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anthro dieselpunk alternate_history ww2 world_war_ii walking_tanks walkers mechs military military_fiction gritty squad brotherhood small_unit prologue north_africa desert_warfare tobruk el_alamein allies axis inter_allied commandos 82nd_airborne grenadier marksman radio_operator siberian_husky belgian_malinois alsatian white_tailed_deer fox_section sand_and_smoke strange_ore diesel_engines ir_lamps armored_warfareReport this content
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u_thomasgerna c_story t_all s_unspecified_anyMore from ThomasGerna
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They said better machines would end the killing. Instead, the ground learned to tremble.
In this prologue to *Fox Section: Sand & Smoke*, my first ever attempt at putting up one of the scrambled stories that come together in my head from time to time. It's an alternate WWII, where the discovery strange ore that lets nations straping legs to tanks. German walkers stride over ditches and teeth; France falls fast. Britain, the U.S., and the Soviets find their own deposits and rush crude, terrifying giants to the field—diesel hearts, iron feet, maintenance nightmares.
Amid the noise, small inter-Allied teams form to walk beside them: scouts who read the wind, grenadiers who make smoke plume where it’s needed, marksmen who wait out the clock. We watch the first recruitments and the quiet, practical conversations that set their tone—no hero speeches, just standards and steady hands. It’s a world of anthropomorphic soldiers with familiar gear and instincts, where the faces are different but the bond is the same. North Africa waits. The machines are loud. But brotherhood is louder.
In this prologue to *Fox Section: Sand & Smoke*, my first ever attempt at putting up one of the scrambled stories that come together in my head from time to time. It's an alternate WWII, where the discovery strange ore that lets nations straping legs to tanks. German walkers stride over ditches and teeth; France falls fast. Britain, the U.S., and the Soviets find their own deposits and rush crude, terrifying giants to the field—diesel hearts, iron feet, maintenance nightmares.
Amid the noise, small inter-Allied teams form to walk beside them: scouts who read the wind, grenadiers who make smoke plume where it’s needed, marksmen who wait out the clock. We watch the first recruitments and the quiet, practical conversations that set their tone—no hero speeches, just standards and steady hands. It’s a world of anthropomorphic soldiers with familiar gear and instincts, where the faces are different but the bond is the same. North Africa waits. The machines are loud. But brotherhood is louder.
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General
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Category Story / All
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File Size 48 kB
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