“Gettysburg roars with cannon and ghosts—Sven’s musket jams, Klausi taunts, and Pete spins steel. Walburga’s sword glows, Dumbo duels Quichotte, and Kanye rhymes through the smoke as spectral cavalry charge from the haze. Lee commands, but the crew’s madness outshines the dead!”
List of Characters:
- Sven the Ugly Schmidt: Hacker turned soldier, hacking muskets instead of code.
- Klausi the Shithouse Demon: Mischievous demon, pranking Union and Confederate alike.
- Murky Jan: Flamboyant manipulator, charming officers in tattered finery.
- Crazy Pete the Fish (The Joker): Eccentric schemer, turning war into a wild jest.
- Thomas: Drug-addled Prussian, lost in battlefield smoke and morphine.
- Olaf “I Can’t Remember Anything” Amnesia: Forgetting whose side he’s on.
- Ms. Dumbo Bock: Ambitious politician, debating generals mid-volley.
- Muschi Lie En: Syndicate leader, eyeing war spoils for her empire.
- Fritz the Fozzler: Mysterious disruptor, muttering amid cannon roar.
- Dr. Z: Neo-Nazi propagandist, admiring the war’s brutal order.
- Walburga the Valkyrie: Mythical warrior, her Wonder Sword outshining bayonets.
- Good Uncle Jochen: Lawyer, citing law in the line of fire.
- Dumb Tom: Tinkerer, rigging cannons to misfire.
- Dumb Beatrix: Baker, tossing hardtack to distract troops.
- Godmother Erika: Enigmatic planner, weaving schemes in the smoke.
- Andreas and Edith: Wastepaper moguls, peddling maps in a war zone.
- Vigo, die Geisel der Karpathen: Sinister figure, thriving in battlefield shadows.
- Kanye West: Time-traveling rapper, dropping beats amid the blasts.
- Count Don Robert Quichotte: Dumbo Bock’s foe, charging her with a saber.
- General Robert E. Lee: Confederate leader, facing the crew in Gettysburg’s fray.
(Cue booming cannons, the crack of muskets, and the bugle’s wail, as the crew leaps from London’s fog into the smoky carnage of Gettysburg, July 1863.)
The Wonder Sword’s glow sliced through Whitechapel’s fog, yanking the crew from Jack’s grasp. They landed hard in churned mud, the air thick with gunpowder and the screams of the dying. Gettysburg raged—Union blue and Confederate gray clashed across fields and ridges, cannonballs tearing the earth. General Robert E. Lee, astride a horse, surveyed the battle, his stern gaze catching the crew. “Deserters? Spies?” he barked. “Prove your mettle—or fall!”
Sven, splattered with mud, clutched a jammed musket. “From knives to lead—I’d rather hack a telegraph!” He poked at the barrel, dodging a bayonet. Klausi, scampering through the smoke, lobbed a rock at a Union soldier. “Oi, bluecoat, catch this—demon’s here to play!” The troop stumbled, firing wide.
Murky Jan, now in a torn officer’s coat, flashed a grin at a passing aide. “Darling, this war’s a stage—surely I’m too grand to gut?” A cannonball whistled past, and he ducked. Crazy Pete, twirling a bayonet like a baton, danced amid the chaos. “Why so shooty, Bobby Lee? This circus needs my giggle—ha ha ha!” A bullet grazed his hat, and he winked.
Thomas, swaying from battlefield morphine, slurred, “This… this is liberty? Or just bad dope?” Olaf Amnesia, beside him, stared at a tattered flag. “Did I enlist? Which side’s mine?” A sergeant shoved him toward the line.
Ms. Dumbo Bock, uniform scavenged, faced Lee. “This carnage needs talks—I propose a ceasefire!” Count Don Robert Quichotte, saber gleaming beside her, sneered, “Your peace dies here, Bock—taste my charge!” She parried with a rifle butt, earning a growl.
Muschi Lie En, eyeing a supply wagon, whispered to a wounded rebel. “Join me, and this war’s ours—syndicate style!” Fritz the Fozzler, stumbling through smoke, muttered, “From fog to fire…” Dr. Z, dodging shrapnel, nodded. “Such martial purity—a soldier’s dream!”
Walburga, her Wonder Sword flashing, met a bayonet’s thrust. “Your steel’s no match—I’ll cleave this fight!” Lee pointed, “Take her down!” Good Uncle Jochen, tripping over a corpse, shouted, “Under war law—ow!—we’ve rights!” A musket ball silenced him.
Dumb Tom, fiddling with a cannon fuse, grinned. “Misfire the boom, save the day—done!” Dumb Beatrix, tossing hardtack from her apron, called, “Chew this, not lead, you smoky fools!” Andreas and Edith, clutching soggy maps, whimpered, “We’ll guide your lines—spare us!”
Godmother Erika, calm in the storm, murmured, “This blood’s our clay—mold it.” Kanye West, bold amid the blasts, rapped: “I’m Kanye, war king—beats hit harder than your cannons, bling!” Vigo, lurking in the shadows, smirked. “Slaughter or spoils—I win either way.”
Lee raised his sword, his voice cutting through the din. “Hold the ridge—or bury them all!” The battle surged, cannons roaring like thunder. Pete’s bayonet spun, Sven’s musket sparked, and Klausi tripped a horse, hooves flying. “Now!” Walburga roared, her sword slashing smoke, light bursting as lead flew. The Wonder Sword pulsed, and the crew vanished—mud splattering, Lee’s shout fading into battlefield silence.
They landed in a heap, smoke replaced by a sharp breeze, fields now stone. Sven groaned, “Where now?” Klausi sniffed, “Smells like salt—and steel.” Pete grinned, “New round, same stakes—ante up!”
Call to Action: “Blast Out of Gettysburg’s Guts!”
“The crew’s pinned in Gettysburg’s hell—Sven’s muskets jam, Klausi’s pranks smoke out, and Pete’s turning war into a gag! Walburga’s sword needs YOUR fire to blast us free from Lee’s cannon crush. Back our dodge from this bloody clash—or we’re cannon fodder!
Join the battle brigade: patreon.com/berndpulch
Drop a coin to defy the volley: berndpulch.org/donation
Save us from Gettysburg’s guts—support now, or it’s bayonets for breakfast!”
(End scene with the rumble of artillery and the cry of a distant bugle.)
Call to Action: “Charge Out of Gettysburg’s Carnage!”
“The crew’s trapped in Gettysburg’s blast zone—Sven’s guns choke, Klausi’s tricks fizzle, and Pete’s juggling bayonets in the smoke! Walburga’s sword needs YOUR spark to slash us free from Lee’s lead rain. Back our break from this cannon carnage—or we’re buried in the mud!
Join the battlefield bust-out: patreon.com/berndpulch
Toss a coin to duck the barrage: berndpulch.org/donation
Help us outrun Gettysburg’s guts—support now, or it’s grapeshot for the gang!”
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