NSWRPF Archive Operation Overlord

This character belongs to DarthVercetti, and I have posted it up for him.

GM APPROVED

Name: Jeremy Morton
Faction: British 50th
Class: sniper
Favorite Weapon: Springfield '03
Rank: Private (Pvt.)
Age: 32
Height: 6"5
Weight: 79
Hair: Dark Brown
Eyes: Blue
Any other features: scar through left eye
Picture: none
Bio: born in westminster abbey
adopted at 5 slave work till 30
found allegience at 31

He has never RPed before so be easy on him ok

 

OOC: Yeah sure Sabre. I'll be happy to give a nice welcome. We need more German soldiers though. There's possibly 3 or so of us.

 

OOC: and there are only 3 brits

 

Name: Robert C. Church
Faction: Allies (British 50th)
Class: Sniper
Favourite Weapon: Springfield '03
Rank: Pvt
Age: 21
Height: 6' 2"
Weight: 175 Lbs
Hair: Straight brown hair
Eyes: Gray

Any other features: Very patient, is an excellent shot, doesn't talk much. Has a Northern accent, but uses his more educated tone when with important persons.

Bio: Church was born in Canada to British parents. They moved to England when Church was 15 years old. He never was very extroverted, but was very athletic. His natural patience and silence were a bit of a social hinderance, but he went on to graduate with very high marks from Cambridge.
Being an heir to a wealthy family, Church didn't find civilian life very interesting, and became even more introverted as a result of boredom. His father noticed this, and sent him into the military, where he quickly became known for his crack shots. Church was lucky in the sense that he avoided the majority of the war, but was sent off to Normandy right after he got out of basic training.

 

IC: Lt. Wyatt

11:45 P.M.
June 5, 1944
Allied Airborne Staging Area, England

All around the airfield, C-130s were firing up their engines, their hums eminating around the airfield. But soon, the hums combined to make a monsterous roar. Wyatt had never seen that many planes all at once. He looked around at his squad, now fully geared. Each and every one of them had black faces (including himself).

"Move out!" he ordered. Wyatt turned and jogged to his squad's assigned plane. Wyatt stopped at the hatch of the massive aircraft and let his men go in before him, shaking each of their hands before they entered.

Finally, Wyatt boarded the plane. Wihtin a few minutes the massive air fleet was airborne and heading to their target...Normandy.

TAG: 101st

 

IC: Terry Scubensky (Scubs)

Scubs took a deep breath and boarded his plane. Tana's face seemed to form in the clouds. He wondered if he would ever see her again.

He automatically jumped onto the plane.

I'll be fine. We'll all be fine.

TAG: 101st

 

GM Note

I need a volunteer to be the GM of the Ranger Faction. BLemelisk stepped out, and I PMed a replacement, but I havn't gotten a reply. So anyone interested, just PM me.

 

OOC: I'll get a post up tomorrow, don't land without me!

 

Cpl. Hanley, British 50th

IC: Jake was sitting on his bunk when he heard the loud roars of the cargo planes. The roars became louder and louder and Jake went out to watch the spectacle. The massive birds carrying thousands of men filled the night sky. Although they practically blanketted the sky they were very hard to see, as it was the time of the month where the moon was at its darkest.

As the planes went out of sight beyond the horizon Jake thought about the part he would play in this operation.

He knew nothing of the horrors of war...

TAG: any brits

 

IC: Deadeye, 50th British

Deadeye figited in his bunk. He was trying to listen to the news, but was unable to due to the thousands of glyders overhead. He frowned, thinking of the men above, and praying that they would still be alive this time tommorow. He heard a shuffling noise, and turned to his left, seeing another soldier.

"Hey." He said, than saw the stripes on the soldiers side. "I mean Hello Sir." Deadeye saluted, than smiled. "I don't think we've met before, I'm Matt Baker, but everyone calls me Deadeye." He held out a hand.

TAG: Sabre_11

 

hey guy illget my post up as soon as i can.

 

OOC: Deadeye, I am seeing a few problems in your posting here

Problem 1: You say in your character sheet you are Matt Butcher, but in posts you are Baker

Problem 2: You say you are a sergeant yet you are only 19. Impossible.

Problem 3: You don't call me sir. You are supposedly a sergeant and I am a corporal, lower than you.

please fix these up.

 

1. - I have been playing too much of the original BIA. Sorry. (Sgt. Matt Baker)

2 = It's not impossible. He joined up early, lying about his age. Also his rank was cleared with the british gm.

3. - Military Ranks - I was looking at this site and did not realise the table was going from bottom to top. http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/FWWranks.htm

My mistake i am afraid. sorry.

 

OOC: yeah I get number 1, that game is cool,

number 2, i didn't remember that you said he joined early, cause that makes it possible, my mistake

and on 3, dont forget next time, Corporal only has 2 stripes, you (sgt.) have 3

IC: Cpl. Jake Hanley (British 50th)

Jake looked down at the soldier sitting on the bed. He was a Sergeant, but looked just a little too young for that position. The sergeants hand was gestured towards Jake and he shook the mans hand.

"Nice to meet you Baker. I'm Jake, Jake Hanley."

TAG: Matt Baker (DeadEye), any other brits

 

IC: Deadeye

"Good to meet you to, Jake." He said, and paused, the drone of the glyders above continued. "So, what boat are you on tommorow?"

TAG: Sabre_11

 

IC: Robert Church, British 50th

A tall, thin man came in the doorway.

" 'Scuse, me, but this is the 50th, right?" he said with a cockney accent.

 

Pvt. Jacob Thigpen
12:00 A.M.
June 6, 1944
Allied Airplane headed for Normandy, France

Jake sat in his seat, surrounded by the entire company. The loud hum of the engines send vibrations through the ship, he was fiddling around with his straps which connected his gear to his body. He looked up, the red light near the jump door glowed as it lit up the entire inside of the Airplane. The sound of coughs and sneezes overshadowed the large engines roaring through the air. He leaned forward and saw one soldier puke onto the floor, spilling partially digested food onto the floor. Some landed on the legs of a soldier sitting across from him, the man wiped his mouth and sat back in his seat. The altitude was getting to some of them.

"You doin' alright Pigpen?" Wyatt asked, Jake nodded his head.

"I guess so sir, except for the fact that I'm freezin' my ass off being up here so high." Jake said, a few of the other men laughed.

"Yeah, well you're gonna be facing a helluva lot more then cold when our butts get dropped into France."

"Oh I know that Sir, I just figured I'd complain a little." Jake said, he stretched out his arms and then said "We got a long ways to go."
__________________________________________________________________

 

IC: Terry Scubensky (Scubs)

Scubs glanced down at the puddle of puke and then around at his fellow men. Some were afraid, some were staring off blankly in deep thought, and a few seemed bored.

Terry himself was continually checking his equipment to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. He neverously looked around at some of the guys he had known from training, and even some he had just now been introduced to because they were loners. He saw Jimmy and he seemed to gain more confidence. With men like Jimmy Mason fighting beside him down there, what could go wrong.

Scubs was in for one hell of a surprise.

TAG: 101st

 

OOC:
I'm Back! I had a good time in L.A., and am thankful for your understanding. I will certainly extend the same courtesy to the players and other GM's should they ever need it.

IC:
5 June 1944, Early Morning
Lisieux, Normandy. HQ Of 101 Schwere Panzer Abteilung Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler (101st Heavy Tank Battalion, Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler Division).

Wittman did not sleep. he had a fidgety, fitful, sweaty sleep. Though confident in the thick of battle, the leadup was unbearable. All along the eastern front before major attacks or in waiting to receive a soviet attack, Wittman always had trouble sleeping. Numb extremities. Sweaty palms. omnipresent Nausea. Wittman had learned to trust his instincts.
his instinct told him that very soon, perhaps tomorrow, things in the west would come to a head.
He sat up in the house he was billeted in, went the window, and looked at the vague shapes of blacked-out Lisieux, thought of his wife, the beautiful Hildi. They had only been married a few months, and most of the time he'd been away.
Down in the town, the monstrous machines, the dreaded Mark VI tiger hid, crouching in barns, or with camouflage draped atop to hide them from the lidless eyes of the allied air force, which had sought to find the panzers before the invasion. A corner of Wittman's mouth curled upwards. It didn't matter. He'd visited the Henschel Tank Factory at Kessel and talked with the employees and advised them on what worked and what didn't. He was pleased to see the new beasts coming off the line. Faster than before, and with fewer of the mechanical problems that plagued the behemoth machines like steel harpies. No no. Not harpies. What was it the captured Ami airmen called them? Gremlins. That was it.
Gremlins.
Well, no matter. He knew that he would soon show the Americans and British real gremlins. Aftrer all, how could boys surfeited with plenty stand up to the lean, experienced, and hardened German Soldier?
Germans hardened by privation between the wars.
Germans hardened by the martial traditions of Frederick the Great and Von Blucher.
Germans who had been decisive in bringing down the great Bonaparte.
Germans who knew their place in the world and were unafraid to take it.
And whom do we face, Wittman thought to himself. Whom?
An empire in decline. An empire Germany had already bloodied and nearly brought to it's knees 25 years ago.
A former colony, inexperienced in modern war. Full of wide-eyed optimism, but whose army's tradition was steeped idiocy. Nothing had changed since their civil war. They stumbled into Africa, and tripped over their guts all the way up the boot. They and the British were held back by one understrength German Army. When the americans experienced the real thing in the coming weeks, they would be in for a tremendous shock.
The nausea had subsided.
Returning to his bed, Das Panzerlied played in his head.
He was ready.

TAG: Anyone

 

OOC: You mean June 6th early morning, it just hit midnight. Sorry for being such a perfectionist I just demand it lol.

 

OOC: Totally fair since I made a stink about dating in the European style and times in 24 hour time.

 

Cpl. Jake Hanley British 50th

"Wait, a sec, you wouldn't happen to be Matt "Deadeye" Baker would you?"

Jake had skipped Baker's question and stared at him, waiting for his response. But before he could, another soldier walked in and asked whether this was the 50th, in a definate cockney accent.

"The one and only, welcome soldier."

TAG: Deadeye, Church, Morton.

OOCeadeye you will be my squad leader, that church will be in our squad also, along with Morton.

 

IC: Deadeye, British 50th

Deadeye turned to look at the man standing in the doorway.

"Come in, and make yourself at home. We all need some good r+r, i imagine it will be the first we get for a long time."

"Wait, a sec, you wouldn't happen to be Matt "Deadeye" Baker would you?"

"That's me. Why do you ask?"

TAG: All involved

OOC: Cool.

 

Cpl. Hanley

"Well 'Deadeye', I have been told that I am in your squad."

Jake then turned to look at the soldier who had just walked in.

"Anyways, what would your name be?"


TAG: deadeye, anyone