FourtyTwo

Task Force Echo (A Special Forces RP)

I'm going to post up tomorrow afternoon- this is still alive! :)

Blood Runs Over Westeros: A Game of Thrones RP

Later tonight (GMT)? I'd be around from 9pm, I'd like to play something short out with Rhaenyra and Garland.

Blood Runs Over Westeros: A Game of Thrones RP

Hell yeah! Even if it meant torching a bit of a Reachman town, we've got fire and water back!

Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC

Ross and Jenny ran, diving out of the door as they entered freefall, eerie, cold, terrifying, fascinatingly and fucking cool as hell. From the gentle mist on his oxygen mask, to the freefall, they were falling towards the earth, the rest of the Blue Sword soldiers ahead, and it was madness. They were falling for two and a half minutes, and they were going straight to the point, beating the majority of the forces involved in the main assault, paving the path up onto the mountain before taking the Fort itself.

At the designated altitude, they deployed, Ross checking his altimeter before deploying his 'chute, the dusty landscape 1,000 feet below. They were coming in fast, and he saw Jenny and Carl on his side, as well as the rest below. Steering into a spiral, the canopy responded, the armoured soldier suprised but capable, knowing that they were coming into the danger zone, right here, right now.

They found the LZ quickly, and Ross steered his parachute carefully, crashing down carefully as he moved up, taking the Mk48 up, as he watched the two Heavies come in. A group of fighters were running out of the base, but before he could even begin to start suppressing fire, something far madder was about to happen, his own 7.62mm rounds going relatively quiet.

----

Adjusting the rifle in his grip, Andrew looked over at Nolan, as the base went boom. The C4 did the trick, and the outpost was shattered, blasted apart, the shit they wanted to hit dead. It was a hot LZ, quite literally, as he could see the sight of canopies roaring open in the sky above.
"Calvary's here." Andrew calmly said, chuckling as he adjusted the XM500, the heavy .50 cal rifle loaded as per usual, and their hidey-hole still as useful as it could be.
"Okay, let's keep them covered. Up the hill, if they move anything heavy, it's up to us. We'll have to relocate in due course." He added to his sniper companion, loading in a magazine, the heavy bolt pushing back and forth, as he got it set.

-----

Natalie and Victor had gone last, owing to the fact that their suits were going to fall, and quickly. Most people would say that it was only air resistance that played a part in fall rate, but the basic physics didn't apply, not when the weights and air flows were very different indeed. As soon as the others had left, Natalie looked to Victor, and with a simple movement, stepped to the edge of the door. With an almost poetic moment, she turned around, her tinted visor in her faceplate covering her face, as she put her hands up and like some kind of bird, fell backwards and dropped, knowing that Victor was after her.

They were falling fast, and the enormous kit over her suit felt weightless for a moment, the air resistance heavy and the noise loud, even through the helmet. She turned over, seeing Victor take position, as she entered a dive, going head down and flying past him, taking a hold of his enormous gloved hands in freefall. It was quite a sight, to see Natalie flying upside down, in her enormous armour, in freefall.....but she knew her suit well, and in a near-enough weightless environment, she knew how to get head down, and fly alongside Victor, her helm at the level of his, in a way.

Tracking away, she levelled out and pulled the enormous ripcord, the three round chutes roaring out of the enormous jumppack, a violent opening up thrusting her suit from 170mph freefall to twenty, in barely a couple of seconds. She chuckled, the evening sun on the horizon, as she saw Victor's chutes come open, the skulls and crossbones visible on her matt-black chutes saying it all. She was made of stern stuff. The burning outpost was in the distance, and the others had landed, already taking fire. This was an opportunity to make an entrance. Swinging the GAU-19, she span the weapon up, firing up her radio.
"Fire support is coming in." She said coldly, taking out the men that were running from out of the outpost, to the significant group of soldiers that her HUD already marked as friendly. The others, they weren't lucky.

The GAU-19 shat out rounds, cutting the ground they stood on into bits, the two dozen men dropping like flies, as Natalie stopped fire, flaring the front canopy forwards, the whole thing rushing down as she began to approach the ground quickly. She was taking fire, but she didn't care. And it was with that, she headed towards the set of men, with a certain gusto, a certain madness. Ross could only watch, as the enormous armoured lady that was doing this did the utterly unthinkable.

Slamming into one of the men that was firing up at her and her parachutes, torn to shreds by the time she had done it, Natalie's armoured feet had made more than a print into him. It was around half a ton of weight that had both kicked him and cemented him into the ground, her right foot splintering apart the man's jaw and neck, as she cut away the parachutes. The wind blew them away, as she didn't even have time to ditch the rest of the chute bag. Her suit was covered a little in blood and guts, and something had snapped in her head. She wasn't swinging the GAU around, it felt too out the way, it felt unsuitable. Time slowed, and she was among a lot of soldiers. Too many to take on. Party piece, she said mentally. One thing she could do.

The sword shone, and with a sharp movement, she was charging forwards to men spraying wildly with their AKs at her, as she let rip with her rear end, the flames catching against the other men she had dropped in behind, as she swung out with the sword. It practically cut the man in half, as she charged forwards, and three other men found themselves in the worst place. Natalie's armour, weaponry and her body may have weighed almost half a ton, but it looked almost as if the pure adrenaline and the pure intensity had hit her harder and harder. She was just in a mist of anger, and the three men soon were cut to pieces, hacked down, as she only then stopped letting rip. The flames had roared for at least 10m behind her, and at least four poor bastards had found themselves incinerated by her rear defensive measure....and her flatulent booty, to say the least. She moved through, blood covering her beautiful black carbon, as Natalie swung again, striking down two men, cutting one open and the other with half his organs torn through. A grenade went off, and she didn't even acknowledge it, her heaving, huge mass just completely content. A couple of grenades to her side later with a swipe across her chest plate, and one last man was left, the outpost destroyed, and this little rally point outside now very much dead. She kicked him over, and with a sword through his sternum, she pushed it through till she could see it come out of his neck. Even with a sword that large, it was half sumberged in his fucking body.

It took at least a good thirty seconds for Natalie to catch her breath again, as she looked around.
"Okay. Clear." She said, as she took her helmet off, the other men in the distance, about 200m away, on a ridgeline above where the DZ was. She looked around, and took it in. Red mist didn't do scale well. She'd killed at least 20 people in that time. What Ross had seen was impossibility. She had moved like a ballerina, like the suit wasn't weighing her down for a second, and was now half-clad in blood, the suit that shone looking like she had waded in a pool of blood and guts, her blue hair blowing gently over the top of the neckbrace. Her sword in itself was covered, and from grenades, .50 rounds, and being fucking hit with a sword, they were all dead. This outpost was cleared, and Ross could only drop his jaw at it.
"Well......I guess that's one way to do a baptism of blood for a new suit." She said into her comms, knowing that there were no snipers around, as she walked the distance, placing the blade over her shoulders, before taking it in her both hands. Wiping the worst of the guts with her left gauntlet, she licked the blade, and put it away, muttering something in Russian, quietly to herself. Never, ever die again, she said to herself. Her mind restored back.

Ditching the parachute pack, she swung the GAU-19 into her hands, grunting gently. Her body was weakened, she was tired, and it would take her a while to get her breath back, and her energy. Nothing a bit of a stim couldn't fix, as she slowly walked back towards Ross, Carl, Victor and the rest, as they gathered their gear. She moved up the slope, and crouched down, as Ross retrieved his gear, the rest of the soldiers setting up.
"We don't need to talk about how many clauses of the Geneva Convention you just broke, but I think in the space of thirty seconds, you re-wrote the rulebook. Good to be working with you again, Bear." Ross said, as Natalie swung her helmet back onto her face, visor back down, covering her eyes and face completely.

"That is what we do. Re-write things. So, we are to move up, yes?" She asked, as she took a knee, her on one knee still towering a little over Ross, as he couldn't help but admire it. Words didn't do these crazy motherfuckers justice, he thought to himself.
"We've got a couple more checkpoints to clear, then the fort itself. You'll get shot to fuck if you go up alone. We'll shield you, and we'll go head-on. The snipers will pick away Anti-Tank and RPG threats ahead of us, all you need to do is rain hell. We'll take the stragglers, flankers and suicide bombers." Ross said, as he put his helmet visor back down, checking his radio, Jenny nodding as she took her ammo, and the rest of her kit too, moving to Ross's side, as the rest of the men began a sweep, Natalie looking to Victor.

"Well, this should be fun, Brute. I feel like I'm in the mood."

Task Force Echo (A Special Forces RP)

Yeah, I'd let you guys get a chance in- if not, then I'll do one, but you can catch up really, really easily- so that it doesn't suddenly shift too fast. :)

Task Force Echo (A Special Forces RP)

If nobody posts in the next couple days, I'll get something up. I'd assume that everyone is okay to go straight to a briefing- and that anyone that wanted to do anything is assumed to have done it between the time that I made my last post in to the time of brief?

Blood Runs Over Westeros: A Game of Thrones RP

Somewhere off the coast of Massey's Hook

The ship rocked forwards and backwards, the distant sight of the morning sun on the horizon. They had left port last night, and were about to start passing Tarth soon, which would come on their east. This was a mission of a low key, and both Garland and Alerie had been reunited after making it back to the rest of the Redwyne Fleet that were deployed to the Blackwater Bay as a logistical support to the campaigns of the Reach as well as being approximately a quarter to a third of the existing Royal Fleet that Aerys had in theater already, sitting in the bay and simply watching the chaos unfold. From there, the majority of ships had met the navy of Tarth, and it had been a confusing divide. You couldn't tell exactly which ship Garland and Alerie were on, with this particular convoy having a set of green and gold sails, wind carrying the ships south-eastwards, across the Narrow Sea. It was a galley, with around 50 men or so on board, out of four ships detached from the main Reachman navy, flying predominantly Redwyne flags.

On the deck, Garland leaned against the wooden barrier, his health a little better since he'd come to sea. They had missed a major storm, one of the Captains had told him- ones that no doubt, had shielded the Targaryen sisters' voyage, and in the aftermath, the sea was no longer a bubbling, seaming cauldron. It seemed a little more gentle, though waves crashed and roared around the ship on occasion, the land masses that they had once been upon now in the distance. Garland could walk now- his legs were fine, it was more to do with his strength, the Maesters had said. He just needed to rest, though as of now, he wanted to at least be able to get around. He looked at those seas, his hair blowing in the breeze, sea salt on his lips, and his sword at his side again. His armour had been quickly looked at by an Armourer in King's Landing, and had repaired the damage that had been done, though Garland had no intent on wearing it just so quickly. It was a couple of weeks to home from here, yet Garland knew that there was a couple of visits he had to make. Baela was in the eastern Stepstones, while Rhaenyra had settled in Bloodstone, rumours already circulating that the pirates were routing, and they were already . Garland himself felt a little better, and indeed, despite his scars and the Milk of the Poppy that he occasionally took, things were improving a little better now he was out of the capital. He was able to hold his weight, his legs feeling like they responded to his want to stand, and while he leaned on pretty much anything, be it a cane or a side, he could probably stand if he had to force himself to, and endure a little strain in his side.

He was young after all, and the blood of Reachmen seemed to be a resilient one by it's well-sustained nature; unlike Northmen, the Tyrell blood seemed to be strong because they had food in their stomachs, not fire in their hearts. The wound could have been far worse, he reminded himself. Any further, he'd certainly have died, any lower, and it would have gone through his stomach and intestines, and he'd have died. Garland's lung had remained intact, or else he would have probably gotten infected, and the fact of the matter was, Garland was driven to at least stand on his two feet. He had two more weeks of being able to get used to movement, and then being able to hone his sword skills once more. Drawing the blade gently from his hip, he looked over the rose inscribed into the top. Every good sword had a name, he heard. He had still never named his, thoughts of it had gone through Garland's head, but he hadn't ever found the chance. He had a whole sea journey, he thought to himself, as he lay his thoughts to something else altogether. His twenty-second nameday was barely in a few days time, and he would be sitting in the hold of a ship, waiting to go home.

Garland knew the Stepstones well, and he knew that whatever strategical value they posed for the Seven Kingdoms, it was not in resources. No gold, no silver, iron, disorganized men with a low population, and a position that placed it out of reach out of easy control of the King of the Seven Kingdoms. How it hadn't become controlled by Lys, Pentos, or Tyrosh, was the real question, as the culture that it had was more in common with those, than of Westerosi Valyrian principles. The islands were hilly, and fish stocks were good, albeit piracy was lucrative for a good reason....it was easier to cripple trade than it was to cast nets, particularly when a band of merciless thugs could do that very well. The Reach did not dabble in Anti-Piracy, and when it did, the Redwynes were held accountable, and it always came back, growing like a weed in the dirt because if it completely died out, someone would stake a claim and take the whole of the island chain....and this was particularly what was going on right now. Still, a Queen of the Stepstones was an interesting move that Garland guessed Rhaenyra would want to make after this invasion, and one that had removed the two Targaryens from their responsibilities in Westeros, in the slithering in-between of Westeros, and Essos, a blank canvas in which to rule. Or, as Garland had figured it out, somewhere to learn how to rule. Like Queen Daenarys Stormborn Targaryen, who ruled in Astapor, Yunkai and Mereen before she made her invasion of Westeros an intent, perhaps these young women were searching something smarter. And Garland wouldn't be surprised, not in the slightest, he thought to himself. Still, he had his eyes set on Baela, and through Rhaenyra, he had his end of the deal to return.

Alerie herself looked a little weathered, and wore her usual dress, her hair flowing deeper and farther than usual, down to her upper back, lain out from it's bun and knot to a flowing, burgandy-red that sat over the soft material of her dress, puffy over the back and shoulders, revealing Alerie's cleavage at the front as comfortably as she liked it, her young face glowing but with a little wear from the night before. Alerie always found it strange, explaining how she did not have the usual brown or brunette hair of her family's forebears, and many an individual had attributed it to bastardry. There was an answer, however, and it relied in her mother, Elinor Tyrell- her distinct red locks in themselves a product of Ashford, that mirrored themselves in the young Tyrell Lady. Walking across the desk, Garland turned, nodding to his sister. She sighed too, flicking Garland's hair a little, brushing it from around his ear as she always playfully did.
"You're standing. That's good." She said, as Lord Tyrell nodded, smiling a little.

"Yeah, I felt that sitting wasn't doing me any good. I feel far better on sea, whatever in seven hells it was, it's given me a bit of strength. That and some food. I won't be fighting till we're home, but I can at least stop being a fucking cripple." Garland replied, as Alerie chuckled. He wasn't in the best of states, anyone could see that, but he seemed better than before.
"Oh, because you wouldn't want to disappoint the Princess Baela, would you? Oh, Garland. You know, you'll need to save your strength for the bedding." Alerie giggled, as she reached her frame upwards, the ship shaking a little from side to side, the sail flapping in the wind for a moment as the sailors adjusted it. Garland grinned, as he knew she wasn't lying.
"So, you seem to have an idea of what next, then?" She added, as Garland nodded.
"You could say that. The Crakehalls are on the back foot, and whether they like it or not, they're going to do something stupid. I then suggest we take Tyget's throne from his head. Take his head too. Let another minor Crakehall get in, someone like Kevan. Gerald will die for what he did, and I'll have Willas deliver his punishment when the time comes. Their family has no structure, no respect, no honour. They spend their time eating themselves alive, they won't claim Kings. I have a funny feeling Tyget didn't want what happened in King's Landing to happen. He mistrusted someone with an awfully great ordeal, and he lost. Tyget Crakehall wouldn't have done that." Garland said, as Alerie smirked, nodding, as Garland continued.
"I've heard from some of the men sailing upriver that Lord North has started some sort of revolt, he's already began attacking Tumbleton, and areas in the Crownlands, Westerlands and Riverlands from Harrenhal. He has 10,000 men, and while I don't fear his force, if he turns it upon King's Landing, we could have our resolve tested." Garland said, as Alerie cut him off.

"That's why the men of Tarth and the Yunkish are there. No doubt the Stormlanders won't want to do more than patrol the capital, but their captains will want to command. Lord North can be extinguished quickly."
"It worries me, sister. Why on earth Lord North is doing this, as of now. What is it he wants? He's angered Lords everywhere, and he has nothing....well, relatively so." Alerie turned to Garland, seeing the concern on his face, the thought as he spoke.

"I'm not a strategist, Garland. But if I were Lord North, I would see the chaos and use it fully. To create a realm of his own that cannot be contested, and when the conflict subsides, support the Crown or whoever is King, with a force that surrounds the capital. That would include us. He relies on this war to keep him going." She replied, continuing.
"End the war, and he dies out. He could turn to Crakehall for that backing, and likely, that could bolster the war against us. Hence, the men of Tarth and the Yunkish mercenaries can make a mark. Whether Theo or Willas leads the charge, it won't matter. They'll be responsible for that decision once they have their men."
"I agree....it is disconcerting, but I would imagine Willas can handle that situation. I have no idea how. Wait out until Lord Tully orders Lord North to stand down, or take the fight to the God's Eye. If they are kept as a third party and isolated from the Westermen, they won't be able to consolidate their position. No doubt Tyget will want to do something after this fight, and wheather that means taking his brother to account or attacking our lands first, even the flames couldn't tell you." He added, looking out to the sea beyond, before turning back.

"And what of Aerys, my sister? He's paralytic, comatose. Alive, but we don't know what of him."
"Aerys is a good little boy. He serves exactly what I think we want him to, don't you think? He is the Boy-King, by his birthright! Supported by a noble House of the South, who provides food, armies and his new alliances. Two out of the Seven Kingdoms want him in power for certain, and Dorne will also vouch for Aerys, hence, they shall join this fight on our side or provide at least, backing for his regime. Allegiances are not a fickle thing, not when it is in letters to the Lords, Ladies and Princesses of the Realm. Words may be wind, but reputations are built by people who stand by them. Dorne shall not worry us." Alerie added, smirking, as Garland nodded. The sailors were too busy, too distant.
"You did the right thing there, in the Holdfast. I know it does not feel like it, but we don't need to declare anything more than we already have. Let him carry on being." She added, Garland giving a simple nod, as he wrapped his arm around her side, looking down at her smaller sister.

"I agree.....we've got a lot to do. I just want to go home, and fuck women and drink, Alerie. I want to be under Jehrilla's heaving mass again." Garland and Alerie both laughed, as Garland looked over, sighing a little after it subsided.
"I always dreamed of leading men in those fights, but by the time we get home, this war will be half won, won't it?" He said, as Alerie responded with a simple nod, Garland looking back at the blue seas again.
"Whatever they do, Loras won't be stupid enough to concede our ground. As much as the man is an oaf....any Tyrell is able. They'll hold them back, then we'll throw as many Roses into the Westerlands as we can. It would barely take a couple of months. Now we make them dance for us, sister. Whatever they have left, it will cost them more than their gold." He said, as Alerie chuckled, looking out.
"Someone will figure something cleverer than that out. That's why you still got stabbed when I tried to get us to King's Landing against that force. We may hold all our forces in reserve and have them ready for when we arrive, but if we make a mistake, we will not get a second chance. If I were you, I'd get some more rest. We've still got a few days to sail to the Stepstones." She added, as she turned back towards the hold, heading back in, as Garland followed, using a cane to prop himself a little when he stopped, though it seemed he could now carry his weight, just about, as he headed back towards the steps into their quarters.

Blood Runs Over Westeros: A Game of Thrones RP

Working on an intimate post of Garland and Alerie. I really wanted to flesh them out again, and place them to something.

Done- it's not great, but it will do, and I feel like it's gotten me back into the 'verse. It fleshes out Garland and Alerie as characters again, and I kinda wanted to see them talk on their own again, about the world around them, and what they know.

Blood Runs Over Westeros: A Game of Thrones RP

It goes back further than that- again, Garland would have to be stupid to move all his soldiers out of his heartland just so he can seize power, or else there would have been no epic fight at King's Landing, and Tyget would have done it already. I've done the maths and checked the facts of time, place and space that the Reach has and hasn't got, what would have gotten out, who would know what, and who is where. The Tyrells know the facts that they know with who can do what, and they also know that even an oaf would get what would happen next, like Loras, from the very moment that Garland was stabbed by a Crakehall and that there was a fight in the Kingswood, 2,000 men routing and panicked.....that was approximately a week and a half ago in the RP, and I remind myself, it takes about two to three weeks to mobilize soldiers from all across the Reach, something that started from the very, very moment Garland sent the Tumbleton retinue in.

I can use each of those arguments straight back at you too (let's say, the Reach is quite large? As is the Westerlands from east to west, the routers would take a week to get across entirely to the Oceanroad/Casterly Rock, and that is saying if they are wanting to fight again, so let's say they are- then they need to somehow march south with the other forces who have returned from a long campaign already)- the argument of none of the Lords being a happy family is true, but they'd respond if you know, a Westerman stabbed the Lord that had help recently pacify their squabbles, inclusive of the fact that they were already told of an imminent war, and had already gathered their grain. I'd think that again, I can ask exactly the same of you- wouldn't the Houses of the Westerlands be sick of fighting a war on one front that they've basically abandoned, and the other where they've lost a key battle, been set on fire with dragons too? Respond to that, I ask- and your response could be for a different context which I couldn't argue with, but you're interpreting a war machine as an infinitely ploughing act, not a slow, grinding set of cogs that take time to spin and to slow down. Garland will come back to some unhappy vassals in the aftermath, and I agree, this is something I will play to really well, it'll definitely highlight some court politics in Highgarden itself which I really want to do. But those questions you ask me, ask yourself, ask yourself how you played several posts ago, and what is left, and what are the future consequences, plans and ways of making it work. I've watched, and if you're in IC, you would watch too.

If you specify that more than 30,000 men are available for any such movement and that they'd make it in days (when it would likely take about a week and a half, given the distance between all over the Westerlands and the Oceanroad, which is again, depleted), you're talking out of your arse. It's not a slaughter, far from it- though remember. I'd like to think of it as the moment Tyget goes a little mad, rather than his cunning, calculated self, taking three hours to take a shit, as you would have called it. It'll give you a huge advantage for a while, I'll agree, and it'll be a driving, hard attack. I'll give you that, actually, it would make sense from Tyget to do this- if Garland is so charismatic, then no way his armies would even stop that, correct?

Interpretations, my friend. There's more to the Reach than Garland, like there's more to the Westerlands than Tyget. The uncertaintities make it fun to RP- like the moment that KL was won by a slither. Or like the fact that the eastern Westerlands, southern Riverlands and north-eastern Reach are taken by a rogue Lord with Gerald by his side, which adds a whole level of uncertaintity. What happens on the Reach's end though, I wouldn't argue with, and what you come up against will definitely make you think.

I'd like to stop as of now- and this is why RPing massive fights is difficult. But what you'll see is what you'll get- and I should say too, that so long as you accept the consequences of number, place, space and time, as well as previous acts on the present and future, I'm absolutely fine about it. I won't make assumptions of you, if you don't make assumptions of me- but remember what is stated, what is known, and most critically, what characters would do in that situation to respond. The cards are played already- when you turn them over, you see what you get :)

Blood Runs Over Westeros: A Game of Thrones RP

@agentmanatee

My previous posts show that would be a very, very bad idea. It's your funeral- I've always hinted at it from the very start, since Garland got himself stabbed....the Tyrells play a smarter game than you think :D He wouldn't need to know when he already assumes it and prepared for it at home, and can guess that the great thinker, Tyget, would do that when placed under pressure. I'd go into it more but it'd ruin it- the hints, tricks and stats are all in my previous posts....but it's already happening, so yeah, you'll see what comes of it. Let's just say it doesn't take Garland Tyrell to phyiscally take the field. I've chatted to Blue about this, and indeed, it is all there- it's the way I play the Tyrells to what they see, and how they play the game, and actually, what happens of it is going to be basically what we see in the RP. Their flaws, their unknowns do exist too, and there are good occasions where you can see people getting at that too.

As an edit also, this idea of what might happen to Kevan is a surprising one from our points of view- it'll definitely conflict your characters and perceptions. I really want to work co-operatively in future, rather than a constant conflict between characters- and Kevan actually could fall into that.