Up to you. A tank needs a driver.
- Last Seen: 9 yrs ago
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 2464 (0.54 / day)
- VMs: 1
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Username history
- Lennon79 12 yrs ago
Status
Recent Statuses
9 yrs ago
Current
From Tokyo with whisky
10 yrs ago
I live.
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11 yrs ago
Posrage will be up soon, please bear with me.
11 yrs ago
It's exam season, boys and girls, so postage should be up over the weekend. If you don't hear from me by Monday, honour my memory.
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11 yrs ago
Me Mam always told me I was special.
2
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Bio
Well then. I'm exceedingly British, rather sarcastic and I love a good shipfest in my RPs. Also male. Funny, that. Fair warning, I will treat you like an adult. That means I will mock you, point out your mistakes and most likely /cringe when you do something really autistic. Being an adult means accepting criticism and working to improve yourself, not ignoring it. And if I need calling out on my bullshit, just do it. Please. Nothing is worse than not realising that you've said or done something stupid til a week after the fact.
I currently live in Japan, so my posting hours are... weird. Please bear with me.
I currently live in Japan, so my posting hours are... weird. Please bear with me.
Most Recent Posts
Could do with a post from @Silver Fox and @Suku before I post, but otherwise I'll get one up tomorrow.
No rush. Honestly, not a lot has happened.
Are you also interested in playing your Imperial character?
Are you also interested in playing your Imperial character?
Sergeant Harald, Gallian Militia
Despite his attempt at breaking the ice, neither Ashart or Louque seemed much interested in talking. Harald persevered for a time, trying to get some background on them at least, but Ashart clearly felt uncomfortable and Louque refused to drop her lone wolf sniper schick. He eventually gave up and wandered off to smoke one last rollie. After giving the others an hour or so to mingle, he pulled himself back into the back of the APC, taking up position next to the gunner's plate. 'Squad, pile on. Carn, you're driving. Hunt, watch the rear. And... Muller, you come up from on the gun.' He turned his eye back to the road as the squad got organised. The route ahead was fairly straightforward, but they were heading further into Imperial controlled territory. It wouldn't surprise him if they ran into a stray patrol before too long. '... Alright Carn, pull chocks.' As the APC grumbled to life and slowly accelerated down the road, Harald surveyed the area ahead through his binoculars. It was relatively open land as the forests and bocage gave way to wild fields and prairie. Beautiful landscape, but pretty dangerous for a lone, thinly armoured APC. Harald took solace in the fact that they would see anyone coming way before they got to engagement range. Unfortunately, so would the enemy.
It was some hours later that something on the horizon grabbed his attention. Harald peered through his binos, straining to make out the shapes up ahead. 'Hey Muller. Can you tell what that is up there?' He passed his binos over, still squinting against the afternoon sun. It was blocky, half hidden in foliage. Possibly a tank..? As far as he could tell, it didn't have the usual dull brown Imperial camo. They needed a keener set of eyes. 'Jatmoore, get up here.' He pointed out the object, frowning slightly. 'What d'you think that is? Looks like a tank, but it's blue. Friendly?' He ordered Carn to pull up anyway, just in case.
Fina was sent back to base, so we may have to retcon it and just have her resurface after being very, very quiet. Caliban's old characters are returning, but they've been out of the squad for weeks in game, whereas Fina has only been absent for a day or so.
Sup Nut. Yep, we have a free space, feel free to join back in.
Technically a year and 6 days.
Still, Happy Birthday to us!
Still, Happy Birthday to us!
Alright then, I'll add them to the list and think of a way to thread you back in.
Up to your cal. Most of us are running two or more characters at the moment, so it's your choice.
'Not sure we can completely avoid bloodshed, but if you want to go non-lethal that's your choice. Just be careful.' It wasn't as though he didn't sympathise, after all these were his countrymen, but sometimes you had to break a few eggs for that omelette. Duncan glanced at Griffone, mentally deciphering her hand signals. Curiosity plagued him and he wondered for a long moment if she was perhaps mute or deaf. She wouldn't be the first handicapped SeeD to prove her doubters wrong. 'Sounds... uh, looks like a plan. Minerva, it's up to you how you play it, just take that guard down. We'll handle the other one. Fresno? Stay behind her, look like you're holding chains or something. When she attacks, stand back and let her handle it. No offence, but we've got more training on this kinda thing.' The soldier grimaced, clearly annoyed by Duncan's implications, but nodded regardless. 'Alright. I think the armoury's through there, so once these guys are down, you'll be able to get your weapons. Probably.' That drew a dry smile to Duncan's lips. Confidence. I like it... 'Alright then people, get to it. Griff, lead on.'
He followed as Griffone crept into striking range, hugging the shadows as he moved. Unfortunately, these guards weren't making it easy. They had to freeze a couple of times when one got bored of staring straight ahead. Nevertheless, they were in position by the time Minerva and Fresno were in position. One of the guards stepped forward, hefting his gun menacingly. 'Stand to and identify yourself. I weren't told about no transfers today.' For once Fresno was grateful of his helmet's thick visor. His eyes jumped erratically from one guard to the next, his heart in his throat. He had never done shit like this before, dammit, anything could go wrong. Despite his nerves he managed to reasonably calm response. 'Agent Mako requested this one be moved upstairs. Prisoner Number...' He made it up, praying that they didn't know the manifest. '... 7747.' The second guard perked up, cocking his head in confusion. 'Wait, I thought 7747 was that fat dude from Dollet?' Shit. Shit, shitshitshit! Duncan realised they couldn't wait any longer. If the guards had a chance to question further or worse, radio in for confirmation, their cover was blown. He darted forward on the closest guard's blindside, throwing the now useless breadknife past the guards as a distraction. Even putting all his weight behind the stab, Duncan was barely able to pierce the man's armour, cutting just deep enough to sever the spine. One guard was down, it would be up to the others to take the second. Suddenly, inexplicably, he had a very odd feeling of foreboding... Not in the immediate sense, not like he was about to get shot, but... but like something much worse was coming.
Guard duty. Guard duty on top of more guard duty. That's all Army life was nowadays. Never any action, any excitement. Admittedly, the life of a Galbadian soldier had never been a great one, what with the bipolar officers and atrocity quotas. Still, since the old President had died things just hadn't been the same. With that in mind, it was an almost pleasant surprise for the gate guard to see a pair of vehicles approaching the prison, including one in the distinctive livery of Galbadia Garden. The soldier cocked his rifle and jogged out to meet the oncoming car. Even in these times, Galbadia Garden has a special relationship with the Army, but that didn't mean they could do whatever they damn well wanted. 'State your business here SeeD!' He raised his rifle threateningly. In hindsight, it might not have been the best idea.
He followed as Griffone crept into striking range, hugging the shadows as he moved. Unfortunately, these guards weren't making it easy. They had to freeze a couple of times when one got bored of staring straight ahead. Nevertheless, they were in position by the time Minerva and Fresno were in position. One of the guards stepped forward, hefting his gun menacingly. 'Stand to and identify yourself. I weren't told about no transfers today.' For once Fresno was grateful of his helmet's thick visor. His eyes jumped erratically from one guard to the next, his heart in his throat. He had never done shit like this before, dammit, anything could go wrong. Despite his nerves he managed to reasonably calm response. 'Agent Mako requested this one be moved upstairs. Prisoner Number...' He made it up, praying that they didn't know the manifest. '... 7747.' The second guard perked up, cocking his head in confusion. 'Wait, I thought 7747 was that fat dude from Dollet?' Shit. Shit, shitshitshit! Duncan realised they couldn't wait any longer. If the guards had a chance to question further or worse, radio in for confirmation, their cover was blown. He darted forward on the closest guard's blindside, throwing the now useless breadknife past the guards as a distraction. Even putting all his weight behind the stab, Duncan was barely able to pierce the man's armour, cutting just deep enough to sever the spine. One guard was down, it would be up to the others to take the second. Suddenly, inexplicably, he had a very odd feeling of foreboding... Not in the immediate sense, not like he was about to get shot, but... but like something much worse was coming.
Guard duty. Guard duty on top of more guard duty. That's all Army life was nowadays. Never any action, any excitement. Admittedly, the life of a Galbadian soldier had never been a great one, what with the bipolar officers and atrocity quotas. Still, since the old President had died things just hadn't been the same. With that in mind, it was an almost pleasant surprise for the gate guard to see a pair of vehicles approaching the prison, including one in the distinctive livery of Galbadia Garden. The soldier cocked his rifle and jogged out to meet the oncoming car. Even in these times, Galbadia Garden has a special relationship with the Army, but that didn't mean they could do whatever they damn well wanted. 'State your business here SeeD!' He raised his rifle threateningly. In hindsight, it might not have been the best idea.
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