German spetsnaz ballistic knife

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As the title suggests, me and my partner are taking our young daughter over to Germany to meet her mums side of the family as my partner is from Germany and all her family still lives there. I'm a bit of a prepper, not full on but there's a couple of things I would like to have with me, a first aid kit, a multi-colored such as a leatherman and a small fixed blade knife. The first two I'm not so concerned about although the leather man does have a small knife on it, but the fixed blade I'm a bit unsure about. I've read that german knife laws state that you can carry a fixed blade with a blade length no greater than 12cm in length which is fine as the one I would intend to take is smaller than that, but I've only read that on forums etc. So was wondering if anyone could confirm this. Also my other main concern is whether or not we should be carrying cash? My partner has an old German bank account that she still has access to so we can transfer funds to that, but I would like to know if it's a good idea to also carry around a small amount of cash? I've read that some places still only accept cash but have no idea how common that is. Thanks!

ey! I'm a ordinary homecook, I often just prepare simple dishes but I love knives. I have an 17 cm Wusthof Santoku, a 18 cm chinese Chef's knife Zwilling, a 20 cm Wusthof Classic Ikon German Chef knife and I want to add a gyutoh (MIYABI 4000 FC). I know 20 cm is very similiar to the Wusthof I quite enjoy, but a lot lighter an thinner. I think 24 cm is close to overkill for the tasks I perform but once in a while there comes something up it would be practical for like a pumpkin or sth. Should I go with the 24cm for diversity or keep in the range I'm most comfortable in?
I know that's not a lot of information, but I'm still very grateful over any opionion, because I can't make up my mind. Space is okay, my kitchen is open, my cutting board is around 46cmx32cm.

I pulled up to the Lake Mart gas station convenience store and parked near the entrance in front of the ice machine. It wasn’t a parking spot but I have a small car, a Miata, so I figured no one would mind, plus I would just be in and out real quick - all I needed was a pack of smokes and two white Monster energy drinks. I flung open the door and got out with ease since I had the top down(when the top is up it’s like crawling into a coffin which is kinda cozy in its own way but still hard to get in and out of). I was wearing cheap, black Amazon sweatpants and crocs and a very expensive beige long sleeve V cut sweater. It was a mismatch of the highest order but I didn’t give a shit. “That ain’t a parking spot buddy!” I hear coming from the Ford F-250 filling up with poor-grade 87 unleaded at the pump, the truck isn’t even a manly diesel. I glare at him and yell back: “How’s the ride in that thing? Probably bounces you around a lot on these roads and reminds you of riding your boyfriend.” A very overweight shit kicker type of fella walks around from the side of the F-250. His boots were covered in dried mud along with his Carrhart overalls. It wasn’t fresh mud but definitely from the previous week’s worth of laboring somewhere horrible. “What did you say to me!?” He bellowed. There was some sort of food stain on the front of his T-shirt, possibly mayonnaise or some other condiment. Strange tho since it was only 7:00AM so he clearly wore the shirt the day or days before. “Oh, sorry.” I said to him after seeing his size. “I didn’t realize you were so big, you must be more of a doggy style power bottom type.” “What the fuck does that mean?” he said to me. “It means you’re too fucking fat to be on top of your boyfriend. He rails you from behind.” “Oh that’s it you fuck!” he yelled and started to run at me. Oh shit I thought, I really let my mouth get me into a situation for no real reason. But actually, no fuck this guy, he started it by telling me I can’t park in front of the ice machine. That’s clearly a violation of the Bill of Rights and flagrant treading on me. He was fairly fast for a fat guy but I knew I was faster and had more endurance. I stood there at first near the front of my Miata and he was running full speed and as he closed the distance he stretched his arms out with the intention of grabbing me(to probably try and make out with me). At the last second I strafed to the right behind the safety of the front left panel of my car. Him being inertia laden, was unable to change direction in time to grab me. His arms flailed to his left at me but missed by a wide margin, He contorted his body in trying to grab me in such a way it forced his legs to cross with the next stride and he tripped over his own feet, took two awkward stumbles and ate shit on the asphalt parking lot, landing on his right shoulder before tumbling over himself and into the ice machine. “Dude you just ate shit!” I said to him pointing and laughing. “You’re probably used to it though when you eat your boyfriend’s ass every night.” “You fucking goddamn…” He said as he got to one knee. “Oh no, don’t propose to me, I’m already in a committed relationship…with your mom.” I replied. He finally got to his feet and despite it being only 50 feet that he ran, he was already wheezing. He reached to his right pocket and pulled out a small pocket knife, maybe 3 inches long only but long enough to do some serious damage, then charged at me again. I ran to the rear of my car and put the car between me and him, he tried to slash at me across the trunk but I easily dodged it as he came up feet short. He started chasing me again and I ran to the front of my car and as he ran up to me again, I ran to the rear of my car like a toddler playing “you can’t catch me”. I started laughing at this thought and each time he ran a pass at me I said that to him. “You can’t catch me big fella! You can’t catch me!” I didn’t have to put forth too much effort but I could tell it was taking its toll on him. He had the stubbornness of a retarded mule and refused to give up to save some sense of pride and honor. We played this game for maybe five complete laps around my car before he realized he had no chance of getting to me. He paused for a moment to decide what to do next to save face and not look like such a fat bitch then it donned on him. “You little fuck.” The sweat was pouring down his forehead. “You got a spare tire in the trunk of this shitbox rice burning beanermobile?” He said and eye’d up my right front tire and pulled his arm back. There wasn’t much I could do so as he began to lunge his arm forward to puncture my tire, I let out the loudest and highest pitch rape scream I could make. It was an ear piercing banshee scream and it must have startled him because he missed the tire and hit the fender causing his sweaty hand to slip from the grip and violently slide down the grip and onto the blade of his knife cutting a large gash in his fingers and palm. “FUCKKKKK!” he screamed, still clutching the knife. The Indian clerk that owned and operated the store must have been alerted by my banshee scream and came rushing out the door. “What going on here!?” he yelled, looking concerned and confused. He saw I was standing there and recognized me immediately. I had to be one of the biggest spenders at the store, buying at least a pack of smokes a day and two energy drinks like clockwork and very often getting food for lunch and always paid cash which they loved. They liked me and knew me as well as you’d know a frequent customer. He saw the fat fella was holding a knife but also bleeding. “He chased me and tried to slash my tire.” I said and the clerk nodded and believed me. “That’s not a parking spot!” the big fella said. “He park there every day, never cause any problem. You buddy, you not welcome here. Go now, leave or I call the police!” The big fella glared at me holding his bleeding palm with his other hand now to apply pressure. I didn’t say a word, I just grinned at the big fella and he turned around and went back to his truck, got in and drove off, peeling out with one wheel as he left. I went inside and the clerk apologized to me for the behavior of the big fella even though it wasn’t his fault obviously. I assured him it wasn’t an issue and got my normal supplies and left. I got in my car and hit the vape(I won’t smoke in the car), started the engine and put on some Tool. My adrenaline was still high so I took a deep breath, hit the vape again, and started the engine then pulled out of my personal parking spot. I pulled out onto the road, looking both ways first but not paying attention to the vehicle far down the road and started my short drive home. It was one complete Tool song for the round trip if I drove like a sane person and I causally accelerated. I hadn’t made it a mile before I noticed a F-250 in my rear view mirror growing in size rapidly. It was the big fella and he was going to run me down in a way that wouldn’t exhaust or embarrass him. “Oh fuck” I said and took another vape hit then downshifted into 3rd gear and put the pedal to the floor. The Miata’s engine woke from its slumber and quickly ran the RPM’s up to 6000, putting me back in my seat the entire time. I shifted into 4th and floored it again. The road was awful and full of potholes but the sporty nimbleness of the Miata made avoiding the major potholes and bumps a fun exercise in technical driving. The big fella had a huge run up on me however and was still closing the distance on me even though I was speeding along at close to 90 miles per hour. Either he was an idiot or didn’t know the roads or likely both but as I glanced in the rearview mirror I could see the truck take hit after hit from the potholes. It lurched and bounced each time but the venerable American truck took each hit in stride and held its ground with me. I was doing 105 MPH now on a shitty backcountry road in a 45MPH zone and the F-250’s speed limiter likely kicked in at that speed so I maintained 105 as we approached the curves. I was nervous because I had only one option and that was to navigate a downhill S-turn meant for 35MPH at 105MPH while avoiding potholes that would tear off one of my tires. If I slowed down any, this maniac behind me could plow into me or give me the Pitt Maneuver and spin me out which would inevitably lead to a rollover where I definitely would die. “Fuck it” I said, grabbed another gear and started pulling away from the F-250. There was another option that just came to me ¼ mile from the S-turn and immediately opted for it. Despite the pain of sacrificing it, I lobbed a full 16oz can of white Monster out of the top of my car like a hand grenade. It crashed into the truck’s grill and penetrated through the grill and into the radiator like an armor piercing anti-tank cannon shell. A plume of steam erupted from the truck and I let off the throttle only to see him start gaining ground. I put it to the floor again and clenched my asshole as I was seconds away from barreling down upon the S-turn. I could see far enough ahead that there was no oncoming traffic so I steered as far left as I could to get the best angle entering the turn. The car’s lane detection warning system beeped at me and I told it to fuck off, I was racing for my life here. I tracked into the turn, apexed in the corner and tracked back out into the next turn. I felt myself get lighter when I entered the turn because it was downhill but the Miata stayed true and glued to the road like a Formula 1 car. In the first part of the S-turn, I had to keep the center line in the center of my car because of the massive canyons in the asphalt on the right tire track that Penn Dot hadn’t addressed in several years. There were more potholes but they were minor and at this speed the car glided over them. I had made it halfway through the S-turn and now steered left again and apexed perfectly in the outward curve and accelerated out of it. The next stretch had mild curves that I wasn’t worried about and I got back in my proper lane, now about to check my mirror to see what the big fella’s fate was. I heard the tires squeal as he tried to slow down to make the first curve of the S-turn. He knew nothing of racing despite having decals on his back window of some local hayseed race car driver. When he braked in the middle of the turn, all the weight shifted forward and he lost all rear grip. Combining that with trying to steer right, caused the rear end of the truck to slide out from behind him and he spun 90 degrees. The left front tire caught the canyon pothole and sent the truck into a barrel roll down the hill. I watched it all in my mirror and I slammed on my breaks. The truck barrel rolled at least a half dozen times before hitting the left side guard rail and bounced into the middle of the road. Steam was billowing from the front of the truck and I could see all the airbags had deployed. I pulled the e-brake, did a half turn to slow down and stop, smoke seethed from my tires and when the car came to a halt in the middle of the road, I put on my 4-ways. I then heard a woman yell to me from the nearby house. “Oh my god!” She yelled. “Are you okay!” She saw the smoke and must have thought there was a fire or something coming from my car. “Yeah I’m fine, but that fella probably isn’t” I said motioning to the heap of metal that used to be a F-250. “I saw the whole thing! I was getting my mail when I heard an engine revving”, the woman said, “Why were you going so fast!? Racing?” She was accusatory and slightly distressed or even angry. I turned my head away from the wreck and looked at her. She was in her late 20s, blonde hair, large and possibly fake breasts, blue eyes and wearing the cutest and most sensual peach colored sundress. If she had makeup on it was minor at most and her face held the natural beauty of an entire Miss Universe contest. “I was racing for my life. The guy is a lunatic, he tried to stab me at the gas station then started chasing me. I knew he couldn’t handle that turn but I knew my car could. Looks like I was right.” I said to her. She looked at me seemingly satisfied with my response but asked, “Why did he try to stab you?” “Because I called him gay.” She laughed and smiled thinking I was joking and was about to say something else when we both heard the big fella yell for help. “We prob should check on him” I said and took a deep hit from my vape exhaling more white vapor than was coming from the wrecked truck. A car pulled up and the driver asked if anyone called 911, I said no and he started dialing. “I’m Michelle”, she said and extended her left hand to me to help me out of the car. She presented her left hand palm down so I could clearly see that she didn’t have a wedding ring. I took her hand and got out of the car then released her hand. It was just a short moment but it lasted for decades. I felt an electricity in her touch, the softness of her skin but the strength and firmness of an unyielding woman who was not unsure of herself. She was breeding stock and with each step she took, her breasts bounced slightly and jiggled revealing that they were indeed real and without a doubt perfect. “I’ve never seen anyone drive that fast through that turn before.” she continued. There’s at least a dozen wrecks here a year from people doing the speed limit and you were going how fast?” “105” I replied. “Maybe 110 when I finally hit the brakes.” “You’re insane.” She said and smiled, then adjusted her sundress, undoing one of her buttons revealing a little bit more cleavage. Her nipples were perky and nearly penetrated the fabric. “Its hot this morning…What kind of car is that? It looks German.” “It’s a Miata. Its basically a super car. It has 180hp but don’t let that fool you, the car only weighs a little more than 2200 pounds. Okay, so you've got to understand why the Mazda Miata is such a big deal—it's not just a car; it's a whole vibe! Picture this: It's super lightweight, right? That makes it incredibly fun to drive; it’s like it's practically gliding along the road. And it's got this perfectly balanced rear-wheel drive, so it handles like a dream, especially on curves. Seriously, it's like dancing... but with a car!” I paused for a few moments to catch my breath then added “Plus, it’s affordable, which is crazy considering how sporty it is. It’s like the everyman’s sports car. You can actually own a roadster without breaking the bank!” “Oh well, that’s nice I guess.” She said and continued, “I have to go now actually, I need to…like do some…chores…I mean get ready for work. Bye.” She buttoned up her sundress then ran off back to her driveway. “Are you a fucking idiot?” I heard the big fella yell. I watched as Michelle sprinted up her driveway, not looking back once even though sirens were blaring and the firetrucks and ambulances had arrived. “You had her melting in your hand and you sperged out like a retard about your car? What the hell is wrong with you? I don’t even want to kick your ass anymore, that was the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

Hello reddit. Just wanted to vent a little bit here. I am 33 old female and in the last few month I realized how my past is directly destroying my life. Also please mind english is not my first language but I will try my best.
Let me start from the begining.
Father - a polish guy who was abused mentally and physically by his father who still thinks that my grandpa methods are the best for raising children. Everything that my father said or done was stupid and my grandpa even told him to not pick his dream career (aviation in military) but to travell to Russia and learn about nuclear physics because goverment said there will be a nuclear reactor in Poland. Still there is not a single one in our country.
Mother - russian woman who already had a child with russian mafia member when she meet my father while he was a student. She saw an oportunity to leave her country with him so she basically manipulate him to love her. She also only thinks about herself and just want to use others to gain comfort and money.
Now me.
I have no idea where I was born. My father claims in Poland and he has a birth certificate to prove it. My mother says in Russia and she also have a birth certificate.
From the moment I was born noone trully cherished me besides my grandma (my fathers mother) and her father - my greatgranpa who fought in WW2. I have some reordings when people walk with me, carry me but only when I was just a baby. After that nothing. For most of the people I was this tainted little piece of nothing. Why tainted you ask? Because I was mixed. My mother was always saying that I was filthy because of my polish blood. Polish side of my family said it was because of my russian blood. I was a freak in everyones eyes. Something that did not deserve to be treaten well from certain age. My first memory I have is when I was crying in my crib and noone came untill finally my grandmother came back from work to hug me and feed me. I was not eating for several hours that day. My mother did not work and never breastfeed me. She was "busy" with my sister who was a pureblood and she was the only one who deserved her attentioned. Mind I was never changed aswell for several hours. My father worked low payed jobs at first because at that time with his russian dyploma he was an outcast. Later with my grandma help he was able to get into IT because he had some skills and she was able to convince her director to give him a chance and invest in his training. He never achieved anything my his own.
At this point I must admit I was abused mentally and physically by my father because my mother demanded. She also did. I was punched, beated, throwed, cursed, everything you can imagine. She even tried to kill me by throwing a knife that left a scar on my head that I can hide with my thin hair.
When I was 5 years old I attemted my first suicide. I was told by my mother that I am nothing and I do not deserve to live so I wanted to make her happy and just die. My plan was to jump off the balcony. We lived in a very tall building so I would die for sure. When my mother saw what I was doing she grabbed me by my hair and pulled me hard into the ground. She said nothing, she did not even look at me. My back was bruised after that. Later on she beat me just to make the bruising more painful. My grandmother asked what happend when she saw me but my father just said "she felt", nothing more. He did not even question my mother.
Later on my parents split because of my mothers infidelity. She never loved my father. She just wanted to escape her country and get more money. She realized she will get more from other people so she just left him and seek more attention elsewhere. This is the time when I felt the horror and terror for the first time. I was sure that my grandma would take me in but I was hugely mistaken. My fathers father had a brother who was a professor. His field was education - pedagogics. He did not wanted me to end up with my father. He called me a filthy bastard many times amd was saying that keeping me will be a disgrace. Also my mother promised him that she will be able to sell me in Russia for good amount of cash. He did everything to make my father look like a person who would not be able to raise a child. I was put in my mothers "care".
It was only for one year but let me summarise what happend: I was not able to go to school as a 7 yo which almost made me go to first class again (thank god I managed to learn fast later), me and my sister 3 years older were constantly left alone in house with no food and water. We ate cat food that my mother left plenty for our 3 cats. Me and my sister were exposed to "adult content" such as drugs, sexual assault, alcohol, gambling, prostitution and much more. We always tried to hide under our beds and I really do not remember if anything happend to us or not. My therapist said I have amnesia that might explain why I do remember those things happen but cannot put them on a timeline. Me and my sister also almost died when we were there. She because of meningitis and I because of kidney failure. We both managed to be cured.
After that one year my father convinced my mother to "sell" me to him. He would pay her more that only child support just to get me out of there. She was more than happy to agree.
In that time my father meet his now wife. My stepmother is 10 years younger than him and she feed me lies like "I will replace your mom, I will love you and cherish you". Me, a child, believed her back then.
When she was officially my fathers wife she went ballistic. My idiot of a father still contacted my mother and gave her even more money, helped her alot with everything and my stepmother wanted him to pay for this "treason" so she verbally abused me and let her whole family do the same. It did not worked coz my father could not care less.
I was with them for almost 5 years years. I was called a whore, prostitute, a bolshevik (who I had no idea who it was in that time). I was starved, forced to eat off the ground or put in a dark basement because my stepmothers younger brother saw it as hillarious. I was told I am nothing, that I do not deserve anything or that noone loves me because I am a bastard. I was a good student, I had really good grades and I won some awards while in school but I was always told that only thing I can do in life is to clean floors somewhere, nothing more. When my school pointed that I would be great at programming because it was natural for me my father said I am an idiot and I do not have a brain that can function and be able to do programming. Everything I was good at and praised in school was quickly turned into "they are saying it so you wont be sad that you are an idiot".
One day I was very hungry and I decided to eat some ham that was in the fridge. I was punished for that because that ham was for guests and I was a filthy trash and should not eat that.
You may ask if school ever noticed anything? They did, I even told them but my father came, said to them that I am a filthy liar and a bad child and they just dropped because he forced me to admit I was lying.
When I was there I was also writing a diary where I wrote how much I hate all of those people. My stepmother found it and read it loud in front of all those people which made the abuse grow even more.
Many times I cried to my grandma why she wont take me and she always said she cant until I was 12. From what I know at that age child can decide with which parent they want to stay and she did not wanted to risk me being taken to my mother again so she waited. She did try to protect me as much as she could but she could not be with me all the time at my fathers place. Thing went a bit better at the end of my stay because my grandma told my father she will kick him out of his flat (she was the owner) if he will not contain his wife and her family. My grandma was clueless for years what was happening to me because I was afraid she will hate me as my stepmother was convincing me.
When I ended up at my grandma place it was a bit better. My mental stability was non existing. I did not received any help because my patents basically had no desire to do anything involving me other than abuse so no papers were sign. My grandma also did not believed in mental health at that time.
I was a troubled teenager and young adult because of my mental health. I did not have any problems at school. I was a genius in a broken body as my friend said once. I smoked, drank alcohol and sometimes do weed but I was to afraid of beeing like those people at my mothers place that I never gave up to any addiction. I was used by other people when it comes to help or physical contact which I am still ashamed of but I survived.
I was told by my family that I will never achieve anything but I indeed achieved alot. I have my masters degree in mechatronics, I am a programmer and now... my life is going worse and worse.
My trauma kicked in lately in much more force. I was diagnosed in CPTSD which is Complex PTSD. I lately lost my job because my grandmother started to act like my father. I was working from home and she did everything in her power to make me lose it. She marched to every important meeting and just... humiliate me. She wanted me to be vulnerable again so she is doing everything so I will lose any stability. Woman who helped me made me hate her.
I tried to have a relationship with my stepmother and father but they claimed they did nothing wrong and that what I remember never happend. My grandmother instead of defending me and be on my said said she wants to not be involved. I decided to cut all contact with my father and his wife after that.
Now Im jobless as a programmer which is just pathetic. My boyfriend of 7 years is not supportive at all. He thinks that I should just get together and smile because other people have much worse. I am losing my mind over this... he is saying he understands I am in a bad place but in the end he will scream at me that I am always gloomy and that I cry alot. I am once again suicidal. I am really trying to survive but I just cant. At this point only my two cats are keeping me alive.
Sorry for this mess of a post but in the middle of writing I just started to cry and could not contain myself.

Hi everybody,
I have recently been considering a new purchase, and while I am not there yet, I feel like I need to consult you if I want to advance my decision making process.
As the title states I am looking for a large gyuto (240 mm). I want to /will primarily use it on large and dense vegetables but want something harder than german steel, thus I am aiming for a hrc of 60-61.
Currently I have two knives on my short list:

• Sakai Kikumori Nihonko (SK-4)
  
• Tsunehisa Ginsan Nashiji
  

They are similarly priced with the Tsunehisa being slightly more expensinve. I would guess that a wa handle is much cheaper than a full tang, scale handle and thus more "money" goes into the rest of the knife.
I would like a carbon steel knife, because the patina can get so beautiful, but for a workhorse stainless steel is slightly more practical.
Both knives have a simple yet iconic design that represents their respective kinds well, which is exactly what I am looking for in this "affordable workhorse" (Though I would prefer an octagonal handle for the Tsunehisa). Overall I like the look of the Tsunehisa better but the western style seems more appropriate for the function it fulfills.
As you can imagine I am a bit decision-paralysed since I can't seem to form a preference. I would greatly appreciate any insight, comparisons or suggestions that fit the scheme.
Thx!

We know that military in most countries doesn't use the revolver, the semi auto battle rifle,the crossbow and ballistic knife. Then:
Why does the Russian Army still use the RSh-12 revolver and the ballistic knife?
Why does the Indian Army still use the SIG 716 G2 Patrol semi auto battle rifle
Why do the Chinese, Serbian and Spain armies still use the crossbow?

We know that military in most countries doesn't use the revolver, the semi auto battle rifle,the crossbow and ballistic knife. Then:
Why does the Russian Army still use the RSh-12 revolver and the ballistic knife?
Why does the Indian Army still use the SIG 716 G2 Patrol semi auto battle rifle
Why do the Chinese, Serbian and Spain armies still use the crossbow?

My apologies for posting this, if there was a team based shooter game close to Overwatch with real life military equipement, what about featuring: -Rifle hero(meaning he/she uses assault and battle rifles. However, semi auto battle rifles may be included based on the Indian Army using the SIG712 G2 Patrol). -Precision rifle hero(meaning he/she uses sniper and designated marskman rifles). -Shotgun Hero -Submachine gun hero -Machine gun hero -Carbine hero -Pistol hero -Revolver hero(based on Russian military using RSh-12 revolver) -Drone launcher(based on Defendtex drone 40) -Spike launcher(based on Rafael Mini-Spike with kinetic missiles) -Crossbow Hero(based on Chinese, Serbian and Spain armies) -Railgun hero -Coilgun hero -Laser cannon hero -Ballistic knife hero -Axe Hero
In such game, all heroes should sprint, aim down sight, crouch an do melee attacks. (I wonder if prone would work although soldiers prône in real life. As real life soldiers don't slide, I don't know if such game should feature it).

Hello guys,
First off, I want to mention I don't really like dogs in the first place. I'm also not scared of them at all, but this breed is just different. This happened a while ago.
Let's start off by my job. I had been working for (yellow bus delivery company) for about 2 years. While I did this part time, I had encountered several aggressive dogs in these years. Mainly German Shepherds and Pits. So, for my safety I always carried a knife with me (a legal one in The Netherlands fyi)
I almost never got in these situations, like maybe once a month. But somehow these Pit owners stick out. They are the worst. They don't give a shit at all.
Anyways, so I'm out delivering packages in the evening. The weather is for once very nice (rare for The Netherlands lol) Everything goes alright like most days. It's a very easy job once you get everything loaded in.
So I get at this house. Very stereotypical pit owner house, very messy, unkempt garden, broken shit in the front whatever. So keep in mind, deliveries here are very different than in America. We actually ring on the doorbell and wait and hand over the package, unless instructed otherwise.
SOOO.. I ring. I hear a dog barking in the hallway and so I immediately get my knife out for precaution. Door opens. Woman opening the door has no business owning such a large dog. She keeps the door open, cause she has to sign package. All of a sudden this grey pit comes in tries to lunge at me. I, drop package, get my knife out my pocket, stab. Done. It retreats. It went all so fast.
Both in shock. I immediately get the fuck out her garden, try to get my phone in that I keep in the bus cause I always connect to bluetooth for music. Call police. Stay in the car. No ambulance cause I'm fine.
Authorities come. Woman angry at me because her precious dog bla bla. They take it with them. I go to the police bureau they take my info, whatever. Dog got euthanised I'm sure. Woman tried to sue (yellow bus delivery company) depot lol. Tried, cause she has no case. Aggressive dog VS 19yo delivery driver doing his job. Good luck with that. I quit soon after.

I've seen this movie a few times, first 18 years ago and had some of these questions at the time but never found answers. After a recent rewatch, I'm now ready to try and find some again. So here goes:
Probably been asked every day but I can't see anything when I search posts, so in this movie, what's going on with the D-Day scene? We're on the beach, there's hundreds of men, boats, and activity. Now we're seeing the German bunker's point of view, a first person glance over the shoulder of the gunner. And what do we see on the beach? NOTHING. Like, a couple completely empty Landing crafts and stragglers running around randomly and being shot. And then back to the beach. Hundreds of men. What?
And the beach looks a fraction of the length from the Germans view. It looks like maybe 75 yards. But on the beach, it looks the length of multiple football fields. So weird.
Lastly, why would Captain Miller be an English teacher and baseball coach while also being a 75th Ranger Captain in the U.S. Army Special Forces? Wouldn't that be his main career? Not teaching English? Baseball coaching is more realistic, could be a hobby. But why is he a teacher while also established as a highly skilled and ranking U.S. Army operative being sent on classified missions?
No, I don't need to know why Mellish cried when he found the knife.

Does the Spetsnaz still use the ballistic knife?

Does the Spetsnaz still use the ballistic knife ?

It's Forged in Fire reruns all Friday afternoon on DefyTV in Chicago. One hour at a time from noon until 2AM tomorrow. I've seen most if not all the episodes.
I like the forging part. Very zen. The testing part gets a little weird, like when Doug Marcaida starts stabbing ballistics dummies and the fake blood goes spraying everywhere, followed by Doug grinning from ear to ear and informing the blade smith that his recently forged trench knife "will keel." (It's weird how Doug's "it will kill" has evolved into "it will keel" by the way.) The sharpness test usually involves cutting sandbags, something covered in leather, pieces of wood, or running the knife sideways though a row of apples. And then the strength test where they try to break the blades these contestants just forged. They smash the blades into skulls, cow femurs, suits of armor, bricks, metal pipes, and anything else they can think of that shouldn't be hit with a knife, or machete, or hatchet, or whatever today's blade is.
That's the other thing I like. They tell these smiths what they're going to make, how they're going to forge it (gas or coal), how long it has to be, and what metal they have to use. Find the parts for your blade in that pile of motorcycle parts over there. You have 3 hours, starting...now!
I get a kick out of the judging. I like when they tell Rudy his blade didn't make the cut because it suffered catastrophic damage during the "cinder block chop." The fuck did you think would happen? I just spent 3 hours making a Ka-Bar out of a chunk of truck axle and you whack the thing on a fucking cinder block?
"Please, surrender your blade and leave the forge."
The hang-headed walk of the smith that gets bounced is fantastic, from a schadenfreude pov. These people are crushed. Talking about going home, kissing the wife, petting the dog, eating some dinner, and then going out to the garage forge to figure out where I went wrong with my life.
Just once I'd like to see one of these smiths refuse to "please surrender their blade, and leave the forge."
It won't chop cinder blocks, so I have to hand it to you and leave the forge? I don't think so Wil Willis. Come and take it.

First / Previous / Royal Road / Patreon (Read 12 Chapters Ahead)

"Kayla, Evie!" Pale called as she rushed back over to the caravan. Every movement caused waves of pain to radiate out from her shoulder as the knife shifted inside her, scraping across her bone. Pale grit her teeth as she ran, forcing herself to hold back from crying out in pain.
Her wound would need to be treated, but that would come after she confirmed the safety of her allies, and no sooner.
Pale sprinted through the caravan, her shotgun held in one hand and cradled underneath her arm. With her off-hand incapacitated, she'd only have the one shot in her long gun before being forced to discard it in favor of her sidearm, but if she ran into any more bandits, she'd be sure to make that one shot count.
All around her, wagons burned and people cried out in agony. Bodies, both bandit and elf, littered the ground, their lifeblood spilling out onto the grass and dirt below. Flames curled up into the night, spewing acrid black smoke across the plains and illuminating the carnage below. Pale couldn't help but glower as she passed by several elves who had been all but carved limb from limb.
She held little love for these people, but they had been her allies, and they hadn't deserved to die so horribly. The only solace was that the bandits appeared to have been slaughtered to the man; she hadn't seen any of them get away, at least, and there were enough of their dead scattered around to make her believe that none of them had survived their attack.
"Pale?! Pale!"
At the sound of Kayla's frantic voice, Pale whipped around, her eyes widening.
"Over here!" she called. "Are you hurt?"
Her question was met by the sound of two pairs of hurried footsteps rushing over to her Kayla and Evie came running up to her through the darkness, and for the first time, Pale allowed herself to relax, lowering her weapon before ultimately switching the safety on and gently laying it on the ground below. As she did so, the knife in her shoulder shifted once more, causing her to wince and let out a pained grunt before sinking to her knees, clutching at it.
"Pale!" Kayla shouted, rushing to her side along with Evie. "You're hurt! How bad is-"
"I'll be fine," Pale insisted through gritted teeth. "Just need to get this knife out of my shoulder…"
"What do you mean, just get it out?! We need to get you to a healer, and-"
"Relax," Evie urged. "I know enough healing magic to fix up something like this, no problem." She gave Pale a sideways glance. "You are right about one thing, though – that knife is going to have to come out before we can do anything about fixing the wound itself."
"Do it," Pale urged.
"You sure? It will hurt-"
"I'm sure. Get me fixed up."
Evie shrugged. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
Evie motioned for Kayla to fall in alongside her. Kayla swallowed nervously, her wolf ears drooping as the two of them closed in on Pale, who merely bunched up some of her undershirt and stuffed it in her mouth. Evie took hold of the hilt of the knife, then looked to Pale for confirmation; she nodded, and Evie yanked. Despite her best efforts, Pale still had to suppress a scream of agony as the blade was pulled from her shoulder.
Still, it was thankfully over in just a few seconds. Evie held up the knife, showing the crimson-slicked blade to Pale, before tossing it away. Naturally, the blood had started to pour out of her once the knife had been removed, but Evie was quick to clamp a hand over it, then look over to Pale once more.
"You'll feel some slight discomfort," she warned.
Pale nodded, but despite this indication, nothing could have prepared her for the sudden sensation of her flesh beginning to stitch itself together. She nearly jumped when she felt the blood flow begin to taper off, followed by the wound starting to clot and then close, all in a matter of seconds. By the end of it, the deep stab wound was gone, replaced with little more than a rough patch of scar tissue. Pale couldn't help but poke and prod at it a bit, bewildered as she was, but after just a few seconds of investigating it, she knew what the truth was.
Magic was clearly a very real thing in this world, but the true extent of it was still a mystery to her. One thing was for certain, however – it was very powerful, and she could not afford to underestimate it if she wanted this avatar to stay alive.
Pale looked over to Evie, then offered her a nod. "Thanks."
Evie waved her off. "Least I could do. Now, I'm gonna need you two to come with me and help me take care of the rest of the caravan."
"That wouldn't be a problem at all," Kayla insisted. "Right, Pale?"
Pale didn't hesitate to shake her head. "Lead the way," she said.

It took them the rest of the night to not only treat the remaining survivors of the attack, but also take inventory of all the losses the caravan had incurred. The true extent of the damage wasn't revealed until the sun had started to rise, but by then, there was no mistaking the kind of carnage the bandits had wrought.
Pale counted six burned-out wagons, their goods gone up in flames along with them. Thirteen elves had also fallen, out of a caravan of around forty. The thought made her brow furrow; she had no idea what Evie's accounting books looked like, but even despite that, Pale knew that these weren't the kinds of losses any traveling merchant could sustain. No operation survived losing that much material and manpower, at least not for very long.
And so, she wasn't surprised when Evie approached her and Kayla, later that morning, a crestfallen expression on her face.
"Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we're turning the caravan around for now," she told them.
"You are?" Kayla asked. She bit her lip. "…Truthfully, I'm not surprised… I mean, after what those barbarians did… I don't think anyone would blame you for heading back."
"It's not just that," Pale cut in. "The monetary losses here must have been staggering. It's not the kind of thing that can just be recovered from." She looked over to Evie. "I take it you had a choice between seeing it through and turning things around?"
"No offense to you two, but it wasn't a hard choice," Evie answered. "Would've been a lot harder if I hadn't lost so many people, but now… now, we've got a lot of families to inform and bodies to bury. I'm sorry, but this is as far as we go, at least for now. We'll link up with you as soon as we're able, we owe you that much, but at the moment, this is where we part ways."
Pale pursed her lips. That was unfortunate, but she could at least understand where Evie was coming from.
"We'll figure something out," Pale assured her.
Evie nodded and went to turn and walk away, but at the last minute, Pale recalled something from the night before. She called out to Evie, getting her to stop and turn back; as she did so, Pale pulled the letter she'd taken from the barbarian, then offered it to her.
"Does this explain anything?"
Evie eyed the letter in disbelief. "Where'd you get this?"
"From the dead bandit leader. You want to know who did this and why, right? That might have your answers there."
Evie accepted the paper, then tore it open and began to read through it. It only took a few lines before her expression darkened and she lowered the page, gritting her teeth in anger.
"What is it?" Kayla asked.
"It's a letter of marque," Evie answered. "Someone put a kill order on our caravan."
"What? Why would they do that?"
"Does it say who it was?" Pale asked, leaning in.
Evie shook her head. "Nothing about who sent the order. It just says that my caravan is to be destroyed and everyone in it slaughtered or enslaved, as well as a price for doing so." Her expression darkened further. "Three-hundred gold… they were paying those people three hundred gold for the lives of forty people. Not even ten per person…"
"So, someone put a hit out on your caravan and everyone in it," Pale surmised. "Any idea who it might be, even if the letter doesn't indicate it?"
Evie shook her head. "No… I didn't think we had any enemies like this. This is the first indication I've ever seen that someone hates us." She let out a tired, irritated sigh. "Look, I'd like to discuss this further, but I need to be going. We've got a long ride back to Woodbriar ahead of us, not to mention plenty of letters home to send, and honestly, I'm in no mood to even be considering doing something about it. Just… if you two do find something, either let me know or just kill the bastard who signed that letter, and I'll see to it that you're both handsomely rewarded. Deal?"
"Deal," Pale said without a moment's hesitation. "Safe travels."
"Same to you. Hopefully we'll see each other again soon."
With that, Evie waved goodbye, and her and the rest of her caravan turned and began to move away from the two of them.
Pale and Kayla watched them steadily disappear over the horizon, and the instant they were gone, began moving in the opposite direction, farther north.

They walked for most of the day before finally deciding to retire for the night. There was little more than an empty field around them, but Pale didn't mind – given the fact that their previous incursions into areas with forests had led to ambushes, she was in no hurry to get out of the elements, especially not when the skies were clear.
It was beginning to get cold, however – frost had started to cover the ground as night had fallen, and Kayla was shivering slightly as she laid in her sleeping roll. Pale, for her part, simply grit her teeth and bore it, though she made a mental note to call down a drop pod with some heavier clothing for the two of them the moment morning came. She was tempted to do it at night, if only to make sleeping outside more bearable, but that was a bad idea – the drop pod coming down would be visible for miles, and this deep into enemy territory, the last thing she wanted was to plant a beacon pointing directly to her.
Pale's thoughts were interrupted by Kayla suddenly stirring slightly before falling still. Seeing it, Pale couldn't help but furrow a brow.
"I know you're awake."
For a moment, Kayla said nothing, but then let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah… sorry; I know I need to get my rest."
"Indeed," Pale cut in. "But something is bothering you. Care to elaborate?"
Kayla bit her lip. "It's just… that letter got me thinking… did the bandits who attacked my town have a similar order?"
Pale blinked, surprised. Truthfully, that thought had passed her mind already, but to hear it from Kayla was unexpected. Kayla was far from stupid, but she was young and inexperienced. For her to put the pieces together like that so quickly and by herself was interesting, to say the least.
"It's a possibility,' Pale said. "I wouldn't be surprised if it were completely true. Think about it – they bypassed several bigger towns to come straight for yours, and seemed uninterested in anything aside from killing, enslaving, and looting."
"So you agree?"
"I think it's a distinct possibility, but we'll need something more concrete before taking that and running with it. Ideally, we'll hear it from a high-ranking bandit themselves, when we manage to take one alive." Pale cast a glance up at the moon. "Get some rest, Kayla. You'll need it for tomorrow."
Kayla looked like she wanted to argue, but didn't, instead lying down and closing her eyes. She was out in a matter of minutes, though once again, Pale could tell from the twitches and whimpers in her sleep that she was still being plagued by nightmares.
Eventually, Pale turned away, instead focusing on the moon once more, her mind racing at the thought of the letter.

Special thanks to my good friend and co-writer, Ickbard for the help with writing this story.