A the Mountains of Methrage By Heinlander September 4, 2010 in World Affairs (IC) Share Followers0 Reply to this topic Start new topic 1 2 NEXT Page 1 of 2 Heinlander Members 167 Nation Name:Duchy of Taanstafl Alliance Name:Goon Order of Oppression Negligence and Sadism Posted September 4, 2010 Bootcrash over the hardpack snowdifts; the columns are broken, and platoon discipline has devolved into near savagery. The Grieftopian soldier tears across up the glacier's face, pace unhindered by the terrain's uncertainty. The blizzard is so heavy that the middle distance is a bleary haze, and beyond it, a treacherous oblivion. The weight of his gear drags him deeper into the snow, but he charges on. He can no longer see his comrades, but he can hear the thunder of their rifles. He is cold; his homeland is a contradiction to this terrible foreign land. A flat, hot desert in western continent. It conjures memories of treelike cacti erect amidst dried lakebeds; of blueish lightning blasting through hot summer skies at night; he remembers chasing frilled lizards across the salt pans with his friends. Some of them are with him now; some are already dead, freezing and half-buried in the driving storm, their blood being slowly deleted from the immaculate canvas. A dark shape fades into vision from behind the curtain of winter. Its onset is so random that the soldier takes it for a mirage. There's the sharp CRACK of small arms fire and a 5.6mm bullet slings past his right arm, and suddenly he sees the phantom with pure clarity. Cloaked in winter gear, he can barely reconcile his enemy with human form. He is entombed by scarves and wool and his face is masked by a black balaclava and goggles. He is without rifle but carries strips of rifle ammunition protected in leather pouches. He would have lost his weapon hours earlier in a fierce melee, and now had only his sidearm to fall back on. For a few long, deafening seconds, muzzle flashes cut through the stormfront, tongues of fire and thunder leaping in the point blank space between. The Goon soldier bites his tongue as a round pierces his right calf and he crumples to one knee, but not catching the doghead soldier in the jaw with his own. An arc of blood jumps from the hole that used to be his face and he falls back into the ice and snow, the pooling redness already thickening into frozen slick. He kneels for a few moments, breath ragged, pain racing from his sciatic nerve through his spine and blooming inside his head. He's been trained in battlefield medicine. He winces as he fingers around the wound and feels where the lead wad tore free, missing bone and artery. He can barely stand, does so, and limps onward up the side of the glacier. How many had this been? 5? 10? A baker's dozen? The whole nation is a fortress walled by snowcast mountains clawing up from the seaside like the bones of the earth, entrenched all over with its fanatical garrison. Their countrymen had crossed land and sea to attack Grieftopia's allies, and now that their own landing craft were cradled into the winding berth of the northland's fjords, those scars carved into the nation's bones when the world was made; a land whose creation was an act of violence. He traverses the glacier and reaches its summit, and there looks down at the valley below, into a sea of killing. Bodies shot through, grenaded, impaled by bayonet; tanks upturned, smoldering in blackened ruin like huge elephants hunted down and executed. Limbs scattered helter-skelter and everywhere streams of scarlet flow downhill, collecting in the valley basin, and leading out to sea. The Grieftopian looks over the carnage like a prophet. The dead of his enemy far outnumber those of his brothers. Already ensigns adorned with the black grenade fly over the snowfield and those with the baroque Libertarian sigil are piled and lit into bonfires. Its a rout; the enemy is driven before them, killed and sent in full retreat further inland, towards new forts and new killing grounds. This frozen cocytus sealing in its depths liars and thieves and cowards, who pledge their fealty to lords of greater depravity than their own, and they to greater still, until there exists in hell's frozen heart a mad king static in an icy sea of his own device. For this they have come, to do with savagery and with firearms and with long knives and bayonets what reason could not. For each man to be a sea spay of blood in the ocean of this world's killing.

Keep your freinds close but your enemies closer. Clearly smh Minesome :x , how dare you not appreciate my 4d chess moves.

didnt u ally GOONs in NaR, doesnt seem to be an AntiGooner to me

Put the GOONS back together and hate them back to the grave over and over. It is the only logical solution

Yes

Since goons is gone, does that mean we have to hate GOONs squad? Seems like the only smart step.

Honestly Goons should of won the worst alliance and most controversial. NPO wasnt as bad as GOONs. #JusticeForGOONs

Our group is very inactive, we need a new one. Correct, or incorrect?

And now Goons doesnt even exist, yet we still do. *dab*

Hi I am here to stop the insidious goon where do I sign

And most of them are goons lol

We've hit 69 members, nice.

https://strawpoll.com/4ga8zz34

Half a hamborger. That too stale.

2 nickles take it or leave it

Oaugh

hello i am a spy and i've come to this anti goons group bearing secret logs. for only one million dollars per letter i can give everyone here juicy secret GOONS information. to prove that i'm secretly in their discord here's some free logs to prove it.

I too hate goons

Just gotta embargo them individually

GOONS getting hit back with embargoes after all their embargoing does sound just. So I up voted since it sounds like some form of Karma hitting them back if it catches on.

Upvote if you have embargoed goons. Else you have smol pp and will prolly never get a minecraft gf. Oh and also embargo GOONS if you havent already

Ok boomer

please delete gonoz

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