Status

Recent Statuses

5 days ago
Current "It is hard to fail, but it is worse never to have tried to succeed." --Theodore Roosevelt
4 likes
15 days ago
"It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt." --Samuel Clemens
1 like
25 days ago
"Complaining about a problem, without proposing a solution is called whining." --Theodore Roosevelt
3 likes
30 days ago
"Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail." -Ralph Waldo Emerson
2 likes
1 mo ago
"Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it." --Charles R. Swindoll

Bio

I am a veteran of the United States Army and the US Army National Guard. I spent three years on Active Duty serving in the 4th Infantry Division (Mechanized) at Ft. Carson, CO and 3rd Armor Division at Kirch Göns, West Germany. I spent 18 years in the Army National Guard with the 26th Infantry Division "Yankee" and 29th Infantry Division (Light), "The Blue and the Gray". I was deployed to Bosnia-Herzegovina with the 29th ID (L) in 2001 - 2002. I have also been reading military history articles and books for over 44 years. I do prefer Military Role Plays over all other genres, primarily because I have a vast knowledge on the subject to include personal experiences.

I have been writing for pleasure for at least 30 years, but only got into forum based Role Playing about eleven years ago. I do enjoy Nation Role Plays and get into minute detail when designing my military. The only reason I enjoy excruciating detail in my militaries is because for me, it is fun. My education and experience on this subject affords me the insight to see the depth in the structure. It is not just a general and large pile of soldiers. If someone wants assistance in designing an army, navy or air force, please send me a PM. I will help. Please specify what level (echelon) or depth you would like me to go. When I say echelon, I mean Army, Corps, Division, Brigade/Regiment, Battalion/Squadron, Company/Troop/Battery, Platoon and Squad/Section.

When I was a student in High School, I used to play Dungeons & Dragons (Edition 1). Later editions came out years after I quit that game. I do have an interest in Tolkien-esque fantasy styled Role Plays as well. Time travel has always been a fun genre for me, but to do it well, one must have a firm grasp of historical facts. I love doing this form of role play, especially since I have a solid foundation on the past.

There are only a few fan fictions I will participate in; Star Wars and Star Trek are two of them. I want to do an exclusively Klingon RP one of these days. I also avoid Canon characters.

I have real world martial arts experience. I would love to write an RP about hand to hand combat; no fantasy magic chit, just hands elbows, knees and feet. Maybe the occasional head butt thrown in to mix things up. I have been training in Krav Maga for six years. I earned a first degree black belt in Krav Maga on 3 June 2017.

Krav Maga is an Israeli martial art form that employs practical self defense techniques drawing forms & techniques from Muay Thai, Brazilian Jiu-Jistu and Taekwando. It is very brutal, demanding and aggressive. In the past six years, I have bruised two ribs, sustained several muscle pulls and various lacerations and bruises over my body. I have received a sprained ankle and a fractured wrist. Before the first black belt test, I received a bone bruise to my right shin; where my round house kicks impact. Yet, I am stupid enough to continue training. Regardless of the physical pain, it is more fun than any other physical activity I have engaged in. Fortunately, the bone bruise healed up prior to the third and final test.

Send me a PM for a Role Play.

--Gunther (AKA: Old School)



Gunthers Cast of Hooligans

Most Recent Posts

Rosalyn couldn't even maintain her facade long enough to gather a reply from the men, her lips lifting into a wide smile. “I apologize, Fellas, sometimes I think I’m more amusing than I really am. Whiskey seems to be your choice, but I figured we could thank you both with a bottle of our own shine.” The bottle was placed beside the money and a gentle hand was rested on each of their shoulders. “A few of the girls would be happy to offer you company this evening as their own way of showing their appreciation as well, should ya have an interest.”

@Sad Ogo and I are talking about what to do here. We could do a collaborative with the three characters or do individual responses in the IC thread that might turn R rated. You want to join us?
Situational Awareness roll 19 while Tom and Justin are walking around the cabin, looking for things out of place and ready to alert the team if an unexpected visitor should arrive.

1d20 + 4 (Situational Awareness) = 19

EDIT: if you look at my dice rolls, you will see that there was a dice roll labeled, Situational Awareness prior to this one where I frickin' killed it! Because Tommy is aware, even if Gunther is not. I made a mistake and input 1d20 + 20 instead of 1d20 + 4. That first roll was a natural roll of 2 + 20 = 22. LOL

Naturally, I rerolled.
Étienne listened to the Captain’s speech about the ship, its position in the navy and its sea trials. He was interested in getting underway and quick to respond with a professional, “Aye, Captain!” When she was complete. He noted the rest of the crew appeared to be young and green. He hoped that would not be too much of a problem. It is not that he disliked working with younger sailors, he knew they required training just as anyone of their age would, it was just that he knew there was always a certain level of arrogance accompanying youth. He could forgo that. Hopefully, they shared his professionalism.

When the Captain dismissed the crew, he strode to the number one gun to check it out. The turret was located on the prow, allowing the gunner to engage targets to the front, both 45 degrees below the attitude of the ship and thirty degrees above the attitude of the ship without hitting the structure of the balloon, that kept them aloft. The turret could traverse a full 360 degrees when level, but he knew not to fire into the deck of the boat. That would be very bad. Étienne left his sea bag outside the turret, opening the tight hatch to view the interior.

On the left side of the breech, he found the gunner’s seat and weapons controls. The seat was equipped with a five-point harness, keeping the gunner strapped in, due to the depression and elevation levels of the weapon. The cannon was equipped with a hyrdo-pneumatic automatic loader that kept a constant supply of rounds fed from below deck into the chamber of the weapon. It operated on a series of gears and chains. The standard munition was a 47mm x 360mmR 3.3 pound shell. The QF 3-pounder Dubois could fire twenty rounds per minute, or one round ever three seconds. Its muzzle velocity was at 785 meters per second, firing High Explosive (HE) Ammunition. It also had Armor Piercing (AP) ammunition available when needed. The effective range of the QF-3 was just over 1800 meters but could reach targets out to 5100 meters. The weapon had a telescopic sighting system allowing the gunner to find targets out to its maximum range.

Étienne was pleased with the weapon system and was familiar with its use from a previous assignment. He felt comfortable enough to head below deck and stow his gear. He was happy with this assignment even if some of the crew were young and inexperienced.
I am very familiar with the French Foreign Legion. In fact, there was a time in my life; about 25 years ago or so, I contemplated joining them.
My son turned 13 this week and I passed a math test I took in May. The math test is the one you take in order to be a math teacher. It was pretty rough and the section I was worried about, I did the best on.
Do we have to speak French for this?
No. Not sure where you got that idea. This is not the French Foreign Legion. It is a Foreign Legion hired by the Grathik Race from some distant world. The Legionnaires are veterans of several nations on planet earth. Instead of being French, they all speak English as a common language.

The hider below contains the Non-Player Characters to include the few player characters involved in the RP. As you look through, you will note that I have annotated the character's age, rank in the military, and nation of origin. For the Americans, that would include their state.

You may also note the loss of both the 1st and 2nd Platoon Commanders in our Company, which is currently designated Team Bravo, 3rd Battalion, 1st (Earth) Infantry. Also, my character, Sergeant First Class Brian Park, who is the squad leader is listed as Wounded in Action (WIA). He just took some shrapnell to the buttocks and medically evacuated from the area.

If you look at the organizational structure of 2nd squad, 2nd Platoon you will see a list of people. Aside from the following positions, you can take any of the other slots for your character.

Squad Leader: Brian Park, 34, SFC, USA, SF, Korean American WIA (Gunther)
Rifleman/Sniper: Jake Robson, 28, Corporal, UK, SAS, British (HeySeuss)
Medic/AT Specialist: Casey Beckett, 27, Petty Officer 2nd Class, US, Fleet Marine Corpsman, American (CaptainBritton)

You can take any of these positions. Just tell me which slot you want and I will replace my NPC with your character once you post him/her.
Asst. Squad Leader: Dieter Vogel
Machine Gunner: Jeremiah Edwards
Machine Gunner: Robert Browne
Rifleman/Sniper: Preston Simmons
Grenadier: Diego Velez
Grenadier: Frans Madsen


Ok, make that tomorrow. :(
Location: In the hills a few miles north of Armadillo
Interactions: Collaboration with Sad Ogo / John Stone


John looked down at the battered and bruised man tied down tight in an old chair, his face a mess of cuts and lumps, his teeth knocked loose, crooked or broken. His lips swollen enough now that one or two of his teeth looked to be cutting into them. John blew on his knuckles like one might the barrel of a gun, soothing the stinging from the skin he’d scraped off his knuckles beating on the man. He walked over to one corner of the almost empty, dirty old shack he had found himself in and dipped his hands into a bucket of water he’d prepared. He picked it up and carried it over to his captive, taking an old bandana from his belt and soaking it in the water.

He started with wiping away the blood from the gash under the man’s right eye. He winced and pulled back slightly but John shushed him, continuing on to clean his busted nose.

“Please… I don’t kn-...”

“”Hush. Save your energy for what’s coming.” John warned. The man quietly sobbed as he continued on cleaning his face up. Soon he was done.

“So, you’ve resisted something of a beating… From a man as big and as savage as me too, well done. You have my compliments. Unfortunately all that strength you used up resisting isn’t going to stop what comes next and definitely not what comes later. See when the beating doesn’t work I move right on to cutting things off. I’m not the most talented torturer in the world I admit, I pretty much stick to basics. I’m going to try not to kill you but when you’re cutting fingers, hands and feet off shit has a tendency to not go to plan, know what I mean? Anyway… I’ve gotta go in to town real quick and get myself a knife better suited to cutting through bone, some strong alcohol to use as a disinfectant and if you’re lucky maybe something to slow the bleeding some. You sit here and think about what you’re never going to be able to do again if you resist long enough for me to get done cutting off fingers… Dumbass.”

John moved towards the small shacks one door, putting his hand up to open it but then stopping, seemingly changing his mind. He turned back around to face his prisoner.

“Ya know what, it’ll probably be better if you actually know how much a finger getting cut off hurts whilst you wait.” John said, pulling his bowie knife from its sheath and moving towards the man. He immediately began begging and crying harder as John pushed his hand down into the chairs arm. He was squeezing his hand in a fist as hard as he could, trying his best not to let the blade find his fingers.

“You can either unflex your damn hand or I can start cutting at your wrist asshole, your choice!” John spat, annoyed.

“No, no, no, please, please! I’ll tell you where he is. I’ll tell you!”

“Where!? You got three seconds before I start carving!” John shouted, placing his knife’s edge to the man’s wrist firm enough that it cut in ever so slightly, staying in place.

“Thieves Landing! He’s in Thieves Landing!”

“Of course he fucking is.” John spoke, shaking his head.

He pulled his knife away from the man’s wrist and removed his hand from his also. He swiftly moved his left hand behind the man’s head and used his long hair to yank his head back, at the same time using his knife wielding hand to puncture his exposed throat so explosively that the guard of the knife pressed up against his neck.

John stared into his surprised eyes as the light faded from them.

“Couldn’t let you warn him... Couldn’t have you come back on me.” John explained, twisting the knife sharply and pulling it free. He wiped it off on the bodies pants and sheathed it, turning around and walking out of the shacks door into the desert without another glance.

The sun was blinding, making John squint even looking down.

“Morrigan! Here girl!” He called, walking to meet his companion. He took his black Stalker hat off of a saddlebag and placed it on his head, getting some much needed protection from the oppressive desert sun. He climbed up on his horse looking to the south. There in the distance was Armadillo. A place where he could get a drink and something decent to eat. With a slight kick of his heels he headed towards the town.




Location: Armadillo


Leo Velez arrived in Armadillo the day before. Getting comfortable, he joined a card game in the saloon, playing for the past hour or more and up five dollars and twenty-five cents.

“Raise thirty cents,” uttered the gray haired man who worked as a stable hand in town. The bet passed to a middle-aged man with a prosthetic leg. He lost the lower half of his leg after being caught in a storm north of Colter, who saw the bet and continued around the table. The next two players had already folded, which brought the round back to Leo and one empty chair to his left.

“I’ll see your thirty cents and call,” Leo stated.

The stable hand revealed his hand, “read em and weep, a full house…Jacks over twos.”

The man with one leg tossed his cards on the table, “That beats my two pair.”

Leo smiled at the stable hand, “ju stink ju hab a good hand, mun? fool house iz good, jes?” Leo smiled wider, then laid his hand on the table revealing four fives. “Ju dealt these cards to me mun.” Leo saw this as an easy win and reached for the pot.

The stable hand was annoyed at the outcome of the game. There was over five dollars in the pot and he was certain the halfbreed Mexican cheated. “Your one of those Del Lobo assholes, aren’t you?” angered by losing the hand and drawing his sidearm. “How about you and me take this out into the street.

Leo went deadpan serious. No emotional expression; a poker face. He slowed his movements, continuing to gather his winnings. “Sir, I suggest ju put your hand cannons away before you make another bad decision.” Leo picked up the money knowing the game was over. He slowly deposited it into his pocket.

“I say you are a cheat and a liar. You are a Mexican and not to be trusted. I don’t play with cheaters and rarely play with Mexicans. I knew better than to sit at this table. I ought to just blow your cheatin’ ass away right here, right now!” The blustering stable hand was loud enough to catch the attention of everyone in the bar. It was evident he had drowned himself too far into a bottle of whiskey.




An hour or so later John had reached the town, now thirsty and even hungrier. He hitched Morrigan up outside of the saloon and fed her an apple whilst deciding on whether or not to keep his shotgun on him or leave it on the horse. He quickly decided on the latter. He didn’t have any beef in town from what he remembered and there was no need to send a message. Leaving his shotgun he walked to the doors of the establishment, pushing on in.

He liked what he saw. Men playing cards, drinking and working women plying their trade. It was timeless. As was the bickering he heard over playing cards and cheating. John had immediately decided it boring and not worth paying attention to until he heard a pretty distinct voice. Where that kid could be heard there always seemed to be trouble. He found it somewhat endearing, or as close as he could feel to it. They weren’t exactly friends, John still hadn’t figured out what that really meant but they had fought together. They had pursued money alongside one another and had both managed not to betray the other over it. In their business that meant something at least.

With that in mind he moved toward the argument, pushing past a couple of men who had moved in to watch. He soon saw a gray haired man standing up and pointing his weapon at the young bounty hunter. Leo as cool as ever was simply gathering up his winnings, slowly putting them away. John fast approached behind the man, slightly to his right. Pretty much on top of him now he grabbed him by his gun toting wrist and pulled it up and behind his back in something of an armlock. John using his hand to pin the gun and the other man’s hand to the back of his head via his hair used the momentum of the movement to throw the man’s head forward and smash his face into the table, rattling the glasses that laid upon it. He quickly pulled him back up and kept him stable and standing via his hair. His nose was bleeding and he seemed a little dazed but at this point he’d be fine in a little while.

“You can drop that Cattleman of your own volition or I can break your arm and smash your face until it’s no longer your choice... Choose quickly.” John spoke calmly into his ear.

He’d seemed to have already made up his mind and loosened his grip on the gun. John took it from him and shoved him off to the side. He fell onto one knee but managed to catch himself and stand back up, stumbling away and out of the saloon. John examined the weapon he’d taken. It was old and worn but he reckoned he might get a few dollars for it. He looked to Leo and nodded.

“Look at this, I won a Cattleman and I don’t even know how to play cards.”

“Good job, amigo,” Leo spoke to John. “The game was just getting exciting and this pendejo accused me of cheating, just because I beat his sorry ass.” Leo located his short-brimmed gambler, returning it to his head. “How bout I buy you a drink, eh, vato?” The final word he used for John Stone could loosely be translated into dude or partner.

John raised an eyebrow at his associate, nodding a little with an ever so slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Like I said, I’m nothing of a card player really. That does seem to be how it often goes though…” He spoke as he moved towards the bar, doing his best to ignore certain looks from some of the patrons.

“Yeah, sounds good to me. I came here for a drink and something to eat anyway. It’s been a tiring day.”

Leo approached the bar, ordered two whiskeys, “what do you want to eat?” Leo asked John, dropping his Mexican accent in favor of one others could understand.

The more aged bounty hunter eyed the menu for a moment rubbing the stubble on his chin as if he were thinking, scanning over what they offered. He was only semi-literate but he could usually make things out given context and time.

“Beef stew. Definitely beef stew… And thanks for the whiskey.”

Leo was more than happy to pay for John’s meal and hte whiskey. The man got him out of a hairy situation and he was up about ten dollars from his poker winnings. “Barkeep! Can I get a beef stew too?” The bartender brought the food and served the drinks. “Here you go. Let’s take a seat.”

John took happily to Leo’s suggestion and seated himself facing the doors of the saloon. The last thing he wanted was to be surprised and shot in the back of the head by an aging man with a grudge over cards. Settled in he began eating his soup greedily, hungry from a day of pretty rigorous exercise. He finished the grub quickly and pushed it aside, grabbing his whiskey in turn and chugging it down. With that he let out a satisfied sigh.

“That was exactly what I needed.”
I should be able to post tonight (EST).
Wanted to practice using the dice roll system on this site and rolled 17 for concealment. Done for Shits & Giggles.

Awareness Roll: 16

Practice roll: 17 I was hoping for a low roll, but got another high roll. I've never used the dice system here on RPG and have been wanting to use it.
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