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 Posted: Sat Aug 08, 2009 7:47 pm
You're the better RP'r, no doubt of that, but I fancy a challenge right now, I'll give you a setting that may seem familiar. Civilized Barbarian Alright, let's go with this... Old world war 2 battlefield, long turned to pasture, but still lotsa barbed wire and trenches, prolly a mine or two still active, let's put it in France so Rolling hills around a maze of trenches. Any race, magic allowed, all weapons allowed, just no god-modding obviously. Hehe, knowing you as I do you're gonna choose modern mil-sim and take up your sniper. If you find and post in the topic this is from I'll let you flesh out the rules, you have 24 hours.
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Posted: Sat Aug 08, 2009 9:38 pm
(( Just like old times eh blaugh Although you may be better at roleplaying than me atm, I'm a little rusty xp ))
Juggernuat, the modern mil-sim, taking up his Barrett XM500 semi-automatic 12.7mm anti-material sniper rifle, tinkered with his Night Vision scope, jittering around the front part of the scope trying to keep the item just perfectly lined up with his barrel so that it would provide near 99% MOA accuracy. Head to toe in a strict, military order Ghillie suit, hidden behind a stretch of barbwire fence positioned awkwardly at an angle on one of the hills, he lied down prone to the ground, silently, even though he was covered in grass. Some of which he was inhaling through he nose, causing the sudden irritation for him to want to sneeze. Also equipped on his body, underneath his Ghillie suit, were full body armor Dragon skin kevlar piece suits, capable of withstanding small arms fire up to 7.62 x 51mm without even causing any damage to the bullet proof vest, yet miraculously light in creation. Also equipped on his body were his fashionable black steel toed boots and black gloves.
Fealing feverish and crazy, Juggernuat had a sudden inspiration which involved the interest of engaging an enemy in hand to hand combat, or at least in melee confrontation. Casually tossing aside his expensive sniper rifle, and possibly knocking loose the perfectly positioned scope, juggernaut reached for his 17 1/2 inch rambo knife, and placed his other hand on a silenced .45 Colt, made especially as the most powerful silenced pistol in the world.
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Posted: Sun Aug 09, 2009 6:22 pm
Derrek jogged through the field, crouch-sprinting between gutted tanks, trying to keep a couple inches of good (if heavily rusted) steel in between himself and the southernmost hill as often as he could. He'd been sneaking around before, looking for anything he could pawn for a quick buck when he'd seen the movement of the grass on top of the hill. It was late dusk and fast approaching night, but there was no wind. Derrek didn't know what was up there, but he doubted it was friendly. Pressed tight against the pitted armor of what he guessed to be a Sherman, he checked over his gear, making sure he hadn't lost any in his mad run. The familiar weight of his matching tomahawks tucked into the back of his belt was reassuring, as was the Ump .45 strapped tightly to his left thigh. He cursed himself for the eleventh time since he started running for leaving behind his armor at the camp. He was dressed simply, old much patched cargo fatigue pants hung down, half covering his dented and stained steel toed boots. The boots were a gift from a machinist friend of his, reinforcing iron ribs ran lengthwise along the sides, designed to take the pain out a hard kick, the heel was capped in steel as well, with studs welded onto the plates on the front and back of the boots. all he wore above the waist was a grease stained tank top and fleece open fingered gloves. He swiped his thumb across his nose to wipe off some sweat and dove from cover, sprinting for the next silent behemoth.
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Posted: Sun Aug 09, 2009 11:59 pm
Lurking in the dark forsaken wastelands, of which carried several of the War's most evil and cynical secrets, Juggernuat cautiously strided through the foggy forgotten warzone. He moved about carefully, and avoided stray objects strewn about the ground, which may have been mistakenly crashed into, causing disruption and the possible give away of his position.
Finally reaching his destination, Juggernuat pressd his back up against another blasted hunk of junk formerly know as a M4 Sherman, he slowed his breathing as to ready himself for the event that may incur within the next few moments. Turning his head to the left, and stretching it just slightly beyond it's usual twisting capabilities, Juggernuat peered around the corner in an attempt to discern what was on the other side of his Sherman.
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Posted: Tue Aug 11, 2009 2:35 pm
Derrek started his sprint when he caught sight of the bush growing up the side of the tank. No, not a bush, bushes don't move. Skidding to a halt he turned and ripped his Ump out of its holster and let loose a burst without aiming.
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Posted: Tue Aug 11, 2009 6:16 pm
Hearing the pinging of .45 caliber rounds assaulting the Sherman he was behind, Juggernuat instinctively and immediately moved his head back behind the range of external fire in the presumable distance he thought by the direction of which the bullets had traveled. He calculated this by the simple idea that bullets went straight, and so the bullets usually come from a straight source in that general direction.
Surprised, but not feeling threatened, Juggernuat made a bird whistle to attract attention to his being and readied his grip on pistol.
Understanding that his initial point of entrance was given away, he attempted to look for another one, of which to surprise his opponent.
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Posted: Thu Aug 13, 2009 1:39 pm
Derrek heard the tell-tale click of an empty chamber and cursed wildly. He ripped the empty clip out of his gun and threw it at the tank, feeling slightly better as it broke apart and the spring mechanism went shooting off into the distance. He pulled another clip out of his pocket and jammed it into the gun, cocking the weapon as soon as the heard the clip click in. Derrek dropped to a knee and shouldered the gun, bringing the iron sights level with his eye and waited, watching the tank.
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