[Sun] 09 Oct 2016 (Geom's dead again?)

How we died (in the future)
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Pooter
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[Sun] 09 Oct 2016 (Geom's dead again?)

Post by Pooter »

25 friendly comrades joined us on this jaunt across the battlefield

Runlist:
Offshoring
Baggage Collection
See No Evil
Close Encounters
Cloudline

We started off with Offshoring where a minor miscalculation gave Blufor far too long to secure their downed VTOL. We ended up not breaking their defensive line and were... let's say repelled from the area.

We escaped into Baggage Collection where Zitron managed to land us with about 15 seconds of fuel left and we successfully swept the docks. One marid was so confused that that inexplicably jumped into the water then exploded. We took the trucks and got away barely

We moved onto See No Evil where a blind chase through the jungle lead to 1 survivor being run over, one being crushed by their rescue helicopter, and the other two just kinda disappearing.

From there we moved to Close Encounters where we all died before we got anywhere. Jungles are deadly.

We rounded out the night with Cloudline where an absolute slaughter of the enemy left us feeling good about ourselves. Murder is fun.

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Costno
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Re: [Sun] 09 Oct 2016 (Geom's dead again?)

Post by Costno »

Offshoring
MSAM - 2 Lead: Mission kicked off well for us, diligently watching for the VTOL as we followed platoon towards the rally. We did our job once the VTOL came, and with a missile from MSAM 1 launched in sync with our own the VTOL was knocked out of the sky. Now platoon just had to do its job...

Platoon couldn't, and was halted. MSAM 1 and 2 combined to become de facto bravo 2. We progressed about 200 meters with bravo, and during that forward progress each of the other MSAM soldiers fell. I attempted to contact other survivors, and ran into two B1 members clutching their knees to their face in the small patch of trees which contained the mass grave of the rest of platoon. I knew what I had to do. I ran quickly away to grab one of our trucks. Despite my stronger desires, I came back to pick up these two survivors under a hail of AH-6 rounds. We loaded up and sped off into the distance... Or at least that's what I thought we were going to do, but Netkev ordered me to take us to the VTOL crash. About 5 seconds after turning back towards the enemy defenses established around the VTOL, the AH-6 scored a mobility kill on our truck. I got out and angrily fired at it, but was soon dispatched...

Baggage Collection
A1 AR1: A quaint stroll along the coast set us upon a ridge overlooking the port which controlled the supplies we needed. Overhead were two Orcas, keeping a watchful eye on the approaches. Not a very good watchful eye mind you, as neither felt they should move until about two minutes after all of Alpha 1 had poured a magazine each into the closest one. After using up one entire belt and a half, I watched as the closest orca signaled its demise with the characteristic slow descent into the ground. Now was the time to push into the port.

Aquarius the FTL was killed in the bloody trenches on the south - east side of the port, we got our vengeance but we were without our leader. I took command of the team, and we pressed forward into the port. The lanes between the containers became shooting galleries. Occasionally a foolish opfor grunt would poke into view, only to be vanquished as quick as they had appeared under a hail of MG or AK fire. Our squad heroically cleared the main section of shipping containers, and eventually bravo realized they should join us.

See No Evil
Journalist: Less than a month after being embedded with one of NATO's top tier airborne catering services assault infantry, I was caught in one of the many helicopter crashes that have come to represent the public perception of Folk ARPS pilots this war. Only 4 of the 12 on board made it out alive. Trusting my best journalistic senses, I knew we had to split up if any of us were to avoid capture. We each picked a direction. For myself, it was North. I ran.

After about 5 minutes I began to recognize some of the terrain features I had seen from earlier flights over this green hell. I knew the volcano to my north-west. I knew if I could get North of that I would be near an airfield and near a city: La-Rochelle, the cultural capital of the Horizon Islands. At the crest of the mountain, just east of the volcano, the Syndikat chasers had finally caught up with me. The race was on. It was impossible to get a sense of the terrain now that I was moving downhill though, and before I knew it I was on a cliff. In less than a second I realized my choice was either to risk the drop, or suffer the hands of the Syndikat who were now less than 50 meters behind me. I jumped, must have sprained my ankle, but the adrenaline blocked the pain. I was off again, running. For a brief moment Syndikat seemed confused about where I had gone, and I made it about a kilometer before seeing their lights grazing in a field nearby. I was close to safety though. I was nearly at the coast, and a rescue helicopter had passed overhead!

Moments later, a radio that the surviving helicopter crewman had given me before we split up crackled to life. "Anyone on the ground here?" I scrambled my hands around the radio, trying to find the PTT key, nearly dropping it. "Yes, yes, yes! Costno is here, coming to you alive for CNN." Contact was made! Soon I would be safe. Or so I thought. I reached the coast but Syndikat wasn't far behind. And worse, there was a road along the coast and little cover, Syndikat could out run me. So I stuck on the hill which ran along the road, trying desperately to outrun them. "Costno, we can land soon, we just need to be able to see you to get close." I had little choice now, I had to expose myself on the coastline and pray that the rescue chopper would land before Syndikat could pull up and throw me into their truck. I ran towards the coast, but instead of a sloping hill to run down, I found my self standing on another cliff. Perhaps it was cockiness from the last cliff jump, or maybe it was desperation, but I made a second plunge.

Snap I heard it. I'm sure Syndikat heard it too, over the noise of their car engine. My right leg was broken. I couldn't move. The adrenaline wasn't covering up this pain. Fortunately I had landed in some very tall grass, which meant that Syndikat walked right past me. I thought maybe I would be safe. With what little strength I had left, I squeaked into the radio "help, my leg is broken, I'll need help off the ground." I started to fade in and out of consciousness. Was I bleeding? How long had I been bleeding? How much blood had I lost. Syndikat walked back, they realized they had gone past me. One of their cohort found me, gave me a splint and a crutch, and shouted something at me in his own language. "Please" I pleaded. "I'm a journalist!"

Then suddenly the helicopter screamed overhead, and pivoted just off the coast to face its side towards the Syndikat group now surrounding me on the road. I watched Syndikat raise their weapons towards it. "YOU BLITHERING IDIOTS, IF YOU SHOOT IT ITLL SHOOT BACK AND SHOOT ME" I tried to say, but it was too late. Three of the Syndikat guerrillas opened fire with their aging AKs, only to feel the immediate rebuttal of 6.5mm minigun. BRRRRRRRRTTTTT I watched as the man who had just helped me off the ground met his untimely end with 4 rounds to the chest. Unfortunately, I was also caught in this volley of lead from the helicopter. I collapsed again. I must have passed out, or something, from the blood loss. I awoke again to another Syndikat grunt screaming at me, still no English. They picked me up, and I realized I had been bandaged. They seemed to have dispatched that helicopter, but clearly not without losses. They looked keen to get out of their, and began forcing me towards the truck. I approached from behind, limping heavily and leaning on the shoulder of a Syndikat soldier.

Then Netkev backed into me, killing me instantly.

Close Encounters
Beep

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DirtyHarry
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Re: [Sun] 09 Oct 2016 (Geom's dead again?)

Post by DirtyHarry »

Mission: See No Evil
Role: A2 FTL
TL;DR: Hello darkness my old friend; Zitron McRae Rally


Local time:22:00
I had only just sat down to watch the latest party propaganda transmission when the call came in. UFO down, possibly enemy. Search and destroy rescue teams to mobilize. That's me and my team.

Local time:22:03
The troops rallied up in the back of the truck. Asking round who was sober, Zitron raised his hand. We had our Driver.
It was clear after 30secs Zitron was far from sober but in fact sky-high on acid. This is the only possible explanation for how he was able to drive with a complete disregard for Highway code, our safety least of all his. Time was of the essence, however, so we clenched up and gripped down. note:sirens may be a worth while addition

Local time:22:05
We had reached our destination. Other search teams were already in situ and began searching their perimeters. We had ours and headed out.
It was dark. Real dark. We had only our flashlights and trucks headlights for illumination. In the distance we could make out the burning wreckage of what now could be identified as a helicopter.

Marching in a line formation we began combing the area. Reports were already coming in of sightings of the surviors and it was clear they did not wish to be found. The rules of engagement were to capture and detain Those who attempted to flee would be neutralised as a possible threat to island security,

Local time:22:26
Nothing. We found no one. Intel had been kind enough to provide updates and we had a new scent. A heat signature was picked up in the north east so we loaded up in the truck and attempted to cut them off.
Zitron was already in the driver's seat. Attempts to call him out seemed fall on deaf ears. Upon closer inspection his eyes were glazed over, his knuckles white and...a fixed wide grin on his face.
Against better judgement I ordered the men into the truck. "go" and woosh, we were off.
The map suggested we may be able to cut through the jungle alas I was reliably informed that that was indeed a foot path; not suitable for trucks such as ours. Our driver Zitron, however, disregarded any of these factually based concerns and took us through the jungle at terrifying speeds.
By some miracle we made it through. Dispensing with the dead mountain goats that had been inadvertently attached to the truck we pursued on.

Local time:22:33
Out in the open we heard a helicopter coming in. Rescue chopper.
"KILL THE LIGHTS!" was the order. I suspected that the helicopter would have night vision and so ordered that we take cover under the trees.
It seemed to be working. The helicopter began its decent. Lower. Lower still....
"NOW!" We opened up on the chopper and it was indeed a beautiful spectacle. (discovered after that the survior made it on)
The helicopter took off and did a sweep. "BRRRRPPPPP". Mini-gun cut through me. It was but a scratch and I was soon on my feet.

Local time:22:40
We saw that the chopper took off to the west. It's next pickup.
Attempts to go after it were futile. The chopper disabled our transport and the transport available in the area was not suitable enough to carry us all so...we waited.

Local time:22:46
Shortly after exchanging some pleasantries with the troops and some mild to heavy slapping of Zitron the call came in that all survivors had been rescued eliminated

Some photos for documenting purposes.

Image
Image
Image




Mission: Close Encounters
Role: A2 FTL
TL;DR: Pff, pff, dead. Pff, pff, dead.


Report recieved. With Party processing department.
Professional Try-hard.

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Freyja
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Re: [Sun] 09 Oct 2016 (Geom's dead again?)

Post by Freyja »

You're damned fucking right I ordered us towards the VTOL crash site, DEATH BEFORE DISHONOUR.

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