Halo: Militia (RP)

[Helljumper425]

[Just joking about the "hearing his thoughts" part, Boss. But anyway, yeah, I think I need to reiterate the part about characters not having military experience. As far as Marcus goes, seventeen is a good enlistment age for the Haloverse, and I accept it, but it's not good for someone to be A) an expert marksman, B ) an expert hand-to-hand fighter, and C) a medic. Granted, combat lifesaving is easy as hell, it's not something a seventeen year old could do right off the bat. You could say he's knowledgable in the medical field, having taken, say, a first aid course growing up. I guess if everyone wants to go on the rich kid enlistment trend, then it's easy to get away with a lot of things, but really there's only so much room for the rich. At this rate, I might have to create me own recruit to balance it out.]

[D-38 Boss]

[Do it, we can be the bitter impoverished kids. It'll be fun! and really really depressing...

The whole Idea i had for D.J., was he was lower class. That's why I picked Aszod. it makes sense for his skills too; he took boxing classes, worked out regularly, and has seen a few civilian legal firearms, so he knows how to reload and shoot, but not much else. I also handicapped him pretty bad, being practically uneducated.]

Edited May 11, 2013 by D-38 Boss

[Is not JL]

OOC: What's wrong with being rich? I have his CD road planned right out, all the way to the bitter end. He's a genius, but - as you've said before - Your character's skills come from being a good writer.

[Surveillance]

((I'm waiting for you to post, helljumper! I waited for you to post IC but I guess I have to wait more.))

[BaconShelf]

[i may give this a try, though I may not be able to post very often though, giving a heads up due to school]

[BaconShelf]

Name: Jacob Stokes

Age: 17

Physical Appearance: pale skinned, thin, tall. Almost no muscles on him.

Rank: Recruit

Uniform: Olive Drab Battle Dress Uniform

Birthplace: Visegrad, farms

Personality: Shy, loner, intelligent but not strong.

Background: Grew up on farms in a family descended from England. Although living on farms has taught him the basics of shooting, hunting and survival, he is one to back away from fighting. At the age of 17, he knew that the only way away from a monotonous life would be joining the UNSC and help the war. He is intelligent and knows a great deal about history and tactics, but avoids violence at all times.

Skills: Tactics, computers, drawing, shooting

 

 

Hopefully this is alright.

[Helljumper425]

[bacon: Looks good. Welcome aboard.]

 

[JL: The rich don't just enlist into a militia group just like that. They afford to go through officer's training and bump themselves up to

SpecFor status, provided IF they go in the field.]

 

[RussianGeek: Easy there, comrade. No need to get Red Army on my ass.]

 

Gabe turned. So far with three recruits at the ready with their standard issue asskicker rifles in hand, and another thirty or so close in tow, he nodded at Cavril for his report. "Good to know," he set his hands down on an ordnance crate full of 7.62mm rounds. "And stop calling me 'Sir,' that's reserved for the cheese d*cks above the rank of Captain."

 

Geza jogged into view ahead of the rest of the recruits, his own rifle strung across his back, a BR55 Heavy Barreled variant. With a grunt, he assisted the Staff Sergeant in opening the rest of the ordnance crates. Gabe pulled out a stack of vacuum sealed packages and held them high for all to see.

 

"This is what you can expect to see near an ordnance dropoff. No fully loaded mags--no, we don't get that luxury." The packages exchanged hands with Geza, who tore the seal off and began demonstrating the proper loading method. "Magazines are reusable, and unless you have to drop it in the middle of a firefight, it's best to save them whenever you can. The M52B armor that you'll be issued should support a dump pouch, so invest in it."

 

Gabe had had his own rifle resting against a post near one of the firing stations, a standard MA5C not unlike that of the recruits, though in the stead of a flashlight was an undermounted M301 grenade launcher. He placed it in a passive-ready stance: stock to the shoulder, barrel pointed at the ground. "Repeat after me, people. No western hip-resting, no over-the-shoulder. When you're gun's hot, you keep it downrange."

 

He flipped it to one side, repositioning himself to one side as he placed a finger over a small button behind the foregrip. "Power button," he noted. He then brought his hand a few inches back in front of the trigger ring to another nob. "Weapon safety." With the press of an index finger, the safety popped and the weapon was live, presenting with a small red dot on the inside of the safety button. "Remember: Red is dead."

 

After reengaging the safety, he yanked back the charging handle with a loud kla-shick. "Ambidexterous, unisex, family friendly. This weapon is your best friend. Unless you're a sharpshooter, you can't ask for anything better. The ironsights are what they are, but most--if not all--of you will have a working CH252 helmet, at which point your HUD will do the job for you. Make no mistake: just because you have a Head's Up Display doesn't mean you can fire from the hip. Weapon control is as important as maintenance.

 

"In addition to being the perfect assault rifle to date, the MA5 is user friendly in its diversity. This one had been fitted with a forty millimeter grenade launcher. It can also be repurposed for close quarters, supporting 8 gauge underbarrels. If I haven't sold you on this masterpiece yet, then I invite you to shoot it out with the harmless sheets of cardboard in the distance. We'll be doing this for the next hour, so form single file, collect twelve magazines and grab a station, starting at the very end. Targets will be ranging from three hundred to six hundred meters out."

 

Geza spoke up. "Start off firing from a standing position, semi-auto, pacing your shots until you're empty. After your first mag, go crouched, and after the next mag, fire prone. Keep cycling positions until you run out of mags."

 

As the recruits complied, shuffling along and stacking up on magazines, Geza glanced over at the Staff Sergeant. With the bump of an elbow, he caught the man's attention. "You're smiling. What's up?"

 

"I don't know. For once the words 'royally f***ed' didn't jump out of my head during an arms lecture to militiamen. I think we might have a decent batch."

 

"Their hand to hand work concerned me a bit. Some of them just didn't f***in' get it. Got some cocky b*stards too."

 

"They'll learn one way or an another."

[Is not JL]

OOC: Why not?

[BaconShelf]

Jacob felt his stomach turn as the Pelican dropship began its descent. He had never been good with heights. He clutched his duffel bag, trying not to be sick until the descent slowed. A red light came on in the bay, he looked at the other recruits preparing to depart and decided to copy them. He ten heard mechanical whirring as the door began to open, he saw the compound outside and various recruits doing training excercises. He stood up, trying to blend with the other people in the troop bay to no avail. As the craft landed, he stood at the back of the line, and was the last to depart from the ship. He noticed other recruits beginning to stare at the group. No, they were staring at him. His skinny frame made him stand out among the others, he looked very out of place. He stood with the group, waiting for instructions from someone as he looked around anxiously.

[Surveillance]

Cavril saw the new tall guy, but he still had a few inches on him. The Russian guessed that Jacob was 6.2 and he 6.4. Now there were two people to stare at, him and Jacob. Of course Cavril knew Jacob wouldn't have the ice cold voice and creepy stare that he had. When Cavril finally got to the front of the group, he picked up 12 magazines and didn't turn the power on until he needed too. With the magazines loaded, the gun was a bit heavier.

 

At the firing range, the Russian put the gun in a fire-from-the-hip position, only to aim down the sights a few seconds later. It was a nice Iron Sight, and it helped a lot. Cavril powered the gun on, and put his finger on the trigger. Like instructed, he fired in controlled bursts, which surprisingly was more accurate then just spraying. After Cavril's mag was done, he loaded another one and crouched down. He was just as accurate, but he didn't have to aim up because of his height. Some day that would be the death of him. Finally, the Russian went into a prone position. Cavril decided that 94% of the bullets it the target. He stood back up again and loaded another mag. He had 9 more to use.

[D-38 Boss]

D.J. slapped a fresh magazine into the mag well, and worked the charging handle. He pressed the stock into his shoulder, and gently squeezed the trigger. Unfortunately, he flinched in anticipation of the recoil, which was much less than he expected, and missed the target completely.

 

"Damn... Alright... just relax Deej... you can do this..."

 

He took aim again. Once again, he flinched before the shot.

 

"Jesus..." He muttered. "Quit bein' such a B---- D.J."

[dryskim]

Grec, who had his dozen magzines laid out carefully in-front of his firing position took a moment to give his new baby one final once over.

 

It took him a bit to figure out why in hell a rifle would need a power button, painfully long when he finally hit the button and figured out what the fuss was all about - it turned the LED screen on and off. If he wasn't holding a nine pound death machine in his unworthy hands, he'd have punched himself in the genitals.

 

Well, not really, but his stupidity deserved as much.

 

Anyway, now standing with a fully-loaded magazine of 7.62x51mm, Grec realized just how damn heavy a full magazine was. It was like holding a brick. With the bolt still locked back so he could visually confirm the chamber was empty, he slotted in his first magazine. The mag slid into the slot like a dream, and he gave it a slight slap to make sure it was fully seated before giving the charging handle a firm slap with the heel of his hand. Now locked and cocked, the recruit adjusted his stance, making sure to lean a bit into the rifle. Now with a fully-loaded magazine in the rear, the MA5 felt awkward and back heavy but he figured he'd eventually get used to the heft.

 

His trigger finger clicked the safety to the 'off' position, and his finger eased to the trigger.

 

The MA5 lacked any fire selection, being merely 'SAFE' and 'FIRE', so the recruit was careful to merely squeeze the trigger rather than give it a sharp tug. This was the first time he'd ever held an automatic weapon, let alone fired one, he didn't exactly want his first range experience to be him pumping a fully thirty-two round magazine into the dust. The trigger finally broke, the rifle kicked, and a hole appeared in the paper downrange. Grec's aim was a bit off, his first shot hitting a little low, dissatisfied, he adjusted his aim accordingly and fired again.

[D-38 Boss]

15 minutes since they started, D.J. finally forced himself to not flinch at every shot, and was hitting the target every time. Not accurately, but a hit was a hit.

 

He shoved in his 11th magazine, and switched to a prone position. He found it much easier. After a full mag, he had worked his way from just hitting the target, to a 4 inch grouping on center mass.

 

"Well, slap me hard and call me Oswald... I think I'm getting the hang of this shooting thing."

 

He slid another mag in, and kept at it.

 

"'course, I had to remember which side of the gun I was on first..."

[Helljumper425]

A crew chief approached Staff Sergeant Kawolski from the newly arriving Pelican that had so graciouly found its way into the space that was their base's courtyard, offloading a handful of fresh faces. Gabe glanced once at Geza before nodding him at the firing line as he started for the Chief.

 

"Got a fresh batch for you, Staff Sergeant," the man said from behind his visored helmet, handing off a datapad.

 

"The last, I hope. I can't afford to slow this group's training over latecomers."

 

"Your problem, not ours."

 

"Yeah, just get that thing out of my courtyard," he waved to the dropship. "And no more flyovers of this zone or I'll shoot you down myself, yeah?"

 

"Good copy," the man grunted before about-facing, vanishing into the D-77's cargo bay.

 

"D*ck," Gabe muttered beneath his breath before addressing the new faces. "You got it easy today. Instead of weapons training, you get to run six miles around this base. Check with me when you get back and don't even try to cut corners. My corpsmen will be watching."

[Is not JL]

OOC: Oh wait you don't need confirmation to play....

 

Hold on.

[Tranquility]

[so is it too late to try to join?]

[Tranquility]

Name: Alison Brooks

Age: 19

Physical Appearance: she's 6' tall, has blonde hair, and a scar from a child hood accident

Rank: Recruit

Uniform: Olive Drab Battle Dress Uniform

Birthplace: Reach

Personality: she has anger because of her fathers resentment of her. She is very sarcastic to many people

Background: she grew up on a farm. She was taught how to handle firearms from a young age, mostly for self defense against hostile animals. She got into fights at school sometimes, and she liked it. Her father always resented her and her love of violence. She enlisted mainly to prove her father wrong about her violence being useless in the world.

Skills: she has good aim, and isn't bad at hand to hand.

[Mr. Wolfy]

Name: Kyro Sorottou

Age: 20

Physical Appearance: Long red hair (longer than regulation) down in front of his right eye, 6' 2", scars on various points of his chest from past fights, a large scar down the right side of his face under his eye and over his mouth, one eye is a light, almost glowing blue the other is grey
Rank: Recruit
Uniform: Olive Drab Battle Dress Uniform, (non-standard issue polarizing shades and a UNSC cap)
Birthplace: Aszod

Personality: Multipersonality indicated: one is quiet, serious, cold, and calculating the other is joking, unserious, and can be somewhat annoying

Background: Previously a small time criminal, ran with a gang, he was given the option of serving in the military or several years hard labor. He chose the first. He tends to create great animosity from superior officers from his disinterested aproach to things and his shady background.

Skills: Moderate hand to hand combat skills, Moderate long range sniping skills, High capabilities at stealth and sabatoge

[D-38 Boss]

[OH! OHHHH! Is that how it's gonna be wolfy??? that's fine then! ]

 

As the time on the rifle range wound down, DJ's shooting improved marginally. From any position, he was able to put rounds accurately on target, with a 2 to 3 inch grouping. However, if he switched to full-auto, he'd still miss completely.

 

"Guess I'm not a shock an' awe kinda guy..." He said to no one in particular.

[Mr. Wolfy]

Stepping off the pelican, Kyro took one look back at the female recruit who had been sitting in the pelican as well. No one in the pelican had said a word on the way in and he felt oddly annoyed at that fact. It left him with questions about a lot of the individuals who had been in the pelican with him. Tilting his hat up away from his eyes and lowering his shades, he examined the surrounding area.

 

Noticing there wasn't anyone there to give him any immediate direction, he began to walk away from the LZ, and took the liberty of wandering somewhat aimlessly. He heard some shooting and followed the sound to what appeared to be a gun range, where he noticed a member of his old gang firing alone at a target.

 

Walking quietly across the room, he stood directly behind him and listened as his old friend began to talk to himself...

 

Shaking his head slowly he spoke up, "They went and finally drove you nuts I see..."

[D-38 Boss]

D.J. Lowered the AR and turned to see who had talked to him.

 

"Kyro!? I thought they were sending your sorry a-- up the river? What are you doin' here?"

[Mr. Wolfy]

Staring first up the range, then over at a nearby weapons rack he slowly said, "Well, they gave me an option. Blow some freeks away, or spend a few years cramped up in a cell for half the time and pounding away with tools the other half...the answer seemed obvious...especially now that I'm lookin at this baby..." Walking over to the weapons rack he had fixated on, Kyro hefted a 50 caliber rifle off it and chuckled, "I think I'm in love..."

[D-38 Boss]

[We're only using AR's. No other weapons as of yet. Helljumper is running this one tight.]

 

"Well, it's good to see you." D.J. said, turning to keep practicing. "Don't get too comfortable though. I've already done like.... 1000 push ups today. The Sarge really doesn't like my sense of humor."

[Mr. Wolfy]

Kyro took note in D.J.'s facial expression upon touching the rifle and slowly lowered it back onto its rack with a dejected appearance and whispered, "Daddy'll come back for you later baby." Turning back to D.J. he sat down on a crate, "So how bout you? You just kinda disapeared there. Had a few people worried."

[D-38 Boss]

"I thought I found the guy who did my brother in... I.. shot him... a little... Had to duck out before the police picked me up, so I enlisted."

Edited May 15, 2013 by D-38 Boss