The Secretarial Association provide secretarial services to many organisations in The City. In a place as lawless as this, Troubleshooting brings on a whole new meaning.
Gringo's 40 female VC figure.
Showing posts with label Tales of The City. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tales of The City. Show all posts
Saturday, March 8, 2025
Tuesday, February 13, 2024
Tales of the City: The Army
The Army has managed to avoid the issues of armies of other states in the region, they have kept out of the internal politics of the country, and are not subject to the corruption that often plagues regional armies.
The standard infantry rifle is the M1 Garand rifle, though some units are receiving M16 rifles.
Specialists and NCOs are often equipped with Thompson SMGs or M3 Grease Guns.
Squad support weapons include the Browning Automatic Rifle, and rarely the M60 GPMG.
Sunday, May 17, 2020
Ng's story
Pinned down behind the statue plinth, Ng thought back to the optimistic briefing yesterday.
Their leader had come to them with the contract, escort a package from a warehouse down to the docks. No fuss, no hassle. To ensure that, the contract paid for two technicals with machine guns, both with driver, navigator, gunner and loader, plus four guards with the package in a pick up.
No sane group would interfere with such a well armed convoy for such a "low value" package, the precautions were just to expedite the delivery.
The collection went without any problems and the three vehicles had made good time. Maybe that should have been the first warning.
The plan was to swap the lead vehicle at Gustav Square, the largest open space on the route.
Just as the second technical entered the square, the first one was hit, throwing the gunner to the road.
The pick up with the package jumped as it was hit, the bonnet popping open. Simultaneously realising they were a sitting duck, all four of them had leapt from the load bed, trying to spot the firer.
The second technical lurched to a halt as one of the front tires burst, throwing the gunner forward.
Ng noticed the plume of dust from a distant building (he was sure it was a hotel of some kind) and shouted at his colleagues to fire at it. The machine gunner began spraying rounds toward the hotel.
They thought the threat was eliminated when there was an answering burst of smoke and flame on the rooftop.
Celebration was cut short when a smoke grenade burst in the load bed of the second technical. and they came under fire from the buildings behind them.
This is the first Gringo's 40 NVA figure I have assembled and painted. They are noticeably taller and chunkier than the Empress NVA, they are large compared to the Empress US Marines.
But they are nice figures if you want figures with Soviet era weapons, so this is what I am using them for.
This particular figure had a damaged sling, possibly caused by a bent barrel, so a bit of a repair was made using GreenStuff
Their leader had come to them with the contract, escort a package from a warehouse down to the docks. No fuss, no hassle. To ensure that, the contract paid for two technicals with machine guns, both with driver, navigator, gunner and loader, plus four guards with the package in a pick up.
No sane group would interfere with such a well armed convoy for such a "low value" package, the precautions were just to expedite the delivery.
The collection went without any problems and the three vehicles had made good time. Maybe that should have been the first warning.
The plan was to swap the lead vehicle at Gustav Square, the largest open space on the route.
Just as the second technical entered the square, the first one was hit, throwing the gunner to the road.
The pick up with the package jumped as it was hit, the bonnet popping open. Simultaneously realising they were a sitting duck, all four of them had leapt from the load bed, trying to spot the firer.
The second technical lurched to a halt as one of the front tires burst, throwing the gunner forward.
Ng noticed the plume of dust from a distant building (he was sure it was a hotel of some kind) and shouted at his colleagues to fire at it. The machine gunner began spraying rounds toward the hotel.
They thought the threat was eliminated when there was an answering burst of smoke and flame on the rooftop.
Celebration was cut short when a smoke grenade burst in the load bed of the second technical. and they came under fire from the buildings behind them.
But they are nice figures if you want figures with Soviet era weapons, so this is what I am using them for.
Sunday, December 1, 2019
Pip, independent contractor
Pip is the most common name of this independent contractor. Though supposedly freelance, she (and her custom AMR) generally work for a small circle of familiar faces - whenever long range support is needed.
Though diminutive, she wields this long and heavy rifle as though it weighed no more than a conventional sniper rifle.
Mainly brought in when highly accurate, long range shooting is required, she is not hired for conventional sniping (though she will do so when circumstances dictate). Pip does not do assassinations per-se (though there is a contract assassin in the city - their weapon of choice is different).
A small automatic pistol provides some short range protection if anyone gets close.
A Crooked Dice Wastelander, converted to sit on a standard Renedra 25mm base. Part of the tab was left in place and a matching slot cut in the base.
Tales of The City... Prologue
No one could remember why it was called Gustav's Square.
It might have been that the scarred and graffitied plinth in the middle of the square had held a bronze statue of some forgotten Imperial Hero.
It might have been the decaying and faded graffiti that read "Gustav was here" (itself perhaps reflecting the long gone statue).
But no one remembered, or for that matter cared.
As an open space, it was normally filled with a market. Farmers and traders from the mainland came over the long concrete bridge and sold their wares to the saner residents of the city, ensuring they were back across the water before nightfall or the occasional day time gun fight. Sometimes rumours dissuaded them from even making the journey.
Today it was quiet, empty, abandoned.
The sound of diesel engines caused the pigeons that poked around the square to take to the air.
A Technical, scratched and battered, nosed into the square. The gunner in the load bed swung his pedestal mounted DashK heavy machine gun round nervously, trying to cover all the windows, doors and rooftops.
A pick up truck entered the square, a large tarpaulin covered shape surrounded by four men with Soviet era assault rifles.
As a second Technical began to enter the square, intending to pass the other two vehicles, a loud shot rang out. The gunner in the first Technical fell backwards as his gun disintegrated. Before he hit the ground there was a second shot. The bonnet popped open on the pick up and the engine died. As the four men in the back of the pick up went from stunned incredulity to panicked action, a third shot shattered the wing of the second Technical and the tyre beneath it.
As the gunner in the second Technical scanned for the firer while cringing from the expected fourth shot, one of the gunmen from the pick up shouted about the dust cloud on a distant roof top. All of them opened fire on the supposed target, the twin machine guns on the listing Technical having the better placing. Suddenly there was a brief plume of smoke and flame, followed by a second small explosion.
The gunmen started to celebrate their skill (and their survival).
Behind a small shelter of sandbags, metal plates and water containers, a figure glanced at the expended pyrotechnics and the thick smoke they had produced, making sure that they would not set the roof alight. The fire alarm below continued to ring as it had done for the last two minutes.
Picking up her AMR she jogged towards the roof hatch.
Behind the celebrating gun men, figures began to appear in the door ways, their movement quiet and professional.
It might have been that the scarred and graffitied plinth in the middle of the square had held a bronze statue of some forgotten Imperial Hero.
It might have been the decaying and faded graffiti that read "Gustav was here" (itself perhaps reflecting the long gone statue).
But no one remembered, or for that matter cared.
As an open space, it was normally filled with a market. Farmers and traders from the mainland came over the long concrete bridge and sold their wares to the saner residents of the city, ensuring they were back across the water before nightfall or the occasional day time gun fight. Sometimes rumours dissuaded them from even making the journey.
Today it was quiet, empty, abandoned.
The sound of diesel engines caused the pigeons that poked around the square to take to the air.
A Technical, scratched and battered, nosed into the square. The gunner in the load bed swung his pedestal mounted DashK heavy machine gun round nervously, trying to cover all the windows, doors and rooftops.
A pick up truck entered the square, a large tarpaulin covered shape surrounded by four men with Soviet era assault rifles.
As a second Technical began to enter the square, intending to pass the other two vehicles, a loud shot rang out. The gunner in the first Technical fell backwards as his gun disintegrated. Before he hit the ground there was a second shot. The bonnet popped open on the pick up and the engine died. As the four men in the back of the pick up went from stunned incredulity to panicked action, a third shot shattered the wing of the second Technical and the tyre beneath it.
As the gunner in the second Technical scanned for the firer while cringing from the expected fourth shot, one of the gunmen from the pick up shouted about the dust cloud on a distant roof top. All of them opened fire on the supposed target, the twin machine guns on the listing Technical having the better placing. Suddenly there was a brief plume of smoke and flame, followed by a second small explosion.
The gunmen started to celebrate their skill (and their survival).
Behind a small shelter of sandbags, metal plates and water containers, a figure glanced at the expended pyrotechnics and the thick smoke they had produced, making sure that they would not set the roof alight. The fire alarm below continued to ring as it had done for the last two minutes.
Picking up her AMR she jogged towards the roof hatch.
Behind the celebrating gun men, figures began to appear in the door ways, their movement quiet and professional.
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