Avatar of Shadow Daedalus
  • Last Seen: 5 mos ago
  • Joined: 8 yrs ago
  • Posts: 1036 (0.36 / day)
  • VMs: 3
  • Username history
    1. Shadow Daedalus 8 yrs ago
  • Latest 10 profile visitors:

Status

User has no status, yet

Bio

My Name is Shadow Daedalus, but I will accept pretty much any diminutive form you can come up with.

I like to RP things with fighting and grit, but chilled out RPs are good too.

I'm a little out of practice, so my writing style falls anywhere between Low-Casual and High-Casual.

Wide range of tastes, like Sci-fi, Modern, Fantasy and Historical

I don't usually play more that one character at a time, and I'm more comfortable as a male character, but I might try to expand more in the future, you'll have to wait and see...

Not very interesting, so feel free to ask me questions :D

Most Recent Posts

@Liotrent Walking. It's far future, so GPS is almost definitely going to be vastly improved. He can compare the geographical coordinates of where he landed and where he was supposed to land, and plot a course between them.

RNTS Fair Lady -> 2km from LZ, Hesperius
8/5/2145 - +0007 Hrs after Drop




While he hadn't been in the muster station at the time, he was still close enough to heard the drop call. He fell in to the first platoon as they walked, quickly piecing together what he had missed from the briefings. He wasted no time in embarking in his pod, quickly running through his pre-drop checks and checking his loadout before the lights turned ready and his settled in for the jarring sensation of launch.

Of the three groups of pods; the dead, the damaged and the lucky, James fell into the second. As soon as the platoon entered firing range, The pod to his immediate left was torn apart by alien weaponry and the re-entry package within detonated, the concussive blast sending debris into the guidance systems of James' pod and shorting out the auto-nav. "Shit, Fuck!" He couldn't help but swear loudly, unfortunately into open comms, before being prompted with the automatic activation of the manual guidance controls as the pod began to pitch and veer off course.

Thick black smoke poured from the left-side control surfaces as he fought against the damaged controls, all too aware of the rapidly approaching ground, until he broke the tops of the trees and mentally resigned himself to fate. The pod impacted the ground with ballistic force and everything went black...

When James came to, he felt the straps of his seat digging uncomfortably into his shoulders as he tried to blink away his blurry vision, groaning as the pain struck him all at once. "Ah, my fucking head... what the hell happened?" He felt liked he'd been clocked over the head by a masonry hammer or crowbar. He fumbled at the straps before punching the manual release of his pod's door, stumbling out and falling onto his hands and knees in a daze, pulling off his helmet as he did so. His head was killing him, he couldn't focus... He crawled back into the pod to grab at the emergency medkit, fishing out a couple of pills and knocking them back without much thought. It was a gamble, but it luckily paid off as his vision cleared and the pain mostly faded from his head. A palm to his forehead, he took a deep breath of the swampy jungle air, feeling slightly sickened by the warm, humid air but slightly glad to still be alive, before picking up his helmet and inspecting it for damage. It was mostly superficial, a bit of lost paint and a few hair-width cracks, but the integrity was alright. He pulled it back on before looking around. "No-one around... I need find the rest of Easy and regroup with First Platoon."

He hopped back into the pod and retrieved the rifle and sidearm from within, but the SMG seemed to be a lost cause. The receiver, barrel and mag-well were FUBAR, so he grabbed the spare magazines but left the ruined weapon behind. A flickering on one of the readouts drew his attention and he looked to see a mission clock as well as a geographical read-out. The crash had thrown him way off course, and he'd blacked out for just over 5 minutes. The revelation drew an agitated hiss from him as he pushed off of his position in the doorway to the pod, stepping back to properly survey the area around the crash site. The falling pod had evidently smashed through multiple trees and even a small rockface, coming to rest at the bottom and surrounded by metallic and stone debris. The external damage was still sparking and lightly smoking, but no open fires seemed to have started, he didn't have to worry about an imminent explosion but still...

"Fuuuuuuck..." He cursed under his breath. With all the drops he'd seen, it wasn't often that people walked away from ones like that, not without serious wounds at least. James still had all of his limbs in working order and he wasn't vomited blood, so if he believed in a god he'd be thanking the fuck out of them. He shook his head, stopped as a stabbing headache returned, before putting his hand to his radio.

"This is Specialist James Graves of 1st Platoon, Easy Company. Does anyone read me? Over." Nothing. He was only met with static."I repeat, this is Specialist Graves. Does anyone Copy? Over." Again, static. Either busted or out of range. Cursing softly for the nth time in the past few minutes, he unslung the SR20-D from his shoulder and begun the arduous journey to Easy Company's last known location.
This immediately caught my eye, I remember your old one. I'll drop you a PM
I was trying to wait for Wildman to finish their CS before I posted so they wouldn't be left behind but this is getting a bit drawn out
@The Jest With that, we should have a full crew.
@DeadDrop Kinda, don't have time to post anything tho
Highly Interested

RNTS Fair Lady - Orbit of Hesperius
8/5/2145 - ???? Hrs




Pulling his boot strings tight, James gave a quick glance to his bunk-mates. He recognised a few faces from the 201st, and he spied one or two from the 24th as well, but most of them were new to him. A few were openly glaring at him and his fellow 201st Marines, and he levelled them with a hard stare. 'Feds then.' It was pretty easy to work out when you took into account the reputation the 201st had amongst Federation forces, and the Republic soldiers that agreed with them were better at hiding it. One of the Fed troops matched his stare, probably hoping to get him to back down, and he raised an eyebrow mockingly. He could see the Fed getting agitated and they made to stand up, presumably to cross the bunk hall and start something, only for another to grab their arm and stop them. James just smirked and laughed through his nose, tying his barely polished boots and rolling the sleeves of his uniform up. He'll be damned before he gave a shit about something as pointless as keeping his uniform parade clean.

When the Muster call came through, he wasn't far from the muster station so he wasn't making a dash for it but he still made it in time to catch the beginning of the briefing. He mentally logged the important information, but tuned out during the second half. He physically rolled his eyes at the General's ramblings about the division's history in one of those wars over a century ago, and the assumption that anyone even gave a shit. If he wasn't mistaken, James could trace his linage back to the southern tip of the central continent, 'Africa' if memory served him right, so he had no reason to.

The briefing over, James wandered to the nearest mess hall with a copy of the mission details on a data tablet. He grabbed a coffee, black with 3 sugars, and sat down to review what he needed equipment wise. As a sniper, he'll probably be called in to pick off troublesome targets that the regular infantry would have trouble with, like MG Nests or counter-sniping, but the nature of Woodland combat, i.e. lots of trees providing irregular sightlines and plenty of cover, would mean that the lower rate of fire and increased length of the M20A2 would be a detriment in the jungle. The reduced power of the SR20-D wouldn't be a problem unless they came across light armoured units, but if the primary objective was to secure a fortification then he wouldn't be expecting more than soft targets. The close confines of an enemy fortification would necessitate a CQC option, but the standard M9A1 sidearm might fall a little short, so It might be worth taking an M15A4 to compensate...

As he read over the file, he zoned out of his surroundings. He wasn't really interested in socialising, but food and drink wasn't permitted outside of the mess-hall and he'd pushed a few too many boundaries recently so he really couldn't be bothered to deal with a drilling from his CO.

Interactions: Bel Cleargarden @Vongola_Hasayo



In the fading light of the Evening sun, Nero found himself scanning the faces of the people along the dockside as he stepped off of the deck of the small ship that he'd arrived on, leaving the soft, painful moans of its unconscious crew laying below deck. He'd have preferred a quiet journey over, but they apparently decided differently and went to jump him when they neared land, Through no fault of his own, mind you. Normally he'd have put a bullet through each of them, but land was close and they were probably just desperate enough to go for his bounty so they weren't worth killing.

He slid through the small crowds of people like a blade through water, eventually finding himself along what appeared to be a market street. He, for the most part, managed to avoid standing out but his scars and heterochromatic eyes still managed to draw a few stares from the curious ones, and a few interested looks from the fairer gender. His signature armoury of Conflict, Discord and a disassembled 'Devil's Eye' were stashed in the black leather messenger bag at his side, while Ebon sat just below his hip in a custom holster and Ravensdown was slung tightly across his back. A commotion drew his attention and he looked across to the two run-of-the-mill scumbag pirates accosting a maid of all things. He began to move closer when the first one's hand closed around her arm, a slightly scowl on his face. The seconded pulled his blade on the merchant in front of them and Nero's hand went to Ebon, but stopped when he noticed the maid's grip on the other man's arm. He left the pistol holstered and watched as she instead beat the daylights out of them, both impressed and surprised.

He heard her introduce herself and quickly reached into his bag to produce a stack of wanted posters, flipping through them quickly. He found the ones matching the two pirates but nothing for the maid, Bel Cleargarden if he'd heard correctly, which was a little unusual because most people that could fight had a bounty or worked for the Marines. Mentally shrugging, he took the two pirate's bounty posters out of the stack and returned the rest to his bag before stepping up to Bel. The bounties were only pocket-change on their own, but they were a fair amount and Nero certainly wouldn't turn down a little extra change in his pocket. Bel hardly seemed the bounty hunting type, so maybe she'd let him claim the reward?

"Hey, you turning these in or do you mind if I take them off your hands?"
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet