feet Lang cleared the area with some well place head shots and I loosed rockets at the tank.

As luck would have it, it exploded.

The remaining soldiers lost their courage and we bolted through the courtyard, keen to catch up with Ramirez. He couldn’t be far…

“He went in there!” cried Lang, pointing towards a nearby villa.

We burst in like movie stars, hosing the area at will and clearing each mantelpiece of all chinaware and priceless ornaments. I noticed a sidelong glance from Lang as he waited to see if I was about to produce another grenade.

I didn’t.

We saw Ramirez run into the next room And gave chase. Lang was just behind; reloading his gun with the calm confidence of a man who knows his quarry is going nowhere.

As he walked into the next room I saw anger flare in his eyes, as opposed to the raised high five and/pr fist bump I had been expecting.

Ramirez lay slumped in the corner of the room with a bullet through his head.

Lang left me hanging.

“I said DON’T kill him”.

 

~Lordt

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Lordt, The Skyrim Chronicles. “Lightning the Coinpurse”

It was any ordinary day in Whiterun, except things were about to get a little odd.

I recently had lunch with the Greybeards up on High, and they had taught me a thing or two about fucking shit up, one way or another.

Their first mistake was assuming that I would use such powers responsibly. Their second mistake was actually going so far as to teach me said powers. Their third mistake was leaving me alive.

After blasting Lydia off the top balcony on High Hrothgar, I felt much better about myself without that nagging cook following me around all day without so much as a moment’s slap and tickle.

So I made my own way to Whiterun in search of a new henchman, and perhaps drain an ale or two whilst I was there. If my luck was really in I’d find a few coin purses to empty as well, including my own.

~

It was a bright afternoon and I was bored of waiting around for a likely henchman to present himself, and I was also sick and tired of the olde man in the corner of the tavern presenting himself.

I stepped outside and my eyes turned to pinpricks as the sun blinded me after being indoors for so long. Somewhere between then and my retinas becoming normal again, I heard a few screams followed by the impression of a large shadow across the ground in front of me.

I looked up, squinting, and realized we were all boned. A dragon loomed large as life above the City and had decided that we were all on the afternoon’s menu.

I deftly stepped inside a shop to conduct some last minute, pressing business hoping that by the time I reemerged the dragon would be long gone and I could finish my ale.

No such luck.

After lingering in the shop for twenty minutes the shopkeeper insisted I leave and at the very least help mop up the body parts in the town square.

Outside I received quite a shock. The local militia had massed and was giving the dragon a run for its money. Perhaps I would stick around after all…the dragon bones could fetch a pretty penny in the next town and if I could get in there quick…

A cry went up. A small child was torn in half and half again. This caused the militia to disperse in fright and I was left standing in the courtyard on my own.

My training.

What the Greybeards had taught me was sacred lore entrusted to only best. I was privy to this knowledge. I was amoung the best.

I thought hard. What incantation to use?

As I looked up I realized what I had to do. I squinted again thanks to that damn Sun. Yet it was my inspiration.

I called a storm so powerful and so fierce that the dragon would flee before me as I commanded the elements of wind and water, with a healthy dose of lighting wagered into the bargain for good measure.

I was on song with the incantation and soon the clouds rolled in and the Sun finally fucked off.

A fork of lightning played across the sky, dazzling mine eyes and distracting the dragon as it struggled to hover against the rising wind.

My clothes became drenched, my hair became mussed. I cared not.

And then I heard the screams.

Confused, I assumed they were shrieks of joy as I clearly had the upper hand against the dragon. But I was wrong, so wrong.

All those outside who were gawking at the spectacle now stood as rigid skeletons whilst lightning played about the courtyard. Fork after fork jumped from shopkeeper, to townsfolk, to soldier…women and children alike. The Greybeards had not taught me how to stop the spell…Twats.

I can see the conversation now. “What if someone wants to stop the spell?” “Oh, why would anyone want to do that? Uhohohaha. More Brandy?”…

The water just made it worse…so much worse. I covered my nose as the smell of charred flesh wafted across the courtyard. I backed away under the canopy of the smithy and waited out the remnants of the storm.

Before long the skies reverted back to the clear summer’s day they had been only minutes before.

The dragon was gone. Everybody was dead.

I looked around at the bodies, many with jackets and trousers sundered open.

Seeing no survivors I concluded that not only had I repelled the dragon, but I had inadvertently just made some tidy coin as well.

Not bad.

 

~Lordt

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Lordt, The Diablo Chronicles. “Learn Your Bestiary”

Another day another dungeon.

Well, this time it was more of a fortified bunker.

A guard captain yelled at us to get our asses out on the battlefield as the defences were being overrun. In the distance my companion and I could see horde after horde of strange creatures massing into one hideous army. Some of them seemed to be fighting amongst themselves, which proved amusing, but as the captain yelled at us again we decided that we had best start moving.

As we ventured forth something caught my eye.

I elbowed my companion and thumbed off to the left. “Look, a fortified bunker”.

I saw a flicker across his eyes as if he were weighing up the choice between continuing onto the battlefields into the mayhem to help save the realm from utter destruction or take a short detour into the relatively safe environment of the fortified bunker whilst those outside got slaughtered.

The choice was a no-brainer

“lewt” I whispered into his ear to seal the deal.

Seconds later we were inside.

“Phew” I dusted off my cloak and took a look around. What a dump.

“Chances of quality gear in here are slim…” I uttered with disdain. My companion had recently acquired some choice items and I was long overdue an upgrade.

“We’ll find you something” he replied, clapping me on the shoulder. The sage monk always had a way of calming me down. In this incidence though, he failed and I shot disintegration beams indiscriminately around the interior of the bunker leaving no bench un-splintered and no chair un-broken. Barrels sundered and crude beds turned to sawdust under my gaze.

“Fell better?” my companion said in disbelief. “I hope they didn’t want to use this place later…”

“Let’s move”, I said, pressing on.

Deeper into the bunker the room opened out and it was not long before my companion sensed trouble round the next corner.

What presented itself was a large group of skeletons intent on adding us to their ranks. What happened next was a lesson from my companion as the skeleton horde broke into pieces in a cacophony of moans.

“Class dismissed” said the monk.

Moments later a huge meteorite tore through the ceiling and pounded into he ground directly in front of him. “JESUS”

I cleared my throat.

As we moved on I left no chest unopened and no button undone as I quite literally stole the shirt of a dead adventurer. I’d been in need of some good toilet paper for some time, and since the most recent chest was devoid of anything other than utter tat, I decided to relieve myself forthwith and close the lid, not even bothering to seal it.

By now I had lost sight of my companion as he had continued no up the hallway. I didn’t particularly like getting split up in unknown territory, but on this occasion my trepidation was instantly forgotten.

“Treasure Goblin!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. That little git…

It moved fast as its sack disappeared round the corner…But not as fast as my companion. A trained monk his feet moved quicker than mine and he was back down the hallway and round the corner before I’d even re-tied my bootlaces.

I heard a momentary kerfuffle followed by a harrowing scream before the half dissolved corpse of my companion plastered against the wall beside me. I look up from my boots just in time to see a splatter of acid run down the wall as well.

“Um…”

Standing up I experienced a moment of confusion before I realised that what I had thought to be a treasure goblin actually had indeed been a different, malicious kind of goblin full of acid.  It had exploded on impact with my companion and the pair of them had bought it in a shower of acid and guts.

As I stood there counting myself lucky the wall caved in and a huge, armoured spider-like beast stood before me surrounded by a large group of assorted skeletons. The fight was on. I would mourn my friend later.

I stood, straddled, firing disintegration from the hip. Skeletons scattered and ran, but the huge beast stood firm, taking shelter in its armour-like skin.

A ghostly voice seemed to hover over the wind.

“Get me up”. I was the spirit of the monk.

Under the mass of bodies I found it hard to tell where he had fallen, and the debris from the broken wall just made things worse. If I could just get to him, not only would I have my old chum back, but I could leave him to fight the huge beast whilst I went back to town to sell up peruse the latest wares on offer.

“Where are you?” I said to no one, feeling more than a little foolish”

“You are basically wiping your arse on my cross” the ghostly voice uttered angrily. “Get me up”

I looked down as sure enough I was straddling the temporary memorial of my dead friend.

Duplicates.

The beast didn’t know who to attack and I began to work on resurrecting my friend. Mid-way through I thought to myself “Might as well” and landed another meteorite into the vicinity, destroying nearly everything.

As the dust settled and with my incantation complete, my companion stood there looking angrily at me as I picked around for coins and jewels on the floor.

He caught my eye as I moved to pick up a perfect ruby.

“Learn your bestiary”.

~Lordt

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Lordt, The Diablo Chronicles. “Thanks”

“A resplendent chest, you say?” I muttered to my companion as I fingered the remnants of my beard.

We stood on the threshold of a dungeon, deep within the terra firma.

“There is usually one in here…” he replied.

Before he could finish his sentence I was half way down the corridor, the mere mention of a chest setting my legs into motion. I’d recently acquired some new boots which also hastened my progress due to some magical enchantment. At least I’d get there first.

Then, like so many times before it dawned on me. Somewhere beyond sight within the depths of the cavern system would almost certainly be a plethora of beasts waiting to carve me up into some form or paste and/or dine upon my man-flesh.

I came to a slow halt.

“Hmm, perhaps you should go first?” I uttered to my monk companion.

He looked sceptical. “I always open the chests first, perhaps it’s you turn?” he looked hard at me.

“You are allowing me first refusal on the chest?” he wasn’t buying it. I nodded meekly.

I saw an inward sigh as he resigned himself to the fact that we weren’t going anywhere unless he started walking, and so took the lead.

“Quite the interior decorators, wouldn’t you say?” I offered, trying to break the silence as we walked down the corridors. A small ball of flame hovered above my hand as I illuminated the immediate area. The walls were more or less decorated in intestines and faeces.

“Would you shut up?” my companion replied, eager for stealth. “With a piece of luck we can be in and out of here quicker than curry through a week olde baby”

I gulped, wondering if the decoration on the walls was indeed the result of curry through week olde baby.

As we rounded a corner I noticed a gleam of light at the end of the tunnel. Mine eyes transfixed, what I failed to notice was the trap immediately before me that my companion had deftly stepped around.

Seconds later a set of spikes smashed into he ground before me. I narrowly avoided being turned into said paste, but the damage was done; my britches now swung unnaturally with shit as they we tucked into my boots.

I had expected a berating from my companion but he said nothing, instead getting low and creeping closer to the chest that was glinting in the corner.

This annoyed me as secretly I wanted to open the chest first, and to be honest I didn’t even really care what was in it given the amount of tat we found laste time.

He stopped. This was my chance. “Now before we open…” he began to say, but it was too late. One teleport spell later and I was pulling stuff out of the resplendent chest like I was searching for a diamond in a pile of dirty socks.

Moment’s later the room was a hive of activity. We were boned.

“You fucking idiot!” I heard my companion shout. I say heard, but it would be more accurate to say I thought I heard, as I was actually in town selling up and smelting all the wares I had discovered within the chest. A pretty penny I got for them too.

Somewhere through the portal I thought I heard the ghostly echoes of my companion cursing me from a distance…

As I stuffed another few gems into my stash I considered that I should probably go and help him.

I stuck my nose through the portal and was met with a solid stone wall. “Wallers”. Great, the beasts had spell casters with them that had the ability to wall you in with magically create mounds of earth. Not such a problem for me, as I could just teleport out, but for my companion, well…

Seconds later the wall vanished and I nearly tripped over my companion as I jumped through the portal heaving a full half dozen meteorites onto the field of battle. The noise was deafening and the visuals, blinding.

“Ahaha, I’m just warming up!” I shouted to a quiet cavern.

All about lay a mass of corpses, piled high, naturally due to my own prowess. In the centre of the cavern stood a small wooden cross surrounded by a pile of loot.

I recognised the remains as that of my companion and began to work a spell to resurrect him. Seconds later he appeared, somewhat miffed.

He uttered but one word and I wasn’t not entirely sure that it was sincere.

“Thanks.”

 

~Lordt

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Lordt, The Call of Duty Chronicles. “Did you just throw a…?”

Berlin.

We had come this far, we couldn’t fail now…

I had seen more bloodshed than I could ever have imagined, yet there was more to come.

As my comrade and I made our way through the destroyed streets of a once great city we kept low as the area was rife with snipers.

Fucking snipers, I thought. Always the thorn is my side.

My comrade breathed a sigh of relief as a bullet ricocheted off a wall near our position.

Not long now, the tanks were on their way. We had come this far…

As we hunkered down I drew out my hipflask and took a swig to steady my nerves. The last thing I wanted was an itchy trigger-finger with the barrel of my SVT-40 this close to my comrade’s ear-hole. Besides, it was a good excuse for a mid-afternoon piss up.

I could feel the ground tremble. I could hear the shouts in the distance; the tanks we here.

“This is it!” cried Viktor.

I closed my eyes for a moment and then we were off.

To my left my comrade was firing at the snipers with telling accuracy, the tanks causing the distraction we needed as they rounded the corner. I picked up an RPG and started on the masonry.

As the tanks progressed so did the bulk of our forces. This was it.

As we moved through Berlin I made sure I had my comrades back. Looking out for each other was the only way.

The sound was deafening as the tanks unloaded and bullets rained around us. Buildings fell, men fell.

The tide was turning and I picked up a type 100 automatic from a rigid German hand. I let rip at anything that moved.

Sometime during the next few minutes the Germans decided they had had enough. The rout was on.

Clip after clip my finger never stop depressing the trigger. Look at them run! I thought to myself as the Germans tried in vain to get the hell out of dodge.

This’ll learn em’ I thought as I finally stopped firing an unloosed the clasps on my bandoleer to remove a few choice grenades I had miraculously saved for just such an occasion.

1, 2, 3. I counted as I threw the RGD-33’s skyward.

I looked over to see how my comrade was doing; perhaps even hoping for his approval at my gratuitous and unnecessary grenade-manship when I realized his wasn’t there.

Looking around it was then that I noticed a lone figure about 50 feet in front of me standing on a small collection of primed RGD-33 grenades.

“Did you just throw a…?”

 

~ Lordt

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Lordt – I Heart Golden Axe

I have no friends as I’ve accidentally hacked them all to pieces whilst trying to cleave meat and pot from the heaving sacks of many blue and green midgets.

I eat too much red meat for my own good and I spend all my spare time at the quarry lifting rocks to keep in shape, even though I can make them spew forth from the ground like confetti on a whim.

I enjoying prancing around in blue trunks and I scream like a girl when someone hits me.

I can run like Linford Christie, jump like I’m on the moon and the only thing that scares me is that I may one day run out of oil.

My name is Ax Battler. And I use a sword.

~

I HEART GOLDEN AXE.

~Lordt

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Lordt, The Splinter Cell Chronicles. “Shhhh”

I had taken my time to check that the coast was clear. I went high, my partner low.

We were ghosts.

I had my night vision goggles on, but it was difficult to see due to the rain. Still, it was better than nothing.

The mission was simple, we had to find and capture an enemy dictator so that he could be brought to justice. The application, however, was a little more complicated.

The building we were to infiltrate was little more than a nightclub with residence above, but it had many windows and dozens of eyes. Our intelligence told us that our man could be located on the top floor and that the men inside would be packing heat.

Stealth was out only hope; In and out, no noise, no mess.

And that’s when the fun began.

As I mentioned before, my partner went low and I could just make out his form against the blackness of the night as he scaled a small fence. I had gone high to scope the joint and then planned on connecting back up with him again once my surveillance was complete.

As I reached the top of the block opposite the club my eyes fixed on the windows to ascertain any movement and perhaps even point of entry. I moved slowly, but surely until I came to a stop.

It was then I shat.

I could hear a variety of alarms and shouting coming from the building.

Struggling to figure out what had alerted the guards my first thought was to immediately blame my partner, who must have bungled into a trap.

It turns out I was wrong as an angry voice through my earpiece informed me that I had come to rest in front of a neon sign in full view of the street and building opposite.

My bad.

Thoughts ran through my mind as I imagined the menacing silhouette I must have offered, rifle on my back, balaclava over my head. There was no doubt they were on to us by now.

I expected gunfire, but the enemy sat tight, presumably brisling with adrenaline as they watched me.

I had to get off the building, and quickly.

As I descended I misplaced a foot and fell into a stack of wooden crates, bringing more attention to my whereabouts. I panicked and ran straight for my partner and scampered over the fence.

He looked horrified as I joined back up with him and whispered. “If you have any grenades on you I’m leaving now”.

“I didn’t bring any” I lied.

We approached the door to the club and listened. All was quiet, but they had to know we were out here. As my partner readied a small surveillance optic I removed my goggles and kicked in the door, sub machine gun at the ready.

Nothing.

I looked down at my partner who crouched in disbelief, optic positioned where the bottom on the door once was. He sighed, putting away the optic and we entered with caution.

Ground level; The bar.

“Now careful” my partner suggested. This irritated me. I’m always careful.

As I casually strode through the bar I realised that my partner was on all fours.

Oops.

I looked around, finished a shot that was hastily left on the counter and crouched down with him, hoping he hadn’t noticed. He never mentioned.

We reached another door and my partner took the lead. He cracked it open and found a guard inside. I took it upon myself to switch the light off and in seconds the guard lay unconscious on the floor. I turned the light back on to see my partner dusting off his hands. I nodded and fired a round into the guard’s chest before moving up the staircase.

“Jesus” is all that came through my earpiece.

Next on the menu were two jokers that thought it was a good idea to try and spot us on the surveillance cameras. They were so engrossed that my partner and I were half way down the corridor before even of them hit the floor.

Slick.

Top floor and we expected trouble. My partners slipped the optic under the door. Our mark was inside along with two guards. There also seemed to be a back exit which we had no time to double back and secure. We were going to have to be quick, but also careful as we needed our mark alive. No exactly my specialty.

Feeling confident, I whispered to my partner “I’ve got this”.

“You take the guard on the right, I’ll get the left, then we’ve got the bastard” he replied, pulling out his silenced pistol.

I nodded and pulled out my sub machine gun. All I got was a roll of the eyes in response.

I suppose at this point my greatest concern was pumping our mark and perhaps even my partner full of lead. As it turned out, none of this came to fruition as I booted the door open and stitched a dotted line of bullets around my guard.

I won’t doubt that the man I shot at had filled his pants, but it made no difference as before I could reload a new clip my partner had stabbed him in the throat with his knife.

There was a moment and then we realised our mark had bailed out the back door.

Shit.

The race was on and my odds were on the grenade I had just produced.

Sadly, I had to rethink my strategy as my partner was already down the staircase after the mark.

Shortly after the fading footsteps down the stairwell stopped and I heard a gargled choke followed by my partner’s unmistakable baritone. “Shhhh” echoed up the stairwell.

I looked around and noticed a wells stocked liquor cabinet.

“Might as well” I said, helping myself.

Job done.

 

~ Lordt

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