Our Dusty Old Guns - Back to Basics [War's a brewin']

[Swat 3]

I'm not holding a grudge and I never said that.

Why are you so loving low-tech when you came from the North and if you were exiled you'd be undoubtedly stripped of all your belongings. And you wouldn't get away with military issue stuff either. Exiled would also mean the populace would have forced you out meaning you wouldn't had snuck off, broke into some random ass military base took a loving bow they sure as hell wouldn't make and got off with their attire.

?
The Bow was a gift from his father.
The camouflage was only a outfit that he found in a store. When I meant military camouflage I meant the stuff that was mimicked.

[Ad Bot]

[Jokey365]

?
The Bow was a gift from his father.
The camouflage was only a outfit that he found in a store. When I meant military camouflage I meant the stuff that was mimicked.

Just saying, but maybe that would have been good to include in a backstory of some kind. Or perhaps just a footnote?

[xxxxkill]

A longbow isn't a military use weapon, there's no way he would've needed to go to a military base to get a bow. We aren't talking about an anti-materiel rifle here, a bow would not be the most difficult weapon to get, especially considering how outdated it is. The only problem I see is it being a "Northern" longbow, implying that it is, indeed, military tech. However that also has problems in that nobody in the military uses a bow simply because they aren't effective, and would, at the time of the RP, have been succeeded by laser rifles, as the latter would be silent, recoilless, easier to train with than a conventional fire-arm, and possibly lighter. Thus, I can conclude that he must've gotten his bow from a Southern sympathizer located in the North, with access to civilian recreational - and lethal - bows.

The Bow was a gift from his father.

Or that.

[grunterdb1951]

?
The Bow was a gift from his father.
The camouflage was only a outfit that he found in a store. When I meant military camouflage I meant the stuff that was mimicked.

If he were exiled he'd be stripped of weapons so he couldn't fight back and camouflage is still camouflage for all we know how the North operates he could've been given south clothing and shipped off in a loving crate. A bow is low-tech weaponry and you would be stripped of belongings when exiled especially if being sent to enemy territory.

A longbow isn't a military use weapon, there's no way he would've needed to go to a military base to get a bow. We aren't talking about an anti-materiel rifle here, a bow would not be the most difficult weapon to get, especially considering how outdated it is. The only problem I see is it being a "Northern" longbow, implying that it is, indeed, military tech. However that also has problems in that nobody in the military uses a bow simply because they aren't effective, and would, at the time of the RP, have been succeeded by laser rifles, as the latter would be silent, recoilless, easier to train with than a conventional fire-arm, and possibly lighter. Thus, I can conclude that he must've gotten his bow from a Southern sympathizer located in the North, with access to civilian recreational - and lethal - bows.

This is true, but if he were exiled he'd had been sent off by the government which he'd most likely be stripped of whatever weapons he has at the time.

[Jokey365]

What's stopping him from getting the bow /after/ being exiled?

[grunterdb1951]

What's stopping him from getting the bow /after/ being exiled?

If the bow was a gift from his father it'd have to be smuggled out which I would've like explanation for, but otherwise gifts, especially a loving bow wouldn't be sent to someone exiled in enemy territory.

But whatever, do whatever, I still wish the post was a bit better imo.

[xxxxkill]

This is true, but if he were exiled he'd had been sent off by the government which he'd most likely be stripped of whatever weapons he has at the time.

While this is likely true - not saying that it is, I do not run the North nor do I make the laws in it - there is still the possibility of a Southern militant giving him the bow, which would likely have been stolen. And this is not an unlikely occurrence, the South likely employs guerrilla tactics and would likely be able to steal weaponry, or obtain it from Southern sympathizer in the North.
All in all you're getting into a hissy fit over nothing. A bow is a horribly ineffective weapon against modern body armor much less advanced power suits and carbon nanoweaves [citation needed], has a lower range than most guns, isn't completely silent, and would require a precise shot to kill somebody instantly, or through bloodloss or organ ruptures. Which is kind of what body armor is really good for preventing. The only advantage I can see a bow has over guns is being able to retrieve ammunition, which is made moot by the fact that the North has loving lasers.

[Jokey365]

So that's settled.
Let's get back to what we were doing.

[blazerblock2]

The North... yes, the North.  A land of opportunity, some say.  A land of advancement, a land of prosperity.  The North was never my most favorite place... I used to be a part of the Southern military.  I was sent in on an undercover operation, forced to wear strange clothes and talk to strange people.  A few more were sent in with me... which in the end proved to be my downfall.  With multiple people, you have the likelihood of them sharing info on the op with each other... which puts them at an even higher risk for discovery.  Unfortunately, I was one.  They had me captured, sent to this awful place, a prison... if you'd like to call it that... it was more of a torture facility if you ask me.  Countless experiments were held there for different measures of, "re-education."  I was the subject of an experiment involving physical and mental augmentation, was supposed to make me "forget."  The experiments coming and coming, and after each, I was given a quiz, about my previous life, my beliefs... can't believe I was stupid enough to even answer honestly.  With each failed quiz, came more experiments, and with more experiments... oh, the pain, the pain was unbearable.  Each time it got worse, but at the same time... better.  The pain... it faded away.  As if I'd gotten used to it all.  It just didn't phase me any longer.  Oh, but with such a reward came the repercussions.  The air was no longer safe for me to breath, it was no longer pure.  I was forced to breath 95% oxygen which was filtered through a mask that I wore at all times.  If I were to take the mask off, it was only for seconds at a time, which allowed me to take the immunization suppression pills I had to take constantly for the augmentations, otherwise my body parts would wither away and, well, I'd die.  As well, I no longer had any, "gender."  Most refer to me as masculine gender, however, due to my former self being so...  But anyways, now to the present.  Nowadays I'm a no one, really.  I was released after I finally realized I could get out by answering falsely on the quizzes.  I was able then to walk the streets freely... but I seemed so out of place.  The worst part... murderers found it easy to get away with their crimes by wearing a mask molded similarly to mine.  I was the only one who ever wore such a face, and was constantly on the run from the local police force.  It was painful, to say the least.  Eventually, however, someone took notice.  Took notice of the crimes I had supposedly commit, and took me in for what he believed was a killer.  He took my supposed skill, he improved upon it... made me virtually unstoppable to your common man.  I was supplied with weapons, armor, and a job.  A job as a gun for hire.  I was sent on missions to do the more wealthy populace's dirty work.  Murders, escorts, you name it, I did it, and I've got to say... it was fun.  Never in my life had I felt so wanted, so needed.  I felt like I now had a purpose... which brings me to present day.  I was hired by General Way of the Northern Army to take down heavier targets.  Convoys, ships and the like, that had belonged to the South.  I had been on contract for a while.... but so far, I had no successful hits.  It's difficult getting into the South when you're only recognized as a technological abomination...

enjoy my intro

[blockguy123]

WHOA WE STARTED?
alright
Well, I look like and act like a southerner. I was born before the war, in the south. I was forced to move north with my parents because of my Dad's job. Turned out to be my favorite place. I went camping for a week every summer, my Dad had taught me everything about surviving in the woods, told me how to shoot a gun. "Now son, rooster the slide, aim down the sights, and...squeeze.." This very sentence made me very accurate. I was an expert marksman in the military. Marine-Sniper. Some people would say that I could shoot an enemy from as far as 3 miles... I knew I could. I had not seen anyone else with marksman skills such as mine. Now that we are fighting the south, with their low-tech rifles, I could make them target practice. Nothing to it. My dad was killed a few months ago, by a southerner. I had then promised to kill every single southerner that I ever saw. In public. Anywhere. They would be dead without even knowing what hit them.  I can't tell you much much information about me being a pilot in the military. All I can say is, I signed up for the Air-Force after I became a Marine-Marksman.

[Swat 3]

I am thrown out into the desert. The man, my father, was forced to drive the van. He had sound bugs on his person and a GPS tracker.
He was a Sargent in the Military, and I was exiled for sympathizing for the Southerners. As he threw me out of the car, he shoved a bag and a note in my face.

Matt, you are my son. This bow is.. special. The arrows can pierce the lightest of armor, and I know you know that anyway. You are skilled but not a master, and you do know the cracks in the armor. I give you blueprints of our armor, and you will find blueprints inside the bag for arrows. Mom would be proud.

My dad makes the international sign of well being, and hops into the van.
"I guess I find new friends." I hear my dad turn on the techno chip inside the van, and blasts it.
What a father.

I walk the the nearest town.

[Jokey365]

I rush beneath the surface, searching for something to do. I found several men struggling to get coals into a furnace, which was obviously why we haven't started moving yet. "Are you guys serious? You can't shovel coal into a furnace?" I ask. "Are you blind?!" one of the men shouts at me as he throws a shovelful of coals into the furnace. "We're under attack and you're taking too much time! Don't carry them all the way to the furnace! Throw the suckers from the pile!" I order. None of them listen. "You think we're going to listen to a frail old fisherman?" one of them asks. I stomp my foot onto a shovel and grab the handle as it shoots up. I shove the shovel into the large pile of coals and throw the bunch at the furnace. Almost all of the coals sail into the furnace, the rest hit wall and fall to the ground. "We take a few moments between several loads to shovel in the coals that missed the furnace." I say as I throw another load at the furnace. By the time the get one load of coals into the furnace, I manage to get three. They slowly start to use my tactic. "When the coal pile around the furnace gets to big, shovel it in." I order, pointing at the growing pile of coal. After a few minutes, the ship gets a noticeable change of pace. "Good job guys." I say with my thumbs up as I exit to go find somebody else to help.

[Swat 3]

The southerners run in absolute terror at my Northern camouflage. I sigh, "This is going to be a long night."

[blazerblock2]

          Chalk.  A name that most of the higher ranks of the southern military that, upon hearing it, would tremble.  And there was good reason.

          Although the transport flew low, the cloud layer over the ocean was as well.  It allowed the sound to be dampened and the transport to not be seen as well as it would have had it not been there.  "Approaching DZ." The voice broke the silence suddenly over comms.  The soldier sitting beside him tapped on his shoulder gently.  "Wake up."  The man looked up, then over to the soldier.  The soldier nodded, and the man returned the nod.  "We're approaching the DZ, get ready." the soldier said afterward.  "Systems check." the pilot said over comms, and the man stood up.  He tapped something on the side of his head - helmet, and lights came to life on his face.  His mask, recognizable only as Chalk.  "HUD's good." Chalk said, stretching out his arms and checking the gauntlets wrapped around his hands.  He stretched his fingers, swallowing the lump in his throat.  The gloves glow red after a moment.  "Inertia dampeners work, systems check." he said afterward.  "Weapons check." the pilot said shortly after.  Chalk brought his rifle around from his back on its sling, pulling the bolt back and chambering a round.  He let the rifle dangle, and then pulled his pistol from his holster, pulling the slide back and chambering a round, he then places the pistol snugly in his holster.  "Check." he says.  "Ready for drop.  Opening back." the pilot said, and Chalk grabbed for a handle that hung from the ceiling.  "Good luck." the soldier said, and Chalk nodded.  The back of the transport slowly opened, and the sounds of the hydraulics whining and the wind blowing hard filled the back chamber.  "In position in quarter mike." the pilot said, and Chalk took a deep breath.  Suddenly, the light turned green in the chamber, and the pilot said over comms, "Drop."  Chalk let go of the handle, and ran toward the back, leaping out into the damp air of the ocean.  As he cleared the cloud layer cleared, his target came into sight, a large boat chopping effortlessly through the waves of the ocean.  Chalk straightened himself slightly and spread his limbs apart.  He was approximately 30 feet from the boat, when he straightened himself out slightly, his gloves and boots beginning to glow red.  The first to hit solid were his feet, surprisingly, little to no sound was made, second, were his hands.  He was hunched over now, on top of what appeared to be a large metal shipping crate.  Quickly, he lay down flat on his belly, and looked around.  There was a light mist falling.  The metal below him begin to glow red hot.  Chalk looked down quickly and repositioned his hands and feet, his boots and gloves no longer glowing.  He moved to the side a few inches and then rolled onto his back, drawing his pistol and placing both hands on the grip, holding it close to his chest.  "I'm in." he uttered quietly.  "Copy that, don't forget the mission.  Nab the captain, wait for exfil."  Chalk nodded, "How could I forget?"

I need to stop making such long goddamn posts.

[Jokey365]

Now that the ship was starting to move along, explosives were crashing into the ship less frequently. The explosives were crashing once every minute, but still. The airship was probably not trying to hit anything important, just trying to kill people to they can raid it later. I wasn't going to wait around for the raid to actually occur. I rushed down to where the rescue ships were docked and looked for one that was unoccupied. Thankfully, nobody was down here. I ran onto the closest one and checked the controls. Average controls, and average engine. Perfect for a one man crew. Sadly, a lever pull off of the boat was required to get it into the water. Sadly wasn't the word to describe it. A simple run off of the boat, pull the lever and jump back on was all that it took. Another great thing about this boat, aside from saving my skin, was that the engine had less weight to push along through the water, so I'd move faster than the cruiser. After splashing into the water, I kicked the boat into high gear and set some coordinates for land. That required me to ride up next to the ship, which would either result in me getting hit with an explosive, somebody spotting me, or nothing at all.