Foster — Roleplayer Guild

@Haeo@Oni chan

"--sible target 1 O'clock low."

Clementine had just finished loading into a secluded spawn-point as the begining phases of a spawn-on-spawn firefight was begining to unfold. The person nearest her was bellowing out a possible sighting of their opponent, so she would at least know the location of one hostile, and one friendly... problem was she couldn't tell which to shoot.

She pulled-back deeper into the shadows to double-check chatlogs appearing in the lower left of her periphrial:

Grave Trench, Kiss Shot, possible target 1 O'clock low

Well, that answered that... the elderly gentleman was on their side... team KiGrCle? ... They needed to work on their name...

Still, the lack of explosions meant nobody had a good shot on anybody, and the rest of the opposition hadn't quite consolidated tehmselves yet, either, so now was the time to pick them off... She couldn't lay traps though... since she couldn't be sure to inform her team before a late-spawn tripped over it... if they picked up a 4th person.

To top things off, she couldn't even lurk properly if she identified herself to her own team-mates, and those boosts would be sorely needed to find a good place to set her machine-guns undetected... at least that was her plan.

While flanking the sniper from the right, she had run across the rest of the sniper's team trying likewise to work Kiss❤Shot's flank, here, she whipped her dual RPDs up and ready and sprayed from the hip, driving the group scrambling for cover as she managed to get more than a few good limb-hits with her 7.62x39 machine-guns. "Clem" She grunted in an uncharacteristicly gruff tone as she tossed a hand-grenade behind a scrap pile and retreated to evade any counter-nades.

Name: Wanjiku Wong
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Appearance:

Bio:
As the school's resident introvert, Wanjiku grew up with a very tiny group of friends that over time went their own seprate ways via transfers. She still likes to behave as though she's still with those people, and more than a few times will make an inside-joke to an event the people in front of her were never privy to.

Later in life, the heavy studying had put a strain on her eyesight, and a nasty fall down the stairwell had shattered her skull so severely that she'd lost a good chunk of her hearing. As shuch she tends to play online either with headphones on and the volume up, or a direct nueral interface to completely bypass her damaged ears and try and pretend to have the normal life of a "popular-girl" in GBO, although her reclusive habits still shine through, keeping her in a feeling of isolation.

To remedy this, she enrolled as a contestant in the latest "Bullet Break", hoping to find a team that would not only find a way to work well with her playstyle, but also accept her quirky behavior.

Name: Clementine (Or just C. or "Charlie")
Gender: Female

Level: 60

Equipment

Active-Camo cloak (because sometimes you just don't feel like you want to be regognized in-game)
Bush-cap/"Bush-rag" made from a compressed fiber helmet.
A crimson neckerchief (for roleplaying purposes)
Eyepatch (also for roleplaying purposes, and to prevent a flashbang from completely blinding her in-game)
Jungle Boots with non-metalic sole-plates

Weapons (usually has one tucked in inventory or left behind depending on mood)
2 Sawed-off RPD machine guns
2 M79 Grenade launchers
MPL-50 entrenching tool

Misc Ammunition (usually 2-300 rds for each DPM, and an assortment of grenades)
Various hand grenades (whatever was on sale)
Medkit with 5 stims
3 ration-packs

Specs and skills:

Specs:
Standing-shot
Improved reflexes
Improved Strength 2
Lurk (reduces/eliminates movement-noise, scope-glint, and stamina cost so long as movement speed is kept at a minimum; will not activate if detected)

Skills:
Grenade-Launchers 1000
Machine-guns 1000
Stealth 700
Salvaging 600
Gunsmithing 300
Hand to hand 400
First Aid 300
Traps 700

Signature Combat-style:

She's generally an oprotunist flanker. Despite seemingly having overwhelming firepower on her side, she knows two people with guns out-points one any day (unless they're scrubs) and will generally avoid direct confrontation. That said, her skillset does make her a viable "pointman" at lower difficulties, she is often loathe to perform such tasks in a party, which has ostricized her from many other groups wishing for either a speedier "rabbit-flanker" or a steadier pointman.


Clementine had found a prime perch or her to work from. The player-community had put out a bounty on a pack of griefers that would choose to torment newer players and take their starting gear, then have a follow-on group "assist" them by making them perform humiliating tasks to get their equipment back. Although they'd likely get banned after another day or two of such antics, many of the victims wanted justice served at the end of a digital gun.

And so she sat in a shattered room, her grenade-launchers sitting on the roof, firmly propped-up on the ledges to aim upon two likely intersections, not firing only because she had the triggers tied forwards against the pressure of several rubber-bands looped around a stick placed behind their buttstocks. All it would take is a good tug to untie the knot preventing either corrisponding trigger from being pulled... a poor woman's claymore-mine.

In her lap, sat one of her RPDs, a full 100 round belt-drum linked to a spare 50 round belt hung-out and looped over her arm; giving her 150 rounds at her disposal, 15 seconds of uninteruptable destruction. Upon her back was the second RPD, slung, and loaded with another 100 rounds.

And here, she waited. Watching newer players walk right past her tiny fortified position, blissfully unaware she was watching them form their first teams under her watchful eyes, listening to them converse amongst themselves in the distance with her perfect hearing. She smiled to herself as she even listened to the ambient wildlife frighten one group.

Then an explosion rang out. Several, in fact.

Explosives and exotic weapons generally weren't used at low levels, due to them being more expensive to keep fed, and their limited utility... let alone a whole squad specializing in explosives and flame-weapons... She had found her targets. Now all she had to do was troll them into her trap. She fired a burst of wild shots from her RPD, fiegning undisciplined panic. It wouldn't be long now.

A few moments later she saw a head peek out from around a corner, which she promptly sprayed accurate suppressive fire upon, probably giving them a face-full of hedged-off reinforced-concrete. She then counted to 3, time enough for a rocket-launcher to stack-up at that corner and get instructions to fire upon her location with an RPG-7... Which she pre-empted by pulling her string, firing a grenade from the rooftop out to the intersection, it was a white-phosphor smoke-round; it wasn't long before she could hear screaming coming from the thick creamy white mist. She fired a long burst, raking the pavement with bullets, and the screaming soon stopped.

She then retreated from her position, pulling the string to the second grenade-launcher, aimed upon another intersection; more smoke, but no screams. She could hear cussing on the floors beneath her. Now was her time to move to higher ground. She threw a smoke down the nearest stairwell, forcing them to take the long way up while she made her way up towards the roof to retireve her M79s... it was slow going, and she wasn't entirely sure that nobody had already reached her floor. Her ammo-belts clinked much too loudly, but there wasn't much she could do about that now.

It was on the fifth floor when some of them had managed to catch-up to her, announcing their presence with a bunch of withering automatic weapons-fire, albeit poorly aimed. They'd been running too, and weren't spec'd to use small-arms as their main, and Cementine had ammunition to burn on suppression... the end resault was a comically short-ranged firefight straight out of the stormtrooper-academy. She'd already burned-up two of her three belts of fifty on her first DPM, so she quickly swapped it out for a fresh one in a lul between floors. The sixth floor went much like the fifth aside from a few of them trying to rush her before being driven-back to their stairwell, with the engagement being broken-off by her pursuers when they had to stop and reload... another fifty rounds spent... it was time to draw both guns...

It was obvious that the group was still seeing themselves as the hunters, and she was their prey. They were actively trying to herd her up to the roof for the final showdown, whittle-down her ammunition and force a reload at a critical moment. But not only had she ammunition still to spare, she'd also built up just enough energy for a final sprint towards their position...

She let loose with the RPD on her right, running for her nearst M79, discarding it in favor of the launcher as it bled empty, opening fire with her remaining RPD as she popped the action open on her grenade-launcher, and dove for cover. From here, she set down her other machine-gun to send a fourty-mike-mike HEDP home into the chamber, pop cover, and end the top of the stairwell in an inferno of high explosive shrapnel. She then pulled a pair of frag-grenades, popped both spoons, dropped one as she let the other cook for a second, dropping that one along with it. The resault was a duplex explosion, the blast of the upper grenade tampering the blast of the first, directing the greater part of the shrapnel and blast downwards.

She then casually retireved her weapons, loaded a fresh belt, and proceeded to scour the remains of the griefers in the stairwell for any useable loot.

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