podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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| 05 Aug 2012 06:23 PM |
(For those who signed up, we start here.)
(Sign-ups are here: http://www.roblox.com/Forum/ShowPost.aspx?PostID=74582413)
(I will act as a Game Master of sorts, controlling events and actions.)
As the thundering of guns drone on overhead, you wait in nervous silence. From what you could decipher from the propaganda sent to the troops as so called "intelligence reports," the enemy waits, lurking patiently; they have good reason to know that you are surrounded. But how much time is left before they themselves charge out of their positions, throwing at you ironclads, biplanes, and even land ships? Not much time, now.
(Alright, you can introduce your characters in the dugout.) |
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| 05 Aug 2012 06:30 PM |
-Bert Miller- Bert quietly sat on a small pile of dirt, twiddling with his trench knife. His Pattern 1914 Enfield was leaning against the wall and his Webley Revolver was in a pistol holster on his side. His vision was muggy due to his glasses' muggy lenses but he didn't quite care anymore, he's been cleaning them hour after hour and a few minutes later they would simply 'dirt up' again.
Looking around he noticed the diversity of uniforms, his being the only British one. Not being much of the talker, Bert continued to toy with his trench knife. |
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podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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| 05 Aug 2012 06:42 PM |
-Bert-
In due time, Bert, you could feel something crawling on the flat of your boot. Accompanied by quiet sounds of exclamation, the rat bounds on his two hind legs, pointing his nose into the air while mounted atop your foot. |
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podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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| 05 Aug 2012 06:43 PM |
Clarification on how this is going to work:
(You are all in a group, yet I control all personal and public events that happen. You can all be affected by the same event, but something different happens to you.
Just elaborating on what I had said earlier if it causes confusion.) |
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Kevor
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| Joined: 09 May 2008 |
| Total Posts: 4243 |
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| 05 Aug 2012 06:58 PM |
| Dietrich sat in the trench, waiting. All around him, he could see several other German soldiers doing likewise. It was all they could do. Sit and wait for the French and Russian soldiers to come storming in to claim their lives and homes. He let out of a sigh of exhaustion. If only the draft hadn't picked me... He thought. Yet the draft could have saved his life as well. The Russians probably have already conquered all of Germany, even his family's farm. Dietrich began to nibble on biscuit left over from his breakfast rations to ease his thoughts. He would just have to be patient and wait... |
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podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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| 05 Aug 2012 07:00 PM |
(One more guy to introduce himself and we can proceed. Oh, CruelLama, are you going to reply?
By the way, Kevor, your actually in a dugout, a fortified area either connected or part of a trench.) |
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| 05 Aug 2012 07:05 PM |
-Bert Miller- Looking down at the rodent with a mixture of pity and interest, he reached out his hands to grab it. Picking it up he examined it.. it's fur was clopped with wet dirt and other disgusting things.
Seems all of us seeped down to the area of the rat.. |
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podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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| 05 Aug 2012 08:01 PM |
-Bert-
Provoked, the rat squealed uncontrollably, sinking its teeth into the back of your hand. |
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| 05 Aug 2012 08:59 PM |
-Bert Miller- Yelping slightly, he quick dropped the rodent. Examining the bite it was only slightly bleeding. The thought of it having rabies for some reason only made him chuckle.. the rabid soldier, unflinching to bullets and tearing Russian and French troops to shreds. |
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podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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| 05 Aug 2012 09:22 PM |
-Bert-
The rodent landed on the ground, quickly causing commotion as other men began to spot the thing. Curses and yells of surprise interrupted the solemn mood of the room, and a shovel could be seen exchanging hands. The rat was close; perhaps you could kill it before it wreaked havoc. |
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| 05 Aug 2012 09:25 PM |
Yankee
I held my revolver out, as I slowly crept towards the entrance of the dugout. I wanted to check in on the Infantry, as I felt I should as an Officer. I stuck my head out of the dugout and looked out into our trenches. |
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podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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| 05 Aug 2012 09:28 PM |
-Yankee-
The men in the room greet you with the shuffling of feet and the shouts of heated excitement. You can hear the words "scum," "long-tailed freak," and more laced throughout their speech. One man promptly looks at his hand as if something had mangled it. |
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| 05 Aug 2012 09:29 PM |
Yankee
I hostler my firearm and head over to the man holding his hand. I asked him if he was alright and what had happened. |
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podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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| 05 Aug 2012 09:31 PM |
| (I have to wait for Llama's reply with the rat before writing of you asking of his safety.) |
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| 05 Aug 2012 09:32 PM |
-Bert Miller- With a small smirk, Bert simply said, "Picked with the wrong rodent.", Putting his hand beside him he still sat on the dirt, examining the chaos. |
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| 05 Aug 2012 09:36 PM |
Yankee
"I hear ya, we got so many of those buggers it's like it's breeding year, instead of season." I scratched my neck. I stuck out my hand and said "Name's Jack Flanders, but everyone just calls me Yankee." |
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| 05 Aug 2012 09:49 PM |
-Bert Miller- He shook Yankee's hand with his non-bitten one. "Bert Miller, Private first class basic infantry of the British military.", taking off his glasses, Bert cleaned the lenses and put them back on. |
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| 05 Aug 2012 09:52 PM |
Yankee
"Canadian here, got some relatives from Brittan, I hear it's nice." I looked towards the entrance of the dugout "I wonder when we move out." |
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podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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| 05 Aug 2012 09:57 PM |
-All-
As the struggle to obtain the rat went on, most men now held their entrenching tool aloft, a mismatched hodge-podge of different spades, shovels and large trowels. With a resounding clang of metal on the hard clay floor of the dugout, a triumphant cry rose from one of the men:
"I've got him! The dirty rat!"
The crowd quickly dispersed with compliments and praises. The man, an Australian, by his accent, held his hunting prize by the tail, beaming a toothy grin. The rat was nothing more than a scruffy wedge, squashed flat and as thin as paper. Its entrails hung down from its belly, and with further a due thrown out into the open trench. |
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| 05 Aug 2012 09:59 PM |
Yankee
I gave a half hearted grin as I watched the man and his 'war prize'. |
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| 05 Aug 2012 10:01 PM |
-Bert Miller- Looking over he saw the rat being thrown out. Being quiet for a moment, he said rather oddly, "It seems less then half of us speak English..", Bert said. |
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| 05 Aug 2012 10:02 PM |
Yankee
"We can try hand signals?" |
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podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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| 05 Aug 2012 10:13 PM |
Soon after the killing of the rodent resounded sharp trudging of boots through the mud, coming closer until a figure, silhouetted by the midday light outside, could be seen entering the dugout with a heavy box pressing against his chest.
"Make way! Primed grenades and explosives here!" He shouted methodically at you and your comrades, standing e.rect in the center of the room. Making his way to the short, muddy-legged table at the far end of the pithouse. He set the box roughly half-way on the side of the table for support, sorting out the explosives that appeared in his hand. Soon, a pile of many things were set hastily in a large pile on the tabletop: stielhandgrenades, pineapple bombs, sticking grenades, molotov cocktails, Mills bombs, improvised jam tin grenades-- anything rigged to go out in a blast lay in the jumbled mound.
Seeing that not one of you had made a move towards the table, he spit a wad of phlegm into the weak flame of an oil-lamp, which seconded the lethal pile on the table. "Grab what you can, guys, the Colonels think the Ruskies are making a move for the gultch again. They may attack as we speak." |
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| 05 Aug 2012 10:54 PM |
name: hobo Woop @.ge: 98 appearance: old hobo he likes to eat peoples flesh.
"I went to the store to buy milk! And the hobo himself saw I, the Woop, but I proceeded to see you, went buy to go get milk and the store sometime next month!" |
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podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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| 05 Aug 2012 10:59 PM |
-hobo-
The store you always loved to visit has been blown apart, being established right smack in the middle of No-Man's Land. An mortar blast from the French in the tree-line ahead sends you off balance, blowing off your arm. You barely have to time to recover when shouts and gunfire are heard; you are promptly mowed down by machine-gun fire.
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