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Halo: Militia (RP)


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Name: [jake barson]
Age: [between 17]
Physical Appearance: tan 
Rank: Recruit
Uniform: Olive Drab Battle Dress Uniform
Birthplace: [New Alexandria]
Personality: none that we know for now
Background: [he went to piolting school,tech school, ]
Skills: [hacking tracking and planing out attacks at times]



[sorry for intrrupting is this filled out right did i make a mistake at all]



[by tracking i mean like tech stuff or comms]

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[sorry for the delay, but I'm back now. Jake Barson needs some revision. 17 years old, went to pilot school, tech school, and he knows how to be a military strategist? I'm sorry, but that needs to be changed. All of that is technical training above highschool level, so he either has to be older, and I mean somewhere up to 24 if he has degrees. Plus, we're going into that realm of having over experienced people. Ideal enlistment age is about 17-25 right now, which hardly leaves a lot of room for having skills applicable to the military life.]

 

Gabe folded his arms at the recruit. "Weapons training is every day for the rest of your life while it's in my hands. Anymore questions?"

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"No sir, thank you sir." He replied happily, looking forward to the range. He went inside and tried to find a bunk or Locke with his name on it. There must be something here. After thirty seconds of looking, he sat down, realising that he still had his bag. He looked inside and pulled out a book. Metro 2033, a Russian novel written a few centuries ago. He began to read before realising how stupid he looked if someone came in.

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Kyro shuffled in, taking a glance around, moved towards his bunk. Diving sideways onto it, he noticed the guy in the bunk next to his giving him a strange look over the top of...a book...? "I thought those went out back in like, the 2020's? What's that one about? Some typa historic war?"

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"No. Metro 2033 is a post-apocalyptic science fiction novel by Russian author Dmitry Glukhovsky. It is set in the Moscow Metro where the last survivors hide after a global nuclear holocaust. It was published in 2005 in Russia and on March 28, 2010 in the U.S.A. The protagonist of the novel is a 20-year old man named Artyom who was born before the nuclear holocaust that occurred in 2013. When he was a baby he was saved from a horde of carnivorous rats by Sukhoi, a military officer. The rats killed Artyom's mother and many of the survivors with her. He has since been raised by Sukhoi, his adoptive father, who is one of the authorities of VDNKh, one of the many shelter stations in the Russian metro. He grew up and became one of the security guards in the VDNKh." Cavril told Kyro. "The author is Russian, like me."

 

He sat down on his bunk, and continued to look at the two. Cavril wondered what would be next in training.

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Oblivious to Jacob's shock, Kyro sat staring blankly at  Cavril. "That was oddly specific..." he finally replied, before flopping back on his bed and pushing a button on his shades which caused them to go to max polarization. "Yall have a nice chat about carnivorous rats...and be careful because from the looks of this place they prolly exist here," Kyro said as he pretended to go to sleep.

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Ignoring the recruits rudeness, he turned to the Russian. "What's your name? I'm Jacob, he said, offering a hand shake. You read Metro? I found the book after weeks of searching. Getting things shipped from Earth is very expensive. That, 2034 and 2035 are my Christmas and birthday presents this year. Apparently, there was a video game made about them a long time ago. Wasn't even on the download market! Anyway, nice to meet you, I always liked Russian accents."

 

 

He turned away, putting the book in his bag again as he thought he may actually enjoy this place.

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"My great great great Uncle was the author. I was the first one to read it, ever. Nobody knew about the book until after I read it, and it took me a while. I had to read slowly because for some reason I would skip parts of the book. Getting things shipped from Earth is very expensive indeed. My name is Cavril. I had no fascination for video games. Not at all. In fact, they made the games without Dmitri's consent, so it was illegal. He made sure the devs and the people who owned were sued, and they were." Cavril replied. "I love literature, it was entertainment."

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Name: Samuel Dwyer
Age: 22
Physical Appearance: Medium-light build, akin to a swimmer's body. 5'10" 145lbs. Brown eyes and brown hair, which has been shaved upon enlistment. Light complexion.
Rank: Recruit
Uniform: Olive Drab Battle Dress Uniform
Birthplace: Manassas
Personality: It'll develop.
Background: Having graduated with a degree in journalism, Sam found himself unemployed for longer than he liked. Even though it was only  a month after his Associate's was handed to him, he had had enough waiting and sought out other options, namely in the First Responder category as an Emergency Medical Technician. While awaiting replies, he hastily decided that it wasn't going to happen and handed off his resume to the UNSC militia reserves program. Little did he know that he would be employed the next week. While it wasn't an ideal situation, Sam figured it was the best option, as having a degree was almost a guaranteed promotion to Specialist, plus with his foot already in the door as far as first aid he couldn't see the harm in following through.


Skills: Limited first aid having been a licensed EMT. Firearms handling is all muscle memory by now, having been raised in a family where both his father and brother were law enforcement, though with his recently cured nearsightedness--with the help of UNSC benefits--sighting on targets farther than five hundred meters causes some disorientation. He studied martial arts for a time during general education, but just enough to get him through the bullies. Now with boot camp sharpening that edge, he's feeling rather confident. He's also really good with people.

 

 

 

With the day winding down, James found it best to turn himself in to the barracks after checking in with the local corpsmen for an antisetic pad. Upon arrival to the barracks he laid flat on his cot and carefully pulled his boots off to reveal a crimson red streak on the inner most sole of his right foot. With a grimace, he tore open the alc-wipe and applied it to his foot.

 

After a good cleaning, he safely discarded the item and washed his hands. Last thing I need is to catch a staph infection in this f***ing place, he mused, shaking his hands dry as he set himself back down. It was surprising to see so many recruits in lights out already, though between Jones' apneic snoring and Cavril exchanging words with Jacob about a twenty-first century novel that was seemingly well remembered, it was understandable that the mood wasn't quite there yet. Still, they were bound to get less than eight hours of sleep at this rate, so he made the best effort by lying back and putting a pillow over his ears.

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"Oh. Well, either way, pleased to meet you. If your fascination with history is as much as mine, then I believe we will become good friends. Still, I'm going to sleep to tonight. That run is exhausting." He found his bed, laid down and felt happy at making friends with someone n his first day.

 

[Helljumper, joing Ashes of Mombassa? You can actually be a Helljumper or Hellbringer?]

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"I love military history. Very interesting. Anyway, good night. That run was tiring." Cavril said before he laid down on his bunk. His mind drifted to thoughts about what war would be like, fighting against a strong enemy. And so numerous as well. Hopefully the training would be enough to fend off against the Covies, or else they would all die. The Russian was very tall, 6' 4'', and the bunk wasn't adjusted for his size. His legs hung out over the edge of the bed, and that bothered him.

 

Long night, Cavril thought.

Edited by HaloGeek
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Popping up from his attempt to sleep Kyro walked over and turned D.J. on his side on his cot, propped him up with a few pillows he took from other cots, and headed back to his cot, contented at having sillenced D.J.'s snoring.

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[Probably not. I've got off-site RP projects going on, plus one story I've been procrastinating on for a creative writing event. I'll look into it though, maybe join if things slow down elsewhere. It may, afterall, help with my story.]

 

Kawolski was in his drilling staff's quarters, the "office" of sorts that had formerly been the Military Police's station at the corner of the courtyard near the main gates. Geza was cleaning his rifle, a BR55 SOPMOD, as he exchanged talks with the Corpsmen.

 

"That true? Franco's not gonna re-up after this?"

 

Geza shook his head. "Yeah. You'd think there wasn't a choice. You could call this the apocalypse almost and he's still thinking about kicking back; mowing the lawn, watching football and all of that."

 

"Guy's got a family. If the end was near and you had the option--"

 

Instinctively, Gabe found his hands tightening as they were resting across his lap, and for a moment, he even thought to pull his reclining feet from the table and rise up in anger, but he was too comfortable for that. "Hey," he snapped, "Enough of that 'this is the end' sh**. It doesn't help anyone."

 

"You're right, sorry. Just making a point. Still, in Franco's defense, he hasn't exactly aged well for a military careerist."

 

"Hasn't aged well? He's my age, for Christ's sake."

 

The Corporal laughed. "I rest my case."

 

Both brows raised, Gabe broke into a smile. "You calling me old, you little sh**? I can still outrun your sorry ass."

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[sorry for the delay, but I'm back now. Jake Barson needs some revision. 17 years old, went to pilot school, tech school, and he knows how to be a military strategist? I'm sorry, but that needs to be changed. All of that is technical training above highschool level, so he either has to be older, and I mean somewhere up to 24 if he has degrees. Plus, we're going into that realm of having over experienced people. Ideal enlistment age is about 17-25 right now, which hardly leaves a lot of room for having skills applicable to the military life.]

 

Gabe folded his arms at the recruit. "Weapons training is every day for the rest of your life while it's in my hands. Anymore questions?"

ok let me take that all out he is 22 and he went to learn how to be a pilot does that work?

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[it needs to be third person, he, she, they. Speech marks "" are used for speech. Try that post again.]

 

Jacob woke. He was looking at a blank, grey ceiling. He looked at the clock. 6:30AM Earth time, 6:45 Reach Time. He guessed he had about 15 minutes before they were called to the drill grounds. He tried to find the source of his awakening, before realising it was the recruit opposite him snoring. "Great" he thought, rolling over and pretending to sleep until he was needed.

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*he wakes up looks at clock 6:31* he said to himself  better get up* notice that someone else is up too*



[it needs to be third person, he, she, they. Speech marks "" are used for speech. Try that post again.]

Jacob woke. He was looking at a blank, grey ceiling. He looked at the clock. 6:30AM Earth time, 6:45 Reach Time. He guessed he had about 15 minutes before they were called to the drill grounds. He tried to find the source of his awakening, before realising it was the recruit opposite him snoring. "Great" he thought, rolling over and pretending to sleep until he was needed.

[sorry new at this lol]

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D.J. had awoken promptly at 6:30, his usual time for his morning run back home. he didn't bother moving, though, as he figured he be out and running soon enough, probably with some extra PT for good measure. He leaned back comfortably in his cot.

 

"Better than the couch back home..." He muttered. He was already enjoying Military life, time would tell if he would keep enjoying it.

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