#Urban Warrior

[nestedneons]

By bgfdel

[military1st]

Dutch Marines during Exercise Caribbean Urban Warrior on Camp Lejeune, North Carolina.

The U.S. Marine Corps photo by Lance Cpl. Ryan Ramsammy (2022).

[iolausian-fields]

𝗫𝗲𝗻𝗮: 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗼𝗿 𝗣𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀 s4e21 - The Ides of March

[sgtgrunt0331-3]

In one of the most famous photographs from the war in Iraq and still gripping his 9mm Beretta, a seriously injured 1st Sgt. Brad Kasal is carried from the “Hell House” by Lcpl Chris Marquez and Lcpl Dane Shaffer on November 13, 2004.

1st Sgt. Kasal lost much of his blood and nearly lost his right leg after being shot seven times by insurgents. His body was peppered with shrapnel as he used his body to shield an injured younger Marine, PFC Alex Nicoll, from a grenade blast.

For his heroic actions that day while serving as first sergeant of Weapons Company, 3rd Battalion, 1st Marines, Brad Kasal received the Navy Cross.

(Photo by: Lucian Read)

[unmotivated-artist164]

"Butcher this" "Butcher that" YES! ABSOLUTELY, WE LOVE BUTCHER!!

But what about Reaper? Leonard "Bones" McCoy? Skurge? Éomer, Marshal of Rohan? Julius Caesar, Caesar, Cupid, Kor, Mael? A random star wars cameo? Danny Gallagher?

We need to give Karl Urban our love all around.

If you wouldn't take him at his

And his

And his

And his

And his

And his

Then you don't deserve him at his

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

[cultofthewyrm]

Co-curricular Activity by ttguweiz

[wastedarkcell]

Nothing on this planet could have prepared me for Karl Urban’s first line as Cupid in Xena: Warrior Princess.

[stealthily]

everyone please watch xena: warrior princess

[goldennekomario]

Karl Urban as Cupid

[nestedneons]

By bite_kenny

[lana0605]

Karl Urban appreciation post

''Xena: Warrior Princess''

''The Lord of the Rings''

''Star Trek''

''Dredd''

''The Boys''

[hellsgate-roadhouse]

[sgtgrunt0331-3]

Lance Cpl. Jason Canellis, sights in from a rooftop, along the main highway through the city of Fallujah, as the Marines of 1st Light Armored Reconnaissance (LAR) company, attached to 1st Battalion, 3rd Marine Regiment, search houses for insurgents during Operation Phantom Fury on November 10, 2004.

(Photo by: Scott Peterson/Getty)

[gentlemanmotorslifestyle]

[cultofthewyrm]

Ghost flower ~ daily work 3 hours by Vinci R

[crystalfic]

The Last Warrior

"Pick one of the weapons inside, and you'll be a warrior."

The sign itself should have been a warning. Other would-be Warriors get their words engraved on stone doors, or burned into heavy wood, or inlaid in precious metals.

You got a piece of paper taped to a chipboard door that wouldn't look out of place in a fifty-year-old house. The words are handwritten; not beautifully calligraphed, but hastily scribbled, as though the person who wrote it was in too much of a hurry to care.

Sighing, you reach for the handle anyway. It won't go away until you pick something; every Warrior who survived this trial says so. It'll just keep turning up, more and more insistent, until every door is this one. You lost your sister to one of these doors, and by any available metric she was a far better candidate than you'll ever be. (She's not one of the ones who died from making the wrong choice in the armoury. That happened later.)

As your hand wraps around the handle, the piece of paper flutters. Blue ink catches your eye; the traditional words are in black marker, but the blue doesn't fit. You let go. Pull the paper away from the door. Turn it over.

We're out of options, says the blue ink, in the same handwriting as the words on the front. This is all we've got left. You barely qualify, but you might be a better choice. Please. Help.

You grit your teeth. It's true, but seeing it laid out so blatantly still stings. For a moment, you consider opening the door and closing it without taking a weapon, or taking one and not using it. But the unknown letter-writer is right; the one thing that qualifies you for this is that you want to help.

Your fingers wrap around the handle, and you pull the door open before you can think about it. Part of you is hopeful, curious, wanting to see the fabled armoury of the Doors.

It's not there.

In front of you is a broom closet, dust in the corners, lit by a bare electric bulb. There are four weapons on display, and here at least part of the glory you'd hoped for survives.

An elegant sword in bronze and green. A shield in silver and yellow. A wizard's staff in black and red. A set of wings in gold and blue. You know that whatever weapon you choose, you will be an expert with as soon as you pick it up.

They all call to you. Choose one, choose any, they will leap eagerly to your aid. The wings call to you most, but something holds you back.

In the half-hope that there might still be a way out of this, you shuffle the shield aside with the back of your hand. And there, hidden behind the curved metal that wants you to pick it up, is something that few Warriors would ever recognise as a weapon.

A capped fountain pen, discarded in a dark and dusty corner.

It doesn't call to you. It doesn't leap to your hand. But this, this is the weapon you already know how to use. Your fingertips grip it, and you idly pull the cap off. A testing stroke on your skin reveals it to be the same blue as the hopeless note taped to your Door.

"I choose this," you say aloud. There's no instant knowledge, no sudden expertise, but the Door slams shut anyway. The armoury has accepted your choice and made you a Warrior.

You grin.