Subterfuge roll: 11
Gunther Member
Captain, Infantry (Retired)
STATUS: The dot over a lowercase i and j has a name! It's called a tittle, which is a noun meaning "a tiny amount or part of something". Like the dot over an i or a j. 1 yr ago
- Last Seen: 19 hrs ago
- Joined: 10 yrs ago
- Posts: 4908 (1.31 / day)
- VMs: 7
-
Username history
- Gunther 10 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
Phase,
Chairman Bao,
hanzo,
DELETED08741,
wanderingwolf
Status
Recent Statuses
1 yr ago
Current
The dot over a lowercase i and j has a name! It's called a tittle, which is a noun meaning "a tiny amount or part of something". Like the dot over an i or a j.
6
likes
2 yrs ago
Cows don't leave the slaughterhouse, steaks do.
1
like
3 yrs ago
Empty your mind. Be formless, shapeless, like water Put water into a cup, becomes the cup Put water into a teapot, becomes the teapot Water can flow or drip or crash Be water, my friend --Bruce Lee
6
likes
3 yrs ago
The ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don’t.
1
like
3 yrs ago
Mr. Clark, your daughter is a very good kisser.
2
likes
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 48 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. At the very least, my characters are always veterans.
I have been writing for pleasure for at least 34+ years, but only got into forum-based Role Playing about fourteen 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 afford me the insight to see the depth of the structure. It is not just a General and a 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 & 2). Later editions came out 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 fanfictions 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 trained in Krav Maga for six and a half 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-Jitsu, and Taekwando. It is very brutal, demanding, and aggressive. During the seven years I trained, 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 roundhouse 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. EDIT: I did leave the sport three years ago. :(]
In July, I completed my first novel, a science fiction set in the 24th century. It focuses on a Private Military Corporation solely employed by the earth government.
Send me a PM for a Role Play.
--Gunther (AKA: Old School)
Gunthers Cast of Hooligans
I have been writing for pleasure for at least 34+ years, but only got into forum-based Role Playing about fourteen 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 afford me the insight to see the depth of the structure. It is not just a General and a 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 & 2). Later editions came out 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 fanfictions 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 trained in Krav Maga for six and a half 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-Jitsu, and Taekwando. It is very brutal, demanding, and aggressive. During the seven years I trained, 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 roundhouse 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. EDIT: I did leave the sport three years ago. :(]
In July, I completed my first novel, a science fiction set in the 24th century. It focuses on a Private Military Corporation solely employed by the earth government.
Send me a PM for a Role Play.
--Gunther (AKA: Old School)
Gunthers Cast of Hooligans
Most Recent Posts
@CaptainBritton Reading your post reminded me of something. 0600 hours on Fort Benning brings "Reveille" and then the loudspeakers around Building 4 (the Infantry School) and the BOQ (Bachelor Officer Quarters) blare the following tune. Well, that was what happened 20 -30 years ago. Not sure if it still happens today.
>SSA Thomas Stewart
>BRAINTREE, MASSACHUSETTS
>UNITED STATES
>1900HRS
>THE NIGHT BEFORE...///
“What’s the difference between first degree murder and manslaughter?” Jill asked her husband as they sat at the kitchen table eating dinner. The meal had been met with silence thus far. Jill felt uncomfortable and asked a neutral question to break the ice.
Tom was accustomed to her questions. She had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and was always asking him questions about the law. Having graduated Boston College School of Law, it was a subject he was quite familiar with. He did very well in law school and could have done well as either a criminal defense attorney or a prosecutor, but Tom had other goals he wanted to achieve. Spending all his time in a court room was not one of them. He still had wild oats to sew at age thirty-five. “Intent,” was his curt response without looking up at her.
“Excuse me?” she was put off by the brevity of his response and he knew it.
Tom looked up at her and met her eyes with his. “If person A possesses the capacity to kill another human and accidentally does what if takes to fatally injure person B and subsequently, person B dies, person A is responsible. A crime was committed. But person A never intended to kill person B. That is manslaughter. In some states, that is referred to as second degree murder. In Massachusetts, it is manslaughter.” Tom returned to eating his food. He looked up at Jill. He still saw the beauty in her face, but there was something about her that caused him to lose his taste for her. He only started noticing it this week. He really couldn’t identify what it was, but they had grown distant over the last few years; living in the same house.
The couple had celebrated their five-year anniversary this year and they still had no children to show for it. ‘Was she barren?’ Tom thought to himself. ‘When we were first married we made love every night. That lasted for almost two years. Then it slowed to once a week. Now, we’re lucky if we make love once a month. Can’t have a child that way.’ Maybe this was a subject they should have talked about before they were married. Tom felt uncomfortable bringing the subject up. He certainly wasn’t going to bring it up this evening. He was leaving in the morning.
“How’s Woods Hole?” Tom spoke dryly.
“Fascinating!” Jill was excited to talk about her work. “Did you know there is a large gam of sharks off Cape Cod?” Gam was one of a few terms defining a grouping of sharks.
“The news always seems to have a story about them. The movie, ‘Jaws’ was set in the area.” Tom knew she was from Nevada and went to the beaches in Southern California. She had no experience of the Northeast. This was a new experience for her. His apathy was growing. Besides, he had to leave and needed to figure out how to tell her.
“Honey, there is something I need to tell you,” Tom muttered to Jill.
“What is it, Tom?” Jill could tell there was something wrong. She sensed his distance. He was pulling away from her. It was easy to use work as an excuse to create distance. She felt they had lost their spark and were not making love as much anymore. She assumed his drive may have diminished.
“Work is sending me to West Virginia on a special case,” Tom finally let out.
“What kind of case?” Jill asked
“I really can’t discuss the details. It is an ongoing investigation.”
“Certainly the FBI has agents in West Virginia they can use. Why do they need you?” Jill was annoyed by his coyness. The way he averted his eyes from hers. It was almost as though he were lying to her; leaving out the truth. Maybe it was not a work related trip at all?
“I really can’t talk about it,” he didn’t want to say what it was. He then looked her in the eye and stated, “it has something to do with an operation I participated in, in Afghanistan about ten years ago.”
“Ok, Tom!” Jill was overly annoyed with all the secrecy of the FBI. “I’m only your wife! You don’t want to share with me. Fine! I packed up and moved out here to New England to be your wife! You can’t be honest with me! Maybe I just need to leave for awhile!” Jill stood up, threw her napkin on the table and stormed out the front door. Tom heard her car engine start up and she drove away.
It was an ugly scene. He hated it. The tension in the room had been palpable. Her outburst and subsequent hasty departure seemed to release the tension a bit. Tom felt more at ease about leaving now that she left. He didn’t feel like eating any more of his dinner. He did however down the half empty glass of wine. Refilled the glass and drank that. He may have had a third; can’t recall.
The next morning, his bags packed, he headed to the airport around zero dark thirty. Logan was not very crowded at this time of the morning. Only the red eyed businessmen were in line at the TSA check in. Tom identified himself, showing his federal credentials, and was ushered through security without a second glance. ‘Definitely one of the perks, working for the government. Don’t need to stand in line waiting to have everything checked. Got to keep my shoes on too.’ Tom smiled to himself as he walked toward the gate for his flight to West Virginia.
The JetBlue Airbus A320 taxied out onto the runway just before zero six hundred hours. Sitting at the rear of the cabin in order to have a decent view of all passengers, Tom Stewart sat back as the twin CFM56 Turbofan engines produced 34,000 pounds of force to move the aircraft into the skies over Boston harbor. It banked to the right as it turned toward the south and then to the west. Slowly the lumbering aircraft climbed into the sky. There was a noticeable upward tilt to the cabin from Tom’s seat. The aircraft would consume another hour and forty minutes before landing at Wheeling Ohio County airport.
After collecting his bags, which included one containing firearms, he needed to retrieve from TSA after showing his federal identification, he made his way to a special desk. The elder female here helped arrange a special Uber, courtesy of Delta Green. When the Ford Explorer arrived a young woman with long brown hair braided in the rear greeted him with a less than friendly expression. She wore a black leather jacket and a blue flower print blouse and jeans. “Tonya” was her name. She helped him gather his gear and stow it in the rear of the SUV.
“Great time,” Tom muttered once in the passenger seat.
“Pardon,” Tonya asked.
“Ah, it is just after eight thirty and we are on our way. Great time. Should be there in no time, right?” Tom was feeling a little bit of the jet lag, trying to get his bearing. He slept most of the flight. He typed out a missive on his laptop letting Jill know where he was going and as much as he could about what he was doing. He tried to apologize for the secrecy but felt if she didn’t understand by now, she may never. He couldn’t go into details and hoped she would understand. He hated how they left things at dinner. She hadn’t returned to the house that evening. He didn’t know where she went or where she slept last night. She had friends from work. He assumed she went to one of their places. It bothered him; weighed heavy on his mind.
“We should arrive at the Delta Green compound around eleven hundred hours, sir.” The woman was very professional. She did not smile. She acted like one of the young sergeants he had in the marine corps. She was not the type to make idle chatter with him and he was OK with that.
After a two-hour ride in silence, he finally asked a question, “were you in the military?”
She maintained her focus on the road, “aye, sir. Naval Intelligence. Six year. Petty Officer First Class, sir. I’m told you were a Marine Captain, aye sir?”
“Aye,” Tom responded out of habit. “I left the Corps eight years ago.”
“Aye aye, sir.” She drove on another five minutes. “Annapolis, class of 2006.”
Tom was mildly annoyed by the encyclopedia of information coming from his quiet driver. “Is there anything you don’t know about me, Petty Officer Tonya?” Tom questioned exasperated.
She did not miss a beat, “No sir.” She stated simply enough and drove up to the medium sized house, which appeared more like a cabin. “Here we are, Agent Stewart. I’ll get your equipment. You’ll need to check in with Mr. Foster and Mr. Donnelly. They should be just inside the building.”
“Thank you, very much,” Tom responded as Tonya unloaded his bags to be placed just inside the door. Tom entered ahead of her to introduce himself to the two CIA officers. Mr. Donnelly appeared to be about the same height as him with red hair like him, but several years more experience at life. His presence in the house alerted their attention. Tom took that as an opportunity to introduce himself, “Hello, I am special agent Thomas Stewart from Boston.”
>BRAINTREE, MASSACHUSETTS
>UNITED STATES
>1900HRS
>THE NIGHT BEFORE...///
“What’s the difference between first degree murder and manslaughter?” Jill asked her husband as they sat at the kitchen table eating dinner. The meal had been met with silence thus far. Jill felt uncomfortable and asked a neutral question to break the ice.
Tom was accustomed to her questions. She had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and was always asking him questions about the law. Having graduated Boston College School of Law, it was a subject he was quite familiar with. He did very well in law school and could have done well as either a criminal defense attorney or a prosecutor, but Tom had other goals he wanted to achieve. Spending all his time in a court room was not one of them. He still had wild oats to sew at age thirty-five. “Intent,” was his curt response without looking up at her.
“Excuse me?” she was put off by the brevity of his response and he knew it.
Tom looked up at her and met her eyes with his. “If person A possesses the capacity to kill another human and accidentally does what if takes to fatally injure person B and subsequently, person B dies, person A is responsible. A crime was committed. But person A never intended to kill person B. That is manslaughter. In some states, that is referred to as second degree murder. In Massachusetts, it is manslaughter.” Tom returned to eating his food. He looked up at Jill. He still saw the beauty in her face, but there was something about her that caused him to lose his taste for her. He only started noticing it this week. He really couldn’t identify what it was, but they had grown distant over the last few years; living in the same house.
The couple had celebrated their five-year anniversary this year and they still had no children to show for it. ‘Was she barren?’ Tom thought to himself. ‘When we were first married we made love every night. That lasted for almost two years. Then it slowed to once a week. Now, we’re lucky if we make love once a month. Can’t have a child that way.’ Maybe this was a subject they should have talked about before they were married. Tom felt uncomfortable bringing the subject up. He certainly wasn’t going to bring it up this evening. He was leaving in the morning.
“How’s Woods Hole?” Tom spoke dryly.
“Fascinating!” Jill was excited to talk about her work. “Did you know there is a large gam of sharks off Cape Cod?” Gam was one of a few terms defining a grouping of sharks.
“The news always seems to have a story about them. The movie, ‘Jaws’ was set in the area.” Tom knew she was from Nevada and went to the beaches in Southern California. She had no experience of the Northeast. This was a new experience for her. His apathy was growing. Besides, he had to leave and needed to figure out how to tell her.
“Honey, there is something I need to tell you,” Tom muttered to Jill.
“What is it, Tom?” Jill could tell there was something wrong. She sensed his distance. He was pulling away from her. It was easy to use work as an excuse to create distance. She felt they had lost their spark and were not making love as much anymore. She assumed his drive may have diminished.
“Work is sending me to West Virginia on a special case,” Tom finally let out.
“What kind of case?” Jill asked
“I really can’t discuss the details. It is an ongoing investigation.”
“Certainly the FBI has agents in West Virginia they can use. Why do they need you?” Jill was annoyed by his coyness. The way he averted his eyes from hers. It was almost as though he were lying to her; leaving out the truth. Maybe it was not a work related trip at all?
“I really can’t talk about it,” he didn’t want to say what it was. He then looked her in the eye and stated, “it has something to do with an operation I participated in, in Afghanistan about ten years ago.”
“Ok, Tom!” Jill was overly annoyed with all the secrecy of the FBI. “I’m only your wife! You don’t want to share with me. Fine! I packed up and moved out here to New England to be your wife! You can’t be honest with me! Maybe I just need to leave for awhile!” Jill stood up, threw her napkin on the table and stormed out the front door. Tom heard her car engine start up and she drove away.
It was an ugly scene. He hated it. The tension in the room had been palpable. Her outburst and subsequent hasty departure seemed to release the tension a bit. Tom felt more at ease about leaving now that she left. He didn’t feel like eating any more of his dinner. He did however down the half empty glass of wine. Refilled the glass and drank that. He may have had a third; can’t recall.
The next morning, his bags packed, he headed to the airport around zero dark thirty. Logan was not very crowded at this time of the morning. Only the red eyed businessmen were in line at the TSA check in. Tom identified himself, showing his federal credentials, and was ushered through security without a second glance. ‘Definitely one of the perks, working for the government. Don’t need to stand in line waiting to have everything checked. Got to keep my shoes on too.’ Tom smiled to himself as he walked toward the gate for his flight to West Virginia.
The JetBlue Airbus A320 taxied out onto the runway just before zero six hundred hours. Sitting at the rear of the cabin in order to have a decent view of all passengers, Tom Stewart sat back as the twin CFM56 Turbofan engines produced 34,000 pounds of force to move the aircraft into the skies over Boston harbor. It banked to the right as it turned toward the south and then to the west. Slowly the lumbering aircraft climbed into the sky. There was a noticeable upward tilt to the cabin from Tom’s seat. The aircraft would consume another hour and forty minutes before landing at Wheeling Ohio County airport.
After collecting his bags, which included one containing firearms, he needed to retrieve from TSA after showing his federal identification, he made his way to a special desk. The elder female here helped arrange a special Uber, courtesy of Delta Green. When the Ford Explorer arrived a young woman with long brown hair braided in the rear greeted him with a less than friendly expression. She wore a black leather jacket and a blue flower print blouse and jeans. “Tonya” was her name. She helped him gather his gear and stow it in the rear of the SUV.
“Great time,” Tom muttered once in the passenger seat.
“Pardon,” Tonya asked.
“Ah, it is just after eight thirty and we are on our way. Great time. Should be there in no time, right?” Tom was feeling a little bit of the jet lag, trying to get his bearing. He slept most of the flight. He typed out a missive on his laptop letting Jill know where he was going and as much as he could about what he was doing. He tried to apologize for the secrecy but felt if she didn’t understand by now, she may never. He couldn’t go into details and hoped she would understand. He hated how they left things at dinner. She hadn’t returned to the house that evening. He didn’t know where she went or where she slept last night. She had friends from work. He assumed she went to one of their places. It bothered him; weighed heavy on his mind.
“We should arrive at the Delta Green compound around eleven hundred hours, sir.” The woman was very professional. She did not smile. She acted like one of the young sergeants he had in the marine corps. She was not the type to make idle chatter with him and he was OK with that.
After a two-hour ride in silence, he finally asked a question, “were you in the military?”
She maintained her focus on the road, “aye, sir. Naval Intelligence. Six year. Petty Officer First Class, sir. I’m told you were a Marine Captain, aye sir?”
“Aye,” Tom responded out of habit. “I left the Corps eight years ago.”
“Aye aye, sir.” She drove on another five minutes. “Annapolis, class of 2006.”
Tom was mildly annoyed by the encyclopedia of information coming from his quiet driver. “Is there anything you don’t know about me, Petty Officer Tonya?” Tom questioned exasperated.
She did not miss a beat, “No sir.” She stated simply enough and drove up to the medium sized house, which appeared more like a cabin. “Here we are, Agent Stewart. I’ll get your equipment. You’ll need to check in with Mr. Foster and Mr. Donnelly. They should be just inside the building.”
“Thank you, very much,” Tom responded as Tonya unloaded his bags to be placed just inside the door. Tom entered ahead of her to introduce himself to the two CIA officers. Mr. Donnelly appeared to be about the same height as him with red hair like him, but several years more experience at life. His presence in the house alerted their attention. Tom took that as an opportunity to introduce himself, “Hello, I am special agent Thomas Stewart from Boston.”
I already have two pages (12pt Times New Roman) written and Tom hasn't arrived yet. Trying to figure out how to get from airport to Delta Green safehouse. He's at the Wheeling Ohio County airport in Wheeling, WV. Looking for a ride! :D
EDIT: First draft complete. should have it up in the next half hour. just under three pages.
EDIT: First draft complete. should have it up in the next half hour. just under three pages.
My wife and I have conceived ten children; five miscarriages and five live births. We have six angels in heaven, including one who lived for 57 minutes.
I have four pet humans. Unfortunately, I fear that when they mature enough they will leave me. That will make me sad. Maybe they will come home for a visit?...on occasion?
I'm not a fan of dogs. They bark over any silly thing and it's terribly annoying.
I crated a human character named Mace. He is an engineer who likes machines and dislikes humanoids.
Hey man, Never Never Never post a character in any character tab on this site, unless the thread moderator has accepted your character into the Roleplay. You can either send the character to the thread moderator in a Private Message or post it in the OOC tab, but absolutely, unequivocally never just outright post it in the character tab. This is not the first time you have done this. I have seen you do it in other Roleplays. This is considered poor ettiquette and will turn the other people in the Role play against you. Just a friendly tip here.
This is considered rude behavior.
There are monsters, it’s a game centered around the occult and the Cthulhu mythos, yes.
Any non-humans stumbled upon by Delta Green, the organization the players work for, are going to be killed quick. Humanity has a lot of reasons to not take kindly to anything unnatural.
“Players are encouraged to be creative with their characters, as long as they make sense.” - From the opening post of the RP’s OOC.
Every time you write this, I get excited. I think Fringe.
© 2007-2024