FourtyTwo

Task Force Hephaestus

See you dude- all the best.

Task Force Hephaestus

Was it? Oh, in that case, she'll be second-in-command- I'll add you Hellhound. I just posted up and you lads can now too, I think Athena will take Bravo 2 as a sub-sect fireteam inside Husky. I don't make weaknesses prominent in characters (my belief being that you don't usually notice it in people until you see them for a very extended period of time), not sure what you guys think on that.

Task Force Hephaestus

Huscarl looked over at the group, nodding to Irish.
"Good to see you mate, welcome to the team- papers, and so on, get your shit together. You probably know me, so I won't go into any more detail- so chop chop." Arran said, indicating a look on his face that said plenty to him that he was good to go and setup with the rest, as he walked out of the armory, and back to his billet with his laptop cradled in his armpit, to sort something out. His radio buzzed again, as Arran ran, going in as he put it down and set the cables.
"Shit, line's got about 5 minutes worth of security Neptune, what is it?" He asked, looking out as he shut the door and switched the light back on.
"We've got another op, just recent. Turns out that we've got a hold of some more intel, regarding this submarine's deployment from Tripoli, Lebanon- and we need a little dry work to be done to find a manifest from the place, to back up what you're going to find. Like I said, we don't expect this one to be guns blazing, but we're going to need one of your guys to co-ordinate the agents we got on the ground. I'd trust them with sitting on their asses and listening in on a bunch of Arabs for a few days, but this needs a finer touch."
"Roger- I'll send Khukuri, he looks bored, and I suppose he needs to get the fuck off this island. You handling the logistics of my man?" Arran replied, as Neptune chuckled.
"Yeah, we will Huscarl. Just tell him to get moving to Stratis Air Base, with his weaponry and we'll go from there- we'l reattach him to your team in about a week."
"Understood. Cutting the line now, if that's it."
"Go get some fuckers, Huscarl. Over and out." Arran laughed, as he disconnected the cable, running a deletion program to begin a cleanup on his laptop, and wipe any trace of any encrypted material that was on his laptop- a process of multiple deletion, which would take a few hours with the high level of encryption that he had just used. He got up, and walked out of the metal billet, shutting the door as he looked out on Athena and the others, before going back to the mess hall to see what was left, and tell Khukuri.

( Transition OST (ie. what I was listening to at the end of this post and the beginning of the next.)

---

"Operation Deviant"

1900 Hours, 2nd July, 2035
On a RHIB somewhere south of Makyrnisi, Pyrgos Bay
Altis

Huscarl sat right at the front of the RIB, adjusting himself as he looked back on the boat, the evening setting in as the sun had now come closer and closer to the horizon in the west. He looked back- Mischief was on the M134 situated in the middle of the boat on a 360 degree swivel and a slightly raised platform, while Hotwheels, the driver, sat a little off-centre. The rest of the team were either sat on the side or up at the front of the RHIB with him, as they swelled over the waves, the sea rough but not stormy or throwing them around. Just a few breakers, and nothing substantial. Huscarl's gear was on him at the moment- his plate carrier, light ECH helmet with a flashlight on the right and a camera on the top, with a pair of swag Tactical Shades over his eyes, already giving him a small ammunition count in his bottom right of his vision, and also clocking up a basic friendly identification system, which of course, was only practical in identifying the team, not enemies. His UBACS fatigues were the team's standards, as well as his tan British Army standard boots, along with the Oakley gloves in his hands. The SCAR-H sat comfortably, the magnifier disengaged but the magazine loaded and ready to spew when he pulled the trigger.
"Everyone, eyes open. For now, AAF forces don't watch for RHIBs since they think we're with the CSAT, but the moment they come close or we fire the fucking gun, we are fucked. Hotwheels, keep going, half pace. Everyone, check your gear, we are at the Start Point, 1km out roughly. I've got no sighting of the AAF Speedboat, and no airborne units currently." Arran said, looking through his Rangefinder, magnifying slightly as he looked over at the distant island.

"Primary Insertion looks good, we'll stick right to the plan as I set out. Remember, quick and clean. Since Khukuri isn't on hand, Athena will take command of the second team after we approach Zephyr and the submarine, and she'll use the Laser Designator. As far as I'm concerned with that helicopter, let's try and keep it quiet- we'll destroy the rear rotor and move on, not fucking blow it to smithereens. And no, we're not stealing it. Last time I checked, none of us have any idea how to fly a freaking helicopter, and coming back to Stratis to convince the AAF that we're just "borrowing" it." Arran said, a wave kicking up as he sat up a little, looking out, aware that they knew each other well, and that they'd be getting this done cleanly and efficiently. Huscarl's Icelandic father, and to some regard, what made him feel more Nordic than Scots, was what he considered gave him that courage and that belief. He always remembered that his father had no fear to go out in the harshest storm, that he said it protected him and he felt at ease with God's wrath. In some ways, Huscarl felt that it was the same today- that if you looked on the tactical map to see how seriously outgunned they were, it was like they weren't going to have a hell of a chance, any normal infantryman or even a SFSG man would look at it and just say "No". But he knew he had the capability, he had the tactical plan, and that they would decimate the island's units with speed, precision and get what they wanted, without even making a audible mark. The only real stab in the side would be the fact that CSAT would lose millions of dollars of submarine, and a lot of troops dead at the hands of a NATO drone and an unspecified team. For some reason, Huscarl had to suppress in his head that what they were doing was not helping the tensions, but this was the only, and therefore, least worst way of getting the intel that they so desperately needed.

They slowed down, the boat quiet as they approached the south-western tip of Makyrinisi, closing much slower now as they entered on the breaking waves, Huscarl's beard and tactical glasses showing an element of an operator who was just sternly deep in thought. He had sometimes gotten stick in the SFSG and even the SBS for it, just being sometimes a little disconnected to which Huscarl always reiterated he was in thought. On how things would happen, and other matters. The chance to perhaps go home after this, with the rest of the troops on Stratis. The chance to see his girlfriend, of whom he had a strained relationship. He wanted to see her, badly, but work came first. Perhaps it was this disconnection with reality that made Huscarl good at what he did. He looked back at the operators, spitting first into the sea as he outlined his last functional order for now.
"A heads up- you find any intel after we raid Zephyr, you report to me and do not even consider going back to NATO troops on Stratis following a debrief. Remember how this works lads- NATO regulations do not apply to our operations, so you are free to engage AAF and CSAT forces now unless I give the word not to. All understood? Good- Hotwheels, aim for the small beach right there, quarter speed as we go. Athena, Irish, Hotwheels, you three take the right flank of our insert, your callsign is Bravo 2. Me, Mischief and Praetorian here will flip the north-west, as Bravo 1. We'll stick to the maps, and quietly act on the Titan emplacements first- my Bravo 1 will flank around and hit Titan No.2, while Athena's Bravo 2 knocks out Titan No.1 quietly. We'll go from there and eliminate every AAF man we see in a pincer, kill wounded and do not spare any surrenders, just to remind Mischief and Irish of that from training a few months back. Silencers set, on my mark." Huscarl said, kneeling at the front with the SCAR-H, as they prepared to hit the very small beach on the south-west, and quietly, and smoothly, move into position and eliminate the Titan emplacements- likely to just be three men at each, and a Titan MPRL AA launcher on a tripod, something that they could possibly use later if things hit the fan.

Task Force Hephaestus

I'll figure something out Hailfire- don't worry about that. Anyway, that leaves Mischief as 2nd in command, and I think this RP may thin out soonish to a concentrated group, so we may have to figure soemthing out. It's a shame man- I really saw you cared for the RP, and wanted in on this, but if you can't bring yourself to it, that's absolutely fine.

Task Force Hephaestus

It's fine- anyway, I'll post tonight since it's been a little stagnant. If you're behind on posts, just post up quickly again and just straddle- I won't do that huge a jump, but I want to get us to the fray quick.

Task Force Hephaestus

Also, I'm slowly filling in SSgt Patterson's role, since I'm bored. You may see more of him, and possibly later, you may end up in his team too.

Task Force Hephaestus

Well I'd say that with bullets, if someone is WIA on some CTRG operations, it may be a bit of a problem. Praetorian was selected specifically as he's highly trained in combat and is a combat medic- he can patch someone up to get through the fight, or at least survive for a while until proper medical treatment can be given. Considering that plate carriers that CTRG use (the Heavy ones are predominantly Dragonskin-based composite, and the Light are a lighter, advanced kevlar/ceramic composite) could probably stop a couple of bullets, along with the fact that even a certain type of helmet could stop a 5.56 in the right circumstances (note- anyone not using a plate carrier, using say a chest rig is at a huge mobility advantage since they carry the same amount of mags but don't get burdened down with a vest). But say if you were shot in the leg, or the arm, that would cripple you operationally, though since CTRG mostly has SF operators, switching to a sidearm or weapon replacement (ie. using a lighter weapon (such as replacing an LMG for a smaller carbine) could work too, with a bit of treatment (ie. extracting the shrapnel and sealing the wound along with a set of painkillers among other things keeping Praetorian and wounded back for a temporary while before moving up on the fight). KIA only will occur if I want it to, or if someone isn't posting- though I avoid the latter lately, and only do it once or twice if needed. I've killed almost an entire team before, and it's grizzly. Since multiple characters may come up for different people, it may be a more expendable way of viewing your characters in certain slots, and death by your choice can occur (so long as it's sensical/plausible). Wounds can occur for sure, and it's a good idea keeping an eye out- I would say it's up to the player to decide what their wound is (if any), but I don't want people getting shot left right and centre- I'll kill characters as needed.

Task Force Hephaestus

BTW, Tempest isn't large (as in, the description in the first post kinda shows that it's literally one or two buildings, a few small tents and a small H-Barrier walled compound with just 10 men- around five or six of whom are Husky), and there really isn't much room for a helicopter to land- I would recommend probably editing that a bit in some areas. As weird as it may sound, I don't really like the level of Godmodding that post went to either- I mean, helicopters don't just fly in and out of Tempest day in day out, it makes no sense really (for say, a Camp containing just 10 men, which is only half-filled with CTRG anyway). If it's anything, you could have had your character brought in with Mischief, or just simply dropped off by MRAP or something.

I can tell you want to write, but you need to research first- it really doesn't help, since it feels generic. I could write that in any military RP and it would fit- Skythion for example managed to implement it in such a way that Mischief was just loitering around Tempest, following his description of how he got to there. In this world, helicopters don't just fly in and out for one person, they transport teams and even on Stratis, are thinly used for any real purpose (at the moment that is). What I'm trying to say is, you have the ability, but you just need to sit there for another twenty minutes more, just think about the environment I've lined out and colored in, and in general what would make sense in that exact scenario. The reason I post really long, is not that I expect people to follow, but because when it comes to what a place looks like, I want to make it feel like I can set down a base level. How you influence that is up to you, but the reason I do it is simply to give a perspective and scale to the area, to make small features seem significant in how your character and you overall perceive what I've described in your mindset when writing- and though I may not be as descriptive in other places, I've made sure that since Tempest may be a place our characters may return to, it is significant enough.

Also, quick point to raise in general to everyone. I do want to probably post ASAP when I get back from college tomorrow, and that means that I'll be jumping from Tempest straight to the operation. I do want to keep a fast pace going, so posts on an individual's basis may have to be once or twice a week (maybe even more depending) to keep something flowing- it's harsh, but I want to make some progress while we can. I didn't post today simply because of that, but what can I do. I'll try and get you guys to feedback after the Prologue, and though I have a plot that's set in stone, I do want to spur ideas and thoughts from you guys in how exactly it will go.

Task Force Hephaestus

I'll wait on Hailfire and probably Hell, but I want to get posts rolling at least every day by someone different, which could keep the flow of it up. Remember- I've got a long plot in mind, and I don't want it to die, due to the effort and all that shit I've gone to making it work. I really do believe that by combining some elements of RPs that people liked in the past with other RPs that had other good bits but shit parts too, I can make something salvageable.

Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC

Natalie looked over, nodding her head.
"No shit, this has to be the same fucking thing. I'm really going to enjoy cheese grating whoever fucking did this." Natalie said, looking over the corner and then at Victor, as she then followed him once he tapped, moving out and making the Russian-made, two burst rapid fire gun in her arms make a mess of the recipients of the shots she made. She was laser accurate- the recoil felt like nothing almost, and the weapon was so familiar with her, like her AS VAL and the PKP Pechneg, that she hardly needed to think about how to best utilize the weapon- it was almost automatic. She twatted two enemies with two consecutive bursts, as she skidded on her trousers behind Victor, leaning against him as she shot one more that was down her end of the street, feeling bullets skim past and fly. This was insane, she reminded her inner self. And it was why she, the half-naked, bra-wearing Russian was doing what most Navy Seals would call insanity. Running into fire, and clipping enemies with lethal fire. They were blind, she was not. She had precision, and felt every burst recoil automatically become nullified in her bare shoulder, Natalie's legs and arms automatic but cringing with pain. The nine mils were taking their toll, and she knew that if she got a good dose of Antibiotics and Painkillers, along with a pair of tweezers for herself, she'd probably be alright. She had better things to die to.

Like the RPG a bearded terrorist was holding, and was already raised. Natalie dived down, straight behind a car as it went off, slamming into a van on the other side of the street, which flipped the vehicle and sent smoke and shrapnel up, Natalie already using the distraction to her advantage, as she shot the man straight in the chest, with another huge explosion sending two of his comrades by his side- Natalie assume she had hit a warhead on his side pouch, perhaps. She looked over at Victor, nodding her head again as she sent two more bursts, before finishing the mag, throwing the weapon to the side as she saw him take a few more out, nulling the storm for a while. This avenue was partially clear, and the place was anarchy. Natalie adjusted her bra, before finding a PKP on one of the bodies, and a belt of some sort, with a pair of boxes attached. Looking over at Victor, her face a cut and bruised with her blonde hair buzzed and not ordered like before, she knew that this wasn't how this was going to end, and sure as hell, that no harm would go on. They wouldn't let that happen.
"Shit, how you feeling?" Natalie asked, looking over at her Mohawk boyfriend, his warpaint and his AK-12, along with his hair making him look like a Red Indian from the Warrior Society of the tribe, but by today's standards with weaponry. Though Natalie knew that Victor would not mind wielding his mighty Tomahawk and War Club and not giving a shit about bullets and shrapnel till after, probably scalping and decapitating every single person that came in his way, she knew full well that for now, fighting fire with fire was the way it had to work.
"The local police are bound to have militarized, SWAT teams, maybe even the Belgian Special Forces. Fuck, we need to figure out what's left. This could all be a distraction, I've seen it before. That was big, whatever it was, but if they've got this, they've got the capability for more. What was it you said about Afghanistan Victor?" Natalie said, looking up at him, as she saw a few enemies come her way, turning around as if she was back to back with him, the shorter female of the two spraying with her favorite infantry weapon on a pair of terrorists that emerged from the building, one grazing a shot in her elbow and barely squeezing past Victor's armpit, as Natalie winced, but kept herself up, moaning a little as she looked back.
"You said that they had the same guns, I remember. There were chemical warheads there, and they had improvised mortar systems...oh...fuck. Victor, whatever we're going to do, we either die by bullets or die by gas. If it means stopping the other, I'll risk the first." Natalie said, a smile on her face, as she kissed him on the cheek, keeping back to back still as she looked around.
"What do you think? I mean...we must act now, they're going to want to hit main population areas instead of second guessing and putting it far away, and they sure as hell want us dead as High Value Targets, particularly you. I'd rather give them the satisfaction of being close to their crosshairs but never in them." She said, keeping the PKP raised in her hands as she looked around, covering her sector of the street.