your commanding officer

we fight the child's war. how glorious! how fun!

your commanding officer...

sweetheart deer, who are silly and small and get in your way and once you've made eye contact they give you a heart attack if they die
fangs arcing down from the sky like black rainbows and silent artillery fire
flimsy metal barrels containing cannibals eager to eat their way back home from the ghost world
kung fu kicks from spiderleg women, four stilt legs to a hip
sunken senators, those tyrants of darkness who turn shadows to bugs
ursine nursury, a massive she-bear with a jaw that drags along the ground to swallow the dying whole. a minute or two later, births a horrible, patch-furred hybrid the dead are of no interest to her.

black fangs
cannibal barrels
jack bombs (ground vibrates such that it kills you if you are standing on it each time it bounces, bounce 1d4+1 times before they clip through the earth and are gone)
boiling fat

mourning root, which rapidly sprouts when planted, growing a foot per second per person crying on it. anyone killed under its willowy limbs must be buried by the one who killed them
a held breath, a cloud of bacteria that, upon contact with the uninoculated, revert their gut biome to the way it was on an autumn afternoon when they were a child, and lonely. they will behave accordingly, though they remain cognizant of their surroundings.
a gravedigger gun, a tripoded and multi-barrled sniper rifle which fires 6 shots which cause the body to collapse into a cairn of limbs with the head and torso at the bottom; this qualifies as burial for the effects of mourning roots
feathergun, like a shotgun loaded with feathers that stick in the target and flap lifting them up and rapidly away

Was It Likely?