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CaptainBritton
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Man of War
STATUS: "Out of every hundred men, ten shouldn't even be there, eighty are targets, nine are the real fighters, for they make the battle. But one is a warrior, and he will bring the others back." -Heraclitus 7 yrs ago
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"Out of every hundred men, ten shouldn't even be there, eighty are targets, nine are the real fighters, for they make the battle. But one is a warrior, and he will bring the others back." -Heraclitus
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9 yrs ago
"I have resolved never to start an unjust war, but never to end a legitimate one except by defeating my enemies." -King Charles XII 'Carolus Rex' of Sweden, 1700
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9 yrs ago
“Civilians are like beans; you buy 'em as needed for any job which merely requires skill and savvy. But you can't buy fighting spirit.” -Robert A. Heinlein
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"The soldier is also a citizen. In fact, the highest obligation and privilege of citizenship is that of bearing arms for one’s country” -General George S. Patton Jr.
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9 yrs ago
"Wine has drowned more than the sea." -Roman proverb
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Any open slots for an interested thread-lurker?
I am indeed interested. A question, however, what is your stance on the inclusion of period-accurate handcannons or other such pre-musket gunpowder weapons?
Devyn’s Infidels
Patch worn by most members of the Infidels, and is widely regarded as their identifying sign by local groups.
Leader:
Devyn is a man of wiry frame and a tall figure, standing at 6’2” on the dot. His complexion is pale and his hair a dark brown, his eyes a deep hazel. He is a determined, hard-headed, and stubborn specimen, often serving to do less for his reputation than good. Among the western volunteer communities, Devyn’s group is colloquially known as the ‘B Team’, generally dismissed as trigger-happy gun nuts and war hero wannabes with a know-nothing Marine at its head.
Teams:
Divided into three teams of ten. Often each has a dedicated automatic rifleman, armed with a military surplus M240 or M60 depending on availability. Each team has two rifle grenadiers, armed with M230s or similar systems, allowing for easy delivery of explosive firepower downrange without the need for a bulky grenade delivery system such as the M32 or M79. Teams have a dedicated marksman, equipped with an M14 EBR or SVD depending on availability. Each team has a mix of M72 LAWs and AT4s, distributed among them all according to effectiveness of team members. Generally standard riflemen are interchangeable for each team, being frequently swapped out for different tasks. The riflemen are often armed with Kalashnikovs, Colt AR platforms, or other weaponry with similar ammunition availability in the field. Sidearms are a luxury not afforded to most in the teams, though those with enough money are not unknown to buy makes such as modernized M1911s, Glocks, or Sig Sauer models.
Description:
Devyn’s Infidels is a volunteer group of people with military, law enforcement, or other experience that affords skills in fighting the Black Cobras and similar groups. The name itself was the brainchild of its founder, and notes of the general difference of religion between the group members and their enemies.
Demographics:
Sex:
26 Males
4 Females
Religion:
14 Christian (4 Anglican, 3 Baptist, 1 Methodist, 4 Roman Catholic, 2 Seventh Day Adventist)
7 Agnostic/Atheist
9 Muslims
Nationality:
13 American
4 Canadian
5 British Islanders (2 English, 2 Scottish, 1 Irish)
3 French
3 Germans
1 Syrian
History:
Originally Devyn’s Infidels started as a private forum, a domain for the sharing of views on the current conflicts across the world through the eyes of veterans and particularly prying law enforcement and civilian individuals. What started as a thread crowdfunding to send a veteran to fight in the war in Taraq became an extensive list of other individuals that wanted in. A particular individual was US Marine Corps veteran Chester Devyn.
A veteran that had just recently left the Corps due to enlistment expiration, Devyn saw a chance for action, to help people. He’d never been deployed, and wished nothing more to be within the conflict. He signed up, and the crowdfunding thread only expanded. Soon enough, there he was, in an airport in Taraq along with thirty other individuals, all as eager as he was.
Equipped by local arms dealers or by charitable companies back in the West, they sought to contact the local resistance and assist in the fight against the Black Cobras. However, they were referred higher, and higher up every time they saw a different resistance leader. Eventually Devyn found himself at a table with a UN representative, with an offer. Fight this war for us, and not only will you be paid handsomely, you’ll be in every headline. It was an offer Devyn couldn’t refuse.
I'm interested.
EDIT: Darn, was it made full before or after I posted this? I'm not the most attentative.
EDIT: Darn, was it made full before or after I posted this? I'm not the most attentative.
The Liebhard Palace, Auerbruck Capital of Godlsham
Early Morning, Day 1, Season of Summer
Niklaus rose from the seat of gold and velvet fabric, the procession making way into the court. A man of his youth, wiry frame and an absence of facial hair. He wore hair of deep brown, and his eyes a sapphire blue. He stood silent, as did the entire court, which was packed with nobility and the wealthy. The onlookers and observers all silently clamored amongst themselves as to get a well view of the events occurring.
The procession neared, and was now identified to be consisting of both House Speakers, Lord Kolmann and Count Siegwart, the former a portly man donned in a powdered wig, the latter, for lack of a better description, a beanpole, his hair a bright blonde. They were accompanied by men of the Guard, dressed in deep blue coats lined with vibrant crimsons and golds, and one held a crown upon a pillow of velvet, and another, a sword in a sheathe of pure gold.
He prepared to receive them, alone before the throne, and he began to recall the events regarding his current presence. His father, the second of his name, was dead. An ailment of which was identified by medical professionals as acute Pleurisy, and it had taken his life after a long year. Niklaus gulped audibly as he thought back, turned. He dared not dwell on it, instead directed his attention to those before him.
The procession had reached him now, and all of them kneeled, as did the rest of the court. Niklaus paced forward, and Lord Kolmann stood, beckoned the crown bearer up, and began to recite, "Prince Niklaus, House Liebhard, heir to the Throne of Auerbruck, on this first day of the season of Summer, the House, the People, and Creation itself crown you King Niklaus the Third of Auerbruck. Go with the Gods." The Lord ended, and picked up the crown in his hands. Niklaus kneeled, and the crown was placed upon his dome, and he rose.
Count Siegwart then rose as Kolmann knelt again. The sword bearer rose with him, and the Count took the sword into his own hand, reciting another spiel, "King Niklaus the Third, King of Auebruck and Head of House Liebhard, in the name of the People and the House, you are bestowed as the Ultimate and Supreme Commander of the Armed Services of Auerbruck. Go with the Gods." The Count cut off, and offered the sheathed sword. Niklaus took it, and fastened it on the straps idly hanging on the purple and blue fancy robes which he wore.
"All rise." Boomed Niklaus, and they all did, rising to him, and he raised his arms to bear, and the people cheered him on. The celebration began, and there were feasts within the court, festivals in the streets of every city as they received word.
Butzbach Marching Grounds, Outskirts of Godlsham
Early Morning, Day 2, Season of Summer
A band played loudly, to step as they marched ahead of each regiment. It was the annual coronation military parade, which always took place the morning after the coronation itself. Representative detachments from each and every regiment came to march for the King, to show their prowess, discipline, and strength.
There must have had been dozens of regiments that marched, all in neat formation, not one out of step, each with their accompanying regimental band, playing their march, under watch from the King himself, perched in a hastily constructed observation platform, by his staff. Both Speakers were there, as was the Chief of the Court, Cord Gotthilf. Another figure that stood out was General Benedikt Oskar, the General which commanded these troops, and he was accompanied by his staff.
The marching lasted for hours, and after a brief feast, it was time for the King to inspect the troops. Regiments lined up in formation, and the King paced infront of each, greeted each commander, and closed it quickly with a dinner feast, and then returned to the Palace.
Joy was in the air, and peace loomed.
Friday or Saturday is fine for me.
Second Platoon
His radio crackled, he froze. The message came, and he went numb, having taken a good while to grasp the words. He felt now something else, something of fire. An infernal rage, bubbling up, boiling within him. He knew not the Captain well, but felt his presence, knew his authority, his compassion for his troops and comrades, his value to the unit. He saw the face now, the grizzled veteran of the Clone Wars of which Trad had been sure would bring victory to Rancor Company. But, he dared not dwell on it, for there was a job to be done.
"This is Second Platoon. Moving sternwards, continuing to clear bunkrooms. Making dead schedule according to available instruments. Two casualties. One wounded, one fatality, both Troopers.
He threw knifehands left and right, and men followed, the fallen from their last skirmish already stabilized and prepared to be picked up by litter teams. The rage continued to fester within him as his boots clattered, making way down the hall. They made exceptional time, clearing the now mostly empty rooms that became less frequent as they move down the corridor, and it split into an intersection, all locked down by blast doors. The sappers prepared the remainder of their charges to blast clear towards the stern, and they were set. Another door clattered after a deafening roar, and the Rebels poured through. Met they were by fortifications, manned by a hastily rallied mercenary squad, well entrenched with what looked to be sturdy cafeteria tables.
The first and second sections took what cover was afforded, while the other sections lay in wait, protection the rear echelon. Shots flew between both forces, and the first men to fall were that of Trad's platoon, and two more met their end at the hands of random chance. Trad took arms, drew his bayonet and nodded to the section leaders, which muttered an order to the huddled troops which followed suit. Soon, both sections were armed with weaponry which mounted matte black longknives, affixed to the muzzle of each. And a dull deep sounded from the first section. Two thermal detonators flew forth, and detonated in a deafening cacophony and blinding flash.
Those men of Trad's platoon, they did not simply yell. No, they roared an infernal roar, one which would pierce the morale of the hardiest. And they charged the enemy, of which were battered and confused by the blasts. Only one of Trad's men were injured in the struggle, however the mercenaries fared worse. Three of the seven were fell with fatal stabs. Another cried mercy as he lay there injured, and was spared. The rest surrendered summarily, and were herded by the overwhelming force and carted off, under the escort of a man from the third section. Aforementioned third section moved in, as did the fourth, the sapper section. They saw once more another blast door, and Trad sighed, beads of sweat dripping from his brow as he and his men prepared to go once more unto the breach.
School has been giving me issues with my schedule, what with band practice and all, but I should have something up soon. But, do feel free to pass me by this round, as to advance the IC at a decent pace.
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