ALright, just to let all know. I have updated the threads section of "co-gm's".
I extended the offer and said offer was accepted. Thus @LetMeDoStuff is now our trusty Co-Gm. Meaning he will be assisting me in plot, managing the RP and whatnot. Also, per-say I were to have something in real life come up, he would be able to take-over temporarily and help keep the role-play going forward.
Thank you all for your time, not only reading this, but for your participation as well! I and assuredly others are excited for this RP and the plots/character developments which will unfold!
When you're gone, I'll spray paint 'LetMe Rulz k thx' all over the thread
@Jin Of ManaIf we post that, should we add a section that notifies if there are any players that are apart of it (Well there's only one, and probably only will be one, but it'd be useful if other decide to make similar Organisation Sheets)
Listed Desires/Morals - To reduce the Oppressive nature towards either species in the Thalburn kingdom. - To lead by example and overthrow the war between Man and Magi.
Organisation's Status Near-Collapse - Filled with Remnants of the Final Battles
Reputation The Ty' Un Resistance holds a very strong reputation, even for what it had become, ever since the Settlement Campaign's success. Even so, their creation was an inspiration. Originally consisting of those who believed what they did, they were quite possibly the most successful ungoverned Rebellion to exist in recent, if not all of, history amongst the realm. The sense of uniting the power of the Man and the Magi gave hope in the eyes of all of those who opposed the conflict, and even so the loss of loved ones because of it. With promise of simply to eradicate the conflict between both species by whatever means are required, and to not take over as a leading government or nation, they proved to be most satisfactory to the general public and warriors of the realm.
Tactics and Movement Members of the Ty' Un mostly never had military training, and those who did were usually placed in charge with leading combat exercises and training sessions, to allow the backbone of the Resistance to find their comfortable fighting style and choice of weaponry. This, strictly speaking, that the major disciplined organisation of raiding and formations was on their side, not to say they were not disciplined at all. The way they functioned relied in the major trust and unison that they all held in one another, not seeing anyone else as any higher than they are, making better use of their Guerrilla tactics.
Guerrilla tactics are the un-militarised combat movements that usually consist of hit-and-run attacks, sabotages, espionage and combat that utilises their surroundings more than their equipment, all being reliant on their own set of skills to get them through any battle or conflict. This made them sleek killers and successful at what they did, allowing them to infiltrate Thalburn outposts and settlements and cause a panicked destruction amongst patrols and teams of Guardsmen. Due to the distance that the Expeditionary Force had to travel, usually leading into environments unfamiliar to their style of fighting, they were a force that could overmatch them. What they really had to look out for, however, were the Guardsmen and the Newly formed Tactical Guardsmen, the Tactical Operations variant of their larger and more standard branch. The Downfall After the 'Settlement Campaign' their major successes and seizing control over the Thalburn occupied and oppressed towns, villages, hamlets, outposts and large communities, they targeted the City of Thalburn itself through two simultaneous assaults that would drive their forces into two halves, ultimately giving them an upper hand at dealing heavy damage to the city if they were not to succeed in taking it.
The Battles lasted a maximum of an hour and fifty seven minutes, with the Thalburn coming on top. How they did this, was only because of a small mistake. It all relied on the Tactical Guardsmen, Team 43, who discovered the plot earlier than intended through the setting up of the sabotage. Multiple crews of guerrilla fighters were imported into the Thalburn walls, and managed to smuggle several supplies of the rare explosives the Thalburn were known for owning. One Guerrilla team were spotted by a Tactical Guardsmen Corporal, who would later on be promoted along the lines to becoming an infamous captain, who killed one of the two fighters. This gave them the early warning, and the only division at that time specialised in handling the new-age firearms were deployed in the direction of the wall they hoped them to come from.
From their luck, they were correct, and they managed to aim and maintain sight until they were within range. Because of this crucial discovery, the City took a significantly lesser amount of damage than intended from the fighters, and more than half of the City-Charge's army were cut down by projectiles intended on killing. This made the fighting in the gates rather strenuous, but a good number of guardsmen inside the walls were also cut down by the multi-variants of fighting styles provided by both the Magi and Human fighters. It didn't take too long for them to be pushed out, eventually allowing a Cavalry detachment to be sent off to assist in the far more successful Second Attack on the Expeditionary Force's mass supply line, whom mostly were cut down by the Fighters. Eventually, they too were driven off.
With numbers so small, and the Thalburn quick to reinforce all of their settlements through the increase of numbers via conscription, they once again seized control of the Resistance's land and drove them out of the Kingdom. Many individuals think that this inspiration, who's opinions did not change, had fallen after their attempts in valour. However, this only was a new chapter in their movement. Secretly operating in vastly small numbers, they set out on sending survivors into the settlements around, where in total secrecy would they export small amounts of goods, weaponry and resources out of the Kingdom to a new frontline that was in hiding. The size of the Rebellion is still unknown, considering how concealed they are now. To join at the moment, you have to be selected, but when the time comes, open recruitment will begin once more...If only they had the power to do so...
Their current existence is not known by very many. The public are completely unaware of their operating members, and that only those of superiors in Thalburn, the Tactical Guardsmen of Thalburn and officials in Alfheim...Rumours amongst those who know talk of a new detachment within their ranks...As a sighting of an individual during a Tactical Guardsmen Assassination mission led to them finding a skilled guerrilla fighting wearing a strangely patterned uniform.
This was really happening. Finally, on the stage in front of lords and ladies, generals and captains and those of other high importance in order to gain recognition from another persona. Though the recognition could possess some danger to his true identity, he could not care less. A goal that he always wished to pursue had finally been set into plan, and he was to succeed with the help of his friends, Rosalina and Ronan. The wonders that the life of tranquillity amongst some of the most well known musicians was truly enticing. If only they could play more than one song, maybe the name for themselves would be higher and greater! And now, gathered around the waiting queue of performers, they listened to what they were playing alongside.
At the current time, a beautiful harmony of four reed-based instruments, unique to those of the players that used them. The originality to their pace, movement and instrument alone was enough to entice the audience, as quiet and almost inaudible whispers bustled around in appreciation and approval of their ability and skill. Jealousy would fling through anyone at this point, especially when seated next in line for a performance. Nerves would usually kick in at this point, but what was there to go wrong? Fae had practised this many times, over and over with the group, until they thought it was perfect. And to be honest, it could not get any better in how they played it. On the Bass part of the song, Ronan would take that role for the specified song that they had chosen. Usually, Fae was known for taking that spot, filling in the necessary parts rather than the more impressive ones. However, Ronan himself thought that it were a better idea for Fae to get used to playing the First Part, Rosalina also taking the Second Part to mix in with the tune, darting in and out of it like a cage fighter.
And so, he could hear the applause. All three of one another stared at one another. It was time, indeed. A good time, though. It was a festival of celebration, and in these next few minutes, they would lead the joy and happiness that was to come. Truly remarkable as an experience, and truly beautiful for the ideals of peace and unity. Just the way Fae enjoyed it.
One by one, the three walked onto the open-air staging with claps from the audience. Despite the desperate times in the realm, no one here could resist but to smile, even Fae himself. The trio took the cushioned chair that had been laid out by the stage hands and organised them into a reverse arrow, pointing away from where they'd be playing. Ronan sat in the centre, Rosalina to his right and Fae to his left. This would balance out the focus, making Ronan, who had less boast of in this tune, more centred than the two actually playing more complex riffs. Towards the back, a session percussionist sat, waiting for the song to start. She'd practised the song a few times, as any session musician would do, and was prepared to simply add the basic backing beats to accompany them.
And so, as the crowd had settled, one by one, they looked each other in the eyes. Fae to crowd. Crowd to Fae. Fae to Ronan and Rosalina. Rosalina and Ronan to Crowd. Crowd to Rosalina and Ronan. Ronan to the woman in the engineering clothing. The cycle continued forever, it seemed, before they gave the nod of rhythmic patterning. And eventually...They began to play...
Some of the crowd smiled in appreciation as one by one the parts filled and mixed into one another's. Fae held a posture of complete concentration, not wanting to mess up any of the melody's notes or rhythmic timings. And to say from the perspective of both the crowd and the triplet themselves, he did a fine job at it. All of them did. Flawless in comparison to their practices beforehand, as if the audience in front of them had let out an inner perfection within their skill. Some of the guards posted even ended their conversations to simply listen. The synchronisation of both randomised slurred notes from both of the tunes, mixing with the staccato notes played by Ronan's backing.
Within time, the song seized, and the uproar of hands clasping against one another repetitively brought more than just a smile to the three cellists. The took to their feet, and bowed as accordingly, arms resting on the neck of each instrument whilst the back did all the movement. And off they took, down to the stage's exit route. That was it. They were done.
"That was incredible! Did you see their reactions?" Fae could hardly contain his self-approval and joy.
"If I saw that reaction again, I'd probably cry with happiness. And then do it all again...You guys really hailed the spot out there, and made sure to swing into their appreciation." Ronan grinned uncontrollably. He held out the hand of a farewell, as they were all to retire to their homes for the evening until the end of the concert entirely.
"Not without your help and rhythmic synchronisation! Now...I'll get off to pop this lovely thing back into its case...I'll let you guys know when we're heading out again for the closing ceremony!" Shaking the hands of both of his comrades in the musical industry, he lifted his instrument and headed off to the town's single-house district, where he hoped to settle down for a short while. If only that were the case...And the upcoming events weren't to distort that future he hoped to live.
Time passed. The cogs within the clock ticked away as the silence was disturbed by a noise outside. It lasted for a while. Shouts of some sort. Maybe laughter over an act? Or the ruckus of a delay? It wasn't something he was going to investigate. He couldn't. He had to remain indoors.
More and more time passed, and a sense of anxiousness would start to swell up in Fae's mind and body. The noise was loud, even though it was faint through the walls. But a creaking sound from the floors and supports made it something to become paranoid about. As if it were an issue that would lead to something horrendous, he simply waited. And in order to feel more comfortable, he headed into the main room, slipping on the webbing forged similarly to his Ty' Un gear from the days of the past. It gave a psychological thought of protection. Though itself was not a suit of armour like those of the Guardsmen that were now patrolling the area outside his windows and street, it gave a small amount of minor-stabbing resistance, as well as defence from impact on natural flooring and surfaces. The same room held his weaponry, one of which was the Thalburn Medium-to-Long ranged crossbow, designed to be more resilient than the typical wooden kind found by most mercenaries and villages. He was not expecting to use it, but that sense of safety was always a kind thing to deliver...Especially when the noises were getting more clear.
As if it were a gust of wind, the door swung open, with a rush of heat pouring inside. That instant, that heat that rushed in...It only followed to one answer he knew that was right, one that was painfully annoying to know. Faran. And to his real surprise, he was right...Except this time, Faran had a look of panic aboard his expression, as if there were an issue. As he entered, the supports in the roofing creaked...
"F-Fuck...Fae...Fae the-...They're here..." He began with a mouth full of breathlessness. Air sucked in and out of his lungs with quick rapidity, as if it were a race. Something wasn't right...Why had he came here? And why would he be worried of all people? "It's...It's...The Bounty Hunters...the ones after me...A-And...And I saw things...On the roofs...Armoured men like no other...just...Leaping as if in pursuit of me...I...I don't know if they are after me...After you...You think it's about the Ty' Un? About our participation in th-"
The sound of landing boots forced them to break speech, swinging around. Fitting, only just, the description of what Faran had stated, draped with clothing that concealed the face. A dagger in one hand, and an instrument of destruction in the other. They met eye to eye, looking at one another in almost near silence. Another faded out of the shadows of the roof-struts, looking down from an open hole created in the side of the house. Their hands, both contained the same weaponry. A blade, supplied straight from the Thalburn armament. Fae could tell...The recent increase in handheld weaponry exports from MiddleSeed had risen by 20%, and those fit the same design as the ones he'd watch the blacksmiths make. The other tool, was of the new age weaponry. A handheld cannon, as it was nicknamed, it held canister ammunition designed to fire small shrapnel or metal projectiles out at a further, if not then similar, ranges as the crossbows of the majority's marksmen. Ammunition was generally made within villages like MiddleSeed, a foothold into their production as they hoped to eventually grow into a mass number. Once again, Fae knew this because of the plans he'd once exported to those of companions further up the villages, in the hopes they'd reach some form of Ty' Un Blacksmith.
The one on the floor made contact through vocalisation, speaking through the clothing that concealed her facial identifications, minus the eyes. It was low, threatening and slightly disturbing, seeing the weapons drawn alongside to what she was saying.
"Well, well, well...Two birds...One stone...Sweet of you to lead us to another comrade of yours, Mr. Ge'Cao...Gives us less time hunting and more time to relax..." Fae could sense the grin of satisfaction from her tone. But that would've soon faded once Faran had used his burning hands to have propelled himself off of Fae's chest, pushing him down to allow himself to escape as he darted towards the window. A quick reflex from the hunter's left arm as she raised the Hand-Cannon, firing whilst the echo boomed through the confinement of the building. With the ring being a success, the projectile found its target into the wall, just right of Faran's head. He leapt, flinging his body through the nearest window as he continued his escape.
But the Hunter in front of the staggering Fae did not move from her position, instead signalling for her companion to go after Faran, or to report the encounter...Either one was up for debate. Meanwhile, the clothed woman turned back to Fae, who was now standing, in a defensive posture. His legs shuffled to the left, drawing his arm, holding him up whilst he leaned against the dining table, towards the display holsters for his trusted side weapons, the duel hatchets, equipped with a pike's blade on the hilt of one, and the hook of a farming scythe on the other.
Watching his every movement, the Hunter narrowed her eyes, only then noticing him make the move for his weapons. Her body thrusted forward, like the projectile she had fired only seconds ago, as her drawn dagger collided with something of the same material. A quick reflex had saved Fae from the first strike, allowing a hardened boot to kick back the attacker. Furniture moved out of line as the steam-rolling hunter barged a path throughout their blockade. His hatchets now drawn from their display, a fair fight was on board...Trained hunter, versus experienced Guerrilla...She scrambled to her feet quickly, gaining an attacking posture.
"You just gave me a reason to gut you where you stand...I have all the proof I need to justify this..." A battle-cry lunged from her lungs and lips, as she made another attempt to swing. There was not a chance that Fae could pull off another blockage through his Hatchets, meaning that he could only attempt to avoid her strikes. There was no chance of him ever using the Crossbow holstered onto his back, either...Especially with his ammunition elsewhere, and the time it would take to aim and fire at this close of a range. Darting across the marble floor, he slid a couple of metres to her left, trying to get past her. This only resulted in him colliding into her warpath, causing the two to end up on the floor once more. Fae grunted...This wasn't a generic one-versus-one, where swings and skillful move sets were brought upon one another to create quite a sight...This was a fight simply of improvisation, one that would end very quickly with one or the other dead.
The hunter was closer to the door. The door itself was not of anything impressive. Weak material, only designed to keep the weather out, but not Guards of the Thalburn, it could easily be broken or simply knocked out of lock by applying sudden force to it. This hunter gained a footing, just about as the time Fae had also. The two were not fully in a stance ready to combat again, but the knowledge of his own homestead gave Fae a slight upper-hand. He ran, not even in a gripped posture, and tackled his arms and shoulders into her gut, pushing her back against the door.
Unaware of who may be standing on the other side, a few seconds passed of the two recovering from the fall onto the stoned pavement outside. This was it, it was act now, or never act again. Without any hesitation, and sure enough regret that was soon to follow, he raised his left arm, containing the hatchet with the Pike's blade. It was instinct. The will to survive the fight...The arm came down, piercing her chest and lightly dabbed armour, before the blade dug out of her body, before the motion was repeated...again...and again...and again...Stabbing quickly without realisation, he totalled 11 thrusts before his arm stopped, as well as the struggling of the woman, who's scream had faded off. The hunter was dead, a hunter with an insignia of Thalburn Militarisation upon her shoulder...To think an hour ago, he was playing to an audience, and now killing the first human since the refuge of the Ty' Un...
He was not aware of who was at the outside of his door...
@Jin Of ManaTo help with some general background to the Thalburn Plot, I may be able to create a medium sized NPC sheet covering what the Ty' Un were/still are?
@LetMeDoStuff I did think of a question, how much customizing are we doing to the planes? Don't want to go overboard and have it be unacceptable.
Alright, I've put my own CS in the Character Tab, just so you can use it as a reference. You don't need as much as I have put, but that's all down to whatever you think you should put into the sheet. Also, I hope it helps!
Personality Because of the nature of No. 56 Squadron, the RAF Squadron he served within prior to the collapse of the British Nation, Morgan can be seen as quite the joker of his current posting. Not exactly being cocky or hot-headed with his actions, he does like to make quirky remarks when out of combat. Friendly and reasonable, when downtime is around, he isn't the worst of people to engage in conversation with. Having a deepening respect towards the struggles that other individuals had to go through, including the downfall or mishaps of their own nations, it is a surprise to come across someone who does not see this man as an enemy, not counting the New Axis Empire of course.
In the cockpit and in the combat seat, Morgan can become quite the different man. Taking almost full concentration, he knows that any bad moves can result in catastrophic consequences for both himself and the task at hand. Much like other pilots, he talks to himself a significant amount to maintain focus, commentating on what his previous or current action is. The motivation he tends to give is minorly minimal, but he does tend to push other pilots onwards unless there's nothing else that can be done in order to complete their task. This can bring a few negative viewpoints towards him, unfortunately.
Appearance Morgan stands at 5'10", making him an ideal height for fitting in his aircraft. With a standard body width and muscularity, he hasn't got too much to brag about. Though this has hindered some of his abilities when he's deployed as basic infantry during ground operations, it has near to no effect on the performance of his piloting. Morgan's hair is of a Ginger-nut brown shading, with darkened eyebrows and a thin stubble on his chin. Without the restrictions of facial hair that were present in the RAF, he's seemed to have forgotten to shave what he usually had to, allowing him to grow fond of his new look.
As for his attire, Morgan is usually seen wearing either his formal Parade Uniform, or the general Piloting Attire for the general amount of time, seeing as the amount of time spent doing a duty is quite high. As for ground deployment, which is obviously more rare on occasions, you'd find him in the 3rd British Division's Uniform for the European Army, armed with an SMLE.
Aircraft Hawker Typhoon - Cawdor
Information of Aircraft
A Close Air Support/Fighter crossover, the Hawker Typhoon excels as a long-range fighter, as well as an excellent Ground Attack support aircraft.
Much like the Supermarine Spitfire, it utilises a 'Bubble' view canopy, unlike that of other Hawker Aircraft that uses the 'Greenhouse' view canopy.
For a permanent armament, the Typhoon uses 4x 20mm 'Hispano MKII Cannons', which sit in pairs on either win, as well as 2x 7.7mm Browning Machine guns, one placed in-between each Cannon.
As for what it can be equipped with, the Typhoon can be armed with 8x RP-3 Unguided Air-to-ground Rockets, or 4x 500lb Bombs (2x if there are rockets being used) or 2x 1000lb bombs, enhancing its ability as a ground attacker fighter.
At low altitudes, the Typhoon excels at speed and manoeuvrability, more so than other aircraft used in the pre-fall RAF. This was one of the many issues fixed before British Soil was successfully invaded.
Squadron
Previously in No. 56 Squadron during his posting in the RAF.
Now flies with No. 14 European Squadron, a Fighter and Ground-Strike Squadron consisting of mainly British Pilots and a few American Volunteers.
Background/History Born like most fellows of his nationality in Edinburgh, Morgan was raised in a Middle-Classed family with an English father and a Scottish Mother, with a sister and two younger brothers. There was nothing interesting that happened prior to his service in the Royal Air Force, apart from his movement down to a small village nearby RAF Waddington, where the squadron of No. 56 was based, alongside others similar to their function. Morgan enlisted before the War broke out, only just before the tensions in Europe began to arise, with the dreams of soaring the skies like his Uncle had during the Great War. Though at first, he felt like there'd be difficulties with him passing the necessary requirements to enlist, he eventually was seen as a perfect candidate for piloting, and so he would be placed here for the years to come.
By the time the War broke out, most of the Bailey family went off to fight for the Country they served under. Mr. Bailey went off to enlist in the British Expeditionary Force (The British Army), but was killed in the evacuation of Dunkirk a year into his service. Soon after that, the eldest out of Morgan's younger brothers, William, enlisted as soon as he could, much to his mother's distress, and soon found himself in the British Expeditionary Force as well. When the rest of Europe fell completely, Britain once again being the last-nation standing, he was not returned to the homeland, as he was to remain posted in a European Fortress, like several others, that was designed to engage operations from within Axis controlled nations and neutral countries. The Sister of Morgan, Helen, volunteered to be a part of the European Fleet of Salvation, much like other female icons, as she felt there was little she could do to support those of the struggling nation. As soon as she departed, along with Morgan, Britain fell.
Morgan had flown a handful of missions prior to Rising Hawk, being a part of the skilled No. 56 Squadron. Mixing of Hawker Hurricanes, and of course the Typhoons in which Morgan flew, they could balance their capabilities of escort, dog-fighting and Ground-Target strikes, including the fall of several Italian and German outposts and airfield originally used in attempt to stage the first draft of Rising Hawk. Because of this, it accidentally bought Britain more time before the Axis would invade. Though his successful bomb damage count is unknown at that point, Morgan has the bragging rights of counting 25 Ground Units destroyed, or simply damaged enough to put out of service, as well as successfully 'Killing' seven German aircraft, three of which were bombers, during the First Battle of Britain.
After Rising Hawk, there was a long period of time in which Morgan did not fly, like most individuals. The sinking thought of his homeland being overrun was difficult to take in, but overtime he used it as motivation to get back into service in the newly founded European Resistance. Based in Australia, having not left active duty, he was trained in basic and extended Infantry combat through the 3rd British Division of the European Army. Once he had gone through that training, he returned to No. 14 Squadron of the Air Force, being handed a second Typhoon from those brought during the Fleet's movement. For his Scottish background, he received the nickname of 'Thane' for his experiences before the War, and was given the tagline of 'Cawdor' on the side of his craft; a reference to Shakespeare.
Extra Information
Though he is not the Squadron Leader or 2IC of No. 14 Squadron, his word is respected amongst experience and wisdom, sometimes being seen as a way of getting better guidance than the current Squadron Leader.
Morgan had a tendency to try and get to know his comrades well enough to gain trust when in downtime and off duty. This allows him to know who his allies are, and ensure that he can adapt to whatever style of piloting or combat they have.
Banned
