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03-10-2008 1:13 AMNine XXVI is offline Send an Email to Nine XXVI Search for Posts by Nine XXVI Post Reply with Quote Edit/Delete Post       Go to the top of this page

I got the idea for this is a couple of days ago. Basically its the members of TDottle in a global war inspired by World War II, the Vietnam War and the War in Iraq. There's two theatres that we are involved in; the European theatre and the Middle Eastern theatre with the Pacific theatre being the last and third frontier.

Also, this is based off numerous of war films such Saving Private Ryan, Platoon, Apocalypse Now, All Quiet on the Western Front and what have you. And my bad, but this isn't really rooted in realism all that much, so if you see me mentioning a term incorrectly or what else have you, then my bad. I just wanted to write and what you. Also please feel free to mock/tell me how much this sucks/comment on this as you like.

THE PLAYERS:
(in alphabetical order)

Sharpshooter005...................................Colonel C.M. Alexander
Dungeon Master....................................Corporal Warren Angle
Necro..................................................Corporal Fredric Benoit
Nine XXVI.............................................Captain Caron Christensen
Patient Demon......................................Private James Clift
Big Money............................................Corporal Ben Coen
Maverick...............................................Corporal Terry Dunaway
Freeze.................................................Private Robert Duncan
Moose..................................................Private Anthony Gable
Dustin..................................................Corporal Dustin Shandon Hoffman
Hollow..................................................Sergeant Jodie Holbury
Edger...................................................Corporal David Irons
Mal......................................................Major Alex Malchett
Herbie..................................................Corporal Owen Marion
Maji......................................................Private Calbert Santana
D-Boy...................................................Private Mario Sherman
Iron Savior............................................Corporal Ian Soderbergh
Sir Zero Omega.....................................Colonel Brock Whitaker
X Prime................................................Army Medic Casey Williamson

So yeah, that's the crew in this story. Most of the names are puns and references based off some of you guys, others are just names I had to finally give so yeah. Also, if you're not on the Players List you still might make the story... or you aren't significant enough to have made it. Sorry, but that's how the game is. :o
Peace.

__________________
"It's about the realism, I mean there has to be some underlying tenant of logic
going on or else you just become the writing team from Passions," - Sharpie.

03-10-2008 1:18 AMNine XXVI is offline Send an Email to Nine XXVI Search for Posts by Nine XXVI Post Reply with Quote Edit/Delete Post       Go to the top of this page

Chapter 1: European Theatre
That's what nowhere looked like to him.

Sitting down just on the precipice of the city behind and obvilion in front of him, he looked out at the tranquil fields on him. He felt tense especially in his shoulders but looking at the grassy hills relaxed him. The wind was shaying the grass along almost trying to comfort the best it can, as it was comforting him. Smoke danced along the terrain as well as he wiped the dirt from his eyes and all the explosions behind him finally stop.

They finally got the last of them.

He stretched out his legs and looked around his person for his most personal of his personal affects. His flask. He haven't had a drink since Milan and he's either been too busy or too drunk to have some at the time. But now with everything as quiet as it was with an almost surreal sense of being used to noise, it seemed as good as a time as any. He put the flask down to his right hand, removed his rifle from his shoulder and put it on the opposite side and turned around to him. He looked as deep within the city as it would let him and can see the street where he and his men entered this catalysm from. He started at it for a long time. Too long to be a minute. He stood up, brushed the fresh dirt off from his pants that he was sitting on and continued to look down the same path. He adjusted his helmet, rubbed his prickly chin and stared down. He finally saw movement when a family of four wandered from cover of a building in ruin and more people appeared. Hopefully they will get out but at least its safe for them to come out nonetheless. He had his men look for survivors and to make sure that they survive themselves. Good to see they were doing both.

He continued to stand and stay in that position for a while longer and sat back down to have that drink of his. He still hadn't gotten used to the Italian flavor of it but it was better than the taste of blood he had in his mouth. He spat, opened up his flask and took a hard long drink. The rye stung a bit but it was good to have something warm go down nicely. The flask held a teardrop amount left and he closed it back up and put it back into his jacket pocket. He took off his helmet, placed it down on top of his rifle and scratched around his head. He started to hear a faint cry of a young girl. He was yelling for her mother and he looked over his shoulder to see where it was coming from. He knew he wouldn't be able to tell but he looked anyway. The crying continued when a building on the other side of the city collapsed and that was the only thing you could hear for miles. Smoke and debris crawled out in a slow, methodical manner as the girl continued as if nothing happened. The city was falling apart. He knew he had to get his men out and continue the mission, before they fell apart as well.

He checked his M4A1 carbine rifle to see if it wasn't damaged in his fall during the fight. He aimed it and everything seemed to be in working order. He took out the compact M15 from his back holster and took a look at that as well and everything looked good accordingly. He had enough bullets for the handheld gun but needed to see Dunaway to reload his rifle. He stood there with both firearms in his hand and they still had blood covered on them. Not his blood. It didn't matter and he put his gun back in his back holster and wrapped his rifle over his left shoulder which was still sore. He yawned and knew it was time to get his men and leave. The ground under him started to get as cold as the corpse he dug underneath it now.

__________________
"It's about the realism, I mean there has to be some underlying tenant of logic
going on or else you just become the writing team from Passions," - Sharpie.

03-10-2008 1:19 AMNine XXVI is offline Send an Email to Nine XXVI Search for Posts by Nine XXVI Post Reply with Quote Edit/Delete Post       Go to the top of this page

Chapter 2: European Theatre
(Six hours ago, 6:37 a.m. in Munich, Germany)

"God help us. And come yourself. Don't send Jesus. This is no place for children."

Gunshots were fired just outside the corridor where the six soldiers were huddling for cover. They weren't going to get out this way, a dead end, and the German forces continued to march down towards them. Christensen looked at Marion who was fumbling with the last miniture bomb at their disposal. He looked at him and he was wrapped up in what he was doing to notice with rest of his comrades were getting ready to open fire. Christensen held out his arm to stop them as they looked at him with a weary look. Time has run out and the Germans coming in towards them won't allow them run out the same way. Marion breathed out and handed the bomb over to Christensen as he finished it. He took it and looked at his men as he heard the footsteps continue to approach.

"Okay, how long do we have before this thing goes?"

"A minute, if we're lucky."

"And we never are."

"Yeah. So 45 seconds at best."

"This is what's up. Marion and Benoit, come with me and give me cover. We need to knock out the wall of this building behind us to keep them from pinning us any longer."

"Coen, Dunaway and Soderbergh stay here for backup. When that wall blows, give us cover from the men at our front while we watch the flank. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Christensen grapped his rifle, dropped down his arm and went out first into the fire. It was a complete second when he confronted the enemy, 20 men in all, compared to their six when he shot down the man in front right between the eyes. The shot echoed and Marion and Benoit came out from the corridor and started firing away as well. Down in a straight line the men went down but fired back. Marion and Benoit took cover on the ground as Christensen motioned towards the back of the building and continued firing. He dropped his rifle which was empty and stuck the small bomb on the wall and got knicked in the shoulder from the crossfire up front. Christensen dropped to the ground as his two men up front continued firing. The three men still waiting stood anxiously almost with a comprising feeling of helplessness as their men faced the fire from the enemy still firing at them.

Christensen was on the ground with his arms over his head waiting for this damn thing to explode when he looked at Marion and Benoit up front and have the rest of his men come out when-

-the wall ignited with a blast, a miniature blast but it was enough of a blast to knock down the wall and expose the morning sunlight into the darkness of gunfire and brimstone. Wind rushed in and debris fell on Christensen as the three other men immeditately came forward and shot down with fury at the unexpecting men and took them by lethal surprise. Christensen yelled for Marion and Benoit to follow him outside and they got up limping and went out first followed by Christensen. The three almost blinded by the sunlight ran out and guided themselves by the walls of the building they just came out of when they saw the tank descend from the horizon towards them.

"Get down!"

The tank fired, nailed the building and rained down with an explosion in that slow explicit motion. The three men avoided the blast and debris rained down on them as the rest of the team came out. Christensen showed them the tank in front of them and motioned them to keep yourself to the side of the building. They needed to get to the other side in a timely fashion as the gunfire continued to come at them from back inside.

"How many of them are left in there?"

"I'd say about eight or so."

"We can't stay out here and be pinned down by that tank and by those trigger happy krauts! Captain!"

"Watch your langauge, Soderbergh... and I know."

The tank was in position to fire and Christensen yelled at everyone to get down as the tank unleashed upon them again. The shell landed 20 yards in front of them but it was still enough to impact the six soldiers as grey smoke filled the area everywhere.

"This is shit. They can keep us pinned here until the guys from inside pick off us."

"That seems to be the idea."

"Okay, one by one we'll circle around the building to get back to our equipment. I need three of you to get that tank away from here and take it out. The rest need to take out the men trailing us. Coen get ready to go first, Soderbergh and I will go last."

"Yes, sir."

"Soderbergh, get that flame thrower ready when you can. We can use it out here."

"Coen, go!"

Coen darted off the ground, around the debris and circled around the building as more gunshots came out from the building. Soderbergh got near the hole and waited for the gunfire to stop. He then turned around towards the hole and fired the flame thrower inside.The fire shot out for a straight ten seconds when Soderbergh stopped and hid back against the wall. Vicious screams were heard and Christensen had Benoit be the next man to leave and circle the building. The others got to the hole in the wall and fired away with their rifles bringing down personifications of fiery souls inside. One man alive in flames found his way out of the building towards the light and the men yelling towards them.

"Beenden Sie es! Beenden Sie es!"

"What the hell is he saying?"

"Dunaway, go!"

Dunaway stood there for a minute looking at the man who kept screaming the same thing at all of them when Christensen yelled at him to leave. He shook out of it and left. Christensen pulled out the M15 from his back holster and fired five shots into the man on fire and he went down suddenly quiet with the flames still licking at his body. Christensen looked down at him with his gun at hand when Marion yelled to get down that the tank was going to fire again. The tank fired with a third time but this time the tank seemed to aim directly at the men with an anger about it and it went into gear and started to drive towards them.

Marion and Soderbergh got ready and went towards the hole as Christensen countered his handgun at the tank. Marion took to his rifle and fired away inside the hole at the enemy inside as he stepped back and Soderbergh fired the flame thrower once again. There were no screams this time. A small bang was heard and a storm of smoke came through the hole as Christensen continued to fire against at the tank.

"Captain?"

Christensen didn't turn to Coen and reloaded his gun.

"Captain!"

"Coen, what are you still doing here? Get to the other side of the building!"

Coen left right away as the tank stopped in its tracks and moved its caliber gun towards Coen who was running around the building. Christensen and Marion looked on as the tank was nailed at its side by a projectile shell. Sparks ignited and another blast was hit and the tank went up an explosion and in smoke. They looked over to them and saw Benoit and Dunaway in the jeep and with a missile launcher at hand. Christensen ran over to them as another German soldider from the building came out and not startled, Marion shot him twice in the head.

"You good, Captain?"

"That's not going to be the last tank, more are probably on the way. Get to the rest of the platoon and-"

"The platoon is busy with the squadron that Veidt is leading against them in downtown right now."

"Veidt's here?"

"Yes, sir."

Christensen looked on at the scene for a minute. A destroyed German tank with more coming. Veidt's armed forces a few blocks away from their current destination. And then the six of them.

"Okay."

"Sir?"

He motioned Coen to come over to him who was still at the side of the building. "The three of you go towards our platoon, inform Major Beatty of the situation and do what you can there. We'll meet up with you in a minute."

Christensen took a spare rifle from the back of the jeep and Coen, Benoit and Dunaway rode off ahead as he ran towards the tank with Marion and Soderbergh following suit. Running with their rifles in hand, the three men shots the sides of the destroyed vessel and waited. Christensen was on one side and the other two were on the other and the three of them waited as more tanks could be heard in the distance. Marion jumped up on top of the tank, cocked his rifle and stared down the opening hatch. Christensen and Soderbergh had their rifles ready and continued to wait as the fire continued to dance but was dwindling and the tracks buckled and fell under the body of the tank's weight.

Finally the hatch opened and a German solider covered in blood and coughing emerged. Marion shot him through the neck instantly. He kicked him down the hatch and opened fire as men screamed and Marion's face was painted with small blotches of blood. Soderbergh climbed up quickly and used the flame thrower once again and waited for any kind of movement. Christensen waited on the ground and saw two more tanks approach the scene and told the two that it was time to leave. Marion and Soderbergh jumped down and the three ran back towards the building they came out of when an explosion hit their heels. Christensen hit the ground hard on his right side and blacked out for a second. He came to. He couldn't hear anything. He was still on his side when he saw the tank emerge like a spectre from the dream of smoke towards him and his men were firing at it with their rifles. Christensen sat up and saw the second tank coming up slowly from behind and it had a slow overwhelming effect on him.

"We should have died a long time ago."

__________________
"It's about the realism, I mean there has to be some underlying tenant of logic
going on or else you just become the writing team from Passions," - Sharpie.

03-10-2008 1:51 AMOld Gabén is offline Send an Email to Old Gabén Search for Posts by Old Gabén Post Reply with Quote Edit/Delete Post       Go to the top of this page

OH LAWD

ARE YOU LOOKING FOR COMMENTS OR CRITICISM OR ANYTHING, OR IS THIS JUST FOR SHITS AND GIGLES

ALSO

OH LAWD

__________________


03-10-2008 12:43 PMNine XXVI is offline Send an Email to Nine XXVI Search for Posts by Nine XXVI Post Reply with Quote Edit/Delete Post       Go to the top of this page

Quote:
Originally posted by Big Money
OH LAWD

ARE YOU LOOKING FOR COMMENTS OR CRITICISM OR ANYTHING, OR IS THIS JUST FOR SHITS AND GIGLES

ALSO

OH LAWD

A little bit of everything.
Peace.

__________________
"It's about the realism, I mean there has to be some underlying tenant of logic
going on or else you just become the writing team from Passions," - Sharpie.

03-10-2008 3:55 PMEdger is offline Send an Email to Edger Search for Posts by Edger Post Reply with Quote Edit/Delete Post       Go to the top of this page

(EDGER, TWO Es, NO A)

__________________
Quote by Jack Crawford:
What the fuck? Ed looks less like a nerd than I do. What bullshit is that?

09-12-2008 9:55 PMStruggler is offline Send an Email to Struggler Search for Posts by Struggler Post Reply with Quote Edit/Delete Post       Go to the top of this page



__________________
GUL DUKAT DID NOTHING WRONG.

Aliz: its ok one day the fbi will surround his house and he'll be killed in a shootout and they'll raid his compound and it'll be filled with like a bunch of missing girls and like his dying words will be "i was trolling...".

09-14-2008 4:11 AMNine XXVI is offline Send an Email to Nine XXVI Search for Posts by Nine XXVI Post Reply with Quote Edit/Delete Post       Go to the top of this page

Quote by Chris Cornell:

Somethin' so fuckin' Laughing My Ass Off

EDIT: Over an hour later, I still find this to be fucking cocks.
Peace.

__________________
"It's about the realism, I mean there has to be some underlying tenant of logic
going on or else you just become the writing team from Passions," - Sharpie.

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