I've got a few ideas for a helmsman. I'll get to work on it.
Namelessjake Member
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- Namelessjake 10 yrs ago
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I'm part of a group of about 7 guys, currently playing 5 pbp games together. We've got at least 2 new games coming up and we're looking to expand our group as it's starting to get stretched a bit thin.
All the games are set in a medieval fantasy world of our own creation which we originally starting building with a Minecraft server about 4 years ago. Since then we've moved on from Minecraft and the world has grown immensely. We've created maps and even a wiki to keep track of all the lore which spans about 3000 years now and multiple nations. The world building is an ongoing process and everyone's input is valued.
We've all been playing for at least a year, but we'd be happy to help teach someone. It's a great group, if it's something you think you'd be interested in drop me a PM.
All the games are set in a medieval fantasy world of our own creation which we originally starting building with a Minecraft server about 4 years ago. Since then we've moved on from Minecraft and the world has grown immensely. We've created maps and even a wiki to keep track of all the lore which spans about 3000 years now and multiple nations. The world building is an ongoing process and everyone's input is valued.
We've all been playing for at least a year, but we'd be happy to help teach someone. It's a great group, if it's something you think you'd be interested in drop me a PM.
I am, although I was expecting Wernher to post and move Shep and Sarah forward.
I have to agree with Wernher. The two groups originally working for the opposite sides in the conflicts could make things interesting too.
Uniting everyone quickly seems like it would be a bit unlikely, so maybe we should keep the groups smaller for now.
Sheppard paused for a moment, mulling over what Sarah had said. "If we plan to light this fire, we'll have to be careful to keep it small. If the UN decides there is a need for international intervention and sends in Peacekeepers then the Scorpion will probably go to ground and we'll miss our chance to kill him. But I agree, it's probably going to be the best way to find him." He took another swig of his beer, before removing his sunglasses and turning to properly face Sarah. "I doubt the moral ambiguity will be an issue. Everyone has a price for doing anything. I imagine we'll find out that our's and the others' prices are lower than the payout for getting the Scorpion." It was a fair assumption, Sheppard doubted there would be much difference in what had been offered by the different governments, they were probably even collaborating on this, and he knew what he stood to gain was enough for him to do pretty much anything.
"So we start off small then. Find some work, get paid in something useful, get tooled up and make contacts. Hopefully finding the others in the process," he said before finishing off his beer and putting the bottle back down on the bar. "We might as well get right to it," he added, standing up from his seat at the bar. "We just need to find someone who needs some dirty work doing."
"So we start off small then. Find some work, get paid in something useful, get tooled up and make contacts. Hopefully finding the others in the process," he said before finishing off his beer and putting the bottle back down on the bar. "We might as well get right to it," he added, standing up from his seat at the bar. "We just need to find someone who needs some dirty work doing."
Sheppard sipped his beer once more and smiled as the woman from the square slid over a piece of paper. She was French or Italian he guessed from her accent, definitely European. "I'd say they're desperate and I'd take a guess and say its the same as this one," he said taking his letter out from his vest, holding it up between two of his fingers. "If that alone isn't enough then killing the scorpion would be my first guess," he added just in case this woman had mistaken him for someone else. Clearly asking what was on the paper was a test. Taking one more sip he turned on his bar stool to face the woman. "Michael Sheppard," he said, offering her a hand after placing his beer down on the bar. He was silently pleased his assumption had been correct, although at the same time he couldn't help but feel it would be easier to blend in alone. Looking the woman up and down he decided there were probably worse allies to have in this country. Her age could only suggest experience if she was selected for a mission such as this. "I don't suppose you have a plan yet?" Michael asked. "I tried the market but there were a few too many locals to be of any use."
Sheppard emerged from the jungle and on to a road about ten minutes from Bekalo. The sun was starting to rise in the sky now and he put on a pair of aviator style sunglasses to lessen the morning glare. The walk went quickly and he soon found himself amongst the bustling crowd of people going about their morning business. Guns were everywhere, he could see that much already. Men armed with AKs stood by doors and on rooftops everywhere, technicals with machine guns would part the crowd with their horn on a regular basis and dotted here and there were the white mercenaries; some armed to the teeth with kevlar and modern assault rifles, others clearly a bit more down on their luck. Being tasked with a mission of such gravitas, Sheppard wished he didn't fall fall into the second category. Looking for information, he decided to head for the town's market, the sound of gunfire would be his guide. Arms dealers tended to fire off weapons as demonstrations or to attract attention and no one else seemed to react to the bursts of AK fire so Sheppard assumed it wasn't a battle. From his briefing the situation didn't seem to be quite that bad just yet, at least not in the cities.
After a few minutes of pushing his way through the crowd, he found himself in the market. The narrow alleys between stalls were packed with people, but at least the canopies of the stalls blocked the sun, making it a lot cooler. Evidence of the Scorpion was even more prevalent here than in the streets. Packed between stalls selling fruit there were tables covered with ammunition belts, AK-47s, AK-74s, RPKs, RPGs, pretty much every soviet weapon under the sun seemed to have found its way to Africa and Asia after the fall of communism. Sheppard noticed the occasional suspicious glance being thrown his way, but he didn't seem too out of place, mercenaries were still dotted around resupplying at various stalls.
"Hey," he said, stopping at a food stall with a mini-fridge. "I'll take some Coke if US dollars are okay?" The stall owner nodded and held up a finger. Sheppard handed over $5 and got 5 bottles back, stuffing them into his backpack. Coke tended to be cheaper than water in a lot of African countries, or at least safer. Sheppard remembered reading somewhere that there were only two countries in the world where it wasn't sold officially, Cuba and North Korea. "Good old American Capitalism," he said smiling to himself as he made his way over to an arms dealer. These guys probably wouldn't take anything other than diamonds or gold but at the very least he might learn something.
The dealer saw him coming and picked up an AKS-74u, showing it to Sheppard for a second before firing off a short burst into the sky. "You like? Very cheap, good weapon," the man said, his grasp of English clearly not completely perfect.
"I'm good thanks," Sheppard said, he had less than $100 on him which wouldn't be enough even if the man accepted them. "I only just got here, what's the current situation with the UPL and the PUFfE?" He asked. "I couldn't get CNN the past few months," he added thinking back to his prison cell in South East Asia. This country was in the process of fucking itself up but he couldn't help but be glad to be here.
"War very soon," the Arms Dealer replied. "You need weapon, mine very cheap," he added clearly going for the sell.
"Right, thanks," Sheppard said waving a quick goodbye and heading off back into the crowd.
With his information gathering going nowhere, Sheppard decided to find a bar. It may be early but he'd been up for almost 24 hours straight now so he figured it was practically evening for him, plus other mercenaries might be there. They'd probably be more helpful than the locals when it came to information on the Scorpion and he might even find some of the others that the letter had mentioned. Sheppard wandered for a while before coming across what seemed to be a town square. Centred around a fountain, the square was rather small, however Sheppard's gaze was drawn to a woman sitting on the fountain. She was older than most and white, she stuck out even with all the foreign mercenaries in the country. Like Sheppard she was relatively clean, she couldn't hadn't been here long. They were dressed similarly too. Sheppard was wearing tan cargo pants, a black t-shirt and his black tactical vest, also identical to the woman accept for colour. Her weapons stuck out the most to Sheppard though, a pistol and a machete.
Maybe... he thought to himself, turning his eyes to a bar sign a little way down a road leading from the square. He headed inside and took a seat at the bar. The bar was filled with armed mercenaries, he ordered a Busweiser and lit up a cigarette. He sat at the bar, sipping his beer, trying to listen in on any of the mercs' conversations.
After a few minutes of pushing his way through the crowd, he found himself in the market. The narrow alleys between stalls were packed with people, but at least the canopies of the stalls blocked the sun, making it a lot cooler. Evidence of the Scorpion was even more prevalent here than in the streets. Packed between stalls selling fruit there were tables covered with ammunition belts, AK-47s, AK-74s, RPKs, RPGs, pretty much every soviet weapon under the sun seemed to have found its way to Africa and Asia after the fall of communism. Sheppard noticed the occasional suspicious glance being thrown his way, but he didn't seem too out of place, mercenaries were still dotted around resupplying at various stalls.
"Hey," he said, stopping at a food stall with a mini-fridge. "I'll take some Coke if US dollars are okay?" The stall owner nodded and held up a finger. Sheppard handed over $5 and got 5 bottles back, stuffing them into his backpack. Coke tended to be cheaper than water in a lot of African countries, or at least safer. Sheppard remembered reading somewhere that there were only two countries in the world where it wasn't sold officially, Cuba and North Korea. "Good old American Capitalism," he said smiling to himself as he made his way over to an arms dealer. These guys probably wouldn't take anything other than diamonds or gold but at the very least he might learn something.
The dealer saw him coming and picked up an AKS-74u, showing it to Sheppard for a second before firing off a short burst into the sky. "You like? Very cheap, good weapon," the man said, his grasp of English clearly not completely perfect.
"I'm good thanks," Sheppard said, he had less than $100 on him which wouldn't be enough even if the man accepted them. "I only just got here, what's the current situation with the UPL and the PUFfE?" He asked. "I couldn't get CNN the past few months," he added thinking back to his prison cell in South East Asia. This country was in the process of fucking itself up but he couldn't help but be glad to be here.
"War very soon," the Arms Dealer replied. "You need weapon, mine very cheap," he added clearly going for the sell.
"Right, thanks," Sheppard said waving a quick goodbye and heading off back into the crowd.
With his information gathering going nowhere, Sheppard decided to find a bar. It may be early but he'd been up for almost 24 hours straight now so he figured it was practically evening for him, plus other mercenaries might be there. They'd probably be more helpful than the locals when it came to information on the Scorpion and he might even find some of the others that the letter had mentioned. Sheppard wandered for a while before coming across what seemed to be a town square. Centred around a fountain, the square was rather small, however Sheppard's gaze was drawn to a woman sitting on the fountain. She was older than most and white, she stuck out even with all the foreign mercenaries in the country. Like Sheppard she was relatively clean, she couldn't hadn't been here long. They were dressed similarly too. Sheppard was wearing tan cargo pants, a black t-shirt and his black tactical vest, also identical to the woman accept for colour. Her weapons stuck out the most to Sheppard though, a pistol and a machete.
Maybe... he thought to himself, turning his eyes to a bar sign a little way down a road leading from the square. He headed inside and took a seat at the bar. The bar was filled with armed mercenaries, he ordered a Busweiser and lit up a cigarette. He sat at the bar, sipping his beer, trying to listen in on any of the mercs' conversations.
Sheppard took one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it out of the door of the Blackhawk helicopter. The African landscape raced passed, the helicopter flying low and fast. It was a heavily modified craft, designed for stealth it was similar to the vehicles used in the operation resulting in Osama bin Laden's death. Perhaps this actually was one of the birds used, Sheppard couldn't help but muse. The pilot's voice crackled in his headset, they were approaching the infiltration site. On board there was just Sheppard, the pilot and the copilot. Sheppard guessed it was for deniability. Sheppard stood up, checking his gear. A tactical vest contained most of what he had, some rations, a canteen, binoculars, a GPS device, extra magazines, his knife sheathed on his left shoulder and the letter. His M9 was strapped to his right leg in its holster. He had a small backpack although the limited assistance he'd received from the Airforce meant he didn't actually have a need for the space just yet.
The Blackhawk began to slow and Sheppard removed his headset, stepping over to the door. It touched down with a thud and Sheppard jumped, he'd barely hit the floor before the helicopter took off again. Crouching down Sheppard took out his GPS, the pilot was good, he'd hit the infiltration point exactly, all that remained now was a short 2 mile journey to the nearest town, Bekalo. Sheppard checked his GPS once more before setting off into the jungle, heading for civilisation. There were plenty of mercenaries in the country, fighting on both sides, he figured Bekalo would be swarming with them. The perfect place for a Westerner to blend in.
The Blackhawk began to slow and Sheppard removed his headset, stepping over to the door. It touched down with a thud and Sheppard jumped, he'd barely hit the floor before the helicopter took off again. Crouching down Sheppard took out his GPS, the pilot was good, he'd hit the infiltration point exactly, all that remained now was a short 2 mile journey to the nearest town, Bekalo. Sheppard checked his GPS once more before setting off into the jungle, heading for civilisation. There were plenty of mercenaries in the country, fighting on both sides, he figured Bekalo would be swarming with them. The perfect place for a Westerner to blend in.
Name: Michael Sheppard
Age: 34 (1976)
MO: Pilot/Special Ops
Equipment:
-Beretta M9
-Gerber LMF II Aircrew Survival Egress Knife
History: Michael Sheppard was born to a wealthy family and was the son of Patrick Sheppard, a utilities mogul. By the time he was fourteen years old, his father had already planned his life for him. However, Sheppard had other plans and wanted to join the United States Air Force. This heavily strained his relationship with his father and never spoke to him since.
After his education at Stanford, he joined the Air Force and after his officer training he participated in several top secret missions, particularly in Operation Enduring Freedom in Afghanistan, but he also visited every continent. He trained to become a pilot for a large variety of aircraft, such as the Apache helicopter, Blackhawk and Cobra helicopters, as well as a V-22 Osprey and an F-16 Fighting Falcon fighter, after he graduated from Test Pilot School.
At the height of Michael's airforce career, he reached the rank of Major, and was regularly deployed all over the world on missions that may never see the light of day. This secrecy and long periods abroad led to his then wife Natalie, a CIA analyst, leaving him. This led to Sheppard taking more dangerous missions and more risks in the field, earning him a black mark after an unsanctioned rescue mission to save the lives of three servicemen. While this rescue was successful, he did the same thing again trying to save his best friend after his Blackhawk had been downed, however this rescue was not successful and Sheppard's superiors believed his actions exacerbated the situation and led to his friend's death.
In 2008 he was captured on a top secret mission in China. The US denied his existence and he was left imprisoned and tortured for 4 years. He eventually managed to escape and make it over the border. His time in China made him grow to hate the USAF for not sending anyone for him. Returning to the States he quit the Airforce although he soon became bored with civilian life and he began working as a mercenary, mostly in Africa and South East Asia.
Recently he and his employers, a group of anti-government rebels in South East Asia, were captured by forces loyal to the regime. Michael festered in a dingy jungle prison for a few months, faced with regular questioning, despite his attempts to explain he was just a mercenary. Then one day his cell door slid open to reveal an officer of the United States Air Force with an offer involving a small South African country and a man going by the name of the Scorpion.
Appearance:
Age: 34 (1976)
MO: Pilot/Special Ops
Equipment:
-Beretta M9
-Gerber LMF II Aircrew Survival Egress Knife
History: Michael Sheppard was born to a wealthy family and was the son of Patrick Sheppard, a utilities mogul. By the time he was fourteen years old, his father had already planned his life for him. However, Sheppard had other plans and wanted to join the United States Air Force. This heavily strained his relationship with his father and never spoke to him since.
After his education at Stanford, he joined the Air Force and after his officer training he participated in several top secret missions, particularly in Operation Enduring Freedom in Afghanistan, but he also visited every continent. He trained to become a pilot for a large variety of aircraft, such as the Apache helicopter, Blackhawk and Cobra helicopters, as well as a V-22 Osprey and an F-16 Fighting Falcon fighter, after he graduated from Test Pilot School.
At the height of Michael's airforce career, he reached the rank of Major, and was regularly deployed all over the world on missions that may never see the light of day. This secrecy and long periods abroad led to his then wife Natalie, a CIA analyst, leaving him. This led to Sheppard taking more dangerous missions and more risks in the field, earning him a black mark after an unsanctioned rescue mission to save the lives of three servicemen. While this rescue was successful, he did the same thing again trying to save his best friend after his Blackhawk had been downed, however this rescue was not successful and Sheppard's superiors believed his actions exacerbated the situation and led to his friend's death.
In 2008 he was captured on a top secret mission in China. The US denied his existence and he was left imprisoned and tortured for 4 years. He eventually managed to escape and make it over the border. His time in China made him grow to hate the USAF for not sending anyone for him. Returning to the States he quit the Airforce although he soon became bored with civilian life and he began working as a mercenary, mostly in Africa and South East Asia.
Recently he and his employers, a group of anti-government rebels in South East Asia, were captured by forces loyal to the regime. Michael festered in a dingy jungle prison for a few months, faced with regular questioning, despite his attempts to explain he was just a mercenary. Then one day his cell door slid open to reveal an officer of the United States Air Force with an offer involving a small South African country and a man going by the name of the Scorpion.
Appearance:
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