The snow had almost covered the entire camp site. My comrades, that's what we called each other, were off in the main tent drinking vodka and doing Reality 22:76.8.4 Russian things, such as studying the tactics of Leham Faulkner's American war strategies. I looked out into the snow ravaged field. Six clicks, or four, or is it "klicks", I honestly have no clue. The beaten animal was coming in fast, as a bear, the stereotyping asshole. I braced myself and shouted for the other Russian soldiers to come on out. Brandishing a rifle and my trusty sickle, well, trusty as in I'm playing a Russian so I need one, I stood watch. Aiding the beast's attack on this camp would fair well in breaking this reality even more, so as to charge the Orb. I braced myself for its impact, as big an impact as any large, snarling bear would have, and opened fire on the soldiers. Two down. The beast clawed some guy's arm off and he screamed. I stabbed him in the mouth, making sure to deliver my one liner, "Looks like you needed a pop SICKLE". I chuckled, as did the bear. The Orb began to glow and I waved my furry friend goodbye. The Dekn Lord of Torment waved back and off I went.



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