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3 yrs ago
Current Do what I do and write two novels and then have like 4 people read them B)
1 like
3 yrs ago
We've got a certified "Bozo Down" today
3 yrs ago
Also why's everyone getting so pressed about writing perspectives like dude just go write a book lol
3 likes
3 yrs ago
Might want to pick it back up before I put it in my wallet
3 yrs ago
40k fans are like the "Can he beat Goku" guys of Science Fiction
1 like

Bio

Literally 1984 by Jorjor Well

Most Recent Posts

Finally!



Very good, I really like this CS. Get it in the hole of characters.

Wall Maria - Shiganshina District

The boy wandered around the room, staring at all the knick-knacks and decorations dotted on high shelves, novels filling up a bookshelf like a parade-square and bits and bobs that weren't found in the regular market-shop. It was a wonder to figure out what they were here to actually sell, and how they'd gain something that would fit within these one of a kind buildings. Though Grant had taken many guesses, he wasn't to accompany his Uncle on the regular deals. They weren't illegal or shift, that was definitely something he could confirm to both himself and his friend. Mateo would never commit to anything of the sort. He was a good man at heart, and would remain that way for the days he had within him. He wasn't older than him by a large distance, seeing as Mateo was a younger brother of Grant's father. It was the main reason for their bond. They didn't grow up too differently, but with him being 24 it meant that he could serve as a guardian whilst on their trading tour.

Grant looked up to Mateo, clearly. The man had done service, and only recently stepped out of service to assist in family issues. It was true. Grant's small home-town was facing an economic depression, and that didn't help in supplying themselves with food, water and necessities to make a living out of a farmland. No one wanted to sell things to a settlement outside of the walls, but it was still an issue that could be tackled. Mateo was almost like the family saviour, using his experience in and out of the walls to keep the flow of money on-point. What's more, he didn't scorch Grant for riding Rhys like his father did.

Luca prodded Grant on the arm several times, snapping himself out from the trance he was caught within. Luca was always like that. Impatient. Annoying. It's what made him Luca. No one else did anything better than like he did. It was the reason why the two became good friends, because Luca was so humorously annoying.

"Ey...Grant...Eeeeeey. The trading is starting. You might as well take Rhys and get a move on. We'll be stuck here all day by the time something happens..." Yep...Impatient, as per his usual antics went. "Besides, we've got a lot to get through today. You remember our plans? This is our 'Final Stop' after all..."

The two grinned at each other, as if they'd just gained all the money in the world combined. Their grins soon became a catalyst for action, as the two darted outside the door. It was mid-day already, and they were likely only going to spend a few days here until they would depart once more. With that being in the back of his mind, Grant was quick to rush over to Rhys. The horse was oddly sensible and obedient to wait outside until he'd return. Like a dog, only more staggering to look at. Grant placed a calm hand on its snout, as he always did, before tightening the saddle on his back. The last time that he'd taken a ride throughout the streets was in the East, where he mispositioned the saddle and slipped off mid-gallop. Like Luca always said, not only was he swift on a horse, he was also quick and falling off of them.

The two mounted their prize animals and began to gently trot down the street they were already in. The streets seemed oddly bare at first, even in the marketplace, it was difficult to make-sense of why they were like so. It wasn't long before they were able to find out, as the two slowly came to a stop behind a lined-formation of citizens, parted by a wave of uniformed individuals all returning home from outside the gates.

"Hey, Swifty...Look at the symbols on their jackets...Aren't they the group Mateo serves in?"

"I think you're right...The ones with the wings? That's got to be Mateo's bunch. I've never actually seen anyone else that wasn't him wear that kind of uniform. Why'd you think people are gathering them so much?" He mused about the possible answers, some of which he didn't like to think about. It was a difficult process to go through.

"Who knows? I'd rather not ask them...Plus, they're blocking a perfectly good straight-road to race down; I'm not willing to ask if they are able to clear a path..."

The two took a left, taking up a trotting pace. Their heads were fixed rightwards, staring at the bands of uniformed men and women pass by. It was a strange sight, almost, seeing them make their way through the streets. It was an almost silent event, people holding their breaths as they waited for a particular somebody to return from an expedition. Grant wasn't spared the sugar-coating when told about what these men and women were sacrificing to do. Mateo had been very straight-forward, but not blunt about their actions. It was worrying, finally witnessing what might've been the aftermath of a failed mission. It scared Grant, knowing that sometime after they return home, Mateo would have to return to active service, and possibly never returning.

They continued their trot down to the left, from where the Scouts were travelling from. The sights began to grow more and more depressing as each second passed on. The injured and mentally battered would be seen, staring only towards the ground as if they'd seen the worst. No one could blame them. They probably had. Occasionally, someone from the public would question or quiz a name into the audience, and about a half of them actually managed to get a response. Luca was surprisingly quiet as well, taking in the scenery very seriously. The two knew when it wasn't the time to be jovial or excited. In fact, this very sight could change his experience within the district completely.

The two continued on their trip further down the line of citizens words clashing with the wounded. Every second he began to grow more and more sick of what was said, but it didn't mean he could do anything about it. Mateo would speak of the times he had to return to such abuse, but he seemed to not pay attention to it. Sometimes, during their trip around the walls, he used to speak of how he sometimes found it humorous, something fun to poke at. He recited the words in his mind. Some people seem to get more and more abusive as the days go by. But that's fine; I just remind myself I'm not the one with a career in cleaning sewers. Sure, it contradicted the idea of fighting for humanity if he showed little respect to them, but all the tales he told of those he fought alongside ensured that Mateo was in fact fighting for the people who suffered the most out of it.

Well, that was when he was in service at the time. Since this trip, Mateo had been a good uncle to Grant. The two shared a lot of banter with one another, even with Grant still being a child. Even since Luca had come into the picture and become the third-wheel of the family connection, they were still close. As for Luca, Grant and him had a sort of 'Love-hate' relationship. Sure, Luca and him were great friends, but he was one annoying kid.

Suddenly, as if he were hit by a cannonball, his body and insides seemed to jolt around and thump loudly. It snapped him out of his trance, a small ache suddenly hitting his arm and back. What was this pain? Why had it happened so quickly? But before an endless wave of thoughts and questions over-flowed him once more, he hardly had to scrutinize the surroundings to see what was going on. The world seemed to be vertical...Well, at least from his perspective. It could only mean one thing. He was lying on the ground.

Grant shot his head up quickly, a small pain still stuck in his right arm. To his left, Rhys clopped over to him and exhaled onto his face. To his front, Luca remained on his stallion, laughing his head clean off like some lunatic going on a killing spree. And to his right, stood a few people staring at him. It was certainly an embarrassing moment. Grant was praised for having a natural talent of riding horses and keeping a great posture on them. But during his trance, he must've slipped off without realising it. He had to think quickly, in order to maintain his dignity, which at this point had mostly shattered into small fragments that were impossible to pick up.

"Uhh...I...uhm..." He trailed off. For once, he could not deliver a joke. Whether he was focusing too much on his arm hurting or he was far too embarrassed, no words came out of his mouth. He slowly got to his feet, and began to saddle back up. He quietly, with Luca still cackling behind him, continued to ride onwards.

The two kept moving onwards, until they reached a small opening. It wasn't much, there were a couple of children a few metres or so away that were snacking away on food of some sorts, but Grant wasn't hungry enough to approach them. They were to be in this district for a little while longer, before they'd have to head outside the walls and stick to its circumference once more, making their way back to Grant's home town, providing the family hadn't starved yet. Come to think of it, Grant hadn't heard about any of his family in the duration of his departure. It worried him slightly, but then again, how easy is it to deliver letters to someone who keeps moving?

Grant had seen quite a bit of the inner-fields outside of the walls. Apparently Mateo was a good enough carer to accompany him outside of what he presumed was the safety of his town. In fact, during their entire tour, he hadn't seen nor heard of any near Titan sightings. It used to keep him up at night, but it was coming to the point where even Luca himself doubted their existence. He was a conspiracy-maker at heart, always finding a way to question anyone who had any authority over him. He even had a theory that Mateo was a murderer. Didn't take long for the Uncle to find out and shove him off of his horse.

The two remained sat on their horses, Luca still trying to recover from his laughing fit. It was still embarrassing for Grant, but now that they were away from the crowds and only around a few people their age that hadn't seen it allowed for him to take a breather.

"Mateo must have called you stupid at some point in your life? Especially if he'd have seen that, I know he would." Luca continued to guffaw at his friendly insults. Their friendly banters between one another were quite tiresome during long extensions of practise, but the duo still found comfort in knowing they weren't indifferent from when they first met.

"If I was you, he'd call me that. But because I'm not you, I think he'd be a lot more caring about it than you are...Anyway...We'll just hang around here for about ten or twenty minutes...Give Rhys a chance to rest or something before we race off down the street again..." And with that, he walked to a wall where he could rest his back against. With his hands tightly wrapped around the rope used to guide Rhys around, it was quite nice for the two to simply relax and take in the silence, despite the more distant sounds of the returning Scout Legion.
With Sunday boredom kicking in I decided to do the following for everyone. Hopefully you like them all. If not...apologies:













@Lady Selune@Apollosarcher@Zoey White@LetMeDoStuff@webboysurf@AlternateMan@fallenstrife6@Liotrent@Oskar DiLondra


You are a godsend. I was trying to make my own for everyone but I failed in making my own so I got really really discouraged. It is definitely an improvement of mine.







One by one, everyone started to thin down in their numbers as they all made their own ways towards the living quarters after following the instructions. Every envelope had their number and keycard within it. All of this was straightforward for a starting day, or rather afternoon. Everyone was coming and then disappearing into their own dormitories whilst the veterans of the team were all wandering about, watching them scurry around like ants. Everyone who'd previously been in Rainbow prior to that day was already aware of their rooms and aliases due to pre-briefing earlier on in the month. Everything had fallen into its place; every jigsaw piece was starting to assort itself perfectly into their places. All of them were starting to slip themselves in like fingers to the wrong-glove, awkwardly holding some strange facial expressions amongst their ranks. Some looked a bit too overconfident whilst others seemed a bit formal, the way that Mike would have wanted. Yet it all felt a bit too surreal for Franklin. Yes, they were a military organisation that forged under counter-terrorist operations. Yes, they were a confidential programme that only the elite in NATO fully understood. But no, they were not as strict in the past. Everyone bonded together so carefully, in such a discursive fashion, that they were all practically second-hand family members to one another. People like Elias were always cracking jokes and easing everyone's minds whilst others were fantastic cooks off-duty and aimed to provide a wonderful experience after a hard-day's work. This was different. All of them were not on par with those who were now gone. It felt too harsh to judge and compare them this early on to the fallen he'd grown accustomed too, but yet he still found himself struggling to let go of the friends he'd lost and those he was still trying to find.

He made his way outside, finding that there was no need for his presence in the main hall. Nothing noteworthy was presented towards him, neither were there any words that directed themselves at him. Franklin was just a phantom wandering amongst the sea of new life, though the life may find itself prematurely doomed if they weren't up to adequacy. There was a thin line between life and death on this job, this career to uphold the impossible task of peace and prosperity. Sometimes, though not all the time, there was no room for error, even when off duty. Say something that they might regret, it could bite them harshly in the arse when they stick around on duty. All of the life had its pressures, and yet they were expected to live as regular human beings back here in Hereford's underbelly. What a cruel fate, this was? Sometimes he wished he was still in the Royal Marines, serving in a time where terrorism was handled by the experts.

The trek back to the living quarters was as dull as he'd expected. The rain was starting to come down quite heavily now, as did all typical weather of the British Isles. A vast bucket's worth started to soak into his coveralls and dampen his DPMs beneath them too, making him feel miserable and let out a deep sigh of depressive thoughts. No sunshine could clear this mind, it seemed. Franklin saw a few, only a few, of the new operators making their way over, but chose to keep walking and only interact if interacted with. That was how it went on the first day. If he was going to get to know them at least he could give them the space they needed to find their own place in Rainbow's ranks. The next day was going to be a lot tougher, especially when knowing that it was Gilles and Taina's turn to lead the training session. It was a "Kill-house" scenario, where they would be entering a building that was large but packed full of tight spaces. It was the principles of Counter-Terrorism, these breaching tactics. But then again, the scenario would always have a trick or two up its sleeves, waiting to test whether they could react to unforeseen technicalities. Once again, those were the basics of anti-terrorist operations. Nothing ever went according to plan.

Returning to his abode wasn't exactly a treat. Yes, it was a nice place for what the military and government could offer, but it still felt a little too artificial for him. Something about spending time within the walls, with a large window at the foot of the room, alone and solitary as can be, felt almost discomforting and unnatural to him. He spent so much time simply sharing quarters with other comrades of all types that he simply hated the feeling of loneliness. It was reflective of his third operation, in which he and the batch of newer recruits at the time were deployed into an operation that could have only gone better than the shit-show it had become.




"Up and at 'em. Fifteen minutes to get your arse's to the South Wing before someone drags you there!" Having woken up the earliest, Liu thought it would make a good sick-kick to push Franklin into waking everyone else up. It was obvious that they were all already awake...hopefully...and were likely finishing off the meals they could cook in their own dormitories. However, it was a necessity to keep the slightly harsh-nature that was Rainbow's rebirth in shape and form. All of the instances of his thick accent booming down the hallway, clenched fist banging quite gently against each door as he went down the line, could be seen as amusing to those who he already knew. He just hoped that Jessica didn't see the outcome and prepared to use it as a method of teasing later on. It was unlikely that she was like that, but there was always the possibility. "Wear combat dressings. All equipment is in the armory within the South Wing. Grab your stuff when instructed and prepare. It's training time, lads and lasses."

The South-Wing had already been set up. With them having fifteen minutes to haul themselves over, Franklin took the opportunity to get a head-start glimpse at where they would be fighting within. From what he could see, it was a one-story building with a high rooftop. All of the formations of walls seemed to be quite daunting to look at. It was definitely preparation for what they would have to face on their first operation, the one that Mike had leaked to the other members only days ago. All of the operators were likely to use non-lethal ammunition for obvious reasons, as training would try to simulate different scenarios as accurately as possible. Usually, ex-members of Rainbow, trainees and non-military staff were hired to act as OpFor, being advised to be sporadic, unpredictable and somewhat outlandish. Most of the time, they tried to mimic what the White Masks had in mind, whether it was mock martyrdom or biochemical situations, all of them were highly lethal. It was difficult to accurately depict what an operation would be like. Franklin knew best that these were the things that didn't fully help those in the field, as it was much worse out there than it was in the confinement of Hereford's training outlets.
Hey! You might not remember me, but I am the guy that asked you about the nationalistic operator (a week ago...). I was a little bit busy since I had to get ready for my high school graduation. I know you are kind of filled, but I made a W.I.P. I would like it if you could check it out and tell me if have a shot at joining.



Question...what do you mean by he doesn't have a name yet? Is that like a way of saying "I haven't come up with one" or..?


Accepted my duuuude.
Got one more spot for a Rainbow Six Siege fanboy?

@LetMeDoStuff


If the Sheet is good enough and the posting ability is up there, I can offer space.
@LiotrentLove it! Well worth the wait!








A shudder in his carriage seat lunged the man awake. It was a surprising fact that he'd managed to find some sort of position that allowed such slumbers as such. He must have been out for a while, as the scenery outside the carriage's glass windows was far different to the previous one. Trees that he had only seen once in books and studying materials in schools was now being brought to life before his very eyes. It kind of made him feel like a child discovering Siberia for the first time. It was a vast world outside the confinement of the train, one that kept him on his toes at all periods of scanning. Flocks of birds soared overhead whilst strange forests of heat and moist were seen over the horizon, one that made him feel insignificant for once, like a traveler heading into the holy lands of the olden world.

Looking around his room, Aleyev noticed that he was still alone. It was quite a luxurious cabin that Aytre had to offer, or whoever was running the show. From all he knew, Project 914 was still much of a mystery to himself. The train had made many stops on the way, where supposed members of the team were picked up. However, Aleyev was one of the first onto the train, and by not leaving his cabin and only receiving what officers offered him from its doorway he had no visual idea of who was joining their ranks. Small Russian voices, as well as other accents that weren't distinguishable at first, all came into a close proximity before shutting themselves away in cabins of their own throughout the whole journey. For days, they'd been travelling, and Aleyev had been restricted to the inside of his living space. The only time he could make conversation was when already acquainted members of staff entered his room to fill out details, ask for biographical experiences on the frontline and filling out forms of the unknown about his appearance, tone of voice and general persona. All of them were quiet in their approach but did give him small amounts of community when they paid their visits. Several other supposed members of the Squad were allowed to walk amongst one another and talk to them during the trip, but Aleyev was isolated by 90% of the time he spent on the train. There were only a few ideas going around as to why they decided such a strange isolation, including Aleyev predicting his time spent in the "Veterans of Leningrad" rehabilitation facility made them somewhat conscious of his behavior. It was funny, though, thinking that him being alone in a room would get them results. Ever since the incident at Leningrad, he spent many days alone, crawling through the snow and rubble of a once glorious city without a single person to keep him company. It was a cycle of repetition. Friends and dead friends, coming and going. Maybe Squad 914 was going to be the same thing? He hoped otherwise...

Squad 914...The project, as others had called it. Aytre was a renowned developer for the URD who had spent his life using documents from all over the world to construct equipment of his own. Spain, Germany, Italy and Britain, all of these had been useful providers for his mechanisms. His motives and methods were entirely questionable and some found the man to be amongst the strangest of figures throughout the world; even students and apprentices of him had spent years still trying to discover what his true intentions were and how he achieved such greatness without failure. Having him lead such a daring project such as this was questionable by most, but it seemed that Stalin was on board with whatever odd plans he had. His unorthodox methods left a queasy settlement inside Aleyev's gut. A part of him wondered what he'd really gotten himself into. Was this some ruthless plan to sacrifice those who were deemed unfit for service? Time could only tell, and time was nearing its final point.

A loud screech placed itself all around him, hurting his ears slightly as the train grinded to a halt. It wasn't a painful lunge forward at all, and it was smooth in motion, but the sound was quite agonising knowing that his window was left ajar on a latch. Slowly, he waited for a complete stop before opening his eyes and looking out the window to study his surroundings. Once again, the beautiful Indian landscape was taking his breath away with every passing glance, but he remained vigilant on the more pressing matters. On the sides of their train, there was no train station in sight, no platform or connectivity to depart on. Along the rocky floors and between where the train was steering itself, a few uniformed officers, all of Russian figure, started to bang against the sides of the carriages and yell for its occupants to disband and disperse slowly where they were exiting. If anything, it felt more like a luxury trip to a gulag, but Aleyev tried to remain positive by their intentions.


"Сукин сын..." He let his mutters leave his mouth as he stood up and wandered for the doorway to his cabin. Most of the occupants must have already reached the exits as only a few officers were left in the corridors, rushing out those he could not catch the faces of. To his right, another officer stared at him with rather beady eyes whilst remaining in the upmost silence possible. "Sir, is this our destination? Are we there yet?"

"You sound like a child when you ask questions like that, Yanovich. But no, we're just collecting new batches of coal to burn from some of our contracts here. I'd say we are less than a day away from our true objective, though." In comparison to some of the other officers within the Red Army, he seemed rather pleasant for his status above the rest. Most were quite hungry with power and ensured that their troops were in line at all costs. The famous saying Not one step back was a Russian term after all. Well, it was more of an order than any saying.

Outside, the air was fresh and warm, warmer than any he'd felt before. It was refreshing in comparison to the many nights and hours he'd spent in the winters of Siberia and frontlines of Kursk. Obviously there was a downtime for the winter throughout the mid-year months, but Aleyev could never match those summers to those here in the British Raj. At least the officers had handed him a lot thinner and shorter clothing in comparison to the large wraps he usually wore. But as soon as the embrace of the heat hit him, he drew his attention away from the world for just a minute. Being the last one out of the train, he had a view like no other, seeing all of those who were in similar positions as he all gathered in one large batch. Squad 914, supposedly.

The selection was so sporadic to what his expectations had him believe. There were men and women of all nationalities seemingly dotted around every patch of soil. He saw those of the Asian descent, or rather more Southern-Eastern descent, who were possibly from the Chinese homeland or French occupied Indochina. The majority was obviously filled with Russians of the sort, but there was still a fair number of ethnic differences between those he saw. And as the folklore said, some of the women around them were probably too beautiful to be considered fully safe amongst the seas of wore-torn males. But if it were for Aleyev, he was more respectful of their appearance and general participation. Every able hand was a step in the right direction, providing they wanted to be there and had a goal of their own. Many were from countries that had fallen to the Japanese and German pursuit of the East, so it made sense that someone pulling the strings around the area would have easily encouraged their support. But then again, Atyre did state that they were looking for some of the most promising and talented individuals to recruit them. Maybe Aleyev's will to survive and protect his comrades was his talent that had peaked their interest, but other than that he was but a normal man trying to make his way through chaos.

An officer, one of the many unfamiliar ones, stood on top of a cargo crate and began to yell out the names of some Russian and European men. They were mostly bearded and more muscular than the average man, and it made sense why they were called. Large crates of coal needed to be hoisted into the train's driving mechanisms so they could make the last leg of the journey. But once those were called, he gave a minor update to the dumbfounded soldiers and guerrillas standing around.


"Men and Women of Project 914, please remain patient. You will be briefed once we arrive at our location far late into the night. We will reload the train shortly." And with that, those who were called to help began to lift such equipment. Aleyev didn't know why all of them had to be taken off the train for them to do so, but it might of been for them to have as many hands on deck as they would need. That being said, many of the idle troops were beginning to talk to one another, and so Aleyev obviously found himself looking for such conversation too. He'd been dying to speak words other than his mind's own. And that was when he saw her, standing towards the edges of the group. She looked different, far different, in comparison to the many other females of the group as she wore a uniform of another nationality, one from the other end of European soil. With blonde hair and a strange gaze, he dragged himself over as his first choice of occupation. Seeing as she was alone at that current minute, it was the best chance he would get at simply talking to someone.

"I imagine we are in the same boat, or would I be wrong in implying that?" With his instincts kicking in, he slowly raised a firm hand to provoke a handshake. Making allies early on was the key to getting out alive, perhaps. "Aleyev Yanovich. I saw the large strings of ethnic groups here, but yours was a bit too hard to distinguish. How'd you end up here?"

@Sola
@LetMeDoStuffActually, rereading it, I noticed your CS was not complete. I did see your idea in the PMs and I can say I am interested to see how you enforce this gear. Write everything necessary down into the CS and I will review it once more. Sorry, I didn't get a lot of time to read it the first time around because I was rushed with things.
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