BigPapaBelial

Overgrown

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Name: Papa Stoker

Gender: Male

Age: 63

Pre-Apostate Occupation: Fringe Lunatic/Homeless beggar and suvivalist

Equipment: Bed roll, canteen, blade and saw combo machete, 30 feet of reinforced hemp rope, kindling kit with carbon and steel fire starter

Personality: Unhinged, extroverted, in one of the worst possible ways. Has a quick fuse temper, that can send him into rages.

History: Before the Apostate he was one of those guys you'd find on a street corner, haranguing the passersby about how the wold was going to end, about how people would need to learn to fend for themselves without computers and the internet. About how the government would not be there to safe them. He didn't spout off religious nonsense, only told people what he believed they needed to hear. He was arrested many times for public harassment and physical violence. But many times had been found to be insane in many fashions and was because of this is unable to stand trial or be imprisoned. He continued his street side preaching right up until the moment of the Apostate. And had screamed that he was right the whole time.

Afterwards he camped out in what could be called a camp of survivors. But wasn't exactly well known as someone you wanted to get caught talking too. He retained his violent and angry ways. And would resort to bashing someone in the face, or producing his machete at the least provocation.

Other: ???

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How does this look?

Team Scimitar (an Over-the-Top Military RP)

*stabs the RP in the heart with an adrenaline shot*

Live damn you live!

Overgrown (A Green Apocalypse)

So our characters will be following what? The Seer? Be part of the CoG? Random survivors?

I'm just wondering. I've got character ideas already, and want to know which ones I can keep.

Overgrown (A Green Apocalypse)

Hmmm I'd be interested in giving this a try sure.

Team Scimitar (an Over-the-Top Military RP)

Oh my god there's someone else here!

Team Scimitar (an Over-the-Top Military RP)

*makes to pull the sterile white sheet over the RPs face*

Sigh...I think we may have lost another one?

Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC

Nolan nodded, "I see him...wait one..." He inched over, and got into a firing position, he slotted a new magazine into his rifle, one of the magazines that is filled to the brim with that EXACTO ammunition he still had lying around from their last op. He had kept the rounds, intending to use them now and make a full report on their use afterward. He reached out switching on the laser painter or the rounds. He painted the truck, getting a bead on the engine block, two rounds quick, would knock out the engine, another round to the rotation assembly on the SAM itself, then the rest of the rounds would be used as needed. The painter would do it's job. He was told EXACTO rounds were fire and forget, and would guide themselves to their target. Even if the target it moving. They were about the find out.

He waited, and waited, and as soon as he felt the pressure differential and the shockwave of air coming from Andrew's rifle he fired as well. It'd be hard to tell if it was one rifle or two from how close the rifles fired to each other. The first two rounds punched right into the engine block of the big truck, ruining it utterly. A third round hammering into the rotation assembly of the SAM itself. Even if they got to use it again, it'd be only able to shoot in one direction. He grinned broadly. The rest of the seven rounds he had were for foot-mobles and other materials.

He almost cut one man in half at the waist with one round, he folded back on himself almost. Another man dropped hard missing an arm, Nolan could almost hear the man's screams of pain. He landed his first and likely only clean head shot of the day as he tracked a runner trying to get down the hill. The laser painter had already selected him as a target, the round was tracking him down the mountain. Nolan watched the blossom of red asthe round passed right through his chest, just below his neck. Nolan pulled his eye away from the scope just for a moment to watch the corpse bounce down the mountain side. He then put eye to scope again. He still had work to do. He hrmed, took aim at where he had seen a pair of men duck behind a large stone. But there was a very large cache of explosives just a few meters on from that. Gas and RPG rounds and what looked like Semtex and grenades. A very very good target. His round kicked down and slammed into the cache. He clucked his tongue when it didn't go up at first. And was about to take a second shot, when the whole cache went up in flames, causing four men to come running out of the cover, clutching burning limbs, and trying to throw off burning kit. He watched, as the cache went up a second time as something else explosive went off.

Nolan moved on as those targets wouldn't last long, and he wasn't feeling generous to put them out of their misery. He made a few more shots at targets of oppurtunity. And finally ejected his last round. He slammed a new round home and scanned the other mountain, watching, waiting, looking for more targets. He didn't hear Andrew firing at the time either. He waited, and after abit finally said it, "I'm not seeing anything...I think we're clear for the moment." He cocked the bolt, sliding a new round into the bore. "It sure is quite. What do you think?" He switched the scope on his rifle over to FLIR and looked for heat signatures. Seeing nothing but cooling corpses and burning debris. He saw a single body moving, hands held over a gaping bullet wound. Nolan centered his cross hair on the man, and fired, putting him out of his misery. He clucked his tongue softly, "Yeah, think we're golden. Still want to head over there? I'm coming with you this time."

Team Scimitar (an Over-the-Top Military RP)

Howard lopped through the rainforest, moving smoothly and dead silently. He ghosted over an army ant marching line, hurdled stand of bushes. In one motion he drew his axes, then spring-boarded off a bit of dead fall, he sailed over one of the paths leading into the compound, his arms wheeling, then grunting as one of the axe heads bit into the bark of a tree. He hung there for a time, then began to climb the tree to a lower branch, he had seen this position when he had been coming into his first firing position. It overhung the wall by just a bit. Letting him get a top shot on anything on the ground. It didn't make for a good rifle position, but he had other options. He put his tomahawks away, clipping the fast releases closed. He then reached down, to his left thigh. There he grabbed a coke bottled sized mass of metal. With a shake of his hand the metal mass flipped, and opened, a length of wire snapping taut between the long arms of a combat bow. He took a moment to adjust the sight on it. Then with a few short presses of buttons on the grip the quiver on his back, that rested between the carbine and rifle on his back, cycled abit, whirring very softly then clicking.

Howard reached back and drew the arrow. Tipped with a High Explosive arrow head, with the detonation power of a hand grenade in a nice large ball marble. He perched on the branch scanning the courtyard when a large garage door opened. The first thing he saw was about eight soldiers running out and into the jungle. Then, out from the door followed the two powered suits. He grinned, depressing the buttons again, his quiver whirring again. He then nocked the first arrow. Taking aim, whispering into his mic, "Lasanga has eyes on our two heavies. Bluebird are they rigged? Imran, what do you say? I have an HE arrow knocked and a second arrow ready. I can knock out these two behemoths in a matter of seconds." He keeps the arrow nocked, not quite drawn back yet.

He takes a moment raising the bow, but not drawing, "We also had about eight runners take off into the jungle. Depending on orders I might have to go on a stalk. What do you say? Who goes first?" He took a breath, then with one motion, lowered then raised the bow again, this time drawing the drawstring back to just beside his cheek. He had a perfect bead on one of the charges on the lead suit. All it would take is a single motion then a split second to renock and redraw to get the other suit. But he didn't want to over step his mission parameters right now.

Team Scimitar (an Over-the-Top Military RP)

I'm having a hard time coming up with something to post.

I started twice in the last 3 hours, and almost wrote an entire post the second time, then realized I had written a secondary post to the one I made in our other RP Konrad. Was wierd.

Don't know where to go with my charrie at the moment. I'll try and have something up tomorrow. But no promises if it will be decent.

Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC

(thought I'd add some tension to the moment)

Nolan smiled, "That went well." He tucked his 500 down onto the front carry rack. Revved his quad and fell in behind Andrew again. He chuckled a little, "I honestly didn't mean to blow that truck up. I wanted to disable it so we could go plant some C4 on it. Or set up an ignition bomb on it so if some of their friends came looking and tried to start it they'd get taken out too." He revved the engine, keeping up with Andrew, "But the turn out that happened is alot better I guess." He guided the quad around, dodged a large stone on the path, nodding slowly, "The mortar site was easy brother, you know that, it's these larger targets that are going to be abit of a problem. I've never known an AA site not to have alot of security." He pulled the quad back in line with Andrew as they moved on.

He was scanning down into steep sided valley, looking for targets oppurtunity when he heard the tell tale sound of a quad slowing. He looked up and came a stop five meters behind Andrew, "Well well well, OP Switchblade I persume." He said this in his best faux-British accent he could. He pretended to doff a hat as he turned the quad off, and grabbed his own XM500 off the front bull-bars.

He slipped his ghille on over his head and upper body, the white fibers, with native plant bits and sticks from small brush stuck into it at random broke up his body shape. He carefully inched forward. "Yeah I remember Chechnya, I remember tumbling down a mountain after our hide was hit by an RPG too. I don't want that to happen this time." Nolan carefully inched in under some brush, dragging the big rifle behind him carefully. He called on some of the fieldcraft lessons he'd learned in the past to get himself into a position that would afford very good concealment. Might not do great for arms fire protection, but it would do in a pinch. He pulled the big rifle up and placed it in a good firing position, then grabbed his binoc-rangefinder, and checked out the camp. He sniffed quietly, mentally clicking off distances as Andrew called it. He got a mental picture of the AAA camp across the way from them as he surveyed the installation.

He nodded, "Good calls on the distances. I like it." He pulled the rifle closer, and began to dope his scope. He got the ranging settled then stopped.

Alot of snipers know that feeling when they are being watched. More then once a spotter and sniper team would get into a sniper battle with another sniper. It wasn't often it happened in open terrain where they could move and displace. It was often in fixed positions, where the opposing snipers were posted up, and it was more a task of who spotted who face on first. And who got the deciding shot off first. He went still, and whispered into his mic, "Andrew, go prone...and check that KSVK again...is there anyone on it? I just had that Feeling. You know the one where it feels like you're being looked at through a scope? Check for sniper positions within 50 meters of our objective. If we think this spot is a good sniping position, chances are, our friends across the way have come to that conclusion too. No firing on target until we're sure."

Nolan inched to his left a little, further into the brush, and into a snow bank, soon the only thing showing, is the lens of his rangefinder hybrid. He carefully passes the lens over the land around the position, keeping an eye out for that elusive almost invisible evidence of someone looking back at them.