Oh, we're reporting state of origin? 2nd Northernmost state, Minnesota.

有没有其他的在美国的中国人？

Activity, I guess.

greyat's activity should then follow a curve similar to the following

AHA! Despite the constraints of my incredible narrow-mindedness I have finally managed to discover this section of the forum! woo.

Good job winner(s). Part 3: Revelation No... no... no... no. This cannot be, I think. I am in such a state of shock that I don’t resist as the Germans lead me away. The sounds of the battle fade away as we go deeper and deeper within the building. Finally, I am led into a cramped metal cell. The Germans exit the cell, leaving me alone with my former friend. I seize the opportunity, and lunge at Boris. I am sent reeling by a blow from the butt of his pistol. Boris, how could you? “You’d better not try that again,” he says coldly, “Next time the other end of the pistol will be waiting for you. “But… Boris. You were my friend. The battles we were in... Stalingrad... Kursk... Dukla Pass... Königsberg... why has it come to this? Who are you?” I ask, my voice rising. Tears are about to come, but my training asserts itself and stops them. His reply is mechanical. “What I am is of no concern to you. Your only concern is how to stay alive.” Suddenly, I realize that when the Germans took away my submachine gun, they failed to take away my sidearm, concealed in the depths of my uniform. Should I…? Yes. Feigning defeat, I slump into the only feature of the otherwise barren cell, a stool behind a table, while covertly slipping my hand into my coat. “What is it that you want, then?” I ask. “Intelligence. You are a high ranking officer, so we can expect that you know more about Russian troop movements that I, a mere sergeant in the army,” said Boris. “Very well,” I reply, “I will-” Noting that Boris is still clutching his pistol in his hand, I slide to the ground in the middle of my sentence, while retrieving my revolver from my coat. Aim, and gently apply pressure to the trigger. I sight on Boris’s right arm, and fire. The bullet runs true, and Boris yells, dropping his pistol. His right arm is useless, I can tell, for he has dropped to the ground and is scrambling desperately for the pistol, which has slid under the table, with his left. “Freeze,” I intone coldly, mirroring his voice of minutes past. Boris immediately stops and turns around. “B-b-but I thought they disarmed you,” he stammers. Keen to avoid another reversal in the situation, I retrieve the gun, while keeping my own trained on him. “Germans are stupid. They forget that all Soviet officers carry a sidearm,” I say, “Too bad you didn’t realize either. Now, I would like some answers.” Apparently realizing his disadvantage, Boris replies, “The Germans turned me during Stalingrad; I couldn’t stand the death anymore… they promised a way out - if I could assassinate Zhukov, but I could never get close enough before I was transferred under you.” “And now we are in Berlin, where my true superiors are, and you here with me - a veritable gold mine of intelligence. How can any sane man resist? Bringing you in was just as good as assassinating Zhukov.” He is deluded, I realize. “Now, I wish to return to my soldiers. You will help me,” I say quietly, hiding my rage. There will be a time for you later, I vow. Cowed by my gun, Boris quickly accedes. “Lead the way,” I continue. We walk through a maze of corridors before the harsh electric lighting fades out into brilliant sunlight. The battle is over, I can see. The charred remains of what were once men and tanks litter the streets. Taking cover in an alley to take stock of the situation, I quickly come to realize how grim it is. Our forces had evidently withdrawn, leaving Germans once again in control of the city. We rise to continue the journey. Suddenly, a cry of “Stopp” comes from behind us. We turn to face an entire company of Germans, weapons drawn. I dart around a corner, pulling Boris with me. The Germans, too surprised to discharge their weapons, run after us in pursuit. How will I ever get out of this wretched city? [Work in progress]

Godmode_ON He was there before the sun shone on dawn. A cold, desolate day October 31st did fall on. In the midst of war, 1916 was the year. In the midst of men, a massive red tank did steer. The enemy, seeing, fell back with shouts of fear. Through their ranks, the mammoth red tank did shear. Since then, he has prowled on the edge of night. Enemies of man, the huge red tank did smite. Smart were those, who decided to flee. For fear drew him surely as honey draws a bee. Many enemies the red tank did make. Always plotting a way to make him break. Over time their triumphs did sum. Till one day, the red tank did fail to come And sally forth to vanquish all his foes. His rule, his foes did overthrow. He reappeared, with a savage ferocity. All dead, were those against which he held animosity. Weaker now the massive red tank did seem. His foes, sensing this introduced a final scheme. “Smart Cooldowns”, a light feather, that finally broke the red tank’s back.

No first place? Hm. Good job winners though.

There are already 3 medium hulls though...

Happy Halloween!

Happy Halloween!

Happy Halloween!

Happy Halloween!

wasp and rico m1 :p

Does this mean no sale on Hallloween? Whatever. Viking M2 for me :)

yay with the 70% sale on viking I can get both viking and rustle :) but sale on turrets pls

50% off everything please.

Thanks for the suggestions guys, I have this problem too... will try and see if it works.

I think that during a sale the kits will go on sale further, so like 50% off a price that's already 25% off.

mammy m2 :)

Bad timing. Mammoth + Isida? lol. At least M2 Mammy for me... :)

Pythons and Tanks don't fit together by greyat Tankers are being cooked alive by the Cambodian Python, a new study reports. Due to the superb insulating properties of Cambodia Python skin, tankers can survive for a long time while protected by the skin despite being subject to a lethal blast of fluffy snowflakes. Unfortunately, these same properties lead to the heat from the slightest puff of flame or even smoke being trapped inside, increasing in intensity until the unfortunate soul within expires. Says the spokes-tank for the organization Tanks for Safer Paints, “Ah had a fren’ who got hisself cook’d live while ‘e was wearin’ that Infernal skin.” (He was referring to Pythons, not to the other controversial paint.) An investigation by the FBI is pending. This could be the finishing blow to the use of the Cambodian Python as a protective paint, being on the heels of an investigation earlier this year that followed the mysterious disappearance of multiple tanks that were using the same paint, whom were later found dissolved in pools of acid. The breeder of the reptiles denied to comment on both incidents, so for those owners of the Cambodian Python, it may be safer to keep them in the garage for a while, as the dangers of being roasted to death far outweigh the extremely high chance of being strangled and unceremoniously swallowed by a hungry python. Update: The investigation found that the incident stemmed from complaints of a broken air conditioning system. There have been no further deaths.

Is the story told from Nikolai's perspective, or that of a soldier under his command? A bit hard to differentiate... so I continued the story from a German perspective. Here it is. Chapter 2: Generalleutnant Helmuth Weidling1 A communications officer rushed into the command center. “Sir,” he said, “We’ve received an unexpected thrust from Russian forces of the 6th Belorussian Front, just east of Potsdam.” He continued, “Panzers2 from our III SS Panzer Corps have managed to drive them back to the outskirts of the city, where they seem to be holding at the moment.” “At ease, Lieutenant. You are dismissed,” said Weidling. He had a daunting task at hand: defend Berlin with just the ragged remains of the once proud Wehrmacht. As if defending against the combined might of the 1st Belorussian, the 2nd Belorussian, and the 1st Ukrainian Front were not enough, now he had to contend with a flanking movement by the 6th Belorussian Front as well! How, Weidling thought, in heaven’s name, did our surveillance not detect the maneuver? He would need to have to get a word in with them, the arrogant bastards, even in the face of defeat. ‘Well’, a small voice in his head said, ‘you haven’t done any better’. Weidling cursed himself for being stupid. An attack on Hitler’s birthday! Why, how could Stalin have passed up that opportunity for propaganda? Capturing Berlin on the Führer’s birthday would be momentous indeed. He should have anticipated the attack. Although the Russians’ flanking movement had failed, their mere existence caused complications. He had been planning to draw on the III SS Panzer Corps replace casualties of the forces defending strategically important Charlottenburg, which had suffered a severe artillery pounding by the 1st Belorussian Front, losing many panzers in the process. Now, they would receive no reinforcements, as the III SS Panzer Corps would have to be left in place to defend against further attacks by the 6th Belorussian Front. Then there was also the threat of the 1st Ukrainian Front linking with the 6th Belorussian Front, whereupon the Soviets would clearly launch a massive offensive that his forces had little hope of defending against. Weidling’s musings were punctuated by a distant explosion. As the air raid sirens sounded, Weidling thought, it’s the goddamned Brits again. For weeks, RAF Mosquitos3 had been shuttling back and forth, delivering thousands of tons of ordnance onto the streets of Berlin, while meeting little resistance from German flak. But this time was different. The planes were in fact Ilyushin Il-2s4 of the Red Air Force, attempting to neutralize ground resistance to clear the way for the 6th Belorussian Front. Already, the distinctive staccato bursts of the German 2 cm Flak 385 were being heard, punctuated by the occasional explosion from a distressed aircraft hitting the ground. Adding to the cacophony, the Soviet artillery opened up, with German ones firing in reply. Although the artillery was not accurate enough at such extreme ranges to deal serious damage, Weidling worried about the bombers damaging his panzers, of which there were precious few left. After a discordant concert of ten minutes, the sounds of battle faded. Another officer rushed in, this time a rugged captain, who commanded a company of anti-aircraft soldiers. “Sir,” he saluted, “Our anti-aircraft company has driven off the Soviet air attack. We managed to down 13 planes, out of a squadron of 20.” “They were Soviets?” asked Weidling, concealing his surprised expression rapidly. “Sir, we could see the Soviet insignia, a red star, on their wings.” “Very good, Captain,” replied Weidling, not showing his inner turmoil, “We must kill as many of the bastards as we can. We must show that the Wehrmacht is still a force to be reckoned with! You are dismissed.” With a smart salute, the officer turned and left, leaving Weidling in the morose consideration of his options. The fact that it was the Soviets, not the British that were now bombing Berlin meant only one thing: the Soviets were on the verge of entering the city. That meant that the 6th Belorussian Front must be trying to---. Weidling’s thoughts were interrupted by a SS officer entering the room, who said, “Sir! We have captured a Russian soldier by the name of Boris. What shall we do with him?” Weidling replied, “Take him to our best interrogators. We must discover the true objective of the Soviets here. When he proves to be of no further use, you may execute him.” The SS man turned and left, leaving Weidling alone in the eerie silence that had descended on the city since the air raid. Weidling’s revelation of the 6th Belorussian Front’s probable objective pushed him into action. He summoned his best strategists, and set them to action with a single sentence. “I intend to concentrate our forces on an attack on the 6th Belorussian Front.”6 With luck, he would succeed. 1Last commander of German forces in Berlin. 2Tanks. 3Famous fighter-bomber employed by the RAF. 4Ground attack aircraft used by the Red Air Force. 5Anti-aircraft gun that formed the mainstay of German air defences. 6A front is equivalent to an army group, about 3-5 field armies; the 6th Belorussian Front is fictional. [slightly over 500 words, sorry for inconveniences caused]

It's not really similar to Man of Steel. In addition, I've never watched Star Trek, though I intend to some day.

Great sale, especially after the 2x battle funds.