Smike

Run Through The Jungle: A Vietnam War Anthology [INTREST CHECK]

Roughly the size of your typical army squad, so about 6ish people

@Festive

I think Army squads at the time were about 10 people or so, but I imagine we could always fill out ranks with npcs.

Intersted in joining this rp; I have a character similar to Ron Kovic or Charle Sheen's character in Platoon. A character that gets more traumatized and fucked up during the course of the RP.

@Eviledd1984

I think the idea is that we're going to be switching out characters per mission/arc

Run Through The Jungle: A Vietnam War Anthology [INTREST CHECK]

Roughly how many players/characters are we shooting for?

Run Through The Jungle: A Vietnam War Anthology [INTREST CHECK]

<Snipped quote by Smike>

We will try to the IRL timeline/history as much as possible but I am open to having deviations in the history if y'all would like to go out on a homebrewed mission

@Festive

For sure, just wanted to make sure before I started conceiving a character

Run Through The Jungle: A Vietnam War Anthology [INTREST CHECK]

This is interesting, I'll throw in a tag here. Are we sticking to the irl timeline and history?

Rise of Rasalhague

With the mission functionally over Fuka had her mind set on one thing: the A/C 20. She wanted it, she needed it, she craved it and all the hole-punching, armor-cracking carnage it represented. The Dragon was a tanky old girl and a hoot to pilot but the armament was lacking. The LRM had its uses and the medium lasers were fine, but an A/C 5, seriously? She didn't want to be relegated to picking off Locust arms her whole career; she was supposed to be slugging it out with other heavies! That wouldn't happen without heavier weaponry, and the 20 was about the heaviest thing not strapped onto a starship.

Fuka was about ready to lift her leg and piss on the thing like a dog when the boss man called for volunteers.

"On it, let's go see what they got."

Adjusting to teeny human legs after clanking around on big metal ones was always a trip for her, being disconnected from the neurohelm giving her the sensation of input lag. Nothing serious, a moment of hesitation from her feet when her brain sent a command, but enough to be noticeable. It was a side effect of being a bad pilot. Maunvering took so much brainpower that she had to reorient herself when out of the cockpit, more embarrassing than it was dangerous. Still, something for her to work on.

With her respirator secured and her Nambu autopistol in its holster she trotted up towards the front, eyeing the Rassies in their hand-me-downs with amusement. With an army of expendable infantry and Sulser still in his mech she wasn't overly worried about any pirates still hiding in the hangar, idly scraping some of the excess moon dust off her feet as she waited to get going.

Pirates of the Calarian Main

I’m note sure if I’m just missing an obvious link but where’s the Discord?

Pirates of the Calarian Main

Tentative tag, I’ll have to see what my schedule looks like but this is quite cool.

Rise of Rasalhague

Well, that had been wonderfully exciting. A few Locusts and some worthless ground vehicles, some pain in the ass VTOLs and big mean Hunchback all thrown together in a big ugly mess of a battle, metal and lasers and fire chewing up the scenery so that the desolate moon was in even worse shape than it was upon their arrival. There was a hole in the Dragon's leg which the neurohelm was kindly reminding her of by giving her a vicious migraine, but hey she was still alive!

That was more than could be said of the poor morons Overkill was trying to turn to paste.

There was some sort of annoying buzz coming through the comms, the damage that caused it somehow not coming up on any readout. Fuka was about to raise her voice in concern before she realized it wasn't neurological damage from the helmet but just Alvin running his stupid mouth for the sake of listening to his drool splatter about the cockpit. Why he felt the need to yammer about an unrelated company on an unrelated mission in circumstances that didn't match any of theirs, Fuka couldn't say. All she could do was give an appreciative cough into the comms when Jaromir beat her to the punch, his gentle reminder to shut the fuck up much nicer than what she had been planning.

"I'm alive, but my right leg's still busted; I'm not going anywhere with any speed."

She was just grateful it hadn't been the cockpit; she refused to die before the slave.

"Not sure if you want me at the front still in this shape, but I can manage if needed.

Rise of Rasalhague

The remaining VTOLs were fucking off, finally, but the squishy troops they had brought with them were still a problem. There was nothing Fuka could do about them without flamers, or at least a few machine guns. Perhaps the techies back onboard the Ankhanne could pull a couple out of mothballs, solder them onto the Dragon's shoulders or something?

A thought for another, less hectic day. The here and now was occupied by slippery little rebel-pirates and their Hunchbacked comrade, Fuka gladly stepping back to let her commander tangle with the brute. She was relatively safe for the moment, neither wrapped up in a wrestling match nor being clambered on by demo charge-toting flyboys, giving the space she needed to reassess the situation.

Jaromir: Potentially about to explode, nothing she could do. Alvin: also about to explode, no big loss. The commander: about to be force-fed two hundred millimeters of explosive pain, but in doing so would sacrifice himself to win the battle. The Large Laser of his had scythed right through the Hunchback's plating, exposing the internals to the frigid air. Fuka was no mechanic, but she knew enough about mechs to know what she was looking at.

"I'm going for the engine and the gyro; someone save our friends from being boarded."

Fuka hobbled herself to the side to get an angle, her already poor piloting hindered by the damage to the Dragon's leg. No matter, one was enough to keep her standing. She aimed, she breathed, she squeezed the triggers-

The crack of autocannon fire merged with the sizzling hiss of a laser beam, the Hunchback's vitals receiving a direct blast even as the Slave tried to cut it off at the knees.

"It's on the ropes!"

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

Thozna Scrapblast-of-Norplain

Chatting with Malleck (@Enigmatik) and Athulwin (@Tortoise)

Thozna would have understood Malleck's distrust more if she hadn't known of his species's penchant for slavery. If one had a problem with the killing of outsiders it would only be logical to assume they didn't use forced labor, for both fates were the ultimate deprivation: the theft of the self. Her people took lives, Malleck's took souls, and yet he felt he had some sort of high ground over her? Preposterous.

Her peacemaking efforts dissipated in an instant, the Gnoll's tail swishing in annoyance as she eyed the painted pup.

"Your people take child from parent and husband from wife as surely as do mine; spare me your talk of innocents. We sit at the edge of a slave market stocked by Ainok hands, and if I were to hazard a guess I'd say that some within the Caravan have lost their own to Dinnin."

She turned to face the elder again, bowing respectfully to Athulwin.

"I plan to visit the city. Is there anything you would like me to bring you?