:: Dear Diary… Hey can you pass me the bottle of bodywash. The shampoo got in my eyes and I can’t ---*BANG* *BANG* *BANG*!....N-Nello! Evasive Action! ::
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<< You slammed into RIGHT WALL. You received -8 Bludgeoning Damage. >> << You slammed into LEFT WALL. You received -8 Bludgeoning Damage. >> << Please stop hitting yourself and seek counselling for Self-Harming Behaviour. >>
“F******K! N-NELLO! SLOW DOOOOOOOWN!”
“S-soryyyyyyyy!”
Nello the T-34 Tank was running. The ones chasing after him wasn’t the hundreds of Werewolves Native that suddenly decided to wage ware with their bow and arrows or tomahawks. No. Although they were swinging their weapons around, their animosity was not direct at the Tank at all.
Rather, they were charging past him down the roads of their village, to attack an even bigger problem.
*BANG* *BANG* *BANG!*
“N-nello!? Wh-what’s happening? Nuwoooh!”
“S-see for youself Big Sis!”
“I-I can’t. I-I was in the middle of a bed bath in your tummy, remember!? I-I only have a towel around my body and my hair still has soap! Th-there is no way I'm going to pop out like a cartoon heroine with zero moral just to see what is going on - So tell me what is going on!?
"W-we're under attack! Th-there are people riding on horses that are invading the village! I-I'm scare!"
"Y-you're a Level 50 Tank! We've dealt with horseback riders before, so why are you running around as if being chased by a dragon!"
"Th-the horses are super wierd! They're bones, but they're moving like real horses!"
"...Wh-what?"
Pastrache felt her throat choked on her on breath, but it was cleared out when the Tank swerved a sharp corner and it slammed her body into one side of the crew compartment. Grabbing onto the hand rails inside, she tried to adjust her seating with only a towel coiled around her body.
Don't blame her, having been slathered in Wolfling drools, snot, and... you don't want to know, she had to take a quick bed bath like shower in Nello's private compartment. There was no way she was going to dare herself and dip into the community pool (#NoChlorineInFantasyWorlds).
While she was stuck against the wall due to the Tank's speed, she quickly peeked through a flap in the armor.
"Z...Zombie Horses!? I-in broad daylight!?"
Men and woman came riding into the village. All of them galloping on the back of a series of magical constructions of bones that took on the shake of a skeletal horse. They dashed down roads an over the fences, raising mayhem as they pulled out their matchlock pistols and rifles to shoot all over the air to get the villager's attention.
[https://data.whicdn.com/images/248736072/original.gif]
Under the shadows of the many trees that kept the Lycan Tribe hidden, with a thick cieling made of green brances and Ashen Oak leaves, they freely dashed around the village as if it were their own rodeo range. Making a mess of everything.
They were even swinging around ropes tied into a loop, lassoing various Werewolf warriors and villagers that were trying to fight them or flee from them.
"Th-the h*ll? Who are these people!? Th-they can't do this!?"
"Wh-what do I do, Big Sis? Th-there's to many of these people on scary horses! A-and my Armor Platoon back in Stalingrad isn't here! I-I'm outnumbered 20 to 1!"
"S-stop running around first, Nello! I-I can't sit properly--Uwoooh--If you keep swinging me around like a coin in a turtle shell to read someone's fortune---Kyaaaa!"
The half-naked Half-Elf let out a squeal when her face flew and smacked itself across the console. The T-34 Tank gave a bit of a 'yelp' sound from feeling something hittind the inside of his body and it was enough for him to screech to a halt.
"B-Big Sis, are you okay?"
"M...my nose... is it bleeding?"
"I-I don't know, I-I can't see inside myself--GYAAH!"
Stolen novel; please report.
The living armored vehicle gave another sharp yelp, when a pack of skeleton horses leapt over his head and body. A perfect 10 point jump. However, one rider wasn't paying much attention and miscalulated another obstacle.
So he ended up smacking his chest onto Nello's 3 meter cannon, and was catapulted off of his horse with a flop.
"OW! TH-THAT HURTS! NYAAGUU!"
Nello didn't get a chance to get mad. His nose ended up dropping into the ground to let a bullet fly over. The same way a man would duck his head to avoid an arrow.
"Uwa, uwa. Th-the people on the scary horses are attacking from both sides. Th-they even brought in their own funny looking tanks! Oh my god, this as bad as the German Tiger Tanks invading Stalingrad!"
"Wait, Nello! Th-those aren't tanks, those are regular wagons!...W-wait, a-are they tying the villagers up now so they could haul them onto the transport... No.... Don't tell me.... please don't let it be true... they're not the ones we have to fight. I-it can't be!"
The men and women on skeletal horses came flying through the roads and in between the tents. Nothing seemed to be able to stop their movements as they recklessly charged without concern for their bodies or well being.
Even if they get stabbed with a flying spear or arrow to the chest or stomach, they still continued to reload their muzzle-loading weapon to fire at their opposition.
Pale white skin thinner than bed sheets.
Sharp fangs that look too pointed to be fake.
Red eyes that hunger for the thirst of blood.
There was no sparkling features, only dust that painted their thick leather coats and vest, while hiding their eyes from the crack of light that slipped through the cieling of tree branches.
...Vampires.
[https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&source=imgres&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwjl5fnJt7fgAhVlHjQIHbj4BkMQjRx6BAgBEAU&url=https%3A%2F%2Fgiphy.com%2Fgifs%2Fmonogatari-bakemonogatari-hanekawa-Z6WOoQYGq2cz6&psig=AOvVaw1waOkrpQP5xKAYv79SbD_Z&ust=1550103475987684][https://i.giphy.com/media/Z6WOoQYGq2cz6/giphy.webp]
"...I...impossible... th-the Vampires... are really the bad guys here?"
"B-Big Sis! Please give me an order! I-I don't know what to do!"
Unable to hear the confident voice of his beloved friend, the T-34 quickly took mattered into his own hand. Unsure who is truly the enemy or who is truly the friend, he didn't dare shoot either his anti-infatry gun or his cannon. The last thing he wanted was to hit the wrong people, or injure those that were his comrades.
This wasn't as convenient as a video game where your friend's allied colors and gamertags would show up on the screen. Or watching your crosshair turn green when you point your gun on them.
There wasn't even the safe friendly fire feature where you can dump the entire magazine into your friend's avatar and they would still be fine.
So Nello could only do was run. Moving around and trying to sneak behind the larger tents and teepees to keep out of sight, avoid being shot at by the matchlock bullets. He knew they won't hurt them, but he wasn't going to take any chances. Not when the one he was counting on was still in a vulnerable state of frozen shock.
".........................................................I...They...No....Edwin...I..."
"Big Sis? Big Sis!? Can you hear me? Oh no, d-did she get shot by the bad guys? I-I don't know first air! Medic! We need a medic!"
"............................... No. I-I'm fine."
"B-Big Sis! Thank the Tsar you're okay! P-please speak to me."
"................................."
Before Pastrache could say anything, she suddenly shoved her coat onto her body. Against Nello's request, she started to unlatch the lever that locked the door to the turret hatch. Once she popped the iron lid open, she hauled her head and body out to see the world outside of the tank.
She flinched, as a bullet grazed her cheek and drew fresh blood from her skin. It was a scratch that could easily heal... but the wound in her heart was opening even wider..
With her own eyes, she witnessed the evil the Chieftain St. Bernard was talking about.
Vampires on horseback charged in over the fences, firing their rifles. The Werewolf defenders met them with brave howls and ferocious snarls, armed with spears and thick shield carved from the core of the ancient Ashen Oak trees.
*BANG!* *ZIP!* *CRACK!*
Pastrache felt her heart fell to her feet, when the bullet from the rifles cut through the thick Lycan Oak Shield. Her throat twisted into tight knots when she saw one Werewolf body collapse after another. No one rose from that hit, they didn't even had a chance to moan in pain.
Even when spears rose up to attack the enemy that slained their brethren, they only slipped through the cracks in between the bones of the horses held together by a form of necromancy. A split second mistake was all it took, before the rider fired her pistol point black in between the eyes of the Werewolves.
... A massacre...
The Werewolf Tribe were completely outmatched by the ferocity of these Cowboy Vampires with their magical ghost horses and modern firearms.
And those riders were enjoying it with all their whooping and yee-hawing.
<< WARNING: Your Emotional Status is 120% above Critical. >> << Please calm down or you will suffer ongoing Psychological Damages. >>
"............................Edwin Coleman... Please forgive me."
"Di-did you say something Big Sis?"
"Let's do it."
"D-do what?"
"LET'S GO AND KICK THEIR BLOOD-SUCKING @SSES!"
".... ROGER ROGER! ATAKA!"
On that day, the cries of a Half-Elf and a T-34 Tank had never been louder. Not even the revving engines and the howl of the anti-infantry machine gun could keep up with their boiling rage.