"I suppose not." Victoria said, as she looked down on Rudolph, aware that the metal walls, while a little echo-y, would keep the noise in, on the most half. Not much more needed to be said of the few hours they spent, letting him take the lead.
(Grimsey, by the way, is a island off the northern coast of Iceland. Very, very far north- it is actually on the border line of the Arctic Circle)
29th November, 1943
0300 Hours
Somewhere close to Grimsey Island, Iceland
The U-Boat stuck deep, and quiet, rumbling under the waters that many freighters felt scared to run on. Akureyri saw ships enter in and out, but the winter was hitting hard, and many of the encampments already saw a growing proportion of soldiers dying from hypothermia and cold-related problems. But under these waters, you wouldn't tell if you were in the tropics or under the Arctic Ocean- this was the North Atlantic for what Sturm Adler and Victoria knew, as she led the way of the pair. She wore her uniform over her tactical suit, as Sturm Adler, suited up, followed the femme fatale.
"You always thought I must have been passive, ja? I mean, I always sat at base and gave you support. Turns out that was just a stopgap, I mean, for a long while, I wanted to become operationally involved. But perhaps, the frame of a female is not as suitable as the typical Aryan man, so I have a different method, if you know what I mean." She said, looking back at him, as she opened a hatch, clambering down some stairs, as they headed towards the front, the torpedo room. It was empty, bar one or two Mariners.
A large Atmospheric Diving Suit of some sort, that had been hugely changed and modified (a MG42 instead of the gun there, and a cleaner sort of appearance with the air hoses, the back being a pair of huge air tanks and so on) sat in one of the corners by a large opened crate. An MG42 sat on the right arm, and it stood about a little larger than Victoria did, though modifications within the legs and arms bulked up the suit, clearly the motorized system.
"That's the thing. It's an atmospheric diving suit, built to withstand the pressures of the deep. I'll call out on radio what my callsign, let's keep it quiet for now. It's roughly between what Vampire has and what Tyrant has in terms of armor, I'm guessing- it can take a good beating, but it is not built solely for it. It's the best that the designers in the Kriegsmarine can develop for a requirement to dive deep and far below any detection. Now, the North Atlantic Ridge, some geological thing apparently, makes a seriously steep drop to almost 2,500m before the landmass of Grimsey and Iceland comes to about 300 meters deep, so we're going to need to use a set of water thrusters to make sure we don't sink to the bottom. You'll probably die if you drop below 700m- though I'll have to wait till about 1,300m before my suit becomes compromised. You'll feel a little squeezed, but yours should be fine, after Dr Ludwig's modifications. Don't let it panic you- you'll just use up more oxygen, and so on and so on. Follow me, and you should be fine." Victoria said, the Mariners checking a pair of oversized torpedoes, that were clearly developed for only one reason- to carry a payload of two very heavily armored soldiers. She moved over towards a desk, and retrieved a Gewehr 43 Rifle, with an attached Vampir optical sight and a silencer on the end of it, that had been particularly developed for this rifle- making it capable of ranges of up to 500m as a silent sniper rifle. A Sten MkII Silenced, or the MP 751 (e) as an adapted German weapon, was also on the table, and had been modified considerably, eliminating the flaw of the SMG overheating under sustained fire as well as being far more accustomed to Victoria's hands. Yet the only noise this thing made when the shots were fired was the firing pin being hit, and the target perhaps being a little..noisy, if they were hit non-lethally. But Victoria always made sure of the latter. Lastly, a Welrod, her last silent weapon, was the last to find it's way into her suit, tucked into a reinforced bulky cabinet on the rear, by a reinforced battery and a hefty oxygen tank, which suited itself to prolonged periods of diving. More than perhaps Sturm Adler's would last, as it seemed a purpose-built device. She retrieved knives, grenades and other explosives, packing them in, as she checked the specialized and reinforced MG42, jacketed up in a metal casing and connected to a large ammunition store on the suit's mid back. She looked over at Sturm Adler, who's underwater equipment was not specialized, but would be required- an oxygen tank and a connection to the already existing supply in the suit would be required, as well as the water thrusters that would at least keep them from sinking. The ones on her suit were similar to what Tyrant would have in their size- they had to be particularly brutal, in order not to sink like a brick into waters far too deep.
"Check your oxygen supply, have it ready. It may be something new to you, but once you realize how incredible the feeling is, you'll long to return. Remember, the pressure will crush you like a tin can if the suit becomes compromised in any way- 600m is deep enough for us to linger at without Allied Shipping seeing us." She said to him, as she walked back to hers, the suit about a few inches taller than her, and a little wider. Taking her uniform off, her infiltration equipment on with a Welrod at her hip and her...well, tasteful rear visible to Sturm Adler due to the nature of her infiltrator's suit. She clambered in, detaching the helmet as she put it back down once completely in, sealing the suit as the entire thing whirred up, and her arms vaguely connected. A remote firing had been set up for the MG42- many things felt like they had been developed from Project Tyrant, and been incorporated into the development of the diving suit. Perhaps more things would come across from Viking's and Tyrant's projects, over to the others in the 505th perhaps. But even in this thing, Victoria knew she was no Tyrant- she was a little more bulky and a little larger a target than Sturm Adler, perhaps with only a little more protection. The U-235 itself was in itself, a proof of what the Kriegsmarine had seen as a rapid development- and the great emphasis of submarine warfare had allowed them to deeper, and far, far more below the surface than ever before, this almost going to a maximum operating depth of 500m- far, far deeper than many submarines had ever gone before. The fact that their suits were made of such high grade material, and designed with such precision in mind to tolerate such pressure, was something which at the time, did astound Victoria. This was a nation that was making technological quantum leaps, and it felt like anyone that was on the other side wasn't going to have a chance.
"Okay..all feels good, with me, Sturm Adler. Operational Channel from here on out- You're in the other tube, since you can't share I'm afraid. And it's like a fucking steam cooker in here..." She said, being a tease to the man that she knew she could perhaps call an "interest", to a very specific degree, as she felt the heat kick against her suit. Though she knew she had to disembark at a point and go out into almost -20 degrees of cold, getting some heat into her body and then moving out, would work. The fact that the skin-tight infiltrator suit was heavily thermally insulated didn't look obvious, but even clothing of this type was getting more and more future-like, she thought to herself, and she'd feel a little chilly in this thing, but not freezing.
Moving over, the suit's metal feet making a loud clanking on the metal floor, she began to crawl into one of the torpedo tubes, with the assistance of one of the mariners. She backed in, legs first, as she kept her arms high, the mere fact that this was the way it was a little strange, but something she had to get used to. The nosecone was slid back on with a pair of exploding bolts, to detach it once the torpedo had travelled at least 20km, the whole thing fueled up and a long-range operation. She sat back, checking communications, as she felt the tube be lifted, another group of Mariners placing it into the firing rack, as she felt the whole mechanism jump.
"Well...if this is what being fired out of a cannon feels like, I'll stick to wearing this sort of stuff. Callsign's Swordfish, Sturm Adler. I'll see you in the water- look for the light. Oh, and don't worry about depth charges. We're fathoms below any, and you wonder why the Allies haven't figured out submarine warfare truly yet." Swordfish said, looking out her visor into the blackness, a giant yellow light mounted on her shoulder- disengaged for the moment, as she hummed something to herself, then feeling a giant rush. as the whole thing propelled, with a loud crank and a sudden whirring. On the scale of things, the submarine and the torpedo that had been fired was insignificant, but the occupants of the next fired torpedo that was sent alongside, and the one ahead, were more significant than any Allied force would think.
"I'd love to tell you how much sweat there is inside this thing around my breasts, but I think we've gotten all the...well, hot talk over earlier. Let's just stick to business. I suppose once we hit ground, I'll be running around shooting anything that seems to be a threat to our progress, patrols and the like with my silenced equipment. Only use the silenced FG42 to eliminate anything that comes close- and remember, don't make too much noise. Once the charges are down, you return the favour, escort me back to this thing, and we'll clear the rest of the island's AA defenses out, before calling the Fallschrimjager to finish the job and for us to drop back into the deeps of the ocean. By that time, they should have the rest ready with that submersible of theirs, I hope so at least, and we'll be off to the mainland. You'd be surprised at what they teach you to do back in Britain..shame not a lot of my comrades saw the same, and instead, are now dead." Victoria said, chuckling at first, aware that teasing Sturm Adler did partly piss him off, but was something he enjoyed, and she went for that sweet spot at times. She felt for him- more than she did for Reinhard, just because he wasn't so undisclosed, and perhaps more attentive, and not so loud and unthoughtful. Not so distorting and getting in the way of her personality, he listened to her, and she knew he enjoyed it. It was perhaps something her personality took- a much more independent and thinking woman, not some object. And it was that perhaps that made her feel right about Rudolph, to feel at ease with him. Thoughts like these helped her to pass the time, inside a reinforced and motorized heavy atmospheric diving suit that was within a torpedo, about half a kilometer under the North Atlantic Ocean, above a giant ridge of sorts a couple of thousand meters below, that separated the European and North American parts of the world. Things, at least to her, didn't look like they were getting any more sensible anytime soon. This was progress, and more than that, this was the victory she craved.
FourtyTwo Member
STATUS: 10+ years of an RP idea, finally finished, on 10.10.2025. Goodnight Raven Squad, you were the best, wildest, most silly near future SOF RP that lived on the guild, and you got a worthy send off :) 10 mos ago
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10+ years of an RP idea, finally finished, on 10.10.2025. Goodnight Raven Squad, you were the best, wildest, most silly near future SOF RP that lived on the guild, and you got a worthy send off :)
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Bio
I've RP'd for the best part of over 15 years now here on the Guild, and particularly like military settings, both contemporary, past and near future. I have even dabbled in a little more experimental RPs, as well as created a plethora of 1x1s over my time in the guild. I like creating RPs with a distinct flavour- and often shift between narrative-led RPs to semi-randomised plots. I've been more a GM lately than a player, and don't really lean into fandom- instead, exploring my own universes lifting themes from other source material.
My main interests are military-themed, near-future RPs, with a focus on technology. But I'm beginning to push what that RP idea looks like- taking inspiration from lots of media and focussing on the fun, indulgent side of RP, whilst also exploring the lows and emotional side.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/190121-rav…
Raven Squad is a project over seven years in the making, and focusses on a class-based, eccentric yet half-grounded near future special forces team that acts as a response team where you can't send any special forces team in. It's incredibly dumb, incredibly loose, and yet, has delivered some of my favourite plot points in RPG. A brainless action flick a la John Wick and Kingsman meets a complex thriller with a fun left turn in it, Raven has been the culmination of over a decade of loving special forces RPG, gaming influences and other silliness in a package that has provided players with something quite different to a normal military themed RPG. While at an end, this is an RP that is a signature- it's silly as hell, takes itself barely seriously, and is what peak fun military RPG to me should be.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/192916-del…
Delta Hyper is a love letter to Wipeout, F1's Drive to Survive (Netflix) and contemporary Formula One, with influences from solarpunk, cyberpunk, transhumanism and other posthumanist concepts. An RP that follows pilots in their ups and downs, it's a story that hasn't got me playing an actual character, but framing the camera at each pilot (played by others), and presenting it as if it were a documentary. Lifting elements from TTRPG, this is a Racing RPG like no other and no parallel exists- using dice rolls and randomisation, with a stats-driven system to generate race results, rather than actually RPing the races, players experience the fast-paced, dynamic world of anti-gravity racing. This means that come Qualifying and Race, the results are genuinely a surprise to everyone- and based on decisions made through dilemmas and decisions made between races. Friendships, rivalry, the glamour and even a little political undertone play out in 2094, in a colourful, utopian future that focuses on the fight to take first place.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/196931-tac…
Then there's Tactical Breach Wizards: Fireteam Hex. First use of any set IP as a formal setting, this is an RP that offers a darker mirror to Raven Squad, focussing on the other side of the equation- unlikely heroes in an uncomfortable position. I don't normally do fantasy, but the world, the lore, the feeling of the characters and the ability to write a comedy just was too difficult to pass up. An RP that focuses on a group running away from a variety of threats as wanted mercenary wizards in the middle of a post-revolution, Eastern-Europe adjacent 1990s to present Polavia.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/197399-dis…
Lastly, Dispatch: Heroes of Claremont. This is another IP-adjacent world, albeit drawing on a different setting and a new cast of superheroes. As my "first" proper superhero RP, this combines workplace comedy, a Storyteller-lite system and a fun, diverse, and large cast together in a dynamic, diverse setting.
I'm pretty flexible and try and get back to people on ideas and responses, but sometimes, I may become very busy and it will take some time till I am un-busy. I aim to clear posts within a week!
My main interests are military-themed, near-future RPs, with a focus on technology. But I'm beginning to push what that RP idea looks like- taking inspiration from lots of media and focussing on the fun, indulgent side of RP, whilst also exploring the lows and emotional side.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/190121-rav…
Raven Squad is a project over seven years in the making, and focusses on a class-based, eccentric yet half-grounded near future special forces team that acts as a response team where you can't send any special forces team in. It's incredibly dumb, incredibly loose, and yet, has delivered some of my favourite plot points in RPG. A brainless action flick a la John Wick and Kingsman meets a complex thriller with a fun left turn in it, Raven has been the culmination of over a decade of loving special forces RPG, gaming influences and other silliness in a package that has provided players with something quite different to a normal military themed RPG. While at an end, this is an RP that is a signature- it's silly as hell, takes itself barely seriously, and is what peak fun military RPG to me should be.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/192916-del…
Delta Hyper is a love letter to Wipeout, F1's Drive to Survive (Netflix) and contemporary Formula One, with influences from solarpunk, cyberpunk, transhumanism and other posthumanist concepts. An RP that follows pilots in their ups and downs, it's a story that hasn't got me playing an actual character, but framing the camera at each pilot (played by others), and presenting it as if it were a documentary. Lifting elements from TTRPG, this is a Racing RPG like no other and no parallel exists- using dice rolls and randomisation, with a stats-driven system to generate race results, rather than actually RPing the races, players experience the fast-paced, dynamic world of anti-gravity racing. This means that come Qualifying and Race, the results are genuinely a surprise to everyone- and based on decisions made through dilemmas and decisions made between races. Friendships, rivalry, the glamour and even a little political undertone play out in 2094, in a colourful, utopian future that focuses on the fight to take first place.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/196931-tac…
Then there's Tactical Breach Wizards: Fireteam Hex. First use of any set IP as a formal setting, this is an RP that offers a darker mirror to Raven Squad, focussing on the other side of the equation- unlikely heroes in an uncomfortable position. I don't normally do fantasy, but the world, the lore, the feeling of the characters and the ability to write a comedy just was too difficult to pass up. An RP that focuses on a group running away from a variety of threats as wanted mercenary wizards in the middle of a post-revolution, Eastern-Europe adjacent 1990s to present Polavia.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/197399-dis…
Lastly, Dispatch: Heroes of Claremont. This is another IP-adjacent world, albeit drawing on a different setting and a new cast of superheroes. As my "first" proper superhero RP, this combines workplace comedy, a Storyteller-lite system and a fun, diverse, and large cast together in a dynamic, diverse setting.
I'm pretty flexible and try and get back to people on ideas and responses, but sometimes, I may become very busy and it will take some time till I am un-busy. I aim to clear posts within a week!
Most Recent Posts
Huscarl looked over, already aware that what they had done was a little far-fetched, but something they had to do. Bundling the box into the rear compartment of the SDV, he shut the door, kicking out to move to the front, where he just about saw two screens in the front, and the basic structure come to view. Grabbing a hold, Huscarl slid himself into the driver's seat, securing himself down inside as he looked over at the controls. It had been a long time since he'd piloted an SDV, but he had a vague, vague idea of how this worked. Like a miniature submarine, but easier on the ballast bit on how that worked out.
"Lights on...okay, Mischief, we're following suit, we'll need to keep this thing for later if things hit the fan." Huscarl said, aware that whilst Mischief couldn't hear him very well, it would probably get through. The rear propeller span up ,as he looked to his diving partner, already getting the SDV to pull out and away from the sunken shipwreck, Huscarl guessing the fight wasn't going to be easy.
"Nice one out there by the way. Fucking AAF scum...this was a long time coming, I bloody felt it." Huscarl added, as the SDV's front lights illuminated the sea floor ahead, the SDV moving quickly in the waters off the island, into Kyifi Bay and towards Tempest.
The noise of howitzer fire was heart-stoppingly scary. To SSgt William Patterson, who had been a few hours ago, talking to the CTRG operators, it wasn't a noise that he had heard in a long while, but he knew precisely what it was. They had left Rogain and the road mined, as planned, and despite being completely off-guard, they had stopped the first wave .Through what miracle, he didn't know, but the Platoon Commander, Lieutenant Andrews, of 2nd "Hoplite" Platoon was dead, and it left William in charge of what was now 18 men, down from 32 of Hoplite's original. To say the least, they had suffered heavy losses, and had barely enough equipment and survivability left in them. He looked back to his troops, three females and the rest men, all mixed in their roles and ability. They had one AA guy who had actually taken down one of the AAF's Buzzards, and the feat of downing a CAS jet was something that brought morale. Followed by this shelling. They were still moving with pace, barely catching breath now as they were hidden in the tree-lined valley leading to Tempest, aware that it was their only route out.
"Specialist Fitzroy, sitrep ahead?" Patterson said, as the pointman ran back, huffing and panting.
"Nothing...shit, nothing at all. We've got a scorched pair of trucks Sir, ION contractors. All dead." He said, as Patterson cursed. The very PMC that had been working in tandem with NATO forces hadn't even made it out. Only keeping formidable now would save their minds- they were in total rout, and they had little they could throw against the patrols of AAF Striders that now were going to Air Station Mike-26 and possibly beyond.
"Alright...look, my contact, Huscarl, said that we get to Tempest, we get a chance of holding our ground there and recouping whatever we can. Camp Maxwell and LZ Connor were almost completely packed, but 3rd and 4th hold the line there. And if Thunder's still in the game, maybe we got a chance of launching a counterattack later tonight. But we ain't got any officers, and communications is fucking short range, no externals. Dammit. Okay, platoon, form up a staggered column, 20m pacing, if it's a fucking Greenback, cap it." Patterson said, checking his MX 3GL in his hands, adjusting the optic slightly as he got his breath back, looking over at the rest of his men. Their uniforms looked tattered from dirt, and they were well battle-worn. The moon was fully out as the clouds slowly cleared and the rainy mist stopped, but it was still shit conditions, Patterson made no mistake.
"Motherfuckers." Fitzroy said, as he cocked his MXC, the JTAC holding behind Patterson, the Platoon moving out, as they swept through the valley, the crackling of twigs underfoot a silent noise, between the noise of loud explosions both close and in the distance.
"Contacts front, four men! Engage at will!" Patterson yelled, as he moved behind a tree, the staggered column already laying a suppressing volume of fire from the back, as Corporal Davis, the radiowoman turned Autorifleman, provided the majority of that from her MX SW, as well as PFC Wilson, who also sent a 40mil downrange to decimate a part of the patrol. The bullets flew past, but the AAF force had been caught more offguard in sweeping the forest out, and hadn't expected it. They were cleaned out, the four men downed as the remainder of the beaten back Platoon headed down, the four men little competition against 18 hardened 101st Airborne soldiers who had literally waded through hell.
Within three minutes, the team had swept through the valley, and moved forwards, seeing what was left of Tempest, as they covered each other's movements with a certain tactical observation of sorts. Patterson kept point, and was already into the tight combat, looking around. The main HQ had been blasted by a mortar round, and the two metal containers, Huscarl's billet totally destroyed whilst the other had been indirectly smashed, with the boats also sunken and destroyed. Surprisingly enough, the tents and the Hunter HMG under the camoflage netting were intact, with the main outer perimeter still defendable, including the the metal patrol tower which still stood with the mounted gun. It had been empty bar two men that had been responsible for defending, but they weren't anywhere to be seen. Patterson swung his MX over his shoulder, looking around as he adjusted his helmet.
"Well, this is it. Men, set up a defensive position on the northern side around the remainder of the fortifications- Fitzroy, you're up on that mounted gun in the tower, Wilson and Carter, you guys get the caches out of that partly demolished container, and then see what we have left in the shipping containers. If I last remember, we have a Hunter in pieces, so see if you can get the majority of the scrap parts out. Davis, get a table up with weapons and ammo for us to resupply from, we're going to need everything we got, then work back on our radios to see if there's anything else left since we routed. We hold here till either we run out of bullets, or we hear Blackfoots fly overhead. Get to it, gents!" Patterson said, as he looked around, looking over to the sea for a moment, before looking to the now completely demolished HQ building.
"Understood Sir!" She said, Corporal Anna Davis already moving out, the fact that her shortened hair and bruised face was one that could contend with the rest of the gents here suggesting that she held her own here, and in a situation like this, there wasn't anyone questioning her position. Nobody really questioned anything- they knew Patterson was what they had left, and they had to get to it.
"Where the fuck are they.." He muttered to himself, as he moved out to a position himself by one of the H-Barriers, to get a northern-facing position up.
Corporal Ian Stanley was what you'd expect from a Welshman, plus a little more. The L85A4, as well as the rest of his tank crew, were keeping eyes on, as LZ Connor teemed with activity. They didn't understand for some reason, why they hadn't been bombed- the luck of Hoplite downing a AAF A-143 Buzzard was unknown to them, and was why a firemission that was planned to wipe out the two remainder camps in the south from the map hadn't happened. For now though, everyone was buzzing, and nobody had a single clue what to do. It had been almost half an hour, and a single AAF patrol had been beaten back from LZ Connor, some SF unit or some shit like that, but they had taken the wrong approach and been on the wrong end of a combination of 4th Platooon, Bronco Squad, and Stanley's unit. But things still say in disarray, and as Stanley looked out of the watchtower, no NVGs on, his eyes fixated on what saw of the plumes of smoke. The base had taken some losses, but they were intact, mostly.
"So they're all dead then?" Lewis said, the gunner on the Marshall, the other guard on the tower. Chief Warrant Officer Liam Hartley was in charge of what was left of 4th "Vanguard" Platoon, and despite being all 16th Air Assault Brigade in their composition, Bronco Squad had ended up attached at LZ Connor, following a patrol gone bad. For what Ian knew, Camp Maxwell's 3rd "Crossbow" Platoon had made it through, despite heavy mortars, though the defensive force at Mike-26 had completely capitulated.
"1st and 2nd, not a chance. Dead." Ian coldly replied, looking over.
"Can't say that though, I mean, you know..."
"They bombed the shit out of Rogain, and there's no comms. No long range, short range works only to fucking...Tempest or so, if we restore it from here. NATO doesn't even know we're getting bombed and shelled, and back there, there's the Aegean Sea. Greenbacks had us this time, and we're sitting here, waiting till the next set of mortars gets it right from the Forward Observers. We need to sit the fuck up and do something. Get that Marshall out and kick some serious arse, get the fucking lads in. Then again, we're waiting to see if we can salvage something from comms again on the long range...and unsurprisingly, we haven't got it working. I heard they executed a bunch of fucking NATO soldiers from what one of our Scouts said at the Air Base, I just don't get why either. We'll probably join them." Ian said, a little cynical as he looked over.
"Shit man, you only see the bad side of things. Could be a one-off."
"Well, if you haven't realized yet, the AAF does outnumber us, at least three to one, And as corrupt and badly organized as they can be, this isn't their character. Why are they in Mike-26 straightaway? Why'd they slack on bringing troops to the south? It's as if they've had their hand forced, and it sure as shit ain't those pricks up top doing this." Ian said, as Lewis shrugged his shoulders.
"All I know is, we're in the shit now, mate. And you know that if we get murdered, I ain't leaving without firing that 40mil in some Greenback's fat fucking face." Lewis said, even bringing a smirk to Ian's face, as he checked the perimeter, making his way down and back towards the tank, as another pair of soldiers from 4th Platoon moved up into the tower, without barely a word spoken as they changed around, the Chief Warrant Officer still working with a few other members of his 4th Platoon to restore communications. Runners had been the predominant form of comms for now between 3rd and 4th Platoons, though only intermittent radio contact had been made. But coming back towards the main camoflage netting, where a temporary Platoon HQ had been made over an old laptop and a map, as well as the Marshall, it seemed some progress was being made.
"Corporal! Get the engine fired up on the Marshall, we're making some sort of comms with 3rd- they need help, and you're to take Bronco Squad to the south of Camp Maxwell to stop 3rd Platoon getting outflanked there. Most of 4th's going to stay here- we can't afford to lose any more ground, and we're losing time, fast. Lieutenant Barnes, Thunder-2's at your disposal if you need more fire- but stay the fuck away from Mike-26, as we saw very heavy resistance there earlier." Ian heard, as Lewis, as well as LCpl Mitchell, who were also running over, the tankers getting their helmets as they scrambled to get the Marshall moving.
The SDV came in closer and closer to the sea floor, as Huscarl guessed that Mischief and the rest would have made it quicker- the SDV not changing massively in it's depth, but the sea floor coming up, as they approached land.
"We're surfacing Praetorian, get ready to get your rebreather out of your mouth. Now we find out the extent of the damage." Huscarl added, as the open-doored SDV came up, about 50m from the shore, as Huscarl had the SDAR ready by his knees, ready to pull it up and fire when needed. The SDV slowly rubbed on the sandy shore, as he eased off the gas, taking the mask off as he exhaled hard, emerging from the SDV as he swept the area, his uniform soaked and in the dark, his eyes adapting to the relative darkness. The fire kept some sort of light around, as well as the moon, so to some extent, NVGs were limited in their scope. Moving up, he saw Mischief and the rest of the CTRG team come in and break land, as Huscarl looked over to the M134-armed RHIB, to double up the fact that CTRG was back on Stratis. Huscarl turned to them, but the sighting was broken by one thing.
"Shit, we got people, west side? No AAF marks! Foxhound!" One of the tower guards yelled out, before he considered opening fire, the call to signify the friendly callout to identify friend or foe.
"Pheasant! We're friendly forces, I'm Captain Arran Birgirson, UKSF, hold your guns! Staff Sergeant Patterson among you lot?" Arran said, his hands in the air, as he knew that the boat team had been rather unexpected. These guys really weren't used to frequent combat, Arran thought to himself, as a yell could be heard.
"I'm here! Get these people in, they're assholes for keeping us waiting, but better late than never, right Captain?" Arran heard, as Patterson moved to the entrance, seeing the CTRG unit make land, as Arran looked over at the group of US Airborne, who looked tattered, tired and most of all, like they had really gone through hell and back holding back the defenses. Arran took his vest and his other equipment from the boat, as the team dismounted, the Staff Sergeant looking around, as he looked at them.
"With respect, the fuck happened to you? You leave us here and we get fucking bombed. Nothing to do with you, right?"
"That's out of your questioning Staff Sergeant, and no, don't tell us that we created this. Matter of fact, the AAF are going to "evict" you from this island, and we're here to make sure you don't get driven into the sea, because a fucking global war could spark over this bloody rock. You want to live, you're going to want to keep your trap shut, and your ears open." Arran said, as he moved into the compound, Patterson instantly protesting.
"Woah woah woah, what the fuck...you telling us we ain't doing our fucking jobs correctly? We've waded through the seven circles of hell for you to tell us we're going to bow under you?"
"You're doing it again. Saying you'll be respectful then being disrespectful is an irony, and we haven't got the time. Look, any CO's left at all? We lost comms with you guys when we were arriving, just fill us in." Arran said, as the team moved into the base, Huscarl still carrying his vest as he moved over towards the Hunter, putting his rebreather on the bonnet as Patterson looked over.
"Lieutenant Andrews is dead, and last we heard, Air Station Mike-26 is a no-go zone. Camp Rogain got bombed, and we've mined the roads between the Old Barracks and Camp Rogain, before running for here. LZ Connor and Camp Maxwell is still intact, I think, they're still fighting back. We've got Lieutenant Barnes and Chief Warrant Officer Hartley left as probably the last command units, no other officers. Shit, we've gone through at least a couple of squads of AAF, these guys fucking aren't local to the deployment of Greenbacks they had here earlier." Patterson said now, a little less angered, and calmed as Huscarl looked over, getting his vest on, as he checked his SCAR-H once again.
"Then that leaves me as the only one capable of running our defense then right now, both in this camp and on the island. I outrank them both those two at those places respectively, and there's only one way that we can even think about getting back at these bastards without getting annihilated."
"What, you taking over this? You ain't a figure of authority, you're just a Special Forces.."
"Again interruptions, Staff Sergeant, you're not making it any fucking easier, do you understand me? Stand the fuck down- what else do you think, you can do a better job than me or my lads? You haven't even half heard me out, you bloody know that. You did your part- now you fall in and do as you're fucking told." Arran said, authoritatively, as he looked him almost direct in the eye.
"Now, we need to get communications up and running, rearming, and defending. There's a mortar in that thing over there...shit...they actually bombed my Billet. Well anyway, the one next to it, there's a disassembled Mk6 Mortar. Get it online, put 82 mils into Stratis AFB on random spread, and we'll work from there on what next, to at least confuse them. We need to regroup with friendly forces, and get co-ordinated. Staff Sergeant, you've done your job from here- but the only way it's going to work is if we divide up teams and keep things locked down. Mischief, Praetorian, over here- rest of you, keep a watch." Arran said, as he looked over to the destroyed HQ.
"We'll have Mischief here as Alpha Team lead- get your best men from the remainder of your Platoon, Staff Sergeant, into his unit, and get the rest of yours into Bravo Team, under Praetorian here. You'll both be two squads of infantry, and a potent force to throw back in the Greenbacks, so long as you don't take casualties. Charlie will be comprised of your walking wounded and remainders, with yourself taking lead as a support and defense unit at Tempest, and Delta, a Direct Action and will be headed up by Athena here to work on getting any NATO forces back onto Stratis. I'll stay from base and maintain a command- I'll work with Alpha or Delta when required, to make sure we keep the running even." Huscarl said, as the other two came over, Huscarl looking over.
"We'll work on a structure but for now, there's a bigger priority. Perimeter defense, reconnaissance of our immediate area of Greenbacks, and getting friendly contact established with NATO forces as a part of TF Hephaestus on Stratis, then wider NATO MEDCOM. Otherwise, you can forget about any offensives, Patterson. We'll get another sit rep in half an hour- Delta, you move to Girna as I mentioned earlier, Alpha's going to be performing first recon to the north in Nisi Bay, Bravo gets a western reconnaissance down our valley to Mike-26, and Charlie, you continue to reestablish what we can of this scrap metal. If I need to take over this entire bloody island's friendly forces since there isn't anyone of higher rank, so be it- there's bound to be at least half a Company's worth of men we have at hand, so we can capitalize on that. Let's get hustling gents." Arran added, guessing it'd be a long night.
Things moved slowly but surely within the base, as Huscarl got his shit back together, and squads within the next ten minutes had been drawn up. All that had been totally screwed had changed eventually, as a basic HQ setup was made in the wreck of the HQ structure, with the crate that Huscarl and Praetorian had retrieved now among another set of crates full of SCARs, MXs and other weapons under a improvised camo net in the partly wrecked structure, on tables and in large pallet boxes- with the CTRG MSBS A2 rifles being particularly around. Explosives, grenades, ammunition was set, and most of the elements inside Tempest had gotten back on their feet. Perhaps it was that the AAF knew so little about Tempest due to the CTRG's presence there, that had bought them the most security- and due to it's insignificance, had been bypassed. Huscarl was back to his regular kit, changing his SCAR-H for a specialized SCAR-CL 6.5 EGLM variant, a previous contender for the Future Rifle competition which it had lost to the MX, due to cost. But this weapon was a future-generation SCAR, chambered in the newer 6.5mm round, and packed a classic punch, that CTRG and some US forces had taken in specialized roles. Transferring the EGLM, as well as getting a Silencer and a ARCO optic attached with a IR Laser Pointer, things weren't too bad. Getting a smaller tan-colored Assault Pack due to the fact that he carried less equipment overall, as well as a few more mags for the ACP.45.
"Comms are back up, Sir!" Davis said, as Huscarl moved over, Davis herself a part of Charlie due to the fact that she was Hoplite Platoon's former radiowoman, though the MX SW that she had taken from a deceased Autorifleman in the team didn't look out of place by her bag close to the radio, as well as the standard kit she wore.
"Great. That's medium-range working again- most of it on that area of comms flows through Mike-26 and a few towers in the north, thank fuck we've managed to get the network online." Huscarl said, as he moved over towards a partly broken chair, sitting down as he adjusted the microphone in his helmet.
"All NATO forces receiving on this net, this is Captain Arran Birgirson, UK Special Forces- callsign is Huscarl. Anyone receiving?"
"Shit...understood Captain, Chief Warrant Officer Hartley receiving at LZ Connor..we've got significant contacts north of Camp Maxwell, a massing of AAF forces, Crossbow and Vanguard Platoons are still fully-operational, we've lost all contact of Hoplite and 1st Platoon at Stratis AFB....you don't sound very familiar.."
"There's little time to explain, Warrant Officer- no detailed specifics either, since this net is potentially compromised, we're running it on a thread over this length that AAF forces can tap. Recommend you mobilize a small fireteam to secure Girna and rendevous with Delta, a squad we'll send your way to keep an eye out, until we get a more secure line to establish contact, and get ourselves co-ordinated. They don't see anything by 0000 hours, they leave, understood Hartley?" Arran said, as he looked over, the flames in the distance from other burning outposts and wrecks littering the place.
"Copy that Huscarl. We've lost all other officers on the island, you're the highest ranking officer left if you are what you say."
"Understood, Warrant Officer. I guess I'll have to take the gauntlet. Get to work on securing the network- we need a stable line, before any more chat. Huscarl out."
(This is where it gets interesting. I've given two positions of command to Zdislav and Linn, as leaders of Alpha and Bravo elements within the reinforced "Hoplite" Platoon, which are basically going to be yours in free-rein to RP with. They'll be forces of around 6-8 men in each squad, and they'll be performing initially reconaissance and engaging extensively with AAF forces, though eventually, they'll be fully-fledged assault forces. Don't worry, they'll still indirectly be under the command of Huscarl.)
(Also, RPC, you can post now. Jump into the fray- don't worry, I have multiple character disorder in RPs, and I detail a lot as GM- so you can make far shorter posts than I do, though keep some detail. Bronco's with Thunder-2 moving north from LZ Connor- I've updated the map.)
"Lights on...okay, Mischief, we're following suit, we'll need to keep this thing for later if things hit the fan." Huscarl said, aware that whilst Mischief couldn't hear him very well, it would probably get through. The rear propeller span up ,as he looked to his diving partner, already getting the SDV to pull out and away from the sunken shipwreck, Huscarl guessing the fight wasn't going to be easy.
"Nice one out there by the way. Fucking AAF scum...this was a long time coming, I bloody felt it." Huscarl added, as the SDV's front lights illuminated the sea floor ahead, the SDV moving quickly in the waters off the island, into Kyifi Bay and towards Tempest.
The noise of howitzer fire was heart-stoppingly scary. To SSgt William Patterson, who had been a few hours ago, talking to the CTRG operators, it wasn't a noise that he had heard in a long while, but he knew precisely what it was. They had left Rogain and the road mined, as planned, and despite being completely off-guard, they had stopped the first wave .Through what miracle, he didn't know, but the Platoon Commander, Lieutenant Andrews, of 2nd "Hoplite" Platoon was dead, and it left William in charge of what was now 18 men, down from 32 of Hoplite's original. To say the least, they had suffered heavy losses, and had barely enough equipment and survivability left in them. He looked back to his troops, three females and the rest men, all mixed in their roles and ability. They had one AA guy who had actually taken down one of the AAF's Buzzards, and the feat of downing a CAS jet was something that brought morale. Followed by this shelling. They were still moving with pace, barely catching breath now as they were hidden in the tree-lined valley leading to Tempest, aware that it was their only route out.
"Specialist Fitzroy, sitrep ahead?" Patterson said, as the pointman ran back, huffing and panting.
"Nothing...shit, nothing at all. We've got a scorched pair of trucks Sir, ION contractors. All dead." He said, as Patterson cursed. The very PMC that had been working in tandem with NATO forces hadn't even made it out. Only keeping formidable now would save their minds- they were in total rout, and they had little they could throw against the patrols of AAF Striders that now were going to Air Station Mike-26 and possibly beyond.
"Alright...look, my contact, Huscarl, said that we get to Tempest, we get a chance of holding our ground there and recouping whatever we can. Camp Maxwell and LZ Connor were almost completely packed, but 3rd and 4th hold the line there. And if Thunder's still in the game, maybe we got a chance of launching a counterattack later tonight. But we ain't got any officers, and communications is fucking short range, no externals. Dammit. Okay, platoon, form up a staggered column, 20m pacing, if it's a fucking Greenback, cap it." Patterson said, checking his MX 3GL in his hands, adjusting the optic slightly as he got his breath back, looking over at the rest of his men. Their uniforms looked tattered from dirt, and they were well battle-worn. The moon was fully out as the clouds slowly cleared and the rainy mist stopped, but it was still shit conditions, Patterson made no mistake.
"Motherfuckers." Fitzroy said, as he cocked his MXC, the JTAC holding behind Patterson, the Platoon moving out, as they swept through the valley, the crackling of twigs underfoot a silent noise, between the noise of loud explosions both close and in the distance.
"Contacts front, four men! Engage at will!" Patterson yelled, as he moved behind a tree, the staggered column already laying a suppressing volume of fire from the back, as Corporal Davis, the radiowoman turned Autorifleman, provided the majority of that from her MX SW, as well as PFC Wilson, who also sent a 40mil downrange to decimate a part of the patrol. The bullets flew past, but the AAF force had been caught more offguard in sweeping the forest out, and hadn't expected it. They were cleaned out, the four men downed as the remainder of the beaten back Platoon headed down, the four men little competition against 18 hardened 101st Airborne soldiers who had literally waded through hell.
Within three minutes, the team had swept through the valley, and moved forwards, seeing what was left of Tempest, as they covered each other's movements with a certain tactical observation of sorts. Patterson kept point, and was already into the tight combat, looking around. The main HQ had been blasted by a mortar round, and the two metal containers, Huscarl's billet totally destroyed whilst the other had been indirectly smashed, with the boats also sunken and destroyed. Surprisingly enough, the tents and the Hunter HMG under the camoflage netting were intact, with the main outer perimeter still defendable, including the the metal patrol tower which still stood with the mounted gun. It had been empty bar two men that had been responsible for defending, but they weren't anywhere to be seen. Patterson swung his MX over his shoulder, looking around as he adjusted his helmet.
"Well, this is it. Men, set up a defensive position on the northern side around the remainder of the fortifications- Fitzroy, you're up on that mounted gun in the tower, Wilson and Carter, you guys get the caches out of that partly demolished container, and then see what we have left in the shipping containers. If I last remember, we have a Hunter in pieces, so see if you can get the majority of the scrap parts out. Davis, get a table up with weapons and ammo for us to resupply from, we're going to need everything we got, then work back on our radios to see if there's anything else left since we routed. We hold here till either we run out of bullets, or we hear Blackfoots fly overhead. Get to it, gents!" Patterson said, as he looked around, looking over to the sea for a moment, before looking to the now completely demolished HQ building.
"Understood Sir!" She said, Corporal Anna Davis already moving out, the fact that her shortened hair and bruised face was one that could contend with the rest of the gents here suggesting that she held her own here, and in a situation like this, there wasn't anyone questioning her position. Nobody really questioned anything- they knew Patterson was what they had left, and they had to get to it.
"Where the fuck are they.." He muttered to himself, as he moved out to a position himself by one of the H-Barriers, to get a northern-facing position up.
Corporal Ian Stanley was what you'd expect from a Welshman, plus a little more. The L85A4, as well as the rest of his tank crew, were keeping eyes on, as LZ Connor teemed with activity. They didn't understand for some reason, why they hadn't been bombed- the luck of Hoplite downing a AAF A-143 Buzzard was unknown to them, and was why a firemission that was planned to wipe out the two remainder camps in the south from the map hadn't happened. For now though, everyone was buzzing, and nobody had a single clue what to do. It had been almost half an hour, and a single AAF patrol had been beaten back from LZ Connor, some SF unit or some shit like that, but they had taken the wrong approach and been on the wrong end of a combination of 4th Platooon, Bronco Squad, and Stanley's unit. But things still say in disarray, and as Stanley looked out of the watchtower, no NVGs on, his eyes fixated on what saw of the plumes of smoke. The base had taken some losses, but they were intact, mostly.
"So they're all dead then?" Lewis said, the gunner on the Marshall, the other guard on the tower. Chief Warrant Officer Liam Hartley was in charge of what was left of 4th "Vanguard" Platoon, and despite being all 16th Air Assault Brigade in their composition, Bronco Squad had ended up attached at LZ Connor, following a patrol gone bad. For what Ian knew, Camp Maxwell's 3rd "Crossbow" Platoon had made it through, despite heavy mortars, though the defensive force at Mike-26 had completely capitulated.
"1st and 2nd, not a chance. Dead." Ian coldly replied, looking over.
"Can't say that though, I mean, you know..."
"They bombed the shit out of Rogain, and there's no comms. No long range, short range works only to fucking...Tempest or so, if we restore it from here. NATO doesn't even know we're getting bombed and shelled, and back there, there's the Aegean Sea. Greenbacks had us this time, and we're sitting here, waiting till the next set of mortars gets it right from the Forward Observers. We need to sit the fuck up and do something. Get that Marshall out and kick some serious arse, get the fucking lads in. Then again, we're waiting to see if we can salvage something from comms again on the long range...and unsurprisingly, we haven't got it working. I heard they executed a bunch of fucking NATO soldiers from what one of our Scouts said at the Air Base, I just don't get why either. We'll probably join them." Ian said, a little cynical as he looked over.
"Shit man, you only see the bad side of things. Could be a one-off."
"Well, if you haven't realized yet, the AAF does outnumber us, at least three to one, And as corrupt and badly organized as they can be, this isn't their character. Why are they in Mike-26 straightaway? Why'd they slack on bringing troops to the south? It's as if they've had their hand forced, and it sure as shit ain't those pricks up top doing this." Ian said, as Lewis shrugged his shoulders.
"All I know is, we're in the shit now, mate. And you know that if we get murdered, I ain't leaving without firing that 40mil in some Greenback's fat fucking face." Lewis said, even bringing a smirk to Ian's face, as he checked the perimeter, making his way down and back towards the tank, as another pair of soldiers from 4th Platoon moved up into the tower, without barely a word spoken as they changed around, the Chief Warrant Officer still working with a few other members of his 4th Platoon to restore communications. Runners had been the predominant form of comms for now between 3rd and 4th Platoons, though only intermittent radio contact had been made. But coming back towards the main camoflage netting, where a temporary Platoon HQ had been made over an old laptop and a map, as well as the Marshall, it seemed some progress was being made.
"Corporal! Get the engine fired up on the Marshall, we're making some sort of comms with 3rd- they need help, and you're to take Bronco Squad to the south of Camp Maxwell to stop 3rd Platoon getting outflanked there. Most of 4th's going to stay here- we can't afford to lose any more ground, and we're losing time, fast. Lieutenant Barnes, Thunder-2's at your disposal if you need more fire- but stay the fuck away from Mike-26, as we saw very heavy resistance there earlier." Ian heard, as Lewis, as well as LCpl Mitchell, who were also running over, the tankers getting their helmets as they scrambled to get the Marshall moving.
The SDV came in closer and closer to the sea floor, as Huscarl guessed that Mischief and the rest would have made it quicker- the SDV not changing massively in it's depth, but the sea floor coming up, as they approached land.
"We're surfacing Praetorian, get ready to get your rebreather out of your mouth. Now we find out the extent of the damage." Huscarl added, as the open-doored SDV came up, about 50m from the shore, as Huscarl had the SDAR ready by his knees, ready to pull it up and fire when needed. The SDV slowly rubbed on the sandy shore, as he eased off the gas, taking the mask off as he exhaled hard, emerging from the SDV as he swept the area, his uniform soaked and in the dark, his eyes adapting to the relative darkness. The fire kept some sort of light around, as well as the moon, so to some extent, NVGs were limited in their scope. Moving up, he saw Mischief and the rest of the CTRG team come in and break land, as Huscarl looked over to the M134-armed RHIB, to double up the fact that CTRG was back on Stratis. Huscarl turned to them, but the sighting was broken by one thing.
"Shit, we got people, west side? No AAF marks! Foxhound!" One of the tower guards yelled out, before he considered opening fire, the call to signify the friendly callout to identify friend or foe.
"Pheasant! We're friendly forces, I'm Captain Arran Birgirson, UKSF, hold your guns! Staff Sergeant Patterson among you lot?" Arran said, his hands in the air, as he knew that the boat team had been rather unexpected. These guys really weren't used to frequent combat, Arran thought to himself, as a yell could be heard.
"I'm here! Get these people in, they're assholes for keeping us waiting, but better late than never, right Captain?" Arran heard, as Patterson moved to the entrance, seeing the CTRG unit make land, as Arran looked over at the group of US Airborne, who looked tattered, tired and most of all, like they had really gone through hell and back holding back the defenses. Arran took his vest and his other equipment from the boat, as the team dismounted, the Staff Sergeant looking around, as he looked at them.
"With respect, the fuck happened to you? You leave us here and we get fucking bombed. Nothing to do with you, right?"
"That's out of your questioning Staff Sergeant, and no, don't tell us that we created this. Matter of fact, the AAF are going to "evict" you from this island, and we're here to make sure you don't get driven into the sea, because a fucking global war could spark over this bloody rock. You want to live, you're going to want to keep your trap shut, and your ears open." Arran said, as he moved into the compound, Patterson instantly protesting.
"Woah woah woah, what the fuck...you telling us we ain't doing our fucking jobs correctly? We've waded through the seven circles of hell for you to tell us we're going to bow under you?"
"You're doing it again. Saying you'll be respectful then being disrespectful is an irony, and we haven't got the time. Look, any CO's left at all? We lost comms with you guys when we were arriving, just fill us in." Arran said, as the team moved into the base, Huscarl still carrying his vest as he moved over towards the Hunter, putting his rebreather on the bonnet as Patterson looked over.
"Lieutenant Andrews is dead, and last we heard, Air Station Mike-26 is a no-go zone. Camp Rogain got bombed, and we've mined the roads between the Old Barracks and Camp Rogain, before running for here. LZ Connor and Camp Maxwell is still intact, I think, they're still fighting back. We've got Lieutenant Barnes and Chief Warrant Officer Hartley left as probably the last command units, no other officers. Shit, we've gone through at least a couple of squads of AAF, these guys fucking aren't local to the deployment of Greenbacks they had here earlier." Patterson said now, a little less angered, and calmed as Huscarl looked over, getting his vest on, as he checked his SCAR-H once again.
"Then that leaves me as the only one capable of running our defense then right now, both in this camp and on the island. I outrank them both those two at those places respectively, and there's only one way that we can even think about getting back at these bastards without getting annihilated."
"What, you taking over this? You ain't a figure of authority, you're just a Special Forces.."
"Again interruptions, Staff Sergeant, you're not making it any fucking easier, do you understand me? Stand the fuck down- what else do you think, you can do a better job than me or my lads? You haven't even half heard me out, you bloody know that. You did your part- now you fall in and do as you're fucking told." Arran said, authoritatively, as he looked him almost direct in the eye.
"Now, we need to get communications up and running, rearming, and defending. There's a mortar in that thing over there...shit...they actually bombed my Billet. Well anyway, the one next to it, there's a disassembled Mk6 Mortar. Get it online, put 82 mils into Stratis AFB on random spread, and we'll work from there on what next, to at least confuse them. We need to regroup with friendly forces, and get co-ordinated. Staff Sergeant, you've done your job from here- but the only way it's going to work is if we divide up teams and keep things locked down. Mischief, Praetorian, over here- rest of you, keep a watch." Arran said, as he looked over to the destroyed HQ.
"We'll have Mischief here as Alpha Team lead- get your best men from the remainder of your Platoon, Staff Sergeant, into his unit, and get the rest of yours into Bravo Team, under Praetorian here. You'll both be two squads of infantry, and a potent force to throw back in the Greenbacks, so long as you don't take casualties. Charlie will be comprised of your walking wounded and remainders, with yourself taking lead as a support and defense unit at Tempest, and Delta, a Direct Action and will be headed up by Athena here to work on getting any NATO forces back onto Stratis. I'll stay from base and maintain a command- I'll work with Alpha or Delta when required, to make sure we keep the running even." Huscarl said, as the other two came over, Huscarl looking over.
"We'll work on a structure but for now, there's a bigger priority. Perimeter defense, reconnaissance of our immediate area of Greenbacks, and getting friendly contact established with NATO forces as a part of TF Hephaestus on Stratis, then wider NATO MEDCOM. Otherwise, you can forget about any offensives, Patterson. We'll get another sit rep in half an hour- Delta, you move to Girna as I mentioned earlier, Alpha's going to be performing first recon to the north in Nisi Bay, Bravo gets a western reconnaissance down our valley to Mike-26, and Charlie, you continue to reestablish what we can of this scrap metal. If I need to take over this entire bloody island's friendly forces since there isn't anyone of higher rank, so be it- there's bound to be at least half a Company's worth of men we have at hand, so we can capitalize on that. Let's get hustling gents." Arran added, guessing it'd be a long night.
Things moved slowly but surely within the base, as Huscarl got his shit back together, and squads within the next ten minutes had been drawn up. All that had been totally screwed had changed eventually, as a basic HQ setup was made in the wreck of the HQ structure, with the crate that Huscarl and Praetorian had retrieved now among another set of crates full of SCARs, MXs and other weapons under a improvised camo net in the partly wrecked structure, on tables and in large pallet boxes- with the CTRG MSBS A2 rifles being particularly around. Explosives, grenades, ammunition was set, and most of the elements inside Tempest had gotten back on their feet. Perhaps it was that the AAF knew so little about Tempest due to the CTRG's presence there, that had bought them the most security- and due to it's insignificance, had been bypassed. Huscarl was back to his regular kit, changing his SCAR-H for a specialized SCAR-CL 6.5 EGLM variant, a previous contender for the Future Rifle competition which it had lost to the MX, due to cost. But this weapon was a future-generation SCAR, chambered in the newer 6.5mm round, and packed a classic punch, that CTRG and some US forces had taken in specialized roles. Transferring the EGLM, as well as getting a Silencer and a ARCO optic attached with a IR Laser Pointer, things weren't too bad. Getting a smaller tan-colored Assault Pack due to the fact that he carried less equipment overall, as well as a few more mags for the ACP.45.
"Comms are back up, Sir!" Davis said, as Huscarl moved over, Davis herself a part of Charlie due to the fact that she was Hoplite Platoon's former radiowoman, though the MX SW that she had taken from a deceased Autorifleman in the team didn't look out of place by her bag close to the radio, as well as the standard kit she wore.
"Great. That's medium-range working again- most of it on that area of comms flows through Mike-26 and a few towers in the north, thank fuck we've managed to get the network online." Huscarl said, as he moved over towards a partly broken chair, sitting down as he adjusted the microphone in his helmet.
"All NATO forces receiving on this net, this is Captain Arran Birgirson, UK Special Forces- callsign is Huscarl. Anyone receiving?"
"Shit...understood Captain, Chief Warrant Officer Hartley receiving at LZ Connor..we've got significant contacts north of Camp Maxwell, a massing of AAF forces, Crossbow and Vanguard Platoons are still fully-operational, we've lost all contact of Hoplite and 1st Platoon at Stratis AFB....you don't sound very familiar.."
"There's little time to explain, Warrant Officer- no detailed specifics either, since this net is potentially compromised, we're running it on a thread over this length that AAF forces can tap. Recommend you mobilize a small fireteam to secure Girna and rendevous with Delta, a squad we'll send your way to keep an eye out, until we get a more secure line to establish contact, and get ourselves co-ordinated. They don't see anything by 0000 hours, they leave, understood Hartley?" Arran said, as he looked over, the flames in the distance from other burning outposts and wrecks littering the place.
"Copy that Huscarl. We've lost all other officers on the island, you're the highest ranking officer left if you are what you say."
"Understood, Warrant Officer. I guess I'll have to take the gauntlet. Get to work on securing the network- we need a stable line, before any more chat. Huscarl out."
(This is where it gets interesting. I've given two positions of command to Zdislav and Linn, as leaders of Alpha and Bravo elements within the reinforced "Hoplite" Platoon, which are basically going to be yours in free-rein to RP with. They'll be forces of around 6-8 men in each squad, and they'll be performing initially reconaissance and engaging extensively with AAF forces, though eventually, they'll be fully-fledged assault forces. Don't worry, they'll still indirectly be under the command of Huscarl.)
(Also, RPC, you can post now. Jump into the fray- don't worry, I have multiple character disorder in RPs, and I detail a lot as GM- so you can make far shorter posts than I do, though keep some detail. Bronco's with Thunder-2 moving north from LZ Connor- I've updated the map.)
I think that it'd connect well with the Airborne ethos that Janusz's unit would have- they'd have friendly reinforcements of a higher caliber, such as an armored team, back up their claims.
I do want to have my Polish Squad of Airborne Infantry come as somewhat a shock, following the SF moving in to eliminate key targets. I agree with Hamster on this one- it'd be somewhat unexpected, and even if they were at odds and waiting for shit to happen, it would take the Warsaw Pact to kick the bucket back at NATO and retaliate in a way that is not planned for. I'll have them at base for my next post when I make it.
YAY, thanks- I'll throw a post in a few days if Skyth doesn't get one up, to kinda set up Mihail's/Anton's situation, as well as the sit-rep on Stratis, relating to what goes down next.
Yep, the server went down on me, but I copied. And refereshed. A lot. Too much it seems. Anyway, we're still on- RPC, you'll be coming in soon, and your characters will have a particular induction.
Damn
Damn
Fucking server...
(Keeping continuity. I'll make it so that we all have one more post to make in theatre, then we'll bring around the two new characters.)
Svetlana looked over, watching as they emerged.
"So, we got a plan for that?" She said, laying down fire on them as they responded with 12.7mm fire that hailed down, even sending Svetlana to a relative hardpoint behind a container, as she heard two incredibly loud explosions. She heard the two suits get torn apart, by what she could only guess was integral explosives. She moved out, the heavily armored Babushka now back into the line of fire, and directing shots downrange, the secondary explosion of one of the heavily armored suits going up as it didn't faze Svetlana to say the least. Cool guys don't look at explosion- and Svetlana took a guess that applied to the other sex too, so she went about her regular buisness, rather than concerning about the fact that it was going up in a hail of flame and shrapnel. The vehicle pool had also gone up, as the armored vehicles inside were pretty much torn to bits too, or at the very least, rendered unusable.
"Yep...nicely done, I felt the heat from that on even my skin. Imran, what's the situation inside?" Svetlana said, as she moved out, taking out a machinegun post as she felt the bullets ping off her suit, an awesome feeling, but one that she felt still adapted to. She kept up the fire, as she knew that she, along with the other heavy, Bjorn, were making more than enough noise out here and really scaring the shit out of the enemies.
Meanwhile inside, and Imran was pushing in, flanking each corner out, as he swept his Mk48.
"Seems clear, you've got most of them on you. Antoine, good work down there. I'll meet you downstairs, we'll get our shit and get out of here. Howard, keep finding what you can in terms of patrols. I think we just destroyed their leverage...and you know, most of their shit. I think our work it almost complete." Imran simply said, the exoskeleton responding very, very sensitively to his finest movements, as he swept the area that the team's inflitrator, Antoine, had already covered. He made his way down a set of stairs, and moving with a certain pace, was keeping an eye out for any enemies. There were dead guys, and they were carrying crates of some sort. He didn't like this at all- he had to have a look, and keeping a head around him, looked over to one. He moved the body over and saw the metal crates- all of which looked very, very well reinforced, and surely, nothing could be breached in this thing. He got back to moving to Antoine, as he kept the Mk48 to hand, looking over at the MP5-armed female that seemed to be like a Ghost.
"Well...this looks tidy, but the grenade could have damaged this shit. Careful next time on that aspect. We've got to get these samples back to the airlock sealant, then leave it to the chemcial warfare team to deal with." Imran simply said, as he walked over to the airlock, looking in, seeing nothing moving within, as he cocked his Mk48.
"Spectre, this is Raven. We've secured the facility, most of it looks like it's cleared, and Black Eagle and Viking are up top with Lasanga turning anything into scattered pieces that's running now. We're looking at a high-grade Artemis raid- we racked up kills of two Class Two Mechanized suits if I saw correctly through Black Eagle's headcam, and a few armored vehicles too that were stashed. AK-12s throughout, a few other interesting weapons too. These guys were armed well, but they've left with nothing."
"Understood, Raven. Extract's coming, Brazilian forces will move in shortly to clean up- Artemis looks like it's escalating whatever it wants to do, things could get busy in the next few days." Imran heard Spectre say, as he looked over to Antoine, picking up two crates himself, as he moved over to where the airlock door was, and a small hatch right by it. Sliding one of the crates in, he guessed that when the system cycled through, it would put the crate on the other side- a transport system of some sorts, perhaps negating the need for actually putting it through the door. When he pulled the hatch down, to even Imran's surprise, it was what happened, and the next crate went through, one of a handful.
"That wasn't too bad. I mean, apart from the fact that we've got enemy mechanized armor suits, and you know, modern Russian weaponry, it's all good..." Imran said, chuckling a little, as he heard a loud explosion go off upstairs, Svetlana quickly answering.
"Sorry, sorry, I hit a oil tank of some sort! It's all good!" She said swiftly, as Imran chuckled, covering Antoine.
"Yeah, I bloody hope so. Let's deal with the last of this and get going, Antoine- Howard, if it moves out there and doesn't seem to look like a friendly Brazillian SF unit, then they're fair game."
Svetlana looked over, watching as they emerged.
"So, we got a plan for that?" She said, laying down fire on them as they responded with 12.7mm fire that hailed down, even sending Svetlana to a relative hardpoint behind a container, as she heard two incredibly loud explosions. She heard the two suits get torn apart, by what she could only guess was integral explosives. She moved out, the heavily armored Babushka now back into the line of fire, and directing shots downrange, the secondary explosion of one of the heavily armored suits going up as it didn't faze Svetlana to say the least. Cool guys don't look at explosion- and Svetlana took a guess that applied to the other sex too, so she went about her regular buisness, rather than concerning about the fact that it was going up in a hail of flame and shrapnel. The vehicle pool had also gone up, as the armored vehicles inside were pretty much torn to bits too, or at the very least, rendered unusable.
"Yep...nicely done, I felt the heat from that on even my skin. Imran, what's the situation inside?" Svetlana said, as she moved out, taking out a machinegun post as she felt the bullets ping off her suit, an awesome feeling, but one that she felt still adapted to. She kept up the fire, as she knew that she, along with the other heavy, Bjorn, were making more than enough noise out here and really scaring the shit out of the enemies.
Meanwhile inside, and Imran was pushing in, flanking each corner out, as he swept his Mk48.
"Seems clear, you've got most of them on you. Antoine, good work down there. I'll meet you downstairs, we'll get our shit and get out of here. Howard, keep finding what you can in terms of patrols. I think we just destroyed their leverage...and you know, most of their shit. I think our work it almost complete." Imran simply said, the exoskeleton responding very, very sensitively to his finest movements, as he swept the area that the team's inflitrator, Antoine, had already covered. He made his way down a set of stairs, and moving with a certain pace, was keeping an eye out for any enemies. There were dead guys, and they were carrying crates of some sort. He didn't like this at all- he had to have a look, and keeping a head around him, looked over to one. He moved the body over and saw the metal crates- all of which looked very, very well reinforced, and surely, nothing could be breached in this thing. He got back to moving to Antoine, as he kept the Mk48 to hand, looking over at the MP5-armed female that seemed to be like a Ghost.
"Well...this looks tidy, but the grenade could have damaged this shit. Careful next time on that aspect. We've got to get these samples back to the airlock sealant, then leave it to the chemcial warfare team to deal with." Imran simply said, as he walked over to the airlock, looking in, seeing nothing moving within, as he cocked his Mk48.
"Spectre, this is Raven. We've secured the facility, most of it looks like it's cleared, and Black Eagle and Viking are up top with Lasanga turning anything into scattered pieces that's running now. We're looking at a high-grade Artemis raid- we racked up kills of two Class Two Mechanized suits if I saw correctly through Black Eagle's headcam, and a few armored vehicles too that were stashed. AK-12s throughout, a few other interesting weapons too. These guys were armed well, but they've left with nothing."
"Understood, Raven. Extract's coming, Brazilian forces will move in shortly to clean up- Artemis looks like it's escalating whatever it wants to do, things could get busy in the next few days." Imran heard Spectre say, as he looked over to Antoine, picking up two crates himself, as he moved over to where the airlock door was, and a small hatch right by it. Sliding one of the crates in, he guessed that when the system cycled through, it would put the crate on the other side- a transport system of some sorts, perhaps negating the need for actually putting it through the door. When he pulled the hatch down, to even Imran's surprise, it was what happened, and the next crate went through, one of a handful.
"That wasn't too bad. I mean, apart from the fact that we've got enemy mechanized armor suits, and you know, modern Russian weaponry, it's all good..." Imran said, chuckling a little, as he heard a loud explosion go off upstairs, Svetlana quickly answering.
"Sorry, sorry, I hit a oil tank of some sort! It's all good!" She said swiftly, as Imran chuckled, covering Antoine.
"Yeah, I bloody hope so. Let's deal with the last of this and get going, Antoine- Howard, if it moves out there and doesn't seem to look like a friendly Brazillian SF unit, then they're fair game."
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