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5 novembre 1942
Bir El Abd, Egitto
“Enemy tanks broke through south of Ariete Division..."

Wind rustled through his hair, the sun basked upon his face. He took no notice of the sand blowing around him, the smell of flames blasting through the air.

"Ariete thus surrounded, located 5kms northwest of Bir-el-Abd..."

He tried to look down, alas, the cupola was still a bit too small for him. If he wanted to take a peek, he'd have to enter the turret completely. But the world was looking upon him now, in this battlefield where no man would ever take notice for years to come. He'd stay a little longer, ignoring his own condition for now. Tanks were littered here and there, some bearing markings of the English. But for the most part, Italy's beautiful roundel soon began to become scorched out of existence.

Eleven guardians. Eleven fallen. The fires were too great, and no one would come to put them out.

"Ariete tanks keep fighting!..."

That was the last time the transmission would be sent from his adjunct, of which was echoed since half an hour before. He didn't expect for the follow ups to be recorded, as the radio signal was just too weak for anything to take notice.

And yet he smiled. A triumphant smile that reflected sunlight upon his toothy grin. Blood gushed from places he couldn't see any longer, and yet he smiled. Why wouldn't he, his countrymen had survived. At the cost of eleven, an entire division would see another day. And for the Second Lieutenant, that was all that mattered.

Papà ... It's time we meet once more...
-----------------
XX mese sconosiuta XXXX
Corridoio Luminoso

The M13/40 came to a brief stop. The Italian didn't realize that he'd arrive upon heaven's doorstep upon a tank. Not to mention it was still riddled with holes, fuel almost completely exhausted. Heaven looked odd as well; he'd expected a flight of stairs and a large gate to be opened by a guardian. Instead it was more of a bright hallway, leagues of doors upon both walls. Looking forwards, he saw a bespectacled man reading a newspaper, as if completely ignoring the commander's presence. There was a mysterious aura to him, without room for guessing just who he may be. Nothing happened for almost half a minute, and so the tanker decided to speak up a little.

"È questo il paradiso?" he asked, inquiring if he was indeed sent to the seven clouds. Who knows; maybe the sins he had committed amounted to the fiery pits of hell? But the lack of response continued to confuse him. Without looking up from his newspapers, the man picked up a piece of paper, of which displayed the commander's personal information. There was a photo of himself, along with a name: Luigi Arbib Pascucci. Is he from headquarters? Am I still alive?...

Opening his mouth to question how the man had acquired such a document, a force began to pull his M13/40 towards one of the doors. Surprised, Luigi tried to get out of his tank, climbing out of the turret. But to no avail, it pulled on himself as well, the door frame widening to accommodate the vehicle, before he was finally taken away from the man and the hallway. Blacking out, Luigi continued to pray that hell was not for him.
----------------
XX mese sconosiuta XXXX
Nuovo Mondo
Opening his eyes once more, the tank commander awoke in a desert not too dissimilar from North Africa. A cliff hung nearby, rocks littered the flat landscape, and the wind blew dryly. Never had he felt more at home after being subjected to the unknown hallway of before, but now he knew that something was amiss. This was neither heaven nor hell, it may not even be a limbo. He thought to himself that this may be a second chance.

Clearing his mind, Luigi decided to manage what he would do now. Finally looking down into the crew quarters, he expected to see the lifeless bodies of his comrades. But not a single one was to be found. Their uniforms were left behind however, and that included their ammunition. So, collecting his missing gunner's left behind equipment, he clambered out of the turret, intent on scavenging everything he could get to start up an inventory. Every hatch would be searched, and every nook and cranny checked. If he was intent to survive, he had to make sure he knew just what exactly he had left.

After what he believed to be half an hour, Luigi had laid out everything he had gathered. His rucksack, ten clips of ammunition that he had fished out of the pockets of his men, several rations, his compass, his binoculars, a now useless map, and of course, the Carcano rifle to fire all the ammunition he had gathered. He had ripped up a few uniforms to patch up his wounds, the rest of the rags kept for emergencies.

Unfortunately, the fuel was almost gone, only good for a few more kilometers, and the tank's rounds were exhausted to the point of only have one of each kind; his crew had really given hell to the British. Holes were found on every plate of metal, almost destroying all the equipment the vehicle carried. After a bit of fixing and tweaking of the engine, he estimated that he could continue using the vehicle for another hour before having to walk on foot.

Sighing, he placed everything into the sack, and entered the driver's compartment. He was intent on using his loyal steed to the end, and hoped he could find fuel somewhere in this unknown place. Having double-checked the map, he could not identify anything or any place. For all he knew, he could be in a completely different continent. Maybe the Navajo desert?

Shaking his head, Luigi started up the engine, the vehicle sputtering to life once more. Making sure his helmet was in place correctly, the man pulled its goggles over his eyes, not wanting the sand to make him blinded should winds pick up. He kept the hatch open to improve vision, and shifted gears. Rumbling to life, the Italian medium tank began to make its final cruise, her captain searching for intelligent life.​
 
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Awakening some time later, an open field laid before him, the starry night sky overhead. "Heh. Hehehehe. Ahahahahaha. AHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!" Laughing maniacally he cast his head above, arms out wide. "... It all makes sense now... Ooohh mother. Sweet mother. It was always you, wasn't it?" Distracted momentarily from his monologue, the glow of light a few thousand pes away directed his attention elsewhere. Staring at it intently, a breeze rustled the nearby leaves and grass, muffling the hiss of whispers. Straightening at once, Nero clutched the hilt of the Gladius before wrenching it free. Mumbling, he began to stagger toward the light. "Mother.. Motherr.. Motherrrrrr... I didn't mean it. You forced me. If you just, WOULD DIE, I-I... Mother? Where are you mother. ARE YOU FLEEING TO ROME!?... The senators won't help you. Ahahaha."
The distant lights came from a small city. The banner of Orte hung from the windows of the central building. This time of the night, the only ones stirring were the night guards patrolling the streets and perimeter of the city on foot. It had a modest garrison of 150 soldiers and cavalry to deter conventional attacks on its high walls. The sentries on the walls went about their duties with due dilligence, even if it had been months since the area had been pacified of 'inhuman threats' months ago.

@Astros
" Well miss Edna., On behalf of these ignorant humans, let me apologize. I have learned life shouldn't be wasted"
"To life." Edna tapped her cup to his flask and drank its contents in one quick go. Her face pursed a little but she smiled and gave Doc a satisfied nod. "Good whiskey." She put her cup away and gestured to the northwest. "Village is this way if you would like me to lead you."

Waving her left arm at the Centaur as if to get its attention while she walks closer. The movement of her left arm then changes to a deft pointed motion towards where the rest of his kind had ran. "Get out of here! Go!"

Heading for the bodies, Natalya planned to bury them while collecting any useful items from the ten.
The young centaur thought for a second that the woman was going to harm him, but seeing her hand motion, took off after his herd without a second to consider why this human was letting him go.

Among the bodies, the sniper would find few personal items of the soldiers themselves besides the captain, who had on his person a leather pouch with some gold and silver coins. One side bore the image of the Orte Empire, the other the face of a man with a distinct mustache. The only other item of value would be map on the captain indicating their base camp many kilometers away and areas of forest and steppes circled. The word 'pacify' was written beneath all areas.

"Me? Nah... I'm not really one to go pushing others around... If yer willing to trade, I could use some information. Maybe some food too." Chuckling nervously a bit, there was the issue of money. He had but a few coins on him. "Then again, I only have a few coins on me. So if you have anything that needs taken care of in exchange..." Right now, all he could offer was work, but it was doubtful this man was in need of a mercenary, meaning it was likely that if he accepted he'd be tending to some crops or something. Not exactly something he preferred to do, but he needed food.
"Trader?" The little man jumped down, still puffing on his pipe but now looking far more amicable. "Food, pipe weed, whiskey, we got all ya need if yer coin is enuff or hands useful." He started walking and waved for the man to follow. More people of his similar stature populated the hamlet the samurai had found. Most regarded the larger man with wary eyes but, seeing the yet-unnamed one of their kin leading him, didn't seem concerned.

"Me name is Geralt, by the by. No talent aside getting on the right side of every one I meet." Geralt introduced himself as they walked into the town market where several stands were set up. "We Hobbits have it hard these days, and we thank ya for comin' in peace." He gave the man a bow.
----------------------------
Shaking his head, Luigi started up the engine, the vehicle sputtering to life once more. Making sure his helmet was in place correctly, the man pulled its goggles over his eyes, not wanting the sand to make him blinded should winds pick up. He kept the hatch open to improve vision, and shifted gears. Rumbling to life, the Italian medium tank began to make its final cruise, her captain searching for intelligent life.
The rumbling of the behemoth from another world was the loudest thing for miles in the desert. Lizards made tracks in the other direction as it came into their path. On the horizon, Luigi would see little more than more dunes and the ruins of what had been a fort in another age. There had been a banner across its entrance, but the sun had bleached it white long ago. The ruin had little more to offer than cool shade.

@Ringmaster @BIOPrototype3729
 
The rumbling of the behemoth from another world was the loudest thing for miles in the desert. Lizards made tracks in the other direction as it came into their path. On the horizon, Luigi would see little more than more dunes and the ruins of what had been a fort in another age. There had been a banner across its entrance, but the sun had bleached it white long ago. The ruin had little more to offer than cool shade.

@Ringmaster @BIOPrototype3729
Hmmm? Hassan-I Sabbah paused in his luncheon, as he crunched the bones to extract the marrow. Spitting the pieces out, he moved cautiously up the side of the ruined wall, peering out in the distance. Now that...Was an oddity. One among many in this world, a sour note in an orchestra of weirdness. Much like him, come to think of it. He considered for a moment...And then went back down to prepare.

By the time Luigi came by, he'd find a small campsite and supplies, organized as a black-clad figure waited for him before speaking in an obviously different language. From Iranian to Persian, until he frowned as he tapped a metallic looking claw in silence upon the stone in a gesture of frustration before speaking archaic English.

"Who art thou? Whence did you come?"

@BIOPrototype3729 @Ms.Ezra

 
Doc Holliday

" Well Miss Edna, I shall indeed follow you. I feel that I should warn you though, in a previous life I was thought quite a rough fellow. Too much alcohol, too little good sense. I had an illness you see, quite incurable too. You might say that it very much influenced how I behaved. It appears that I've gotten a second chance though. I've never felt so alive!"

The gambler and gentleman put away his flask and started to walk behind the shorter woman. For the first time today, he began to take notice of the world around them. It appeared to be a young world.

@Ms.Ezra
 
Meanwhile the sound of the rifle would carry, and reach the ears of one confused King on a riverbank some distance away. But before the man could make a step toward it, he would see the herd of centaur galloping through the forest and across the river, paying him no more heed than they had the woman before.
The sudden thunder made Leonidas think there was a storm coming. But then more came in an unnatural pattern. "This is no storm....another mystery on top of where-" He stopped as he heard something much more familiar; hooves, and shouts of panic. He brought his shield up and xiphos ready, even though he knew he stood no chance against the numbers he heard. Leonidas was a Spartan down to his very soul. He was prepared to die....again.

But he wasn't ready for what came through the forest. A herd of creatures running straight out of tales from his homeland. They seemed even more frightened to see him. Some couldn't change course fast enough and would have trampled him, had his reflexes not sprung him into the shallow river. The hooves pounded into his shield as he held his breath. The force would have broken his arm had their stampede continued, but luckily it ended just as swiftly as it had come.

Leonidas came out of the water gasping for air and tossing his shield onto the bank. His arm was throbbing with pain, but it was manageable. Looking around, he saw that the herd had trampled the body he discovered into a bloodier mess. He groaned as he took up his shield again, and headed in the direction of the loud noise that had heralded the centaurs. He needed to solve some of this damned mystery.

He came out of the forest into an area of rolling plains, and saw the trail the herd had made in the grass. Following the trail with his eyes, they fell upon the sight of someone approaching ten fallen bodies. All oddly attired, but the one standing more so. He made a move to start walking towards them, but then his arm gave out dropping his shield with a loud clang as it hit a tree. The man gasped as he nearly went down with it, but managed to fall more gracefully.

First the grueling, deadly final stand at the Hot Gates. Then the hall. Then this odd world with its creatures of fable. It was all a bit much for the aged Basileus of Sparta. He rested his back against the tree, while the bronze of his shield shone from the same sunlight that obscured his view of the scene further out in the plains. Maybe the figure would see it and come investigate. Maybe try to kill him. Maybe try to talk to him. Either way was a reason to get a little rest.

@RedArmyShogun
 
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The rumbling of the behemoth from another world was the loudest thing for miles in the desert. Lizards made tracks in the other direction as it came into their path. On the horizon, Luigi would see little more than more dunes and the ruins of what had been a fort in another age. There had been a banner across its entrance, but the sun had bleached it white long ago. The ruin had little more to offer than cool shade.

@Ringmaster @BIOPrototype3729
XX mese sconosiuta XXXX
Nuovo Mondo

After what felt like an hour, Luigi could barely make out a shape of a man-made object out in the distance. Wanting to be sure, he slowed down the tank so he could grab his sack, and pulled out the pair of binoculars that had served him since he had joined the armored corps. It was a simple device, made by San Georgio to last even the harshest conditions. Peering through the lens, he could see what seemed to be a medieval fort, something he wasn't foreign to either at home or in the Egyptian plains. There seemed to be a banner across it, though nothing could be discerned from its former glory.

Nevertheless, his spirits lifted. At last, he had found somewhere to rest for the night. Perhaps maybe even meet someone there. Surely fuel was out of the question, but answers were something he would try to survive for as well.

He wrapped the leather strap of the binoculars around his neck, and pushed the gears once more. The tank accelerated faster, and made a bee-line towards the fort upon this mysterious world's horizon.
----------------​


By the time Luigi came by, he'd find a small campsite and supplies, organized as a black-clad figure waited for him before speaking in an obviously different language. From Iranian to Persian, until he frowned as he tapped a metallic looking claw in silence upon the stone in a gesture of frustration before speaking archaic English.

"Who art thou? Whence did you come?"

@BIOPrototype3729 @Ms.Ezra

XX mese sconosiuta XXXX
Deserto Forte, Nuovo Mondo

The M13/40 came to a halt next to the banner-adorned entrance, its engine finally relaxing once more as it whirred to a stop. Luigi crawled out of his hatch, tugging with him the rucksack that carried everything he owned at the moment, and the rifle to which protect him. To his luck, there was indeed life in the fortress, noted by the campsite and the various supplies riddled here and there. And, as if here to welcome him, a single man stood before the array of objects that must have been collected earlier on.

However, as the man tried to speak to him, Luigi could not for the love of him understand just what he spoke. There was Iranian from what he could guess, a language he had heard often in the markets of North Africa, but then there was another that he could never dream of speaking. It wasn't until he heard the third language did something click in his mind.

"Who art thou? Whence did you come?" the black-clad warrior had said.

As if on instinct, Luigi backed off, shouldering his rifle and pointing it towards the man. His eyes were giving off warning, posture ready to pull the trigger the moment he moved. He had not expected to hear English words come from his mouth, and they sounded like a sting to his pride as an Italian soldier who had probably just died in the world he had once knew. He blamed the British for the deaths of countless countrymen, those words the unknown man had spoken triggering a rage that he didn't know existed.

"Dichiara il tuo nome!" Luigi barked, inquiring the person's identity. But after no answer arrived, he asked again, "Name! You know, sì?! Name!"

@Ringmaster @Ms.Ezra
 
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Collecting the coins and map, Natalya is a bit taken aback at the face that was clearly known to her on the front, Adolf Hitler, there was no mistaking that broom brush mustache. But that didn't make any sense, maybe it was just someone that favored him. Pocketing the coins, Natalya ponders taking the personal effect items for bartering, but leaves them be, taking the map as well she deemed it important given it showed the region, unsure of what some markings were the map was simple enough to tell where the base was.

Watching the young Centaur run off, her work here was mostly done, but first to bury the dead, or so she had planned, hearing a slamming metallic sound, the sniper quickly drops prone, aiming her rifle to the source and chambering a round a shine of light was in the tree line.

Could it be another Sniper? Looking at the figure, the man wasn't dressed the same as the soldiers she had just killed, in fact he seemed from a much older era, reminding her of a Greek Hoplite from the History Books. It seemed he was wounded, Walking up to the man Natalya would bury the dead after this was taken care of.

Unsure if the man would understand her Natalya approaches slowly, asking the first questions to come to man. "Friend or foe, and where do you come from? Do you need help?" Keeping a safe distance the sniper squats in a Slavic manner flatfooted.

"I can help a little but I do not have a first aid kit."




@Ms.Ezra @Sir Kaltao
 
XX mese sconosiuta XXXX
Deserto Forte, Nuovo Mondo

The M13/40 came to a halt next to the banner-adorned entrance, its engine finally relaxing once more as it whirred to a stop. Luigi crawled out of his hatch, tugging with him the rucksack that carried everything he owned at the moment, and the rifle to which protect him. To his luck, there was indeed life in the fortress, noted by the campsite and the various supplies riddled here and there. And, as if here to welcome him, a single man stood before the array of objects that must have been collected earlier on.

However, as the man tried to speak to him, Luigi could not for the love of him understand just what he spoke. There was Iranian from what he could guess, a language he had heard often in the markets of North Africa, but then there was another that he could never dream of speaking. It wasn't until he heard the third language did something click in his mind.

"Who art thou? Whence did you come?" the black-clad warrior had said.

As if on instinct, Luigi backed off, shouldering his rifle and pointing it towards the man. His eyes were giving off warning, posture ready to pull the trigger the moment he moved. He had not expected to hear English words come from his mouth, and they sounded like a sting to his pride as an Italian soldier who had probably just died in the world he had once knew. He blamed the British for the deaths of countless countrymen, those words the unknown man had spoken triggering a rage that he didn't know existed.

"Dichiara il tuo nome!" Luigi barked, inquiring the person's identity. But after no answer arrived, he asked again, "Name! You know, sì?! Name!"

@Ringmaster @Ms.Ezra
English he knew, but the rest of that sounded like some barbaric language akin to the French Crusaders, if he had to make an educated guess. And with a sinuous move like a snake, he rose to his feet.

And from behind, the real figure in black placed a knife to the soldiers throat, the trap having working perfectly as his illusion shimmered and vanished like a mirage. Aloud, he spoke grimly.

"Hassan-I Sabbah. Master of Alamut. As-Salāmu `Alaykum*, traveler."

The hand was steady, the eyes were merciless before he added politely.

"Name. Now. "

A beat passed.

"Please."


@BIOPrototype3729 @Ms.Ezra

*Peace be upon you.​
 
"Hassan-I Sabbah. Master of Alamut. As-Salāmu `Alaykum*, traveler."

The hand was steady, the eyes were merciless before he added politely.

"Name. Now. "

A beat passed.

"Please."


@BIOPrototype3729 @Ms.Ezra

*Peace be upon you.​
XX mese sconosiuta XXXX
Deserto Forte, Nuovo Mondo
The man had disappeared before his very eyes, only to reappear as a voice behind him, including a knife to the throat. Luigi was not prepared for something like this, having never seen such a magic trick before in his life. Was it a sort of teleportation? Perhaps just an optical illusion? For what it was worth, he had almost used the toilet while standing when the trick had commenced. There being no way for him to use his rifle, Luigi lowered it, but continued to grip the wooden stock tightly as he turned his head just a notch to see his assailant.

"Hassan-I Sabbah. Master of Alamut. As-Salāmu `Alaykum, traveler," the man said grimly, the knife unwavering. If anything should happen to Luigi right now, it would be due to his own fault for moving too much.

"Name. Now," Hassan then continued, pausing before adding, "Please."

Luigi recognized the name faintly, a sort of legend from the merchants of Cairo. He could not remember exactly when the legend had come up, but it was of a certain assassin who had done studies in Egitto*​. It did not surprise him that someone from the area would know English, considering the British occupation, but he deduced that perhaps he wasn't exactly 'one of them', so to speak. Obviously, he could not do anything right now but comply, and hope that Hassan did not toss him into a line of POWs.

"Sottotenente** ​Luigi Arbib Pasccuci," he replied nervously, "132ª Divisione corazzata 'Ariete'***​."

@Ringmaster @Ms.Erza

-----
*Egypt​
**Second Lieutenant​
*** 132nd ​Armored Division 'Ariete'​
 
Hassan considered carefully his options, taking in the strangers garb and the way he held that strange tool of his. His posture said soldier, his movements bespoke of experience. He came to a decision.

And removed the knife, gliding around to go back to the shade, as he sat down where his illusion had previously sat. Then raising his hands, he put the knife down next to him and gestured to a place across as one foot, moved the waterskin he had stolen earlier.

"Sit. Eat. Drink."

He glanced out at the sands outside and added with a frown.

"Talk more. Talk..."

Allah curse this barbarian tongue. He frowned and made a gesture with his hands, trying to mimic the strange eye additions of the man behind the desk, who he had seen previously before what he thought was his death.

"...You too?"

He could only hope there was a pattern of some sort to follow up on, otherwise he would have little choice but to concede that this was a fever dream or Hell.

@BIOPrototype3729 @Ms.Ezra
 
Hassan considered carefully his options, taking in the strangers garb and the way he held that strange tool of his. His posture said soldier, his movements bespoke of experience. He came to a decision.

And removed the knife, gliding around to go back to the shade, as he sat down where his illusion had previously sat. Then raising his hands, he put the knife down next to him and gestured to a place across as one foot, moved the waterskin he had stolen earlier.

"Sit. Eat. Drink."

He glanced out at the sands outside and added with a frown.

"Talk more. Talk..."

Allah curse this barbarian tongue. He frowned and made a gesture with his hands, trying to mimic the strange eye additions of the man behind the desk, who he had seen previously before what he thought was his death.

"...You too?"

He could only hope there was a pattern of some sort to follow up on, otherwise he would have little choice but to concede that this was a fever dream or Hell.

@BIOPrototype3729 @Ms.Ezra
XX mese sconosiuta XXXX
Deserto Forte, Nuovo Mondo
Luigi blew a gust of air out of his nose as he was released from the knife, relieved beyond imagine. If anything, he would've preferred dying in an explosion while in his tank, rather than slit at the throat by an unknown warrior that looked like an Arab and spoke words of the British. Letting the gun slide upon its leather strap until hanging near his waist, Luigi watched as Hassan sat down, letting go of his weapon and gesturing for Luigi to take a seat.

"Sit. Drink," Hassan said, sliding over a leather canteen found on traders, "Eat."

Luigi just nodded, sitting down before the Arabian and reaching for the container. He'd been parched during the entire operation in North Africa, the sun taking its toll upon the armored warriors that had fought for days on end with little to no rest. He took two large gulps as Hassan continued to speak, though it was still a bit awkward from the way Luigi could tell in his calm state. The Arabian continued with body language, and Luigi hummed in acknowledgment with water still in his mouth, pointing at Hassan and shaking his finger back and forth. He swallowed forcefully, breathing loudly.

"Ohhhh, , sì!" Luigi exclaimed, pulling the goggles from his helmet toward his eyes, tapping on them and then pretending to read a newspaper before Hassan, "Glasses man with a giornale, newspaper, sì!"

He stood up quickly, running back to his tank for a few moments and reappearing once more with a paper not to dissimilar from a newspaper; a map.

"I am Italiano soldato, capire?" he continued, putting the map before him, "Born in a Rome." Although it was a map of North Africa, he tried to point at a small bit of land north of Tunisia, which was most definitely his beloved homeland. The map also read the year it was made: 1939, the year their allies, Germany, had declared war upon Poland, and, to an extent, the rest of Europe. Luigi felt a pang of pride as he thought of it, how they were facing down a world in darkness. Even if his men were demoralized, Luigi kept his head high, willing to fight on to make sure his family would be safe from the evils of the world.

"I fight Britannico soldato," he then said, "That why I am a nervous, ."

@Ms.Ezra @Ringmaster
 
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Unsure if the man would understand her Natalya approaches slowly, asking the first questions to come to man. "Friend or foe, and where do you come from? Do you need help?" Keeping a safe distance the sniper squats in a Slavic manner flatfooted.

"I can help a little but I do not have a first aid kit."
Leonidas was first surprised that it was a woman coming to him, then at the words she said to him. He understood none of it besides the tone and facial expressions. She had to be asking who he was, and if he needed help. Leonidas took a few deep breathing moments to consider how to answer. Considering how alien her tongue was to his, didn't bode well for his on her ears. He knew Persian, but she was very obviously not Persian.

The Spartan gestured to his stomach, then pointed to his mouth, and his bruised right arm. He undid the bronze cuirass that protected his chest and let it fall, allowing his chest to be cooled by the breeze. There were numerous scars visible, a few more prominent as they had been mortal wounds healed upon his arrival in this world.

He gave the woman a smirk and tried to tell her in Greek "I am Leonidas, King of Sparta."

@RedArmyShogun
 
The night sky provided little light as Nero gazed down at the cities black stone walls. Without a moon and stars to light his view, the flickering glow of fire was only enough to discern the walls from the shadows that surrounded them. The size of the city alone was enough for Nero to know it was not Rome. Far too small and quiet in comparison it could barely pass for a city in his eyes when put beside the grandeur of his own. Undeterred by this realization he continued with a wobble until he was close approaching the gates.

Going unnoticed in the far reaching darkness, the guards posted only took notice of his presence as his shambling feet were heard over the whistling wind. From atop the walls an archer called out in a foreign tongue as the two before him lowered their lances. Staring them down with cold expression Nero took on a commanding tone. "Stand aside! Do you know who you threaten? I am Great Emperor Nero. Ruler of the greatest empire the world has known. Why then do you treat me like peasantry?" Announcing his demands in Latin he signaled with his left arm for them to move before ordering them to fetch his mother. "Surrender that whore and bring her forth. She will deceive no longer."

@Ms.Ezra
 
"I am Italiano soldato, capire?" he continued, putting the map before him, "Born in a Rome." Although it was a map of North Africa, he tried to point at a small bit of land north of Tunisia, which was most definitely his beloved homeland. The map also read the year it was made: 1939, the year their allies, Germany, had declared war upon Poland, and, to an extent, the rest of Europe. Luigi felt a pang of pride as he thought of it, how they were facing down a world in darkness. Even if his men were demoralized, Luigi kept his head high, willing to fight on to make sure his family would be safe from the evils of the world.

"I fight Britannico soldato," he then said, "That why I am a nervous, ."
One word got his attention like nothing else... Rome.

Rome, paragon of knowledge and ancient secrets, usurped by Christian zealots, Rome which the Assassins had long since known of. If this man was Roman, then his garb was strange...His vehicle stranger. It made him tense, until the map was brought out. Far more accurate than any he had ever seen, naming places even he had barely heard of, or assumed they were named incorrectly until he saw the date.

Hassan-I Sabbah was many things, but stupid he was not. No matter the time, or the place? War was the same and it was a universal language as a slow, unnerving grin crossed his features at the map. Looking up, he pointed outside and attempted to make clear his desire to see the rumbling beast. If this man was a soldier?

Perhaps there could be something to this new world after all.

@Ms.Ezra @BIOPrototype3729

 
"Peace, huh?" Magoichi murmured with a sigh. He'd never heard of a... Hobbit? Was that the clan they served under? Regardless, it seemed they too were somewhat a stranger to peace. Perhaps this land wasn't so different from his after all. "I guess you guys get some trouble every now and then from how you talk?"

As he walked through, he began to notice some of his stature traversing the area. Still had no idea what a damn Hobbit was though. Though, questions on that could come later. For now, he needed to know what this land was exactly. How he got here was next—but it was doubtful the small fellow in front of him could tell him that. It was likely that the only man who could give him all the answers he sought was the dandy from the hallway...

"So, Geralt..." Shigehide began with a sheepish chuckle. "This is gonna sound strange... but could you tell me where I am?"

@Ms.Ezra
 
Hassan-I Sabbah was many things, but stupid he was not. No matter the time, or the place? War was the same and it was a universal language as a slow, unnerving grin crossed his features at the map. Looking up, he pointed outside and attempted to make clear his desire to see the rumbling beast. If this man was a soldier?

Perhaps there could be something to this new world after all.

@Ms.Ezra @BIOPrototype3729

XX mese sconosiuta XXXX
Deserto Forte, Nuovo Mondo

Looking in the direction Hassan pointed to, it would seem the assassin wanted to take a look at his tank. And he wasn't surprised; many wanted to back in the day. Africans always found the vehicles to be fascinating, often watching from a distance as either British or Italian tanks passed through. Whenever they were in a marketplace, children who knew no better would often ask if they could hop on, and if the time was alright, they could do so, even if just for a minute.

", come look," Luigi invited, folding the map once more and standing up. He lead Hassan back to the tank, its metal skin now only lukewarm as it rested in the shade.

"It is Carro Armato* ​M13/40," he explained, leaning on the vehicle with his hands, "A 'tank', ." He then pointed at the three guns installed onto the vehicle.

"Two Breda mitragliatrice**​," he noted next to the driver's compartment, then swiveling towards the main tank gun, "one cannone da 47/32***​." It was a fearsome gun towards vehicles of its time, with an adequate AP and HE round in comparison to the British 2-pounder. But what was most impressive was the HEAT rounds, which were, to his knowledge, the best in the world.

@Ms.Ezra @Ringmaster

--------
*Armored Car​
**Machinegun​
***47/32 cannon​

 
Leonidas was first surprised that it was a woman coming to him, then at the words she said to him. He understood none of it besides the tone and facial expressions. She had to be asking who he was, and if he needed help. Leonidas took a few deep breathing moments to consider how to answer. Considering how alien her tongue was to his, didn't bode well for his on her ears. He knew Persian, but she was very obviously not Persian.

The Spartan gestured to his stomach, then pointed to his mouth, and his bruised right arm. He undid the bronze cuirass that protected his chest and let it fall, allowing his chest to be cooled by the breeze. There were numerous scars visible, a few more prominent as they had been mortal wounds healed upon his arrival in this world.

He gave the woman a smirk and tried to tell her in Greek "I am Leonidas, King of Sparta."

@RedArmyShogun
"Leo-ni-das... Hmm.." Pausing to think where she had heard the name, taken in to account his Armor, was he the Greek Hero... That was impossible, that was hundreds, no, Thousands of years ago.. Was this place hell? Heaven? Shaking her head clear from doubt the woman mouths the name to him slowly, to show she knew who he was, or at least claimed to be.

"Leonidas, Sparta, Spartan." Patting herself, Natalya says her name plainly, while any other words would be a waste, this should serve to get the point across. "Natalya." Kneeling down to look at the Spartan, he would have to let his wounds heal on their own, having no first aid kit, they weren't too serious, but he seemed rather battered, reaching behind her back, the woman pulls out a water Canteen, likely something the Spartan never seen, made of aluminum with a cloth covering, she unscrews the cap, setting it beside the Spartan. Hands now free, she takes his pointing to mean he was hungry.

Mouth twitching slightly, unless she wanted to hunt, all she had was K Rations, and they were just tolerable enough to eat. Made of dehydrated ham, it smelled like raw fish, and in her own opinion tasted as good. But what did one expect of gifts from the Capitalist Americans. Opening the container and offering to him, it was edible and would suffice, taste likely would not be praised. Offering it, she motions with her left hand, hand to mouth. "Eat."


@Sir Kaltao
 
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XX mese sconosiuta XXXX
Deserto Forte, Nuovo Mondo

Looking in the direction Hassan pointed to, it would seem the assassin wanted to take a look at his tank. And he wasn't surprised; many wanted to back in the day. Africans always found the vehicles to be fascinating, often watching from a distance as either British or Italian tanks passed through. Whenever they were in a marketplace, children who knew no better would often ask if they could hop on, and if the time was alright, they could do so, even if just for a minute.

", come look," Luigi invited, folding the map once more and standing up. He lead Hassan back to the tank, its metal skin now only lukewarm as it rested in the shade.

"It is Carro Armato* ​M13/40," he explained, leaning on the vehicle with his hands, "A 'tank', ." He then pointed at the three guns installed onto the vehicle.

"Two Breda mitragliatrice**​," he noted next to the driver's compartment, then swiveling towards the main tank gun, "one cannone da 47/32***​." It was a fearsome gun towards vehicles of its time, with an adequate AP and HE round in comparison to the British 2-pounder. But what was most impressive was the HEAT rounds, which were, to his knowledge, the best in the world.

@Ms.Ezra @Ringmaster

--------
*Armored Car​
**Machinegun​
***47/32 cannon​

He had no idea what it was, only that it was beautiful beyond reckoning. Even with his limited knowledge, he could tell what such a thing was made for. It was iron incarnate, armored above and below. No mere sword or dagger in the neck for this, and as he circled around it, there was an excitement that had not been there prior. The entirety of the Crusades, the ultimate fate of Alamut against the Mongol Horde could have gone differently with but one of these. And he didn't even know what it could do! Only that by some magic beyond his current understanding, that it could move.

As a transport alone, it was worth a Kings ransom and he laughed aloud. Long and hard with glee as an evil expression took over his features.

Turning back to the other, he chuckled and then frowned... This language barrier would be a problem and looking at the map carefully, he looked up and spoke.

"Not our home."

He tapped the map meaningfully and extended his hand to encompass the rest.

"Find... Town? Village?"

@Ms.Ezra @BIOPrototype3729
 
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He had no idea what it was, only that it was beautiful beyond reckoning. Even with his limited knowledge, he could tell what such a thing was made for. It was iron incarnate, armored above and below. No mere sword or dagger in the neck for this, and as he circled around it, there was an excitement that had not been there prior. The entirety of the Crusades, the ultimate fate of Alamut against the Mongol Horde could have gone differently with but one of these. And he didn't even know what it could do! Only that by some magic beyond his current understanding, that it could move.

As a transport alone, it was worth a Kings ransom and he laughed aloud. Long and hard with glee as an evil expression took over his features.

Turning back to the other, he chuckled and then frowned... This language barrier would be a problem and looking at the map carefully, he looked up and spoke.

"Not our home."

He tapped the map meaningfully and extended his hand to encompass the rest.

"Find... Town? Village?"

@Ms.Ezra @BIOPrototype3729
XX mese sconosiuta XXXX
Deserto Forte, Nuovo Mondo

Luigi looked at Hassan quizzically for a moment. Yes, indeed, North Africa was not his home, that would be in beautiful Rome with his family and friends, enjoying a peaceful life where war was no longer required, and Italy was great once more. No, the dunes were no Italian man's home. The tanks they resided in, sure, but not the hot desert plains of Africa, which had become the death ranges of many men from across the globe.

Oh of course, he meant this world in general.

"Find... Town? Village?" Hassan said, inviting Luigi to help search for civilization with him. Luigi nodded, patting the M13/40 once more.

", gather things," Luigi said, "We try to make use of left fuel." And with that, he climbed into the hatch, beginning to prepare the tank for one last sprint across the desert, hopefully finding the village they sought for.

@Ms.Ezra @Ringmaster
 
Given her limited grasp of the language he spoke, Edna simply nodded to mask her confusion as the larger man spoke. All she was really able to glean was this man’s light warning and his elation to be alive. The woman put her cup away in her pack, and led the way through the forest into the proper limits of her village, passing by a couple sentry towers.
“Welcome to our village.” Edna waved around at her village.

The old gunslinger would hear the chatter of the other hobbits in their native tongue, some whispering to each other about this newcomer. They weren’t in the market area, but the more residential part where the older folk mostly hung about and tended their gardens if they came out at all. As they passed a group of older men sitting around a fire smoking their pipes, Edna paused to take out her pipe, stuff it with her choice of pipe weed, and used a stick from the fire to light it.
After a couple puffs, Edna looked up at the man and asked “Smoke?”

@Gands
===================

The two gate guards looked at the man, then each other with shrugs as the odd man screamed and gestured at them.
“Barbarian! State your business properly, or crawl back into the wilderness where you belong!” The archer shouted down to him in their native tongue. When the man did not understand and therefore would not comply, that archer lowered his aim a little, and let loose an arrow that nearly impaled his left foot. “Leave, barbarian! Or my next shot will take your heart!”

@Astros
===================

“Trouble be the least of it. Humans been getting aggressive in our deals, and there are rumors puttin’ us on edge.” Geralt finished his pipe and dumped the ashes to the ground, stomping out any embers as he looked at the man with a puzzled look to match.
“What ya mean, where are ya? You’re a long march south of Orte in the village of Merryway.”

@EmperorsChosen
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