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Post by Ketara on Oct 3, 2009 17:23:52 GMT -5
For amusement. Anybody can play!
For our first tier of tryouts I'm not going to teach proper formatting or VP scores, I want to see if people can write things into an acceptable length and have some quality. I'll be posting an example.
The rubrick I use for battle lengths is as follows. 1/2 page + 1/2 page per PC combatant. Therefor, the below examples should be about 1 to 1.5 pages. There will be 5 choices, if you want to try out pick one and write away.
Option one: 2x GMPGT entering North Africa from Gibraltar, ambushed by the Pink Panthers.
GMPGT1 23VP GMPGT2 10VP - 4x 40VP Zaku II D
Option 2: Spar between two Zaku II F pilots at Solomon.
Zaku II F1 24VP Zaku II F2 27VP
Option 3: Tin Cod piloting Grizzvet with support attacking a wing of Dopps over the Mediterannean.
Tin Cod PC: 32 VP 5x Tin Cod: 10 VP - 6x Dopp: 10 VP
Option 4: 1x PC Infantry platoon and Type 74 scouting Lhasa.
Option 5: Spar between two Salamis captains at Luna II
Salamis 1: 18VP Salamis 2: 15VP
Gogo!
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Post by Ketara on Oct 3, 2009 17:24:49 GMT -5
And le example:
Duel aboard Lunatics Dream
A noble profile shattered the roiling complexity of the ever-burning stars. With his melancholy air and drooping white moustache, Jonas Keller would not have been out of place as a lawman in the wild pre-Federation days, before space travel had been even a dream. His lanky back would have settled into the natural curve of the horseman, and a weather-beaten, brown, wide-brimmed hat would not have looked out of place on his head. The steel deep inside of his spine would’ve been evident in one glance, and outlaws would've hated and feared his unrelenting justice.
But Jonas Keller was not a lawman riding some vast and dusty plain. His was a law that was upheld by no government, signed into effect by no polished and manicured hand. His steed was alloy and atom. His iron weighed in the tons. And yet he still bore resemblance to those heroes of myth, in his eyes and in his looks. And in a yet deeper resemblance, his justice being that of the gun and honor. A kindred spirit rode the breadth of new frontiers, one blood red and choked with dust. And one quiet as death.
Seen in profile before the console screens of his Zaku II, Jonas' thoughts were lost in his recent attempts to give the Mars government legitimacy. He was unsure of his direction, not quite knowing if he was doing all that he could, and kept his uncertainty in tight control. It was only here in the isolation of his suit that he could contemplate such matters and give in, just a little, to the idea that he would not see the liberation of Mars in his lifetime.
He threw off his doubts. They could not be entertained. He was a man with a destiny. His fate and that of Mars were inseparable. Failure was a choice to be made, and he refused to choose that path.
One of the lights on his console blinked. A long finger reached out to depress it.
~
"Jonas! Let's get this party rolling already." Hudson Kyle ran a hand through the rugged black curls crowning his skull. Although the tall man was fairly cramped in the restrictive cockpit, he felt at home. He grinned as his Rick Dom began to power up, feeling that confidence that only superior technology can bring. He was excited. Although he had his doubts as to their ultimate methods, a little competition with friends could cheer him up easily. The munitions were all paintballs, so there was nothing at risk here. And when there was no risk, battle suddenly became a game.
Hudson glanced up from his equipment, gauging the two Zakus that drifted within arm's length and the ship which hung as a backdrop behind them. Without friction, the suits' momentum kept them even with the Lunatic's Dream, the engines on Jonas' ship silent as the four fragile metal shells sped through the emptiness of the void. Hudson thought that was neat. There were things about space that you never really thought about until you were there. Jonas' suit was fully online, he saw. The custom Zaku II bulged at the shoulder with a bulky chain mine, an advanced weapon the origin of Hudson was not sure he wanted to know. He noticed the Zaku to his left beginning to activate as well. This one was smaller and not as well-armored, but the commander's spike on the forehead lent it a menacing profile.
~
John Seak sat, comfortable in his custom cockpit. It had been rewired so that everything was accessible with his hands, and it fit him - forgive the expression, he thought - like a glove. The Briton's mind raced across possibilities, synapses lighting up as the former detective calculated his odds. He thought they were about as good as could be expected. None of them were green, so it should be a good competition. His lit up the thrusters on his suit.
With that move, the three combatants spun into action. Whirling about each other in an expanding triangle, the three suits of Zeonic origin but decidedly unaffiliated control began their faux battle. Jonas brought his machinegun to bear, the monoeye on his Zaku flaring red as he spun around to face Hudson's Dom. Paintballs began to lance from his weapon, soaring out into the black. The Zaku I did the same thing, focusing his machinegun's fire on the swifter, newer mobile weapon.
Hudson had expected this. He used his suit's mobility to great advantage, twisting like some grotesque ballerina in a dance of survival. His leg thrusters flared as the large suit spun with strange grace between the incoming streams of paintballs. With the Dom's bazooka gripped firmly in one metallic hand and the shotgun in the other, he roared directly between his two opponents.
Neither Jonas nor John bothered to stop firing. This was a free-for-all, and they too were opponents despite the temporary confluence of targeting. Jonas felt a tickle in the back of his mind but reacted too slowly, throwing his suit into a failed somersault that caught him some damage to the torso. John got off little better. His green leg was splattered a glowing orange, and he shut it down to simulate damage. Jonas' instruments told him the paint had struck non-vital areas. Fair was fair.
Hudson had not been idle during this exchange, and as the two Zaku pilots reevaluated the situation, he struck. A warhead roared from the large bazooka, its payload only harmless paint. The shotgun barked out its expanding blast of paint pellets. Each had chosen a target. John was struck full on by the shotgun blast, but Jonas reacted to his lightning warning just in time and managed to jet out of the way of the warhead.
With calm movements, John shut his Zaku down. He had taken only minimal damage from the paint barrage, easily repaired, and he sat back to watch the rest of the fight.
It promised to be interesting. Kyle had the training and the technology, but Jonas had his uncanny reactions and a burning will. The two exchanged fire constantly, whipping around each other in a display of excellent piloting ability. The machinegun ran dry and Jonas threw it away as he pulled the bazooka off the backpack rack and hoped its five rounds would be enough to finish this.
Hudson launched his own last rocket-propelled paintball, only to watch Jonas throw his suit into another one of those Z-axis somersaults. He cursed. His friend and comrade in arms was good at this. Left with only his shotgun, he urged his Dom to greater heights of agility as it roared into close range. He would need a good hit to take out the Zaku II, and he could only get it right in Jonas' face.
However, the older man was too fast. A bazooka round struck the Rick Dom in the leg and it shut down, practically drenched in orange paint. Hudson fired at point-blank range, but he knew it was too late. A few pellets splattered glowing streaks into Jonas' armor, but the Zaku spun around the disabled Dom and avoided the main blast. A metallic green hand grasped the handle of the chain mine on its shoulder, and with a quick unfurling motion wrapped it around the helpless Rick Dom.
"Oh, come on." Hudson groaned.
The chain mine exploded in a massive burst of paint, changing the color scheme of the Rick Dom to that glaring, disgusting shade of orange. A voice crackled over the radio.
"Good show, gentlemen. And a great finale, Mr. Jonas." Captain Geoffry's wry tones came through loud and clear. "Although that paint better come off. I think you got some on my ship."
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Post by pinksoyuz on Oct 4, 2009 2:19:57 GMT -5
A Duel Spar Between Salamii
To the uneducated observer, the atmosphere on board the Duchess of Somerset looked as if it were a time of peace and tranquility, its personnel relaxed and rather jovial. The Salamis class ship cruised effortlessly through space with its engine at half burn with the intent of rendezvousing with the similar cruiser Pride of Damascus. The Zeon had been harassing and delaying valuable Federation supply convoys on Earth and this had the effect of delaying the completion of the two Salamis cruisers in question. As a result of this, the ships had not deployed into space in time for a fleet wide war game, but this certainly did not mean they wouldn't be able to squeeze in some training before their first actual engagement of the enemy.
"Sir, we're being hailed on channel 2. Priority message yellow," said a young ensign, turning around in her swiveling chair to address the captain.
The Duchess of Somerset's captain, a one Francis Bertrand curtly replied, "On screen, ensign." Seconds later, the main display on the bridge produced the bridge of Pride of Damascus, its commanding officer centered in the middle.
"Greetings, Captain Bertrand. I am Captain Landry of the Pride of Damascus. I'm sure that you already read the message from Luna command, so let's get on with this, shall we?" introduced the rather well groomed and young officer.
Smiling, Bertrand nodded and wished the other Federation officer well, and then terminated the feed, mumbling something under his breath about the brash demeanor of his training opponent. He then leaned closer to the right console and pressed a button before addressing the entire vessel, "This is Captain Bertrand speaking. I am sounding general quarters as of now, so please report to your battle stations." Shortly afterward klaxons began to transmit a series of bell rings to serve as a constant audible warning to the entire ship.
---
The exterior of both ships began to slowly come to life as their respective cannons, missile launchers, and point defense guns began to pivot on their mounts after disengaging from the travel locks. Both ships began to emit elevated levels of Minovsky particles, and before long any sort of long range communications was all but impossible. It was now just a duel between two ships, ironically in a style that had once been considered outdated in the late 20th Century and up until the discovery of the Minovsky particle.
"I want 'HE' warheads in starboard tubes and anti-beam warheads in port tubes, Lieutenant Roberts, and please confirm that MPC power settings are at minimum," ordered Bertrand, wanting to absolutely avoid any training mishaps.
"MPC levels are confirmed to be at minimum sir. Shouldn't do anything more than ruin their Jaburo-fresh paint jobs," replied the weapons officer with a smirk. Both ships should have swapped out their stocks of lethal ammunitions for simunitions for the purposes of a war game, but there had been documented instances of relaxed oversight that led to disastrous consequences.
Several hundred kilometers away, hidden behind a rather large piece of colony debris was the Pride of Damascus with its engines shut down and merely waiting for its target. That is until its communications officer reported that their cover was already subject to mega particle bombardments from its opponent. Initially the bright beams were going wide, but as time went by, the shots seemed to all contact the large piece of debris. Given that the mega particle cannons were all on minimum output, Captain Landry ordered the ship to abandon the makeshift cover to simulate that the hulk had actually been destroyed.
Finally the ships were now in clear visual range of each other and in no time each ship had fired its respective compliment of missiles while beginning to train their MPCs at each other. Knowing that the Duchess of Somerset had more time to adjust its fire control missions, the initial missile barrages that the Pride of Damascus had sent out were anti-beam. The prudent choice of Captain Landry paid off as the anti-beam compounds diffused the mega particle beams right in front his bridge, leaving the crew dazzled but still able to participate in the war game.
Point defense guns were now entering the fray as simulated HE missiles began to swarm each ship, a majority prematurely detonating harmlessly in front of the Salamis cruisers. However a few managed to thread the needle and find their target, exploding into a colored particulate mist that stained the region of the ship and gave the monotonous canvas of dark space a rather welcome makeover.
"Sir, we're receiving damage to our port missile launchers, so we'll have to rely on our starboard launchers, but that'll increase the missiles' time on target due to the extra distance," reported the Pride of Damascus' weapons officer.
Biting his lower lip, Captain Landry ordered the ship to maintain its position to take advantage of its position despite the undeterred heading of Bertrand's ship, "Helmsman, maintain speed and distance and maintain azimuth and inclination with respect to the Duchess."
Each ship began to report various failed systems, including that of their missile launching capabilities, and the Duchess of Somerset had already lost its top bow MPC. Furthermore, the Pride of Damascus was in an advantageous position in relation to the advancing Duchess of Somerset due to the fact that Landry's ship was crossing the Duchess' T. This position allowed the Pride of Damascus to train four of its MPC cannons at the Duchess, whereas the glancing Salamis cruiser could only train three of her cannons at her enemy.
Captain Bertrand knew that the broadside that his opponent presented to him exposed the one main weakness of the Salamis class, and it was that weakness that he hoped to exploit: the single large rocket engine. The head on maneuver actually shielded its own engine from Landry's fire at the cost of losing the firepower war, but it was a gamble that he was willing to take.
The rotating barrages of HE missiles and anti-beam missiles continued to crisscross the relatively open span of space, but the frequency of such events began to dwindle as each ship constantly brought various systems offline due to simulated damage. Fortunately for Captain Bertrand and the crew of the Duchess of Somerset, its gunnery crew and fire direction control surpassed that of its foe, and it would succeed in knocking out the Pride of Damascus' engine and top aft MPC at the cost of losing its right bow MPC.
But the loss of two MPCs would be easily compensated when Bertrand's ship began to cross the Pride's T via its rear under the protection of its remaining stocks of anti-beam missiles. Closing in, Bertrand managed to knock out Landry's left aft MPC and before long the relative positions of the two ships had reversed. The remaining rear MPC that the Pride of Damascus could bring to bear onto Captain Bertrand was outclassed by the three MPCs that the Duchess of Somerset brought to bear against Landry. A series of critical hits to the engine and the Pride of Damascus' superstructure ended the session and prompted the now colorful and charred ships to return to Luna II for restocking and repainting.
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Daren
EFF Officer 
Ensign
I Don't know what were talking about.
Posts: 939
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Post by Daren on Oct 7, 2009 21:30:03 GMT -5
Solomon was business as usual in the Solomon command center. Reports of fleet movements and mobile suit patrols filtered in regularly. Chris Williams gave a quick sigh from his post at one of the many sensor stations. He served Zeon proudly, but he hadn't signed up to sit in front of a screen all day. His internal complaining was interrupted however by Lt. Jackson. "This is Lt. Jackson to Solomon command center. Be advised myself and Ensign O'Neil will be conducting a duel in sector 7." Chris quickly punched a few buttons on his console. "Confirmed Lieutenant Jackson, you are authorized to use sector 7." With that the comm went dead leaving Williams to finish his work.
At this time two Zaku II's came to a halt in sector 7. "Alright Ensign, we're cleared to conduct the duel. So just try not to run into any of the rocks floating out this far." O'Neil could hear the accusation in the Lieutenants tone."Geez bump into floating debris one time and your branded for life. " With a quick response the Zaku's boosted away from each other. The hunt was on.
O'Neil cursed as his sensors proved to be worthless. With the area full of junk like this he couldn't get a clear reading on anything. "Guess I'll just have to use my eyes." he muttered. He made quick movements as he boosted from cover to cover. The fact that the Lt. not only out classed him as a pilot but was also in the new F2 model zaku wasn't lost on him. But he was hoping getting the jump on him would tip the balance in his favor. However when a quick burst of machine gun pelted the asteroid he was behind. He could only curse his luck.
"That should wake him up." Said Jackson as he watched O'Neil boost from cover firing a spray of bullets at him. Which his zaku easily evaded, and promptly returned fire. With this the chase was on. Lt. Jackson pushed his F2 after the Ensign who was diving into the thicker parts of the debris field. More shots were fired but know one had managed to draw first blood yet. That was until Jackson boosted hard down into the field getting a good angle at O'Neil from below. He fired off a quick burst which tore into O'Neil's legs.
O'Neil gave a grunt of annoyance as multiple warnings flashed up about the damage to his suits legs. With out thinking he quickly threw a cracker grenade towards the location the fire had come from and threw his suit backwards. The blast tore through the field shredding nearby asteroids and debris, effectively making a smoke screen. O'Neil pushed his suit hard as he created more space between him and where he thought Lt. Jackson was. "Damn, another round like that and this will be over." Thinking quickly, he pushed his suit to the left heading towards the edge of the debris field. As he got close he caught of glimpse of green. He pulled the trigger on reflex. Rounds punched in the F2's right arm without mercy.
Jackson was rocked in his cockpit as rounds struck his suit. He pushed his suit into a roll and fired off a few missiles from the pods located on his suits legs. They closed the distance in an instance striking the area around O'Neil. Jackson knew the Ensign would be reeling for a few seconds as he pushed his suit full speed towards him. He pulled the heathawk off his suits back with the left arm and ignited it seconds before he brought it crashing down into O'Neils shoulder guard. The arm tore off as the heated blade tore through it. Being down and arm and caught off guard, O'Neil had no choice but to yield. "You did good Ensign, but you still need more practice." The only response he received was a groan of despair at another loss.
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altoh
New Member
Posts: 83
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Post by altoh on Oct 10, 2009 0:52:36 GMT -5
Sweat trickled down Alice's dark, rich skin. The transparent bead slithered through the shapely, attractive nape to travel down an unexpected route into the sculpted bosom of the young, yet proven leader of the Pink Panthers. The half-buttoned shirt, thinly covering the chest, gently wavered in the breeze blowing in whispers. Mild footsteps from behind disturbed the quiet gentleness of the atmosphere, and Alice turned his upper body to greet the perpetrator.
"You know, if you were a chick, you'd be utterly popular with the guys."
The older man brushed his unkempt hair to the side, and motioned towards the north with his thumb, towards the horizon that Alice had gazed at earlier. He continued to talk, his innocuous tone masking the excitement. The "Amaranth" name tag glistened and sparkled in the afternoon sun, echoing his true feelings. "...You saw them, right? Two targets."
The superior brushed a glance briefly to the north with a binoculars, and checked again the movements that he saw seconds earlier. They bothered him more than the first comment the man made, though he had gotten used to the teasing of his team by now about his small frame and girlish hair. Alice would never admit it, but he was grateful that opponents could never see him behind his Zaku's cockpit door. "...They look different. The hell's up with those fins?"
Amaranth chuckled. "And two eyes! They look like toys! So, how about it? They're heading this way, so we probably should decide on something before they step on Josh and Kam." He rubbed his palms, most likely thinking about how to best duct-tape the "V" fins onto his Zaku.
Without batting a glance at Amaranth's comment, Alice spoke with clipped precision. "Yeah. Only two. Tell them the usual for two, and take down the..." With a grunt, the light fingers adjusted the dials and buttons on the binoculars, gathering the information he needed to make his command. "...Take down the one with a grey bar on his left shoulder...they -are- in position, right?"
As Alice spoke, Tommy Amaranth had been looking through his own binoculars, eyeing the strange new machines sauntering as if they owned North Africa. "...Ooh, don't worry. They've been real good since Daddy told them that he knows where all the -good-, -nice- girls are in Tangier."
"...Ugh. Time to earn our pay."
~
The humming of the electronics console didn't bother Ray as much as the godforsaken heat in this region, or the chattering of his teammate. It was distinctly true that he told Mannings to not use the comms for private chatter, especially during patrol. It was also distinctly true that fifteen minutes earlier, he had already told the more junior pilot to "Shut the F*** up!" Regardless, both orders went unheeded. Ray continued to wonder if he was too soft as a commander.
"...And you know what they say that white guy did? He ate him! The mobile suit actually ate Slender!"
"...You know, I'm seriously going to court martial you."
The lumbering, majestic steps of the Ground Type, flickering on the left monitor contrasted heavily with the inane ramblings of the pilot. Stoic, solid, and tall. Now if only that autopilot system could also handle combat, then he might be able to sortie with someone that won't drive him insane. Exasperated, Ray unzipped his flight suit down to his belly, and wished that he had sought the advice of anyone who was previously in this region. Well, perhaps, "not wearing bulky s**t" like this pilot suit was common sense, but he was too busy organizing the load-outs of both Ground Types. Urgh.
"And you know what they made in Jaburo? A friend told me! A hammer! A Gundam-sized hammer!"
Ray's eyes gazed at the corner. The waypoint was t--
Something sparkled. The sun reflected off in a mean manner that attempted to blind him, but the camera filtered it. Oh...!
~
"On the count of five. Five...four..."
"...Hey, toybot greybar stopped moving. I think it saw me."
"...Mother--"
A spray of deadly fire brushed the edges of the large trench where two Zaku IIs had nestled themselves. The offending Zaku that had poked its head up to keep an eye on the two formerly steady machines quickly dipped down, its knees rubbing against the solid rock completely overshadowing his partner down below. The said partner Zaku's singular eye flared, with its fingers expertly checking the machinegun it would be using later. It won't jam. In contrast to the haggard, sand-crusted appearance of the leader's Zaku, the pink eye moved with precise intensity to glare at Amaranth's unit. "We're not changing anything. They're only maybe 30 meters to the point where we were supposed to trigger the ambush. They only had two machineguns, right?"
Amaranth's Zaku once again tipped its head out to quickly survey the situation, and was rewarded with a solid "DING!" on the steel helmet of the machine. It quickly dipped down to repeat its previous action. "...Yeah, but they have a backpack. Who knows what's in it. Shit, they nicked my Zaku!"
"If you're thinking they're good, no. They're just lucky."
Alice gave a quick pat to his partner's Zaku, to trigger their operation. A nice little tap on the shoulder. The leader Zaku then raised itself a little from its crouching position, and began to briskly crouch-walk towards the side. As the rest of the Pink Panthers' Zakus had removed their antennaes, Alice's Zaku predictably drew the fire of the more junior pilot in the toybot. The grey toybot brusquely brushed his palm against the other's head, clearly aware something was wrong.
Irrelevant.
~
Charlie Mannings tilted his controls and pulled back the frontal arms of the Ground Type, pointing his 100mm machinegun towards the sky. He kept his eyes on the moving antennae, and opened his communication with his own superior. "What's wrong with suppressive fire?!" He clicked his tongue and turned his eyes to the commander, who then pushed him very roughly towards the front. The Gundam stumbled forward, but caught its footing just in time to be kissed roughly with a blow of dust and sand from behind. "Wh...What the heck?!"
Mannings nearly turned his Gundam around, but instead chose to run towards the side to seek what cover that he could. He realized that this was only the start of an ambush, and his captain...his captain...! As the Gundam briefly glanced back, he saw that Ray's unit was fine, though its left feet and calf were covered in black ash. No doubt, something had scorched the paint.
"S..Sh...!"
He quickly scanned the area for enemies, but found none except Mr. Moving Antennae. The Gundam's pilot cursed and wished deeply to not die after talking about his favorite TV show.
~
"Joshy boy! You missed!" The voice sounded robotic and distorted, coming from a hand firmly gripping "Joshy boy"'s Zaku II on the back. That hand can sod off, for all Josh cared. "Grey toybot isn't retarded after all. I guess he's the leader. They both have command fins, what the hell is this?"
The other Zaku II readied his bazooka, and quickly acted without responding. Kam had his own work to do. The fourth Zaku II to make his move quickly stood up from its own natural trench, hidden very conveniently behind the two weird mobile suits colored like toys. "Eat this and die, feds!" While the taunt did not make it past the cockpit of the Zaku, the shell that followed it flew above the uncaring desert, trailing smoke behind it in a morbid omen. The shell missed its target as well, yet it shattered the sands next to the grey-barred Ground Type's feet. Stumbling, the massive giant was unable to regain balance and kissed the ground with its excessively bulky chest.
Another bazooka round followed, this time smashing into the prone machine's chest. The strange toybot's chest promptly exploded with a blazing fire, a top panel on the middle of its chest blowing open into the sky. Perhaps, the cockpit cover. To Kam's irritation, the kill was scored by one of the Zakus on the other side.
~
Tommy Amaranth quickly crouched, lest he receive the wrath of the 100 milimeter bullets that struck hot on the rocks above his Zaku. A few hard objects rained down on his Zaku's head. Tip, top. Probably components from the grey toybot. But any trophy from these two machines won't be as sweet as the tears he will taste from stealing Kam's kill. Oh boy, when radio silence is broken, he'll explode. After chuckling, Tommy waited for the others to make his move.
By this time, Alice had crouched down, about 300 meters away from Mr. Amaranth. He occasionally peeped up to survey the battle, but he remained quiet in general. He resented his position as the lure sometimes, as he very rarely got to feel the rush and excitement of individual combat. But it's nice to share in the congratulatory moments afterwards...
"...Grey's down? Hrm, took a bit long, but this is good enough."
Giving himself just one moment of excitement, Alice's Zaku rose and quickly sprayed a burst of the machinegun at the lone toybot. It recoiled and cowered behind its impossibly tiny shield, but Alice did not stand long enough to see his next action. The young man wanted to consider himself fairly smart, and staying around for retaliation would betray that expectation of himself.
~
In either case, two bazooka shells simultaneously launched from the two Zakus on the other end of the trench. While the left shell missed, the right shell caught its mark with the right leg, sending it into an explosion, toppling the other blue and white giant onto his ass. The humongous backpack of the unit gave it some stable footing, preventing it from landing on its back. But a prone, immobile position is still a prone, immobile position, and Charlie's heart began to sink.
As Tommy raised his head, the strange toybot aimed his machinegun at his head, but nothing appeared to come out when the fingers of the toybot moved. "...Out of ammo, eh?" Tommy patted his own freshly reloaded bazooka, when he spotted one of the subordinate Zaku IIs behind the toybot beginning to pull his heathawk out. He cursed.
"...C'mon, we don't have to burn a shell on here, I can just give him a single blow to his cockpi--"
Josh's Zaku stopped as Kam's hand landed on his machine's head. "Hey, cool it. Just because you didn't hit anything doesn't mean you should go gung-ho there." Irritated, Josh responded. "...Says the person who taunts me when I miss?...Cih, whatever, I didn't want to get chewed out by Alice and Tommy anyway." Josh's Zaku retreated, as a shell originating Tommy's position put the last of the strange toybots out of its misery.
"Panther 2 here! Good hustle, boys! I think big man's gonna let us have some leave at Tangier after this!"
Alice, irked at the manner in which Amaranth broke radio silence, commented nothing.
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Draco
Rogue
Anaheim Electronics Employee
Anaheim Hitman
Posts: 1,240
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Post by Draco on Oct 13, 2009 0:33:23 GMT -5
<center><font color="3300FF" size=4><b>Tragedy in the Jungle</b></font></center> Corporal Darryl Kellig took one last puff of his cheap, standard-issue cigarette before throwing it into the dirt and stomping it out. His squad was about to go on a dangerous-but-important assignment for the Kojima Battalion and all the support he had was his squad of twelve and one of those hovertrucks with the detection gear that was just assigned to him. He knew his men and women were up to the task, but he hadn’t even met the truck’s crew yet and couldn’t be sure if they would make or break the mission. Command seemed to have faith in their abilities though, so Darryl wasn’t about to complain until the split second before they got him or his people killed. <br><br> “Sir, we’ve got the problem with the truck fixed and we’re able to deploy now,” his second-in-command, Cody Strate, reported. <br><br> Well, there was one complaint at least. Nobody in his squad had ever delayed a mission with a broken piece of equipment. All twelve member of his squad regularly checked their gear. This hover truck had apparently been sent to him without being quality-checked at all. If a man like his old man or uncle were in charge of inspections, that truck wouldn’t have left HQ with a ticking time bomb like that ready to blow up in his face. Only luck had it breaking BEFORE the mission. <br><br> ”Alright grunts, we’ve got a job to do,” Darryl yelled. “Get your boots on and let’s go check out our future home!” <br><br> A chorus of “OOH-RAH!” from his marines and a chime of “Ooh-rah!” from the truck’s crew greeted him back as they moved towards their objective: Lhasa Base. The brass knew the base was close and it was up to the marines to pinpoint for those tea-drinking ninnies in the fancy new GMs to conquer in the name of Earth. To Darryl’s ire, the hover truck immediately began kicking up dust. Within the first half-hour of marching, he’d been tempting to send it back to base twice just so it wouldn’t give away their position. The truck’s crew assured him that they’d know about any incoming mobile suits before they got anywhere near the scouting party. <br><br> The Luggun scout plane that watched them from beyond their vision had other plans however. <br><br> <center><font color="3300FF" size=4><b>~</b></font></center> “Lieutenant Norris,” the recon pilot reported. “I’ve found a Feddie hovertruck in Sector J, west of the base.” <br><br> “Any tanks or mobile suits with it?” Norris Packard asked. <br><br> “No sir. I only see the hover tank,” the recon pilot replied. <br><br> “Probably an infantry scouting party then,” Norris decided. “Maintain your surveillance. I’m sending some gunships to meet them.” <center><font color="3300FF" size=4><b>~</b></font></center> <br><br> As Darryl tied a scarf around his face, he once again considered sending the hover truck away from the marines. The damn thing was too inconvenient to be around on foot and he wished the mission didn’t make the use of his squad’s Bloodhound a detriment. <br><br> As he coughed out another handful of dust, he ruefully remembered that a hover vehicle was already probably giving away their position. How right he was, he thought regretfully when, moments later, the hover truck exploded along with the rest of the area as Zeon gunships began to rain missiles down upon his squad. Those who weren’t killed or wounded in the initial bombardment scattered into the jungle, away from the wretched patch of hell where their hovertruck once was. Darryl hurried to get a tourniquet on his leg before it leaked him to death. As soon as he finished, he lay still as wind from the gunships’ blades partially flattened vegetation as they looked for survivors to finish off. The sounds of gatling guns firing told him that at least one more member of his squad was dead and the whooshing of a shoulder-fired bazooka gave him hope that there would be at least one Zeon bastard flying with his boys to Hell, but after seconds passed with nothing exploding, he knew there was no retribution for his men. After a tense half-hour, the gunships departed, leaving any survivors to their fates in this cruel jungle. <br><br> “Anyone alive?!” he shouted. “Sound off!” <br><br> “Reporting…cough…for duty, sir!” answered Cody. <br><br> “Aye, sir!” sounded Carlene Buttner, amazingly no worse for the wear. <br><br> The loud coughing of another soldier revealed the location of Gay Tichenor, the squad communications specialist. Though badly wounded, he was alive. <center><font color="3300FF" size=4><b>~</b></font></center> After a moment of wishing he had another cigarette, Darryl used Gay’s gear in get in touch with the Southeast Asia HQ: the mission was a bust, most of his squad was dead, and extraction was needed ASAP. <br><br> <center><b>Outcome: Zeon Victory</b> <br>EF Infantry: 3 days injury, loses Type-74 <br>Lhasa: No change</center>
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Daren
EFF Officer 
Ensign
I Don't know what were talking about.
Posts: 939
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Post by Daren on Oct 17, 2009 15:14:43 GMT -5
"How's the Mack running Lieutenant Stevens?" asked Captain Jacobs. Stevens looked up from his console "The Merrimack is running at 100% Captain." Jacobs gave a slow nod as he took pride in how efficiently his crew moved about the bridge. He knew it was almost time to begin the spar with the Merrimack's sister ship the Monitor. "That old bastard Evans is probably already planning how to celebrate his victory." Jacobs muttered to himself. "Sir?" questioned Lt. Stevens, but Jacob's just shook his head. With a small flourish Jacobs stood up. "This is the Captain speaking. All hands confirm combat ready status." Jacobs nodded to himself as everything was green lighted across the board. "It's time sir." piped in Lt. Stevens. "Very well." responded Jacobs. "Helmsman, take us out at combat speed." The helmsman responded right away, and the Merrimack glided through space heading away from Luna II towards the sparing range.
Captain Evans lightly drummed his fingers on his chairs armrest. He launched his ship a little early to get the jump on his old friend, hiding it among some debris and rocks floating around the sparing field. Some might say it was a bit underhanded but he didn't remember them agreeing on any rules besides paint rounds only. "Anything yet Ensign Shields?" asked Evans. "Nothing yet sir." she said without looking up from the sensor station. "Hm perhaps Jacobs is running late." Mused Evans until Shields called out "Confirmed contact Sir. It's the Merrimack." Evans licked his lips. "All hands to combat stations. Helmsman get ready to move us. Gunnery station make sure all our cannons are loaded and ready to fire." Evans smiled as his bridge came alive with action. The Monitor was positioned perfectly to get the drop on the Merrimack as it passed by. As soon as Ensign Shields reported them in range Evans gave the order. "Helmsman take us out. All guns are to fire at will when they get a clear shot." The Monitor gave a small jerk as her engines pushed her from her hiding spot. Evans could only imagine the confusion on his friends face as his cannons opened fire.
"Captain, Incoming fire from the nearby debris cloud." Called out Lt. Stevens. Jacobs gave a slight shake of his head. "Helmsman, take evasive action. Gunnery station fire off a pair of missiles to intercept." The ship lurched as the helmsman struggled to get them out of the way. Jacob's watched as a pair of missiles tore off from his ship exploded in a cloud of paint just shy of the incoming rounds. The idea was that the cloud of paint would cause the paint rounds from the monitor to rupture early. It worked for the most part but one round made it through and slammed into the front end of the Merrimack. "Status!" growled Jacobs. "Sir, it hit two of our fore cannons." replied Lt. Stevens. "Shut them down to simulate real damage and return fire." replied Jacobs. The Merrimack rolled as it fired off it's last four port missiles.
"Reload and fire again!." Yell Evans. He couldn't believe Jacobs had pulled that off. Any further outrage was cut short and Ensign Shields reported four incoming missiles. "Target the missiles and fire." Ordered Evans. The Monitors cannons tracked the missiles for a few seconds before firing. Two of the missiles went up in a burst of paint. Another flew right by the Monitor but still exploded close enough to shower it with some paint. The final one impacted low on the backside of the ship. "Status!" Yelled Evans again. "Light damage across the ship from the first missile. The second one impacted on our engines sir." answered a tight lipped Ensign. "Shut it down to 50 percent to replicate damage. Helmsman get that debris between us and the Merrimack." Ordered Evans. His ship slowed as it angled back towards it's hiding spot.
"We got their engines Captain!" said Lt. Stevens. A cheer went up around the bridge. "Lets see if we can't finish this then. Helmsmen accelerate and get us an angle for our aft cannons and starboard missiles." Said Jacobs. The Merrimack picked up a little speed as the helmsman pushed the ship into position. "Fire!" Yelled Jacobs. Six missiles launched from their tubes followed by six cannon rounds.
"Fire everything!" Ordered Evans. The Monitor launched it's own missiles and fired it's cannons. However it would prove for not as one of the Merrimack's cannon rounds survived and impacted directly into the side of the bridge. "Sir, our bridge has been destroyed." was all Ensign Shields said. Incoming communication said the comm officer. "Put it on." Evans replied. "Well now." Jacobs voice said. " I believe the win is mine. So what do you say we head back to base. Drinks are on me." Evans could hear the laugh in his friends voice. But the prospect of free drinks did sound appealing. "Alright, but next time I'll get you." replied Evans.
The two Salamis's formed up and began to make their way back to Luna II. One's front in was covered in yellow paint. While the other sported pink around the backside and one massive spot of hot pink paint on it's bridge.
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Chan
ZMF Officer 
Rear Admiral
Posts: 1,348
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Post by Chan on Oct 19, 2009 17:22:15 GMT -5
<center><font color="3300FF" size=4><b>Leslie Stenvenich and Dennis Goldman vs. Pink Panthers</b></font></center> <br><br> The Meldea shook as it crosses the Strait of Gibraltar. Under the cover of darkness, the Federal transport craft had snuck out of the Earth Federation base of Gibraltar. Cloud cover is pretty good tonight with only a crescent moon in the sky. Their mission: to deliver their cargo of two Gundam Mass Production Types into North Africa and then return to base. Two mobile suits whose pilots are arguing loudly in the cargo hold. <br><br> "I'm telling you for the last time," insists Private Dennis Goldman from his GMPGT," I <i>slipped</i> on the footing. That Type 61 didn't trip me sir. I was trying not to step on him." <br><br> Second Lieutenant Leslie Stenvenich took a bite out of his ration sandwich. "That's not what Sergeant Rodman showed on his gun camera. He brought his Type 61 around close and rolled over your foot just as you were taking a step. The rest is gravity and physics. Then he shot two paintball rounds up your exposed behind." <br><br> "That's bull! If it's so easy for tanks to take on mobile suits then why are the Zakus eating up our armor divisions?" <br><br> "Practice, Dennis, practice. They had a head start over us-." <br><br> The intercom came to life with a static burst. <i>"Lieutenant, we are one minute out from the drop zone. Standby."</i> <br><br> <center><font color="3300FF" size=4><b>~</b></font></center> <br><br> It was a quiet night so far for the Pink Panthers. Their continuous trek around North Africa can be exciting at times, so a moment of peace amongst the desert sands is much appreciated. The four pink Zaku II Ds are in covering positions while the pilots took some rest. <br><br> That is, until the engine whine of a jet aircraft caught their attention. In a matter of a few minutes, the camp is broken down and the mobile suits came to life. From experience they knew it was a Medea aircraft. Which means an airdrop of some sort. <br><br> The Zaku II Ds arrive quickly enough on their jet skis to see two shadows descend to the Earth by parachute. From the parachutes and thrusters firing, the Pink Panthers guessed correctly that these are Federal mobile suits. <br><br> The first 280mm Zaku bazooka shell explodes a few meters away from Goldman's GMPGT. A hail of 120mm shells scratches at his Lunar Titanium armor as he drops to one knee and takes aim with his 100mm machinegun. <br><br> About twenty meters away, Stenvenich took a swing with his beam saber as one of the assailants came close. Both the beam saber and heat hawk missed, as Stenvenich opens fire with his chest vulcan gun. The trail of bullets snakes futilely after the speedy Zaku II. <br><br> Goldman heard a grenade go off to his left as he saw Stenvenich run over to him. The Lieutenant has his own 100mm machinegun in hand, firing after the speeding Desert Zaku IIs. <br><br> "How many?" <br><br> "Looks like a squad! Can't really tell!" The bright muzzle flashes from weapons fire illuminates his GMPGT in the darkness of the night. Tracer fire from their attackers zip past them from every direction. <br><br> "Cover me! I'm calling back the Medea!" <br><br> "They better be quick!" <br><br> The Pink Panthers are working their way in. One of their numbers have been darting in between the two Federal mobile suits to harass them while the rest of the team circle closer and closer like a noose tightening. Suddenly, something large and fast passes over them. <br><br> The screaming engines of the Medea kept the transport aircraft hovering a meter or so off the ground behind the two GMPGTs. The Pink Panthers notice this and heaved their 280mm Bazookas toward it. But then a different light turns night into day. The pink glow of a beam rifle shot is soon followed by another as Stenvenich took aim again. <br><br> Covering each other as they fell back to the Medea, the two Federal pilots nearly got there until something took the head off Goldman's GMPGT. The glowing edge of a headhawk is soon eclipsed by a monoeye just as the Zaku II D disappears into the darkness. A bolt of beam rifle fire follows it. <br><br> But just as Stenvenich turns his back, two 280mm shells slam into him from behind. The GMPGT topples, knocking into Goldman's headless mobile suit. The Medea crew saw this and the pilot did a risky maneuver. Pulling the Medea in reverse, the floor of the open cargo bay trips the two GMPGTs. The two Federal mobile suit fell into the Medea's cargo bay as the VTOL craft tilts forward. <br><br> The Medea climbed into the sky as its bay doors closed. Sporadic 120mm machinegun fire chased after it but the experienced plan crew evades into the darkness of the night and back to Gibraltar. The two Federal pilots need to find a new way into North Africa. <br><br> <center><b>Outcome: Intercepted</b> <br>Leslie Stenvenich - 2 days damaged, 6 VP gained <br>Dennis Goldman - 2 days damaged, 6+1 VP gained </center>
Damages: Pink Panthers - No Damage
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Post by Ketara on Oct 20, 2009 23:47:33 GMT -5
Okay dudes, some notes.
JIM: I like yours a lot. You have a good attention to detail, but it's a little long and it starts off a little slow. You have a tendency for starting battles off a little slow. Build up is great for a multi person event, but for a spar it's not super necessary. It's just sparring.
DAREN: You're doing nice quick spars which is good, and they had decent action, but your formatting is a little odd. You don't use commas enough (or like, at all), some of your spelling is off. Spellcheck stuff.
DRACO: Yours is good, but your text has this way of being kind of silly. You are a really silly guy, and it leaks into your writing. Silly battles are good, but sometimes you have to write a battle that's serious too. IMO, you should do comic book battles. Also, I can tell you copied it from word and didn't have word set to ASCII encoding, you can't do that.
See the " marks on Draco's battle? See how they're slightly tilted? Those are MS Word encoded " marks. They come up as %& signs on the website. You have to set Word to ASCII encoding otherwise I have to manually go through and change every quotation mark, every apostrophe and every comma.
ALTOH: Your battle is good, but it's waaaaaaaaaaaaay too long. I'd like to see you post another, and make it shorterar.
Diz gud. ILU plz do moar.
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Daren
EFF Officer 
Ensign
I Don't know what were talking about.
Posts: 939
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Post by Daren on Oct 21, 2009 0:37:32 GMT -5
Yeah my biggest flaw is commas. But I'll crank out the tin cod battle for you tomorrow when I get home from classes.
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Daren
EFF Officer 
Ensign
I Don't know what were talking about.
Posts: 939
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Post by Daren on Oct 21, 2009 20:01:40 GMT -5
Just as an update, I won't be getting that tin cod thing up tonight. After fighting to remove some malware from my computer for a few hours. I just don't have the will to finish the rest of it tonight. So I'll toss it up tomorrow.
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Chris
ZMF Officer 
Obersturmbannfuhrer
Ubersuperduperbannfuhrer!
Posts: 849
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Post by Chris on Oct 21, 2009 20:43:47 GMT -5
The first rays of sun poured over the Tibetan mountains, revealing the Zeon base that made one of the many peaks its home. The white snow glistened from the morning’s first light, exposing the faint wake of a hovercraft at the base of the mountain range; the evidence of the vehicle’s presence barely masked by a light powder.
The wildlife was waking up with the sunrise, snow falling from feathers as birds bristled to life, taking flight into the morning air. Deer could be seen on the edge of the forest, not venturing too far from the cover of the trees, but just enough to get to one of the few patches of green in the valley. The morning routine of the valley was slowly disrupted as a large mechanical beast chugged through the snow.
~
“Aye, we don’t get paid enough for this kinda work y’know?” One of the grizzled marines groaned as his feet dangled over the side of the Type 74. Several of the marines had grown tired of trudging through the snow and by this point took it upon themselves to hitch a ride on the side of the Federation hovercraft.
“Shut your trap Johnson, we’re here to collect some intel then head out… you keep runnin’ your mouth and every Zeek in these here mountains will be on us. Patience…” The Sergeant hushed the anxious marine as the scout party rounded the last cliff face before coming up on their destination, Lhasa.
“There she is boys, be careful. We are not to be seen, unless you want to end up being tortured by those sadistic bastards.” Several marines let their guns slide by their side as they pulled their binoculars and cameras out of their packs. They began carefully recording and noting everything they could see, gathering as much information as possible.
The marines stared up at the ominous wall that surrounded the above ground portion of Lhasa. The walls were weathered and iced over, with guards patrolling at the top in cycles; about every four rotations they could see a patrol of Panzergrenadier’s strolling across the catwalks.
“Gihren’s dogs are at the base, great…” A marine muttered under his breath as his sights passed over one of the infamous Schutzstaffel troopers. The rest of the compound was reminiscent of days past, old ruins intertwined with the newer military structures of the Zeon. A space port can be seen facing the north, the door present on a cliff side on the rear of the fortress.
“Ok men, we got all we can, lets get out of this forsaken place before they spot us. Move out!” With that order, the marines all resumed their positions on the type 74, pocketing their surveying equipment, and brandishing their guns once again as they crawled out of site.
~
As carefully as they entered, the platoon of marines escorted the hovercraft back out of the peaceful valley; the only trace of their stake out slowly being erased with the winds and increasing snow flurries. They group was all smiles as they made it out of enemy territory in one piece, they were lucky enough to not awaken the sleeping bear, and they were thankful for it.
Outcome: Earth Federation Victory Lhasa successfully scouted Type 74: 0 days repair, 1 vp Marines: 0 days repair, 1 vp
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Alright, its a short sample, if you want a battle, I can do that tomorrow if need be. Hope its ok, and it gets the thumbs up. Honestly wasn't sure how to write a scout, seemed different, so figured I'd give it a try. *crosses fingers* <3
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Strikey
EFF
Senior Chief Petty Officer
Posts: 214
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Post by Strikey on Nov 13, 2009 5:12:17 GMT -5
Sparing Zakus!
All is quiet at the Zeon asteroid fortress, Solomon. The newer pilots take this time to get better acquainted with their mobile suits they were assigned to. In this case there mobile suits in question were two Zaku II F's. Since there was little going on, for now, the pilots would spar each other to see who was the better Zaku pilot. This also presented some of the soldiers with something entertaining to watch and bet on. The two Zakus floated to their separate positions just outside of Solomon. Their ammo for the weapons had been switched out to paint ball rounds and their heat hawks were switched out with training heat hawks.
~
With out being told to start the spar the two Zaku pilots started the battle. Zaku pilot one started off by firing his Zakus bazooka at the other Zaku. He had fired off two shots at the opponent Zaku, one at the torso and the other at the legs. The opponent Zaku threw two of her cracker grenades at the bazooka shells headed towards her. The shells collided with the grenades and a big puff of paint appeared where they collided. As the puff of paint slowly dispersed the opponent Zaku was no where to be seen. Zaku pilot two had wisely moved out of the way of the explosion. She waited until Zaku pilot one was not paying attention before she fired her machine gun at her opponent. Zaku pilot one didn't notice it until he felt the paint rounds hitting his Zaku, splattering pink pain on his Zakus right arm and right foot.. After that he boosted away and fired off his two remaining bazooka shells in two random locations. Zaku pilot two tried to boost away in time only to feel the shock of the shell impact on her Zakus left arm.
~
The soldiers in space fortress Solomon were cheering on as they watched the battle unfold. As both combatants had separate arms tagged. They were the arm in which each pilot used to fire their guns. Realizing this the pilots drew their training hawks and prepared for some close quarters combat Zeon style. The pilots looked down at each other staring at each other waiting for someone to make the first move. Zaku pilot one could not take the suspense and made the first move, boosting forward and coming down to cleave the other Zaku in two with a vertical slash. Zaku pilot two blocked it with her hawk and kicked the attacking Zakus torso, thus pushing him back. Zaku pilot one was sent back flying a bit until he used the thrusters to gain control only to see the other Zaku starting its attack with a horizontal slash. Zaku pilot one figured he could parry the hit and get the killing blow, so to speak. Zaku pilot two continued to proceed with its fake attack only to change it from a horizontal attack to a diagonal upper cut type of slash. The slash hit its mark ion the cockpit and it was clear that Zaku pilot two was the better combatant. Zaku pilot one was in disbelief of his loss to a girl so we went off sulking into the hanger. Fairly proud of herself, Zaku pilot two did a little victory pose with the training hawk and then proceeded back to the hanger to receive her cut for the spar and some celebrating.
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sean
Full Member
 
Posts: 271
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Post by sean on Nov 13, 2009 10:05:54 GMT -5
Algerian Coast, Current time, Current Date. Altitude – 250ft. Low Level Patrol, 517th Fighter Squdn(Firebirds), 1st Element.
The north African coast, a rocky dry place with a tremendous history of warfare. Carthage, Hannibal and Rome, Horatio Nelson and Trafalgar, and Rommel, the Desert Fox. Here, Zeon managed to secure a foothold, and wanted dominance of the skies. The flight of federation aircraft patrolled low, the environment was M-particle low, and the fighters were particularly vulnerable to detection by enemy TT-Radar systems. Besides, flying low offered the pilot more safety from being spotted. The Flight leader, Sgt. Richards lead the formation, in echelon. Being one of the few experienced pilots in the region, he knew his target, their capabilities and the abilities of his weapons system well. With that confidence, and the confidence shared by his commanders, he as an enlisted man was given command of a flight and asked to destroy a known Zeon flight operating in the area. He was glad to do it.
“Sickpuppy 2, calling Richards.” One of the green pilots called – he had a nervous tint to his voice. “Go ahead Pup,” Richards grumbled at the new pilot, he was breaking two rules, radio silence, and not using his callisgn. Richards was generally accommodating in this case.
“Sir, we've been out here for 3 hours looking and haven't seen so much as a contrail...” He whined. Richards knew the intent of the question, “Listen here, if you wan-” at that moment a stream of tracers picked across the water and cut Sickpuppy 2's aircraft in half and sent it pitching into the ocean below.
“ELEMENT CLIMB!” Richards screamed over the comms.
“CC! This is Firebird 1 we are engaged at position 33-99 Alpha, Establish a stacked killbox and call S&R!” he strained over the radios with the G forces of his climb. Richards craned his neck and found his pursuers, 6 Dopps in Wedge formation in a shallow but very fast climb, “Disciplined bastards,” Richards thought to himself. “Alright boys, break in pairs, wolf-pack these assholes!” Richards poured on the power, putting himself into a 9G climb, while the rest of his element broke into pairs and separated sweeping left, right and in an overhead roll. In order the Zeon fighters broke into pairs and pursued. Richards rolled his aircraft over and took an easy eye on his enemy, “Arrogant shits.” He threw flares out to defeat the anticipated missile attack, and roared off after his target, after crossing his pursuers he caught a lucky gun opportunity and did not hesitate, the tracers cut through the wing and sent the Dopp spinning off. The enemy Dopps had peeled off and were firing burst after burst after his newbies, Richards dropped from altitude, with one enemy still chasing and loosed a pair of missiles into the first of the Dopps, both of which stuck true obliterating the Zeon aircraft, he followed up with a fast gun run achieving the same result.
“Boys, your 6 is clear, cross me and come around behind my pursuer!” he strained pulled a hard right turn to break a missile lock.
“Rog”
“Roger that!” they both chimed instantly before banking off high and wide, the Dopp pilot recognized the threat and broke high to evade, leaving Richards to try to save his 3 and 4. Below, above the city of Sidi-ferruch- Pup 3 and 4 were having the fight of their lives, maneuvering in and out of gun range and using their best skills. But it was not enough, the Dopps were superior in maneuvering and able to put themselves inside the turns of the Tin Cods. Both Dopps in unison loosed all of their missiles, most of which missed impacting into the city streets and buildings, but one from each Dopp, probably by design smashed into the Tin-Cods destroying them and sending them crashing into the cities streets. Richards saw it and was enraged, he threw the afterburners on accelerating in a dive to over 950 knots, he locked one of the Dopps, both of whom seemed to be trying to escape, they must have been low on fuel. His lock was secure and he loosed his last pair of missiles into the lead Dopp, which exploded.
“Firebird 1!” the newbies sounded excited, “Enemy down!”
Richards pulled his throttles back, and settled into his seat, “I am way, way too old for this anymore...”
“We're bingo fuel, climb out and go home. Ignore the last enemy.”
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Post by nirvash on Dec 24, 2009 19:32:52 GMT -5
Kings of Solomon
"Too slow, Zegler." "Tch."
A green cyclops dashed across Lieutenant Zegler's monitors for the third time. He and Captain Adler had taken off from Solomon no less than 8 minutes earlier, reaching the designated combat zone moments ago, and already the senior officer had shifted the battle in his favor. Zegler fired maneuvering thrusters as Adler blew past him again, hoping to line up his targeting sensors with the overtuned Zaku.
"Behind you, Lieutenant."
Zegler quickly jerked the throttle and joystick in concert, barely twisting his Zaku's frame away from a volley of paint rounds. He spun the robot's torso around and let off a stream of practice rounds from his own machine gun. Captain Adler laughed inside his cockpit, quite a distance away from the desperately fired rounds. He was quite pleased to have a fighter under his command, rather than a boring thinker like all those dullards pushing paper and organizing ship rosters who so populated the commissioned ranks of Zeon.
Adler circled Zegler, drawing the young man's aim from star to star, never quite quick enough on the trigger to score a hit. "Dammit, Adler," Zegler cursed under his breath. "Did you say something, Lieutenant?" Adler lined up his sights with his opponent's Zaku and fired.
Something strange happened.
Instead of the rounds impacting on their intended target, splattering paint across its surface, they kept going, passing through the spot next to Zegler's Mobile Suit. Adler was shocked. He didn't consider himself an expert shot, but he knew those should've hit, ending the match and entitling the Captain to a few rounds on Zegler in the next bar they visited. But they missed. No, wait. Adler noticed the glow from the Zaku's thrusters. Zegler dodged them! Adler cursed under his breath and fired his thrusters at full speed, intending to confuse the young Lieutenant again.
However, inside Zegler's cockpit, the light haired man was breathing heavily, and he felt slightly sick. Adler passed by once more and let off another salvo. The Zaku was moving too fast to aim properly, however, and no rounds struck. Another strange thing happened, and Zegler understood what to do.
He turned slightly to his right, and saw Adler, ethereal and wavering, passing in front of his crosshairs. "Alright, Captain, no more dancing!" Zegler sweated furiously as he let loose all the ammo in his 120mm magazine in one burst. The ghost of Adler disappeared and the original, the real Adler, flew right into the hail, catching more than half of the capsules on the left side of his Mobile Suit, leaving it painted a two-tone scheme of red and green.
"Holy hell, Zegler, looks like I'm buying you the booze this time."
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