The Sperry-Colt 7.5 cm automatic rifle, standard weapon of battlemechs for the Atlantic Federation
A mail order tank, interstellar war, the engines of galactic commerce and nostalgia.
A standard crowd control/riot shield
Local farmers and foresters have the greatest bow making wood in all the land, they also have the skill to protect it.
Also known as hover cycles, HBs, Tin cans, tin coffins, and smear-bikes, the military hover bike is a common vehicle in many arsenals and motorpools
How the Clerics of Stone cheat death.
The tornado hat may look laughable to wear, but it's anything but funny when you're facing the tornado caused by such a hat. If using it, beware, do not spin for too long...
Everyone knows that firearms are weapons only fit for orcs—smelly, loud, and unreliable. But there are guns made for ogres, too, and the largest of those are called Thunderguns.
It is rare that humans earn a gift from the Merpeople, as most of the time the two races tend to avoid each other, and with scarce resources the Merpeople tend not to give gifts very often, yet it does happen...
A 100-word piece of sci-fi minutia
A thaumatechnological weapon, an example of the marriage between intricate technological innovation and sophisticated magic engineering.
A powered melee weapon for power armor assault troopers
"Make sure you wing it before the Emperor draws back his arrow son, a few times if you can, but try not to be too obvious..."
'Oh great, another mouth to feed'
They didn't nickname him "Sparky" behind his back for nothing...
a disposition os 30 types of armored combat vehicles
"Contingent of Imperial Knights spotted at Osthill, my prince. Lord Marshall Oswald's tank contingent is dug in there, and the fortifications are solid. All you need to do is give me the order, and I'll tell his lordship to make it rain."
-Miles Secundi, Man-at-Arms of Prince Kastame
"Sure, it’s chilly to wear in the winter, boiling in the summer, and yeah, it chafes a little after a day or two of marching. But when you do what we do, you learn to eat, sleep and s**t in it - pardon my language your highness.”
-Miles Secundi, Man at Arms of Prince Kastame
The blast of charged particles tore into one of the entrenched tanks, then from the 'Mech's other barrel-arm into its mate emerging from behind a corner.
Commander Ratzelle had to admit - letting the rookie ride in the Warhammer was not such a bad choice after all; indeed was he a crack shot.
"Ha! There it goes, blown into pieces! We'll never see their sorry asses again!"
"I wouldn't be so sure about that, greenhorn" the lance leader replied. "Get ready for clean-up! We have to root them out by nightfall!"
The fleet's answer to MADDS