Have Doggo, Will Travel.

Recruiting Sergeant Jayce Bronner glared at the teenage boy who had rather nervously asked him a very stupid question. “Okay the quickest way to satisfy your service requirement is volunteer to serve as a K-9 trooper.”

“A what?” The boy who had rather sheepishly introduced himself as Jann replied.

“A dog handler.” Bronner explained. “Sure you gotta break a few skulls with the Gendarmes but it’s a pretty easy gig and you only serve six years instead of the normal twenty.”

“What’s the catch?” Jann asked.

“The service dogs are retired after five years so typically the trooper is mustered out at the same.” Bronner added.

“So what happens with the dog?” Jann blurted out, not completely following the sergeant.

“It goes home with the soldier, that’s why the Guard only drafts K-9 troopers from planets where dog ownership is common.” Bronner said, Jann seemed a little redneckish but that was usually a good thing for a soldier.

“So I get out early and I get a cool awesome dog.” Jann answered, summing up what he had learned so far.

Bronner decided to start on the bad news. “One year of training, and then five years of service but you’ll be a Gendarme private the entire time. Hell you won’t even make PFC unless you do something stupidly heroic.”

“So no real pension or muster out bonus. Yeah I can live with that.” Jann said. Carolus had a decent enough economy that a returning soldier would have no trouble getting job. More than you could say for other places.

“You’ll have to score really damn well on the tests. Every goldbricker, coward and barracks lawyer tries for K-9 duty and the Guard really doesn’t need that many dogboys.” Bronner said firmly.

“So if I make the cut that will be accomplishment by itself.” Jann pondered.

“That’s not quite what I meant.” The recruiter groaned. Jann wasn’t a serious prospect but it was important to Bronner to represent the military as best he could.

“I get out early, I get a companion dog and I’ll be part of a select group.” Jann summed up.

“Select group is… one way to put it.” Bronner said remembering his own service. “One thing however it that if your partner is killed in the middle of your tour you usually get sent back for training with a new dog. Remember it’s the dog that gets retired early not the trooper.”

“So take care of the doggo?” Jann said. Catching the key point quickly.

“Right that’s the deal. You take of the dog, the dog takes care of you, Before, during and after the war.” Bronner said cheerfully “And God help you if another K-9 vet finds out you didn’t take care of your partner afterwards.” The sergeant said very sternly. Jann met his eyes briefly to show that he understood.

“Okay. So it’s the fastest way to honorably complete my service.” Jann stated.

“Second fastest would be to volunteer to service in the Colonial Police. That’s ten years and decent promotion opportunities if you re-up.” Bronner said, A lot of recruiters wouldn’t bring that point up since the Colonial Police weren’t part of the military but Bronner had always been too honest for his own good.

Jann nodded, clearly taking a mental note.

There was one more thing Bronner felt he should bring up, “The dishonorable option would be to intentionally fail your training say around the six month mark…”

“Hell no, sir,” Jann interrupted. “I don’t wanna go die in some rich man’s war but if I gonna do something I’m damn well going to do my best. I ain’t intentionally failing nothing.”

I took every ounce of Sergeant Bronner’ s lifetime of discipline not to laugh at that. “Good. Man to man, that’s exactly what I want to hear.”

Jann blushed and looked like he was on the verge of tears.

“Go home kid. The draft quota on this planet is so small that there’s almost no chance of your number coming up.” Bronner said defeatedly.

“Just wanted a plan in case it did, sir.” Jann said weakly. “Got a lot to think about. Guess I’ll go now.”

“Just remember kid there’s nothing stopping you from volunteering.” the old sergeant said calmly.

“Lot to think about,” Jann grunted, before slipping out the door.

“Go home, think about it.. and work on your English, It never hurts if you’re thinking about going off-world.” Bronner yelled out the door in reply.

Jann turned around and waved to thank the sergeant before continuing on his way.

“… I mean fuck I volunteered.” Bronner said to himself. “And he was a damn good dog.

Have Doggo, Will Travel.

The Premise

It was a century after the final cataclysm of the Third Mythological War.

The Gods lie sleeping, exhausted from their battles.

Demons and demigods released from their chains run amok, bringing terror and despair to mortal men.

The Elves have fled to their hidden sanctuaries. To bide their time and replenish their numbers. They will take no part in the struggles of this age.

The Dwarves have returned to the mountains seeking to reclaim their ancient fortresses from the terrors of the Deep.

It is an age of monsters and giants.

An age of tyrants and dark magic.

An age where evil stands unopposed and reigns from atop the ruins of a world.

Yet into this world rides one without a past, without a future, only a mission.

The world cries out for justice.

Talidor the Axe shall answer.

Be he God or Man?

The Premise

A Story Fragment

Had an unexpectedly busy last few days so I’m posting this in lieu of actual content… because brain not work too well right now.


Illegal Alien (Can’t remember why I titled it that)

“Worse disguise ever,” the figure in the full body suit burka sulked.

Markus had to admit she had a point. Walking through the Nebraska state fair dressed as a Arab couple two days after a major terrorist attack was turning out to have been a less than ideal choice, “I didn’t have to time to rig a magical disguise and if any of these people saw a non-human there would be a massive freak out.”

Zunni whined some more on sheer principle her hands almost shaking in frustration as they walked past a pulled pork BBQ kiosk with its very delicious smelling wares. It took every ounce of Markus self-discipline not to crack up laughing. Danburi elves were rather enthusiastic meat eaters whenever they got the chance to indulge their carnivorous instincts and pork in all its glorious multitude of forms was at top of their favorite things to eat. Probably because as subterranean dwellers they so rarely got the opportunity to eat mundane surface living livestock. The other possibility was that pork was the closest they could get to eating human flesh without breaking their religious codes. Not something that was discussed in polite company, mind you. Zunni however firmly insisted that she was a people person not a people-eating person.

“I’ll get you a ham when we get to the safehouse,” Markus promised as if to a small child. Zunni really didn’t seem to understand just how much danger the two of them were in. Especially since they couldn’t just start hurling fireballs around without killing and injuring dozens if not hundreds of innocents. “In the meantime just keep quiet unless you want to wind up locked up in Area 51.”

“Aww… I’m missing all the fun,” Zunni pouted. “and the bacon. Especially the bacon. Americans put bacon on everything.”

So this wasn’t Zunni’s first visit to Earth… interesting. Markus filed that thought away for later. The Order never told its field agents anything more than they absolutely needed to know. To be honest he really didn’t know that much about his companion only that it had taken a lot of horse trading and frantic diplomacy to convince her to get involved. What ever this current crisis was, it was serious enough that the Order was calling in a lot of favors.


A Story Fragment

A Completely Hypothetical Scenario

Humor me for a second. Let’s say that there was a planet that was experiencing a covert civil war. By this I mean that most of the fighting was being done cloak and dagger, by various factions within intelligence agencies and the corporate bureaucracies. Of course the occasional open skirmish between paramilitaries erupts from time to time but for the most part there is a gentleman’s agreement to keep things as quiet as possible and not alarm the public.

Now assume for a moment that one of the two major factions had control of the planetary weather control system. On one hand this is a powerful weapon but they need to be very careful not to push their luck too far. After all they are trying to conquer the planet, not destroy it and all major factions have access to WMDs. There is also the problem that if they keep messing with the weather too much the general population is going to notice something’s up and the last thing any of the elites want is the average citizen pulling his grandfather’s rifle out of the closet and getting involved.

Therefore use of the planetary weather control system is limited not so much by capability but political factors and the need to avoid escalating the conflict into open warfare.

So now that we have the basic parameters let’s ask the real question. What advantages would causing a continent-wide cold snap around the time of the major winter holidays confer?

Interestingly is not the northern cities that suffer. As a population that is prepared for -35C winters at least know what to do in -45C weather even if they are not particularly fans of it. Plus even the poorest citizen of a northern city is going to own a proper winter coat.

The southern cities also are barely effected. While snow in unexpected places can cause panic and a few traffic accidents, there will be no real damage to infrastructure.

It is the temperate cities in the middle of the continent that are most effected. A population that does not normally experience harsh winters is unlikely to own heavy winter clothing and infrastructure may fail if suddenly subjects to unexpected stresses.

Now what if the major political centers on this hypothetical continent were moderate temperate cities near a coastline. Well not only would we have cold weather in a city where the general population is unprepared for severe winter weather but there would also be much heavier snowfall than usual.

And this of course is during the major winter holidays, the time of year where air travel is highest. A northern airport is going to have a great of snow removal capacity, a temperate city airport is not. Therefore causing a cold snap is going to have the effect of shutting down or restricting air travel near the politically important coastal cities. Why do this?

Perhaps it’s a measure to make moving key personnel very difficult for the opposing faction.

A Completely Hypothetical Scenario

Holiday Trumpmas Dinner


“Dad, why do we eat pizza on Trumpmas?” Cody asked out of the blue.

“Because President Trump pardoned all the turkeys,” Kylie chirped in.

Dave looked at the kids and decided to go with that one, ”So it would be kind of a jerk move to eat turkey on Trumpmas.”

Cody’s eyes lit up for a moment but he wasn’t satisfied. “Isn’t there like another reason?”

Dave hesitated, “Probably but Trump lived a long time ago back on Old Earth. Nobody’s really sure why that wall he built was so important…”

“Can we build a wall? I wanna build a wall!” Erik yelled excitedly.

“Pizza’s ready!” Karen announced finally bringing the much anticipated dinner to the table and saving her husband from additional embarrassment. “Second one’s in the oven.”

“Hey Karen, is there a specific reason we eat pizza on Trumpmas?” Dave asked. “Is there a Christian thing that I’m missing?”

Karen looked confused for a moment, ”No? I can’t think of any. It’s just the tradition. I think we picked it up from the Magdenese.”

Dave grumbled slightly before he took the pizza cutter and begin cutting slices for the increasingly excited and impatient children. “It’s just weird that we really only eat pizza on this one day.”

“What’s wrong with having one day a year where we wear cowboy hats and eat pizza?” Karen replied. “The fourth of July* is the start of the summer holiday why not have a party with a few silly rituals?”

“Right, right sorry ignorant pagan here,” Dave grunted. “Cody was asking about it and it just got me wondering. Usually there’s a reason traditions get started.”

Karen eyed Dave wearily, neither of them were exactly Old Earth history experts. “Just eat the damn pizza, cowboy. Those illegals aren’t going to round themselves up.”

Dave shrugged, took a huge pull from his beer mug and after making sure all three of the children were taken care of made a plate for himself.

“I think I got it,” Karen announced. “There’s an old fairytale about Saint Donald and Jeff the Wizard breaking into Hell in order to rescue the children.”

The kids stopped eating and looked eagerly at their mother.

“But… what does that have to do with pizza?” Kylie asked.

“I don’t know.” Karen admitted. “I don’t remember the story that well.”

“Is there a movie?” Cody asked.

“There has to be a movie,” Erik added. “Can we watch it?”

“Saint Donald?” Dave muttered as he got up.

“Are you seriously going to search for it now?” Karen grimaced.

Dave drained the last of beer in a quick decisive gulp. “Yeah it’s a holiday and I got nothing better to do.”

“Any movie involving Hell is probably not going to be suitable for young children,” Karen scolded.

“Won’t know until I look,” Dave replied walking over to the television, and punching in the first few search options.”

Erik darted over to help his dad and Dave had to yell at him to go back in the dining room.

“I think I got something?” Dave announced. “But it’s in Russian, with subtitles.”

“English!” Karen yelled. “We speak English on this planet.”

“I know,” Dave laughed. “It’s just hilarious that that’s the first thing to come up.” Breyland’s vast electronic libraries were full of little gems like that. “It’s public domain so there has to be an English version somewhere.”

“And what’s the rating?” Karen demanded. “Just because it’s a fairy tale…”

“Bingo got it! Animated, Full English redub, seventy two minutes.” Dave announced triumphantly. “Are we watching it?”

The boys cheered loudly. They had no idea what the movie was but it had to be awesome right? How could such a thing not be awesome? Everything about Trump was awesome. That was what made him Trump.

“Kylie is five!” Karen said sternly as she stomped over to the television.

“Rated youth-seven.” Dave replied. “That’s probably pretty reasonable.”

Kylie sheepishly wandered over to her parents, “It’s a fairy tale, right?”

Karen reluctantly nodded.

Kylie continued, “and the good guys win, right?”

Dave and Karen looked at each other. The world wasn’t always fair but yes sometimes the good guys won and when they did win you made a point to tell their stories.

“Okay,” Karen agreed. “Let’s do this.”

Dave nodded wordlessly and then very carefully unhooked the television from the wall. Traditions always began somewhere and he was definitely curious about this one. Legends and myths passed from hand to hand twisted and reforged over the eons of time but as always the heroes and villains remained; such was the fabric of cultures weaved…

A sudden buzzer sounded and shattered that fleeting chain of thought as his wife frantically herded their daughter back into the dining room and darted towards the kitchen to take the second pizza out of the oven.

Dave said a wordless prayer to whatever deity might be listening and wheeled the television into the dining room. Hey it was a holiday why not have a little fun.


*Breyland uses a 13 month planetary calendar.

Holiday Trumpmas Dinner

Catgirls Needs Claws

Catgirls need claws: The standard weapons of the Nekoite militia.

Armies need equipment but what do you when you need to fight an interstellar guerrilla war and your army consists mostly of ninety pound catgirls?

What if resources are desperately scarce and you need to focus all of your high tech industry towards building up your space navy and keeping as many starfighters operational as near-humanly possible?

Well then one possible solution would be to mass produce low technology weapons copied from history and use those to equip your ground forces. Not an ideal solution but at least it’s a solution and the Nekoite Clans just so happen to have excellent records, blueprints and databases of a lot of Old Terra technology.


Lightweight, reliable and significantly better than nothing; the standard weapon of the nekoite militia is a folding stock copy of the M1 carbine.


The M1 carbine was also one of the most cost effective weapons used by the United States Military during World War II. At the beginning of World War II the average production cost for an M1 carbine was approximately $45, about half the cost of an M1 rifle at approximately $85 and about a fifth of the cost of a Thompson submachine gun at approximately $225. The .30 Carbine ammunition was also far cheaper to produce than the standard .30-06 ammunition; used less resources, was smaller, lighter, faster and easier to make. These were major factors in the United States Military decision to adopt the M1 carbine, especially when considering the vast numbers of weapons and ammunition manufactured and transported by the United States during World War II.”

Again the Nekoite clans are very lightly equipped and need weapons that can be mass produced while conserving high tech alloys and rare minerals. A 1940’s tech rifle requiring only a few basic computer assisted machine tools and some medium grade steel is for all practical purposes free. The only real cost is getting sufficient ammunition produced and distributed.

Officers and better equipped “Ranger units” are occasionally equipped with P90s or late model M-4s although that does complicate the ammunition situation. Ranger units are also going to have at least handful of laser or plasma weapons which can come as rather nasty surprise to an opponent who gets a little too dismissive of mere catgirls.


The next weapon is the M-79 grenade launcher. Why? Because why not? It also happens to be a very flexible weapon. Standard HE rounds are all fun and games but the nekoites have also developed a hollow charge HEAT “crackerjack” grenade that is just powerful enough to punch through a typical armored spacesuit. Again cost-effectiveness is the key. That said commando units can get their paws on some pretty exotic ammo of the mission is important enough.



And then we have the panzerfaust. Yes it’s a direct copy of the WWII weapon. Well usually a direct copy… sometimes you get a special snowflake panzerfaust with a plasma core warhead but that’s strictly for fighting giant robots. Again the panzerfaust was chosen as a low tech weapon that could be ridiculously mass produced and handed out to anyone who needed one.



Nyan! Desu! Banzai!!!


Well? What else would an army of catgirls carry as a sidearm? Besides if you’ll going to die for Holy Mother Terra you need to die with style as you take as many Face-Eating Giant Space Spiders with you as you can.


—Wolfman Out—

“I regret that I have but nine lives to give for my county. We’ll meet again in Meowhalla.” —Seiko

“Don’t be so negative, Bro. You got this.” — Ky’s response.

Catgirls Needs Claws

A Quick Checklist

The PulpRev crowd has been a very bad influence on me.

This is mostly at the brainstorm stage but I’ve been thinking about how cram all of the following into a single battle. Definitely keeping Rawle Nyanzi’s recent articles about romantic weapons in mind here.


-Swords (Katanas included)




-Interstellar cruise missiles

-Giant Fucking Robots!!!

Super Heavy Combat Walker: Callsign “Big Stompy”


-Powered Armor

-Combat Hovercraft

-Kaiju “Bio-Titans”


-Submarines In Space “Subphase ships”


Optional: These are in the maybe section.



Cyborg Alien Bear Gangster*


Deus Vult



*Not sure if this character will be present. I’d have a hard time justifying him getting stuck in the middle of a planetary invasion. He’s usually pretty good at avoiding those sorts of sticky situations.

A Quick Checklist