Suzetta and the Ogre

In the midst of the battle, the vast ogre hollered, bashing away soldiers as it lumbered through the field. Suzetta, her feet firmly planted on the bloodstained grass, threw down her swords, pulled two daggers from her belt and charged at the beast head on. At the final moment she jumped, narrowly avoiding the monster's powerful arm swiping at her, as one would swat a fly. She hit the beast, her daggers plunged into its chest. It shrieked in pain as hot blood sprayed out onto Suzetta's face and leather armor. She clung precariously, like a mountain climber on a cliff with a pickhammer. With effort, Suzetta pulled her self up, pulling her right hand dagger out with a jerk and then jabbing it into the beast's jugular. It began to sway and it staggered back in pain and panic. Then Suzetta yanked the left dagger free and then jumped up again and slammed it into the beast's eye. It collapsed to the ground with a sickening thud and catlike, Suzetta jumped off, landed on her feet and retrieved her swords.

My favorite part of combat in Dragon Age: Origins is when you get a killing blow on an ogre. You basically do what this paragraph discribes but in slow motion.

Gas! Gas! Gas!

At Kunsan Air Base, SSgt Kohler and I were enjoying a cigarette break or at least, he was enjoying the cigarette and I was enjoying the break. It was hot that day, a sweltering ninety seven degrees and humid and the extraneous fabric of the Airman's Battle Uniform did not help whatsoever.

So it was to our great dismay when the Giant Voice announced "Exercise, exercise, exercise. Alarm yellow. Alarm yellow. MOPP level 4. MOPP level 4."

Kohler and I both swore simultaneously as we jumped to our feet, pulled our gas masks on our faces and then rushed as fast as we could to our chemical defense gear. MOPP level 4. This meant, the entire suit from head to toe, no exposed skin whasoever.

I got to my bag and immediately pulled on the heavy charcoal lined trousers. I zipped them up, snapped the triple snap, pulled the straps around the waste and made it tight. Then the overcoat came on over that. And already, I was sweating from the heat. The gas mask, with its airtight seal, left no real ventilation from the heat. I got the overcoat on, zipped it, velcroed it, drew the strings and tied them tight. I pulled the jock strap in between my legs and snapped it in place.

Then I pulled my overboots on, strapping the pants over the boots, and followed with the gloves, strapping the sleeves of the overjacket to the rubber gloves. Then I put my hood up and tightened it. As SSgt Kohler and I were checking each other out, I felt a sudden urge.

I looked at him with exasperation.

"Man, I gotta take a piss."

It never fails, whether it be chemical defense gear or just freaking snow pants and a ski parka, once suited up, nature calls.