Foster

Another World's War

Oh, right.

Typical load of 57mm rockets (flechettes), drop-tanks, and various AAMs (A pair of R-60M, and a quad of R-27s [2x ER*. 2x ET])

*The two R-27ERs are able to be directed by the MiG-31 to target, under Xi's launch-authority.

Another World's War

<Snipped quote by Foster>

Any aircraft can be rough field rated if the pilot is brave enough. (Aka, I'm not entirely sure)
Though they were purpose built to operate from reinforced roads and highways if the situation called for it.

@Slypheed

Well, I know the Viggen was rated to touchdown snuggly-soft for a landing, lest its wheels put craters into the highway.
-That, and remain within a 500 meter rollout.

Late model Drakkens had a takeoff-roll of nearly a kilometer.

But there's one thing the old bird could do that the Russians couldn't... for awhile...
-The swedes called it the "erect superstall"
-Personally, I liked the F-4 Phantom tailslide manuver

Goes to the salles brouchure

Another World's War

Being Swedish, is Draken rough field rated?

>Sees draken pull up behind his MiG on taxiway.

Another World's War

<Forgot about the CFTs.

>Makes a note to pick on Mr Tibbs for not reminding Clem to factor those CFTs in endurance-estimates.

Another World's War

Well, planking over grass counts as "dirt" in my head. Because it sure isn't concrete, and FOD-sweeps aren't really possible.

Another World's War

The Bulgarian tried not to pay attention to the... mercenaries as they bickered over whether or not they'd offended him, while still in his presence. Thankfully, everyone seemed to file-out before anyone could say something truly offensive. He also managed to skip right past the formality of checking out any flight-equipment, whatever he wasn't wearing was stilll wedged in the cockpit of his bird out on the dirt-strip or probably wouldn't need for this trip.

And so Mr Greggor took his time strolling past pampered western planes on their fancy concrete pads, a few of which were definately old enough to need some coddling to get back up and running. He vaugely recognized the Swedish plane from some old aircraft recognition pamplet, he could remember the still smell of those yellowed and mouldered files from training, yet could not place the name of the beast before him.

His drifting attention snapped back to the here and now as he heard the two Americans arguing about... something, then referancing some movie about some test-pilots flying some sort of twin-engined naval MiG-23WTFBBQ mod against the fascists in their black F-5M Tiger IIs.

Once he reached his plane in its dirty sandbagged revetment, pulled the chocks himself, clambered up an onion-crate to get inside, pulled the crate up on a rope and threw it clear before starting the turbine with a gunpowder-charge. With wings fulley swept back, Yuril effortlessly threaded his plane like a needle through a screen-door around the various obstables in his way up to the strip. The flight-leader's A-6F was already barrelling down the way on the pave as he began worrying about preflighting as he spread his wings out to their full extension, his feet firmly planted on the wheel-brakes as he zipped up his leggings and fastened his waist belt, making himself comfortable as he then went to adjusting his comms-helmet, throat-mic check, ballsitic helmet and oxygen-mask came next. Visors down and canopy and shades pulled as he stared into the gleaming blue sunlight.

"Ranger five, all systems clem!" He said as he gave the stick a twirl to check for responsiveness, the positive feedback of the hydraulics against his hand and visual range of motion check of the control-surfaces just before taking his feet off the brakes and applying military-power to the R-35 turbojet. The MiG-23MLGD bounced out of its self-created rut and trundled forwards, just as the ride began to smooth-out Clem went to full afterburner to get the wheels to unstick from the uneven ground, before easing back to military-power and making a standard accelleration in ground effect, wheels-raised, up to 350 knots IAS before begining his climb up to the A-6.

He overtook Ranger One in 35 seconds, but then throttled-back to stall-speed to let the Navy-bomber return to the lead.

"Heard your bird would be serving refreshments. Got any for Clem?" He chided, both MiGs only had enough fuel for a single hour's worth of combat-endurance, whereas the A-6 easily held enough fuel to stay airborne for the better part of the morning. Although not nearly as bad as the F-16, which would run on fumes in half that time if it were ever forced into a fight.

Another World's War

Nyet!

I should totes git posting.

The Hole: 1940s Magic Noir (High Casual-Low Advanced)

Twombly

Thomas "Twombly" Watson

”Storytelling is the essential human activity. The harder the situation, the more essential it is.”
~Tim O'Brien

---

Age: 29
Occupation: Mechanic/handyman, moonlights as a gun-runner/smuggler.
Race: Maned Wolf (techincally some sort of racoon/dog/panda thing)
Gender: Male
Height: 6' 1" (684 cm) minus ears, add 3" (7 cm) for ears.
Weight: 143 pounds (65 kg)

Descriptive Appearance:
Twombly dresses in a workmanlike appearance, practical, well-worn, and comfortable. When working in his shop, his hands are constantly coating in a grease or grime of some sort or another; he makes a point to wash it out before going anywhere special, best not to leave any fingerprints.

As a maned wolf, he is mostly legs and arms, with a surprisingly flexible neck that in conjunction with his various postures and facial expressions, tell a very wide and easily read range of emotions. That is of course assuming you aren't just fixated on watching his tail.

---

Personality:
* Confident, some may say too confident
* No sense of personal space
* Flirtacious with anything that moves
* Mischevious and easily bored
* Kleptomaniac (beware of any unattended loose articles of clothing, keys, food, cigarrettes, or firearms)
* Reclusive (see notes)

Quirks:
Due to being unable to hear people coming behind him, Twombly has a tendancy to search for reflections or shadows to indicate a person's presence. Rendering their attempts at surprising him mostly-moot to the unwary.

Except in a dark room. Then anything and everything surprises him. Note: do not announce yourself by turning out the lights in his workshop.

background

Enlisted in 1943 and was then shipped out to the Pacific theater of operations just as the war began to die-down in preparation for the invasion of Japan. After their surrender, Twombly was stop-lossed to occupy some backwards southeast asian peninsula until late November 1946, and felt a bit crummy about not being allowed to vote that particular year. On the upside the extra few months and the rapid retirement of his commanding-officers meant a few last-second promotions and hardly any oversight of the motor-pool. So long as he didn't make too much noise...

Hence how he managed to bag a contract (to himself) to "repair" a tank meant for the French occupation forces, with a few "modifications" that were suggested by his unit (likely in jest). Of course, the French later didn't want that particular vehicle, so now he's stuck with it in his garage with nobody willing to buy it.

Which is how he casually ventured from being that quiet guy that was good with tools into a gun-runner for hire (using the tank [actually an M8 greyhound] he absolutely cannot find a buyer for as his credentials).

---

Specialization: Wind
School of Magic Attended: Alteration
Primary Deity Worshiped: Meifeng

Permanent Sacrifice: Y

• Deity Sacrifice was made to: Meifeng
• Reason behind Sacrifice: Being able to sneak into places without tripping alarms, or rather, not letting anyone hear the alarms he trips over.
• What was Sacrificed: Over half of his hearing

---

Equipment:
A very ridiculously bright (and heavy) flashlight

Weapons:
Sawed-off double-barrel shotgun (silent)
M1A1 Para-Carbine (very silent)

Other:
After sacrificing most of his hearing in order to sneak up on people, he has so often found himself victim to being snuck upon that he has generally become reclusive from any unfamiliar places.

Another World's War

<Snipped quote by Foster>

Hay, even Cecilia isn't happy about flying the thing either. The small cockpit of the Draken and her taller frame don't mix well.

@Slypheed

'bruh, have you seen my office?

Is not exactly spacious.

Banter of flying-history aside...

Another World's War

Oh nice, I get paired with the Swede in the... flying museum ship...

@Massasauga, you could also find yourself paired-off with the MiG-31.

Silver, "Blind" means your wingman lost-visual on the guy they're supposed to be protecting (you).
-Because your plane is slow, hurrrr.