podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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| 16 Feb 2013 07:24 PM |
Whispers and the breath of stale biscuits and canned beef calls through the darkness of your sleep, and for a second the familiar sound of pounding earth and shifting soil can be heard above. A dull light shines through your eyelids, followed by a hard prod at your stomach.
"Get up, mon ami! Up, before the Germans come to get you!"
> [INSERT COMMAND] |
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Quasar99
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| Joined: 21 Nov 2009 |
| Total Posts: 9328 |
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| 16 Feb 2013 07:25 PM |
> Get up and run
EYES!gun, the court has heard the defense. and you are INNOCENT. |
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podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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| 16 Feb 2013 07:39 PM |
Suddenly, thoughts come to your mind. The Germans, the Germans are here! You must escape! Jolting awake, you are greeted with the sharp screeches of surprise as rats--plump, digging their muddy paws into your coat--skitter off of your body. In front of you are the stark, hollow faces of your comrades, each man given space in a corner of the bomb-proof dugout your squad had been given. At the moment, many of these fellows are asleep; battered Adrian helmets conceal slumped, snoring faces, Lebel rifles close at hand.
The man standing before you is Lieutenant Adrien, the officer of the infantry section. Holding a pistol in one hand and a lantern in the other, the light enhances his chiseled features and dark mustache, his coat a brighter, cleaner horizon blue than the others. It was a miracle an officer that lasted this long still had the tight-ased notion of cleaning his uniform.
"You, soldat! What is your name?"
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gwebster2
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| Joined: 29 Aug 2010 |
| Total Posts: 5671 |
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| 16 Feb 2013 07:58 PM |
| "Albert Elfred," I say to the man, giving a quick salute. |
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| 16 Feb 2013 08:02 PM |
| "Pierre Jamie." I say, with a slightly annoyed tone. I don't give him a salute. |
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podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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| 16 Feb 2013 08:56 PM |
(Rolling a four-sided die)
"Je m'appelle Albert Jamais, lieutenant."
_________________________________
Adrien nods, making a gesture to the sleepy men with his gun. "Wake them up. Les Allemands, they come."
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podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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| 16 Feb 2013 09:02 PM |
| (Sorry, not Albert Jamais! It's Albert Germain.) |
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| 16 Feb 2013 09:03 PM |
| I do my best to rouse the men, by poking and prodding them awake. |
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batmangum
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| Joined: 10 Dec 2010 |
| Total Posts: 1100 |
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podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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| 16 Feb 2013 09:13 PM |
As you go about on your task, the lieutenant walks out, pulling away the dirty woolen blanket that had acted as a door to this sorry burrow in the earth. The dawn light invites itself in as the cloth stays open, bathing the pallet walls and the soiled floor with a pinkish-yellow hue as you went about rousing the men. Many of the veterans nod in grim acceptance--the recruits are already awake, deeply sunken eyes darting around in fear. These poor fools had been bombed as hard as everyone else.
Suddenly, the distant wail of a shell-fire looms close. Soldiers around you hit the dirt, instinctively snapped out of their morning routines. |
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batmangum
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| Joined: 10 Dec 2010 |
| Total Posts: 1100 |
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| 16 Feb 2013 09:16 PM |
| >Hit the dirt and pull out gun(if one on hand) |
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podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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| 16 Feb 2013 09:25 PM |
You cannot stop a bomb with a bullet. Forgetting your rifle and flopping on the ground, you cover your head just in time to hear the wail right above your head. A vacuum pops your ears and you can feel yourself flung across the wall as wooden beams give way to the deathly mire on the surface. A cloud of dust and ash envelope the space, and you black out.
Are you dead?
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batmangum
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| Joined: 10 Dec 2010 |
| Total Posts: 1100 |
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| 16 Feb 2013 09:27 PM |
| >No, just injured a little bit |
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podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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| 16 Feb 2013 09:30 PM |
(lolwut
I guess in this moment you can either accept death or reject it. I change the situation for you if you accept death. Everything that happens to your character in this ISRP is determined by me.) |
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batmangum
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| Joined: 10 Dec 2010 |
| Total Posts: 1100 |
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podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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| 16 Feb 2013 09:53 PM |
No. You must not accept death now. Blinking through the darkness you claw relentlessly for freedom of the invisible prison of soil that surrounds you. Breaking through the collapsed mound of dirt, you almost laugh in triumph as the smoke stings at your eyes. It felt good to be alive, as you had just survived a shell that had hit directly on the dugout.
As the clouds ash and dust settled onto the floor, you could make out your comrades with their uniforms sprinkled chalky grey. Two of them dig out a man that had been in the same predicament as you. Unfortunately, the force of the blast had broken his back, his bloody head rolled to the side. Better him than you; he would be sent to a hospital behind the lines, and hopefully spend the rest of this god-forsaken war there. After some searching, you also find your rifle, cleaning off the debris as best you can.
As the whole squad begins to gather their bearings, and eerie calm washes over the battle outside. A man you know as Alphonse turns to you:
"Do you hear it too, Albert?" |
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podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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| 16 Feb 2013 10:09 PM |
He nods, suddenly gripping his rifle tighter.
"The lieutenant was right. Germans on the loose, mon ami."
The clatter of hob-nailed boots along the duckboards outside sound come closer. From the dugout beside you, more boots head off into the distance with a few brief commands. Lieutenant Adrien appears to you moments later.
"Preparons nos armes, les hommes! Scouts see Germans on the horizon!"
Some soldiers salute briefly, others go right to gathering their pacts and rifles. Huns popping their heads up and moving around meant an attack was soon to come. |
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| 16 Feb 2013 10:11 PM |
| I grab my rifle and ready myself for the attack. |
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podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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| 16 Feb 2013 10:27 PM |
Loading your Lebel with 8 rounds, you bolt the rifle and sling a full bandoleer over across your chest. It isn't long before you along with hundreds of other men are outside, leaning under the side of the trench to explosions above. Not the explosions of cannon, but explosions of mortars, fragmented bombs meant to rip through as many men as possible.
You, covering the top of the helmet with an outstretched palm, take deep breaths and mutter prayers as you prepare for the inevitable. Others do the same. Further down the line, a large bomb lands among a group of soldiers, ripping through them like butter. All that is left of them are charred fragments of flesh and ominous lines of blood streaking up the sides of the shell crater. You cringe as Adrien walks along the line, unaffected by the destruction and death going on around him.
"Onto the firing step, men!" |
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podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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| 16 Feb 2013 11:15 PM |
(ANYONE CAN JOIN AN ISRP
FIRST COME FIRST SERVE YO) |
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| 16 Feb 2013 11:18 PM |
Wincing at the explosion he readies the rifle, putting his eye to the iron sight and finger close to the trigger, "Lieutenant, where should fire be directed?"
"Sir, w-w-we need 50% of the 99% a-and the support o-of at least 1% of the 1% if you're gonna have 42% of the 100% to get 50%." |
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podraptor
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| Joined: 13 Oct 2008 |
| Total Posts: 19826 |
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| 16 Feb 2013 11:37 PM |
The lieutenant ignores you, still moving down the line. He draws his pistol.
"Wait for my signal, men! Regardes la crête!"
Two companies of three hundred men take stand on the firing step in unison, manning fire-bays and machine-gun nests--an orchestra of battle ready to play its music. Men with beards, men with caps, men with helmets, men with rifles and bombs; these long rows of dirty blue coats bristle the french trench line like ranks of prickly, rotting blueberries. And suddenly, you could see the things heading towards you.
The scattered wave of grey uniforms stood out from the brownish-black contrast of No Man's Land. As they got nearer, you could see the same fear, the same anticipation on their faces. Crawling through craters, slowly working their way through the scattered corpses and spring mud: the German Soldier. Your fingers itched to pull the trigger, yet your comrades still hesitated at the lieutenants command. The mortar fire droned incessantly in the background.
"Hold, men, hold!" |
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