Halo: Militia (RP)

[Helljumper425]

[This is an RP idea I had on another site a year or so back, so the whole intro is kinda copy/paste, so bear with me. Halo fans, hardcore or casual, will already know the details, but I made this idiot proof back in the day.]

 

The year is 2552, twenty-seven years since the start of humanity's war with the alliance of alien specie known as The Covenant. Battles rage on across the galaxy; colonies are vanishing, planets are being burned to glass, and humanity is close to extinction. With the time they have, the United National Space Command (UNSC) is pushing to mobilize and expand its military to defend what ground they have left. Locals and colonists are now being trained to combat the Covenant on their own homes, learning their strengths, weaknesses and tactics from veterans who have walked away from countless engagements with the empire's ruthless forces.

Location: Reach
http://halo.wikia.com/wiki/Reach

The planet Reach is a major source for Human economy and industry. With its lush, life-giving nature and its vibrant metropolises, Reach is the crown jewel of humanity's progress. The best part of all, it is located just at Earth's "doorstep." If Reach is lost, Earth should be expected to fall along with it. This is why the UNSC has pushed for additional military defense on the ground, taking volunteers from all over the planet to be trained and equipped for war.

The locations below are the many populated sectors where said volunteers have been recruited from.

-New Alexandria (Metropolis)
-Aszod (Industrial City)
-Visegrad (Rural)
-Manassas (Metropolitan City)


Rules:

Same rules as any RP apply to this one. So we'll move past that.

*Note: The only exception that these two rules have is that I will be playing the role of your drill instructor.

- This RP will be be plotted by me all through the beginning act. It will start with your training.
- Everyone starts in training*
- Everyone will begin as a recruit*
- Everyone will have had no prior military combat experience by the time of their enlistment. If anyone has some kind of knowledge in fighting or otherwise, they will need to provide an explanation.
- Skills and skill sets will vary among each RPer. Don't try to BS your way into being a sniper or something like that. Just have your character good at what you know you as a person want to be good at as far as combat. Focus on that and work at writing it in training.
- If you're worried about individuality, don't be. You all may start off the same in training (uniforms and the like) but later on when you're earning your own gear, you can feel free to vary yourself a little. Feel free to try and have a little personality too.

-No God modding, etc.

Template

Name: [First and Last]
Age: [between 17-30]
Physical Appearance:
Rank: Recruit
Uniform: Olive Drab Battle Dress Uniform
Birthplace: [Choose from the list of locations]
Personality: [Only if you want to. It's not needed.]
Background: [include anything along the lines of previous occupation and reason for enlistment.]
Skills: [Nothing outlandish]

Name: Gabriel Kawolski
Age: 38
Physical Appearance: Light skin tone. Regulation length black hair--slightly graying on the sides--with brown eyes. Right leg is a permanent prosthetic.
Rank: Staff Sergeant
Uniform: Olive Drab Battle Dress Uniform
Birthplace: Earth - Old Chicago

Background: Drafted into the UNSC Marine Corps in 2524 at the age of 18, Gabe's first assignments were mostly sentry detail until the invasion of Harvest. There, his MO flipped to Marine Search and Rescue (SAR) for any stray colonists. On one operation, he and his team were shot down en route to the last known location of a settlement and were ordered to abort. After falling under heavy fire, they had no choice but to advance on mission, going off reservation under Gabe's recommendation. Since then, Gabe was given the nickname of "KWOL," as opposed to "AWOL" for "Away Without Official Leave." After Harvest, he began to rise through the ranks at a slow pace as he served during colonial engagements with the Covenant. He was recently transferred to Reach to train local militia.

Skills: Experience with the Covenant has pretty much brought him to the point where fighting them is like trying to remember right from left. He can explain a number of scenarios to first-time fighters and knows whether or not someone is ready for combat.

[D-38 Boss]

Ok, I can get behind a new RP.

 

Name: Derek "D.J." Jones

Age: 19

Physical appearance: 6"4' 300 Lbs, Muscular build. Pale skinned, Brown hair, Blue eyes.

Rank: Recruit

Uniform: OD BDUs, Usually wears a Bandana and sunglasses.

Birthplace: Aszod

Personality: Loud and proud, the first one to boast about his accomplishments, but also the first to point out his mistakes.

 

Background: Factory worker by day, Gang banger by night, D.J., or Deej, as his friends sometimes call him, (Yeah, he's got a nickname for his nickname) Was always getting into trouble. He grew up the runt of the family, but with enough Protein and Weight lifting, he's become a mountain of a man. Joined the Military to avoid Felony charges.

 

Skills: Able to lift 500 pounds by himself, and is a talented Boxer, having seen his fair share of back alley fights. Has been around a gun before, but his knowledge stops at reloading and firing.

 

This good?

[Helljumper425]

[Yeah it's good. But I'd say pocket those shades and bandanna on the on-hours unless Deej is prepared for ridicule.]

[D-38 Boss]

[i was kinda settin' him up for that ]

[Helljumper425]

[Now to await additional recruits, if anyone has the creative motivation to enlist.]

[Is not JL]

There's too many character and story limitations

[D-38 Boss]

[so? go for it. It'll still be fun. and it's good practice.]

[Helljumper425]

There's too many character and story limitations

[Not really. The only limitations I have in place are those that keep characters from being unrealistically inbalanced from everyone else. Their proficiency all depends on how well you write.]

[dryskim]

Name: Andrew Grec

Age: 18

Physical Appearance: His skin is light from long hours formerly spent indoors, and his hair is a medium shade of blonde. Eyes are hazel in color and his jawline is specked with acne, normally neatly hidden with a layer of light scruff. Of course, being part of the UNSC-Lite, he doesn't have any hair to

conceal it with. While his body isn't fat, he does carry a neat layer of fat around his midsection. No tattoos or outstanding marks.
 

Rank: Recruit

Uniform: Olive Drab Battle Dress Uniform
 

Birthplace: Manassas

Personality: Uh....
 

Background: Andrew was born just outside of Manassas, the urban sprawl rising up towards the clouds while his own early years were restricted to suburbia. Andrew grew up in an average middle-class household, not having to put in too much conscious effort into his studies through most of his schooling. While he wasn't overly outgoing, prefering to keep to himself to a degree, he was able to make and sustain friendships. Then, in his last year of middle school he hit the snag of math starting to outstrip his natural intelligence. Still, with tutoring he was albe to make progress and continued on to high school, where during his last two years of schooling his inherent lackadaisical nature started to become his undoing. While he wasn't stupid, his interests always came first, and because of this his education slipped. With a heavy dose of luck, he was able to receive a diploma and moved on to college. While he himself personally felt himself unready for college, faced with his parents heavy encouragement, he failed to find the words to state his case. Let alone a quiet desire to enlist. Of course, that underlying feeling of fear remained and steered him away from that path. Still, when the option of enrolling in the militia came up, he decided to sign up. The likelihood of an actual deployment was virtually nonexistant, and he'd be able to get training that would help him decide if actually joining the Marines was a topic worthy of debate.
 

Skills: In the past, as in years ago, he used to occasionally go shooting with his father. Whether this translates to him being a superb shot when armed with an MA5 variant is anybody's guess. Likewise, his knowledge doesn't extend to actually caring for a firearm, despite his enjoyment stemming from shooting. His workout routine peaks out at a few sit-ups and some push-ups, and endurance isn't really his thing, so physically he's underpar.

[D-38 Boss]

[so.... how many people are we waiting for? I'm itchin' to start...]

[Helljumper425]

[Hoping for maybe two more.]

[Tranquility]

[i might try in a bit when I come up with one]

[D-38 Boss]

[AUUUUGHH MUST RP.......]

[Helljumper425]

[Alright, let's fire it up. Enough waiting]

 

Staff Sergeant Kawolski stood at an eased stance in the middle of Javelin Base's courtyard. Around the yard were troopers lead by other drill instructors and staff sergeants, all jogging in cadence, Physical Training or still being chewed out for the first time introduction to the Corps. It came as a surprise to Gabe that he was stationed here for local training and the like; he was more expecting to be shipped off to the outer colonies. Still wouldn't hurt to send a few from Earth fleet if humanity was so concerned with the Covenant striking Reach, he decided.

Just then, the rumble of Pelican thrusters filled the air over the courtyard and the dropship circled its way into the makeshift landing pad: the solid white line that Gabe had painted out for the pilot to use as a guide. It also served as a ready line for the fresh batch of recruits on board. It touched down, hatch opened. The crew chiefs inside had begun ushering the new boots out; shouting, pushing, barking out commands that essentially meant the same thing.

"Go! Go! Go! Move your asses!"

"Hop to! Get it in gear and get your boots on the ready line!"

Gabe remained still, gauging each recruit's reaction to being hassled out. The first test for them: finding the ready line. As simple as it was, completing that task might determine their initial worth in Kawolski's unit. This was important, and yet Gabe had to fight the urge to smile.

[Surveillance]

Name: Cavril Yozhov

Age: [between 17-30]

Physical Appearance: Cavril has snow white hair and nobody knows why. He is 6.4 feet tall, considering that his family comes from somewhat a Russian origin even though that doesn't really exist anymore. He is 180 pounds. Also, Cavril's violet-bluish eyes are a bit strange. He has pale skin as well.

Rank: Recruit

Uniform: 

Birthplace: Aszod 

 

Personality: It will develop through the story

Background: Cavril was born into the factory life. However his father was an owner of a popular industrial company that many people work for. However, the spoiled white haired quiet child often got in fist fights because he was rich. However, Cavril's training in martial arts prevailed so much, nobody messed with him. Eventually, he left for the UNSC because he felt there was nothing he could do on this planet.

 

Skills: Cavril is very strong, and is a well known fist fighter, training in martial arts with his friend Chang before he went off to the military. He occasionally went shooting by himself, but was never really that good. He is also very athletic and fast.

[D-38 Boss]

D.J. sauntered over and stood on the ready line, his hands in his pockets. Every other recruit either looked like they were a statue, or they were a dog that had to pee, shaking like nobody's business. He pulled off his sunglasses and wiped them off before placing them in his pocket.

 

"Man.... this was a baaaaaad idea...."

 

He had only joined to avoid attempted homicide charges back home. A rival gang member had gotten smart with a knife, but D.J. got smarter. He enlisted the next day before the Police figured out who did it, and now he found himself here. He looked over at the Staff Sergeant eyeing everyone, judging them.

 

"Yo! Like what you see?"

[Helljumper425]

"They're all yours, Staff Sergeant!" the crew chief yelled from the Pelican, collapsing his non-active humbler and fitting it into a pack on his waist. He slammed a fist twice on the ceiling of the cabin to signal the pilot to ascend.

"You shouldn't have!" Gabe called back. He didn't show his smile, but inside he was laughing. Approaching the line, the clicking of his boots could be heard over the rattling clatter and the unified chats of those in training all around the courtyard. He shifted his weight slightly to compensate for the permanent prosthetic, which he had concealed neatly beneath his pant leg, tucked in a uniform manner into his boot. The faces of the newcomers that now occupied the ready line were young; some showed ambition, some misery, some showed nothing at all. In the end, he would see every side of them.

 

"Yo!" one of them blurted out, a thick unsophisticated tone weighing his voice. "Like what you see?"

 

In a blink, the Staff Sergeant marched his way up the line. Mere inches from the recruit's face, he was wary that the brim of his duty cap didn't make contact. "You're not going to be much to look at when I'm scraping you off my heel." Just then, his eyes darted up to the rag around the man's scalp before dropping to meet his gaze. "Keep that ghetto sh** off when you're in my presence and fall in at attention like everyone else."

Gabe backed off then began pacing the line, hands behind his back as he inspected each of their faces. "I am Staff Sergeant Gabriel Kawolski and as of today until the end of month, I am your drill instructor. You will address me by rank, not 'sir.' Failure to keep with that standard will result in a whole lot of misery on your part. Do I make myself clear?"
 

[D-38 Boss]

"Yeah Staff Sergeant, clear as glass, no need to yell." D.J. said, flipping a mocking salute. "Didja miss breakfast or somethin'?"

[Helljumper425]

Gabe's head jerked back in the direction of Recruit Jones. "You, down," he snapped, approaching him with malicious intent. "On the ground and start cranking out a hundred fifty."

[dryskim]

Andrew Grec, not exactly looking forward to inciting the Staff Sergeant to hit him with push-ups did his best to fufill the command as issued.

 

He shouted, "Yes, Staff Sergeant," with the majority of the recruits....except for Home-Slice. Grec internally labeling the recruit Home-Slice just due to his simple appearance, the doo-rag, the dark sunglasses, the attitude. Honestly, Grec wouldn't have been too terribly suprised if the guy had sauntered in with a joint between his lips.

 

And so, with his toes on the line, he awaited the candid response from Home-Slice about his punishment. Becaused, damnit, if the dude didn't have some sort of retort, well, Andrew would honestly be a bit disappointed in their resident gangbanger.

 

Now he just had to focus on keeping a strong poker face, and he'd fade into the background and go unnoticed. Which was honestly where he'd rather perform. Not too good as to be singled out for acclaim, that'd only incourage the others to rag on him for showing them up - and not perform so badly as to incite the anger of his fellow recruits for performing underpar. Average, that was his goal. Then again, being the best was a damn unlikely proposition.

[D-38 Boss]

"Hundred fifty? I'll give ya an extra 50 for free!"

 

D.J. flopped down and started in on the Push ups, cranking out 50 with ease. he paced himself for the last one hundred, and As promised, squeezed in an extra 50. He jumped up and stretched his back.

 

"Not a bad warm up, Staff Sergeant."

[Helljumper425]

Half impressed with Jone's ability to do his reps in what seemed to be the blink of an eye, Gabe cocked his head as the recruit sprang to his feet. He wanted to see how well he could do situps after kneeing him in the gut with his permanent prosthetic, but the infighting could wait until later when he pitted them in self defense training.

 

"Not bad. Four hundred more, shower privelages revoked for the next five days. Advise you keep it shut before I find more ways to make your life a living Hell."

 

As he left the man to it, he got back on the clock and started to pace the line, addressing all of the candidates. "I am not your friend, I am not your squad leader, I am not that person to go running to just to talk about how you can't sleep at night. This is not your typical power test qualification that you were spat out from, where the only thing you learned was how to run in a straight line and not break down in tears after a round of push-ups. That strength won't be worth **** if you don't know how to use it."

He about-faced going for another round. "Which is why you were thrown into my beloved Corps' training ground: for me to shape you into something that's worth looking at." He paused, looking over their faces once more with a wide smile. "And quite honestly, looking at you now tells me that we've got a LOT of work to do."

[Surveillance]

Cavril looked down at Gabe as the Staff Sergeant barked at everyone to start. The Recruit did about three hundred reps without stopping, but it was still a bit unnerving that he was easily taller then anyone here. Coming from Russian origins, even though most countries on Earth didn't exist anymore, he was tall and had the typical accent. Also, a strange creepy aura surrounded Cavril too, so most of the soldiers kept eying his creepy smile and bright violet eyes. Cavril was eager for the self defense training. he couldn't wait to be put against any other recruit, except maybe Jone, and destroy them. After Cavril did three hundred more push-ups, he looked at Kowalski.

 

"Staff Sergeant Kowalski, is there anything else you would like me to do, sir?" he asked, staring at his superior with a creepily cold gaze, and his Russian accent coming in thick. Cavril hoped he had said the right words, but anything Gabe threw at him he could probably take. However overconfidence was always an issue, so the Russian shoved the thought out of his mind.

Edited April 30, 2013 by HaloGeek

[D-38 Boss]

"Four hundred more, and no showers? And I was worried about feeling homesick."

 

D.J. dropped down and started on the next set of push-ups. Exercise came naturally to him, Because it was all he did for fun back home.

 

After 150, he held himself up and stretched his arms, before continuing on to the Next 150, at a slightly slower pace. Once he had regained his energy, he decided to have a little fun, doing the next 50 on just his left arm, and the last 50 on his right.

 

"Alright. As fun as that was, I'm done." D.J. said, trying to mask his fatigue. He wasn't overly tired, but he'd be sore in a few hours.

[dryskim]

Andrew watched as Home-Slice pounded out his punishmental push-ups like some sort of olympic class body builder, seemingly putting in close to what - seven hundred push-ups in the span of ten minutes? Then again, so had the massively tall Russian - despite not being told to actually do any.

 

Andrew had opened his mouth to inform the giant that he in-fact, did not need to drop and pump out one-hundred-fifty, but by that point the dude was already back on his feet after pushing the planet out of it's orbit thanks to his massive Russian arms and unnaturally colored eyes.

 

The dude creeped out Grec. But damn, if he ever needed something carried - he knew the guy to call for the job. So while Rasputin was no doubt a strange individual, the ******* looked like a decent guy underneath it. Maybe a little bit naive, but a decent fellow.

 

Unless he turned out to have served time in some Russian gulag, eating babies and getting blood transfusions of straight vodka.