Waffentragers will return to World of Tanks - there are thousands of them!

DATES. Fan Mode Starts: September 26 (Mon) on all regions.

(Excerpt from Ermelinda Jung's personal diary.)

"Show restraint," my father often says. That's how I hear his voice: "Restraint is a level. Restraint goes with a decent young Fräulein, like a nice cocktail dress."

Maximilian Leonard von Krieger-Witthofen. Baron Ledensburg. Daddy's favorite. He knows very well that I would always prefer a greasy mechanic's overalls to the best dress, even an immodest one. And yet he still sees me as his little girl. Of course, sometimes he calls me his "little savage. When he remembers to wear a monocle, I suppose. Are you serious? "Wild"? I have a degree in engineering! I'm just a little temperamental and uninhibited. I'm sorry.

My father is of noble birth and noble soul. He is a brilliant scientist, an underappreciated and misunderstood genius. His work is aimed at advancing the knowledge of mankind. And yet the dogs of the Alliance are once again trying to hunt him down. They have the audacity to attack his base and distract him from his work, wasting his precious time. I'm sure it's all because of that wild fury and her personal revenge on my father. What was her name? Villianella? Oh, those French names.

Well, what's the point of showing restraint? Dad was merciful to them a few times. They don't learn anything. Okay, trying to mold their dull crackling caterpillar crafts doesn't count. Nevertheless, they are so overconfident that they are ready to attack us again, naively believing that, at worst, they will just get the finger wagged and shamed.

It's time to change our approach a bit. Add damage to moral humiliation. Show these Hounds where they belong. And if one of them gets seriously hurt... Let's consider it a sacrifice in the name of science. And if, no matter what, they know my father's absence and hope to defeat his helper... Well, they're in for a lot of unpleasant surprises.

Dad is too much of an idealist. That's not surprising: he's a theorist. The Brain. He invents powerful and magnificent machines. I'm different. I am the hands that assemble these machines. Hands can be gentle, or they can be harsh. I LOVE to be cruel. And I can hit a lot harder than my dad.

They probably think they can corner me on my turf. Seriously? Ridiculous. Sparkly joke. When the Hounds (why do I even capitalize that?) invade my personal space, I'll send some gifts to their world. Several thousand gifts. I have personally assembled and set up Sentinels, large-scale helper tanks. What they certainly don't expect is serial production of Waffentragers.

Dear diary, if you could think and talk you would probably shriek in horror (and awe?): "Oh, Hermelinda! You're about to start a grand slaughter! What will your father say when he returns from (repeatedly crossed out) and sees all this pleasing, delightful, exquisite destruction you have wrought?"

Well, Diary, I may have unlimited power and a brilliant mind, but after all, I'm Daddy's little girl. And little girls often like to fool around. Something tells me I can get away with it...

It's like I just swatted a bug.