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Author	Topic: Halo: TODAY
NickLitYouAFlame Registered: Feb '07	Date Posted: 4/23 10:52am Subject: RE: Halo: TODAY
	Of Charlie Burris near New Orleans Charlie’s anxious fingers tapped lightly on his rifle. He had the safety lock on, but even holding the weapon gave him strength. When the war hit full throttle, Charlie would cling to this gun. His arms tensed at the very thought. And, despite an overwhelming fear, excitement didn’t fail to peep through. Since his one tour in Iraq, he hadn’t seen much, but bunker after bunker. He hadn’t seen the atrocities committed by his new enemy. The glassed area was his first view of the destruction. And, it had taken his breath away. Tears sprung unwished to his eyes, as he thought of home. He touched his helmet, wear he kept a picture of his mother and girlfriend, Ruby. The thought of them dying, of himself dying, permeated every aspect of his life. And yet, it was that same gripping terror that brought him his survivability. Same as it had in Iraq, his enemy united himself, and for all his misgivings, it meant nothing, if he didn’t kill. So, the waiting was both reliving and killing him. He longed to payback the alien guests with boxes of bullets and he longed to leave, to run from the attackers. But, he didn’t. He was too good a soldier, too good a man, to turn his back on his country. Tag - Deskirad -----signature----- Legal Adopter of dab. Fear the beast I shall shape.
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Bulldog54 Registered: May '07	Date Posted: 4/23 2:44pm Subject: RE: Halo: TODAY
	IC:Cpt.James Russell Red Pegasus Squadron James and his entire flight formed into attack pattern. Dozens of aircraft were called up for this mission many squadrons all forming up behind Red Pegasus. "Ok, this is Pegasus 1 to squadron, attack pattern Delta 3, repeat Delta 3, keep formation wide, we don't know what we're up against here," spoke Major Killroy James looked down at the curvish silver and purple things soaring from the atmosphere, thousands of them acompanied by these smaller purpilish craft that moved somewhat eradically, but in bursts, almost like a helicopter, or a hover craft of some kind, "10 o'clock low, alright boys, I'm not sure what these things are, but they must be brought down, the larger ones look like drop ships from what I can see below, the smaller ones look like their version of fighters, move quick, stay alert, call out bogeys, switch to attack pattern Delta 5, ENGAGE!!" James barked. James gave out the order as soon as they were given the green light to engage, then dozens of American Aircraft engaged on the descending invaders. Green blasts of plasma let through the sky, contrasted with the yellow chasers from the American jets. The two bodies of planes soared through each other, James did all he could not to ram straight into opposing fighters, others were not so fortunate. Silver and purple blurs is all anyone could see, where the modern jets had speed and firepower, the purple craft that made screaming sounds when they flew by had maneuverability. James shot one of the smaller ones down with his sidewinders, and then focused his attention on some of the bigger craft. One extremely larger ones started unleash drop ships. "This is Pegasus 2, fox 3 and 4 away James let loose 2 missiles that rip apart the hull of one of the drop ships. James watched it as if plummeted down to the ground. James followed it down, and tried his best to take out some ground targets so the ground troops wouldn't be overwhelmed. Some of Pegasus squadron had followed him, and each took aim on what appeared to be these invaders version of tanks, the purple tanks fired large blasts of blue plasma. ""Ok boys get ready t....." a large blue blast engulfed the commanding officers F-18, a short explosion and he was gone. James new it was on his shoulders to lead his group. "Form up, we're gonna have to come in faster, that way they can't get a good shot on us, so your target window will only be for a few seconds, make it good boys. The silver streaks banked around and came for another pass. Once the rockets were let loose they were gone just as fast. Surveying the damage on the the other pilots noticed that accuracy was about 50 percent, but it did give the invaders something to think about while the ground forces were advancing. "Remember, main objective is to help cover for the boys below," James thought to himself. The display of dogfighting skills by the invaders was incredible, they were very capable pilots. With that thought James found himself with 3 of what some of the boys were referring to as Banshees on his 6. The air battle rages on overhead, debris of Banshees and F-16's/F-18's plummet down to the ground as both sides are fighting to a stalemate, however less and less landing craft were making it to the ground, the air force had at least slowed their advance, and the invading forces on the ground were starting to suffer for the lack of reinforcements. Tag:Any who witness these events (as the altitude is not very high), Sanc -----signature----- "In order to be walked on, you have to be lying down" Tim Russell "Fame is fickle, money spends, love is eternal," Me "You miss 100% of the shots that you never take" Wayne Gretzky
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Deiskrad Registered: Sep '04	Date Posted: 4/23 6:40pm Subject: RE: Halo: TODAY
	IC: Major Joe Olsen, with 1st Tank battalion, Behrmann Memorial Park, New Orleans. Inside the Cupola of the command track, Joe traced the line of the Armored Recce platoon’s advance. Said platoon was receiving the data almost simultaneously. “Spread out into the side streets until you make hostile contact. Then double-time it back and hold a position around the mouth of the Crescent City Connection…” He traced a half-circle perimeter with the light pen. “…and hold until relieved. If you run into trouble, call for fire to get them off you. But above all, get me intel!” Olsen looked up as a couple of F-18’s screamed overhead. He quietly wished the pilots well before returning to the task at hand. “You understand your jobs. Roll out. And Good luck.” A crackled “A-hoowah!”spurted through his headphones; the recce platoon’s acknowledgment. Olsen stood up in the Cupola, surveying the city across the river. Again, he marveled at the vastness of the Covenant ships that hung soundlessly above the stricken metropolis. Huge purple blobs, vaguely organic, from which smaller craft dropped or occasionally returned from. Already in many places the city itself was on fire. He could hear pops and cracks of explosions and gunfire. Also strange chirps and whistles that were totally alien to him. The Recce platoon huffed their engines and rolled. It was a small contingent. A couple of Humvees and three LAV’s. Most of them were hand-me downs scraped from the national guard. A few were near burnouts just back from the desert with over a hundred thousand miles on them. In fact the whole battalion was in less-than-ideal shape: only a few of the tanks had been up-armored with the stand-off plates designed to protect against plasma fire. Some were still tan, as yet unpainted to camouflage in their new environment, so recently were they returned form Iraq. Olsen keyed in to his attached artillery. A measly attachment. Four Paladins and a single MLRS. He brusquely ordered them to lay in their guns here in the park and be ready for supporting fire missions to assist the recon platoon. There was an ethereal whine to the east, and he saw a couple of the small purple “fighter” like aerofoils that had occasionally overflown his battalion on the march from Belle Chasse. They hadn’t attacked, but Olsen knew they were armed, having watched the engagements in the sky, and seen several make attack runs on unseen targets in the city; purplish light spewing forth from their nose, and occasionally a green blast as well. He wondered why they hadn’t bothered to shoot up his columns. Perhaps they did not regard him as a threat. Well, that would change soon enough. The more reassuring sound of human autogyros drew his attention back to the river. A flight of 6 or so Blackhawk helicopters were coming in low, depositing marines to the far bank, in the as-yet unmolested industrial section of the city. Olsen wondered who they were, and didn’t want friendly fire. He keyed in the general channel and picked up the mike. “Attention Marine reconnaissance unit vicinity of Vieux Carre, this is Major Joseph Olsen Commanding 1st Tank battalion, Callsign: Red Tail. Respond, over.” TAG: Sanc, Bulldog, Cryo... Anybody who cares -----signature----- Sic vis pacem, para bellum. "hahahahahaha. Is that all you got you Pansies?" -Marv, Sin City, The Hard Goodbye "An old man dies, a young girl lives. Fair Trade." -Sin City
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Sanctimoniously Registered: Dec '05	Date Posted: 4/23 6:51pm Subject: RE: Halo: TODAY
	The battle heated up considerably with the introduction of the fighters. The Covenant had responded with some strange-looking purple ships of their own, which were putting the hurt on the airmen. Missiles shattered the Covenant fliers while electric blue plasma slashed at ours. Tiny solar systems, complete with orbiting debris, erupted in the swollen sky, only to dissipate and fall to earth. In the background, a Covenant cruiser hovered three hundred meters off the ground atop a thick purple column. The sounds of battle were louder now. Several thick plumes of smoke drifted above the city. Suddenly, the ship's battle-station alarm blared. The reason was soon apparent: A flight of Covenant fliers approached the John Paul Jones at high speed! The defense systems tracked the fliers and opened up a hail of tracers, tearing the lead vessel to pieces. As I scrambled back to the vault, I saw the reflection of a body falling into the water. There was suddenly a high-pitched noise, and the same electric blue plasma I'd seen over New Orleans struck the deck. It burned massive holes in the deck and threw up huge fires. But the defense systems continued to fire, ultimately clearing the sky completely before I could even return to the high-security room. My heart raced. The klaxon continued to sound as the firemen struggled with the plasma fires that burned up sections of the deck. If those lightly-armoured fighters could do this much damage to a Navy ship, then I shuddered to imagine what would happen if a larger ship engaged us. -----signature----- In For a Quick Garden http://www.myspace.com/sanctimoniously
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Deiskrad Registered: Sep '04	Date Posted: 4/26 11:02am Subject: RE: Halo: TODAY
	OOC: In this post I shall introduce the concept of Limited Player Characters (LPC). The purpose of these characters are to advance the story and provide a different angle to the overall invasion. These characters needn't be military (although this one is), in fact, they need not even be human! But they are however, as the name suggests, limite. They are not likely to become full-fledged player characters. They can be killed off by the character's originator rather than the GM. Mostly they are here to give a fuller view of the incident around them. IC: SSGT. Miles Bowden, US Army Corps of Engineers, New Orleans, Louisiana Bowden peeked out the window at the drifting mixture of concrete dust, smoke, and ozone. Phantom figures drifted through the smoke. Humanoid. Many of them were trying to flee in blind terror, but the dust caked their lungs and slowed them to a jog. Bowden turned towards his squad, and sighed. "We drew the short straw. It won't be long now." He fished out a key that hung from a chain inside his shirt. He walked over to a locker and twisted the key in the lock. The door opened to reveal M-16 Assault Rifles and magazines, and a few crates of Compound B, along with Detcord. "This is ridiculous!" one of his men cried. "We're Engineers! We're not front-line infantry! We're here to work on the G******** levees!" "Shut up Sanders!" Bowden snapped, pulling out two M-16's and setting them on a table. "You've heard the screams. The aliens don't make distinctions. Whether you fight or not, they will certainly not spare you. So, quit whining and man up." Sanders truculantly went over and took his weapon and a handful of magazines. The rest of the men were solemnly quiet, gathering their weapons, knowing it to be the end, but they were determined to go out like men. Bowden went to the door of the armory and peeked out. He could see little, although the dust was beginning to settle, then he turned to his men. "Two blocks away there is a hardware store. We'll go in and get some tenpenny nails and we'll make some improvised Claymores with the Compound B. We'll set up a firesack in the street, and after the refugees pass by, we'll draw whatever Covenant take notice of us into the firesack. Then we blow them back to Alpha Centauri. Got it!" "Sir, yes sir!" They intoned. "Alright! masks down! Let's go!" Snapping gas masks or surgical masks over their faces, they moved out the door in column, heading for the nearby hardware store. Strange, extraterrestrial noises were not far behind in the roiling dust. TAG: Sanc, others -----signature----- Sic vis pacem, para bellum. "hahahahahaha. Is that all you got you Pansies?" -Marv, Sin City, The Hard Goodbye "An old man dies, a young girl lives. Fair Trade." -Sin City
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Sanctimoniously Registered: Dec '05	Date Posted: 4/26 2:34pm Subject: RE: Halo: TODAY
	For such LPCs, a new character sheet is not necessary. Simply post the name of the character, and some slight information (as Deiskrad's example shows), and we'll know that you're using an LPC. You can also include LPC and main character interludes in the same post. -----signature----- In For a Quick Garden http://www.myspace.com/sanctimoniously
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MandalorianLegecy Registered: Mar '08	Date Posted: 4/26 4:22pm Subject: RE: Halo: TODAY - Date Edited: 4/26 4:23pm (1 edits total) Edited By: MandalorianLegecy
	((OOC: Sorry for Being Absent Plus I have a Question What really is a LPC?)) IC: Marines Special OPS Commander Lieutenant Colonel Alan King- Ground Level- Louisiana- Near Covenant Landing Zones Alan held his M40 Sniper Rifle in hand slowly picking off covenant aliens. They were so idiotic they didn’t see him at all. Even if they did, Alan had placed mines around him. So if he died, they all died, just have to flip a switch. He opened a hatch inside his armor that held his girlfriends picture in it, Ashley. The terrorist got Kyle, the Covenant got his Family, and they were not going to get Her even if it meant giving up his own life. Alan contacted the US Landing Zone, hoping someone would pick up. Once the signal was through he ran into a place where he would not be heard. Alan entered a dark warehouse then ran upstairs. He turned into a room that had a large window so he could see what was happening. “Hello, This is Marines Special OPS Commander Lieutenant Colonel Alan King, I am inside of a Warehouse, east of the Covenant Landing area. With my Sniper I have been picking off several Covenant aliens, to my knowledge they don’t know I’m in the area. Me and my Special OPS squad are in the Area, With your command we will attack on the Covenant Forces, Over and Out” Alan ended the transmission, then contacting his squad of Special OPS. “East Side Warehouse, Now” Alan ordered his squad. “Sir, Yes Sir” All of his squad members said. Minutes later five men ran into the warehouse, frequently looking behind them to see if they were seen, or followed. When they entered the room, Alan faced them and said “ATTENTION, we may have to fight these Covenant Scum”. All of them said “Sir, Yes Sir” From highest to lowest rank. “Good now pack up, and be ready” Alan said walking over to his right-hand man, Ryan Roy, adding, “I set up a mine field outside here, if we are ordered to attack, I’ll set it off”. “We’ll be ready, Sir” Ryan said walking off to look out the window. Tag: All who heard my message -----signature----- Apprentice to SilverFighter Writer, Artist, and RPer - - See more in Profile
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Deiskrad Registered: Sep '04	Date Posted: 4/28 5:45pm Subject: RE: Halo: TODAY
	IC: Major Joseph Olsen, 1st Tank Battalion, Behrmann Memorial Park, New Orleans. Olsen watched through his binoculars as the civilian man attempted to swim the river. He fought gallantly against the current, although the outcome was basically inevitable. He'd be swept into the undertow and drowned long before he made it across. But credit where credit was due, he'd done far better than Olsen expected. Joe Olsen's heart went out to the man as he crouched in a copse of trees in Behrmann Memorial. He was silently pulling for the man, wanting him to make it. "C'mon buddy. You can do it." he whispered as he raised the binoculars to his eyes again. Then the moan started. Olsen glanced up and saw the small one-man personal fighter of Covenant manufacture pop up from the city scape only fifty yards from the waterline. It rotated, moaning, in mid-air until it spotted the man, and then dived towards him. "No. NO!!!!" Olsen heard himself shout, but it was pointless. The purple, wailing fighter dove towards the lone swimmer and loosed a double burst of plasma fire from its nose. About fifty gallons of water flashed to steam around the swimming man with a horrible roar. The fighter banked and glided back towards the city. Olsen looked through his binoculars, but of course there was nothing to see. The man had been turned to vapor, or scalded and then slipped below the waves. either way he was dead. Olsen turned, now angry, and headed back to his command track. He mounted up into the Cupola. His little foot-scouting mission had revealed nothing but the alien's ruthlessness. His radio squawked. It claimed to be a Lieutenant Colonel Alan King in a warehouse on the east side. Olsen consulted his map, then grabbed the microphone. "Lt. Colonel, this is Major joseph Olsen, Callsign 'Redhawk', I receive your message. I'm here with the whole first Tank battalion and we are waiting fro some Intel from the battle zone before we enter the fray. I'm waiting for an update from my Recce platoon, but I can get something from you as well. If you could sir, tell me what you see so I know what to expect. Over." TAG: MandalorianLegacy, anyone else -----signature----- Sic vis pacem, para bellum. "hahahahahaha. Is that all you got you Pansies?" -Marv, Sin City, The Hard Goodbye "An old man dies, a young girl lives. Fair Trade." -Sin City
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MandalorianLegecy Registered: Mar '08	Date Posted: 4/29 4:08am Subject: RE: Halo: TODAY
	IC: Marines Special OPS Commander Lieutenant Colonel Alan King- Ground Level- Louisiana- Near Covenant Landing Zones Then the reply came over the radio. A Major Joseph Olsen. "Lt. Colonel, this is Major Joseph Olsen, Callsign 'Redhawk', I receive your message. I'm here with the whole first Tank battalion and we are waiting for some Intel from the battle zone before we enter the fray. I'm waiting for an update from my Recce platoon, but I can get something from you as well. If you could sir, tell me what you see so I know what to expect. Over." Alan got up and walked to the window peering out onto fields and fields of Covenant Aliens. He then slipped the trigger for the Detonation for the mine field. Backing up from the window Alan sat down at the table and contacted Major Olsen. “Let’s just say you better have a huge army up your sleeve, I could help. I set up Mines under the Covenant’s feet. One click from this button, sparks go flying. We have big purple and blue tall aliens, with large guns, and they seem to have leader at the front of the group. He’s talking to them now. When you are going to enter battle, Tell Me First.” Alan said shutting off the radio. He ran outside and slammed himself on the side of the wall. Alan could hear the Covenant Leader. The Leader looked so Odd, his blue and purple skin was green, and his head was pointed, along with his fingers. Then it Spoke, surprisingly the spoke in English. Alan attached a small bug, which allowed the voices travel through the Radio directly to Major Olsen. “We will rule this planet, and claim it ours. The guns are set up and our biggest weapon is stationed over this planet. So if we don’t win, everyone else dies.” Slight evil laughs and cheering began as Alan ran off. As he ran upstairs Alan took the bug and said “Did you hear that Major?” Tag: Deiskrad,All -----signature----- Apprentice to SilverFighter Writer, Artist, and RPer - - See more in Profile
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Insanity_Pirate Registered: Apr '08	Date Posted: 4/30 5:20am Subject: RE: Halo: TODAY
	(Posted With GM's Permission....) * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Name: Alex Jackson Age: 23 Service: Army Military Occupational Specialty (MOS): 0300-Infantry (Sniper; Non-Com) Rank: Private Weapons: Modified TAC-50A Sniper rifle, Colt 1911 .45 ACP with 17 round magazine, Benelli M4 super 90, 12 inch survival knife Bio: Alex is a normal American, born to a normal family. His entire family, both hardcore republicans and possessing a long-ranging military lineage, saw the need to instill the love of guns and the army in him at a young age. He’d killed his first deer at the age of 5 and because of his excessive (and sometimes illegal) hunting of all kinds of animals with his grandpa’s M1903A4 Springfield; he has come to possess exceptional sniping skills. When the impending threat of Covenant invasion was announced, he naturally sought to do his family’s military background honor and joined, figuring his skills should not be put to waste. After graduating at the top of his class, he given his marching orders and headed out. Outlook: Though combat is terrifying at best, Alex does not fear it, and knows that if he dies, then that’s all there is to it. Naturally, he’d like to survive, but he would be just as fine buried next to all the others in history that fought to preserve the American ideal. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Alex watched much of the battle unfold from his vantage point ontop of a formerly thickly vegitated hill-top. His TAC-50 had just been set up, and he himself was in his ghillie suit, invisible to the outside world. Only moments ago the battle began, and already several aircraft, tanks, and many men had fallen to the advance of the alien armadda. Not anymore; not with him around. He lined up his first shot, a simple blue-armored elite, and fired. He didn't know what hit him; neither did the 4 or 5 grunts his ichor splattered on. They quickly dropped their weapons and went screaming off in all directions-- only to fall seconds later to concentrated allied fire. He would've cracked a grin, but this was no joyous occassion. 6 large blue-armored.... THINGS jumped heavily out of a purple drop-ship, and were very unfriendly-looking. Naturally this new target was his first on the to-do list; he cleared his bolt and was gazing in through the scope again 3 seconds later. Fire. He couldn't believe it when his round (an ordinary non-tracer round to preserve his secrecy) bounced harmlessly off the thick armor of the fore-head, without scratching the paint, or even causing the creature any discomfort. It bellowed a warcry (silent from this distance, as everything was) and stomped forth. He watched in fascination, then horror as the thing's arm began to glow nuclear green, then lashed forth a green beam of **** that vaporized 5 or 6 people in one sweep. Alex changed tactics quickly; 4 seconds later, another .50 cal. BMP round rocketed through the air and tore right through the thing's orangy mid-section and splattered a good deal of it everywhere. This truely seemed to anger the beast; it stopped and hunkered down indefintely, apparently temporarily crippled. A second shook it's tiny head in silent vengful battle cry; it ran forth to cover it's brother. The other 4 began to split into 2-hulk teams, and flank the platoon. Not on his watch... -----signature----- slurps his slushie
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Deiskrad Registered: Sep '04	Date Posted: 4/30 7:07pm Subject: RE: Halo: TODAY
	IC: Major Joseph Olsen, 1st Tank battalion. crossing the Crescent City Connection "Lieutenant Colonel King, this is Redhawk. I acknowledge. Just make sure your men don't have too itchy a trigger finger. Out." Olsen stood up in the cupola again. His nasal passages were assaulted by the stink of Ozone, smoke, and something he couldn' quite identify. Alien, no doubt. His command track was just passing the Toll booth on the Crescent City Connection, and the gas turbine engines whined as it powered up to haul itself across the enormous frame bridge. The cantilevered trusses stood above him like a cathedral of iron. He'd always hated river crossings in exercises. It made him feel that his unit was hideously exposed and vulnerable at a moment like this from Air and artillery. Even though he'd placed his meager Anti-aircraft defenses in covering positions on the shore, he had no idea how effective they would be on the enemy air units. Further, this was his first river crossing in the field. There were no river crossings to speak of in Iraq. Other units had handled the Tigris and Euphrates. So speed was what he wanted. And of course, speed was not what he was getting. The tracks ahead of him were slowing to a crawl, and then stopped altogether. Olsen seized the microphone and barked into it: "Clamshell 1 to Clamshell 15, what is holding us up. Over." "Refugees, sir. Over." "Refugees?" Olsen said incredulously. "The d***** Police were supposed to keep refugees off the Interstates! Over." He said that to no one in particular, but the Tank Commander up front responded anyway. "Evidently, they did not do their job. Over." "Evidently. Clamshell fifteen, you must get get the highway clear for us to get off this bottleneck of a bridge. We are sitting ducks here. Over." "Roger that. Over and Out." Olsen looked up to the smoke wreathed sky, expecting any second to see enemy fighters or some yet-unseen horror to appear. Switching his view to the horizon, he squinted and could see the bottleneck up ahead. The bridge was jam-packed with cars, trucks, vans, bicycles any mode of transportation available was being used to get out. Pedestrians, or those who had abandoned their vehicles were threading in between the cars. The lead tank in the column revved up it's engine and made several brief lunges forward, encouraging the vehicles to pull over. Gradually they began to comply, but the going was slow and disorganized. The Tank commander of Clamshell 15 was standing up in his Cupola and gesticulating wildly. The Civvies yelled at him or ignored him or fought each other. It was a bloody dangerous mess. Olsen hoped that the bridge could take the weight of thousands of Tons of military equipment along with thousands of tons of civilian vehicles. Olsen dropped down into the Cupola and spun-up his radio. "To all US Armed Forces units in New Orleans, this is Redtail. Our imminent arrival is delayed. ETA... 20 minutes at best. Maybe longer. If anybody can spare troops to clear the refugees off the exit ramps off the Crescent City Connection, that'd just be an A-hoowah job." TAG: all IC: SSgt. Miles Bowden, US Army Corps of Engineers, New Orleans. Bowden slipped the blasting cap into the putty-like block of Compound B. He'd already stuffed several handfuls of tenpenny nails in as well, and the end result looked vaguely like an oversized hairbrush. Not exactly intimidating, but it was deadly. When it went off, in addition to the shock and blast of the explosion, the nails would spray across the street like horrible sleet, slicing into flesh and ripping the unfortunate to pieces. "That's the last of them!" he yelled across the street. Team B was setting up that side of the street similarly. Their little firesack was coming along merrily. Bowden slung his Assault rifle and rushed over to the other side. They only had a few blocks to go,and he trusted the men, but he checked all the safeties anyway. He didn't want a terrible accident ruining their surprise. In a minute they were finished, and he summoned his two teams together. "Alright, we need some guys to go forward and make contact with the enemy and lead them down this street. Volunteers?" A few hands were reluctantly raised. "Ok. Go get it, tigers. Don't get killed." He turned to an engineer named Hernandez, and handed him the clacker. "Get under cover and wait for the word." Hernandez acknowledged and trotted off. Bowden flicked the safety off of his assault rifle. "Ok people, let's get into Ambush cover!" TAG: All -----signature----- Sic vis pacem, para bellum. "hahahahahaha. Is that all you got you Pansies?" -Marv, Sin City, The Hard Goodbye "An old man dies, a young girl lives. Fair Trade." -Sin City
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Sanctimoniously Registered: Dec '05	Date Posted: 4/30 8:08pm Subject: RE: Halo: TODAY
	23 February 2009, 12.30 The flier attack on the John Paul Jones had done something to the ship's power systems. Most of the main power inside the vault had crashed, and all systems were now running on limited backup power. This was not good. John Paul Jones was one of the main ships feeding intelligence and data to the ground teams. Without this vital data, the ground-pounders would be helpless. It was now a race against time for me and my crew as we frantically deferred responsibility to the Ronald Reagan. "Kalinich!" Warrant Officer Gilmour barked, causing me to jump and snap to attention. "Unlock the weapons cabinets and empty them. I want this room to be sterile as an empty closet when we're done!" "AYE, SIR!" I yelled, spitting sweat and saliva into the darkness. Warrant Officer Gilmour tossed me the key, which I deftly caught. The vault had two weapons cabinets in a corner beside the main feed screens. One was loaded with MP5-10 submachine guns and ammunition. The other carried standard-issue body armor. I unlocked both in quick succession. I tossed weapons and magazines to each person inside the room, then did the same with the body armor. With that done, I strapped on my own armor and loaded a magazine into the last MP5. "Have we deferred yet?" Gilmour demanded. "Aye, sir," said young Seaman Aaron Kilcrease. "We are ready to begin self-destruct on your mark." "Set the countdown for one minute, and let's get deckside. Mark!" The self-destruct sequence would effectively destroy every electronic system inside the vault, computers, security keypads, even overhead lights, rendering the room cold and inaccessible. Once everyone had cleared the room, Warrant Officer Gilmour and I slammed the door shut and locked it. We paused for a moment. "If we don't make it out of here," Gilmour said, "it's been an honor serving with you." "Yes, sir," I replied. "But let's save our good-byes for when we need them." -----signature----- In For a Quick Garden http://www.myspace.com/sanctimoniously
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Sanctimoniously Registered: Dec '05	Date Posted: 4/30 8:15pm Subject: RE: Halo: TODAY
	LPC: Thomas Kintzing, civilian, 200 block of Marigny Street, New Orleans, LA 23 February 2009, about 12.00 It was not a good idea, but blow it. He needed a cigarette. He had now idea how he made it out of that massacre over on Gentilly Boulevard. The convoy of overcrowded buses he had been on had just been decimated, and somehow or another, this typical New Orleans stoner made it out alive. Now, he walked down the silence of Marigny Street, smoking a cigarette and wondering if he would survive. -----signature----- In For a Quick Garden http://www.myspace.com/sanctimoniously
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Insanity_Pirate Registered: Apr '08	Date Posted: 4/30 8:38pm Subject: RE: Halo: TODAY
	Jackson, high above all the fun and festivities, did not notice the traffic jam on the brige, the pot-head wandering down the road in a daze, or the overhead airbattle. Instead, he lay prone still, making his sniper rifle sing "Barumpa-bum-bum". POW!! Ching-k(tingle~tink)-chik. POW!! Ching-k(tinkle)-chik. POW!! Ching-k(tingle~tink)-chik. He flipped the rifle on it's side, pulled out the empty mag, and set it aside. He removed another from his bag, slid it home with a slight punch, and then took aim once again. His aim was flawless, but the sheer number of enemies would've made even one who'd never touched a gun before seem like an expert marksman. The last 3 rounds each tore through more than one alien body; pieces and ichor littered the battlefield. Apparently the marauding alien force realized that this assault would fail unless countermeasures were taken; he saw through his scope that 5 or 6 hyena-looking things with large purple and gray rifle-looking things run forward on their spindly legs. At once, they took aim, and purple beams began to lance out in all directions. He didn't have to think twice about the possible heat-sensing sights these things could've had equipped; at once, he began tearing them apart. Some other jar-heads decided that 1 sniper on the field was enough; they shot up several of the others, quickly reducing enemy snipers to none again, with Alex's help. He reloaded his rifle again, and punch-loaded the rifle again. The bolt clanked musically, as the first round was chambered. He fired; this time 1 of the hunters fell, headless. Even from this distance, he could hear the cheers-- and screams as the second hunter ran forth to engage in a brutal melee to avenge it's fallen comerade. This one too did not surive; it was picked apart swiftly by a tank's .50 cal. gun. He fired over and over again, denting the crap out of the numbers of the aliens; at last they began to show signs of thinning in rank. He blew a gust of relief; he was almost out of shells, at only 3 clips (15 shots) remaining. His helmet's earpiece constantly hissed and sqeaked and chattered with hundreds of soldier's cries, orders, etc. He sighed and determined to continue to his last shot, since no other orders had been forth-coming. POW!! Ching~K(Tingle~ing)CHK. POW!! Ching-k(tink)K-CHK. POW!!.... *************** S'nick'roeygie, ungoggy footsoldier - - - - S'nick'roe was having a miserable time fighting. Already, he'd gone through 6 superiors due to the enemy's devillishly accurate sniper, and theirs had fallen almost without firing a single shot. He was tired; he'd fired his plasma pistol maybe 6 times before his first leader was splattered. Then he had to run and seek a second. Then third. Then fourth. Then run all the way back to the commander. Then back again. Then to his fifth; now he lay under what was left of his master's headless carcass. Life sucked as a grunt; much smaller and therefor doomed if trapped under the body of a fallen elite comerade. He finally muscled his way out from under the big oaf, and went to search for ANOTHER superior in command, this time at a walk. To the abyss with running!! Something on a grassy knoll far off caught his eye; a movement on his heat-vision visor's scanner. It was the enemy sniper!! "<Me see sniper!!>" He thought to himself, and almost squealed in joy. He was about to scream at the top of his lungs his new discovery, when a .50 cal. BMG round tore right through him, igniting his methane tanks. He flew off in an erratic fashion, very amusingly, very dead. When he was finished bathing his surviving comerades in a slight rainstorm of blood, he hit the floor and lay there. Dead. -----signature----- slurps his slushie
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Deiskrad Registered: Sep '04	Date Posted: 5/4 1:24pm Subject: RE: Halo: TODAY
	IC: Major Joe Olsen,. With 1st Tank Battalion, crossing the Crescent City Connection The command track inched forward, the traffic jam abating but not vanished. Clots of refugees walked numbly by, not many of them even looking up at the massive military vehicles on the bridge. Most were nearly comatose with funk and exhaustion and fear. Their dead eyes spoke of the horrors they had witnessed. Ahead, the city was burning in several places. Olsen had heard several explosions over the constant nattering of horns and human wails. The tension was still incredible: Olsen searchd the sky every few seconds, convinced that at any moment, a swarm of those purple insect-like craft would descend and shoot up his column. He was relieved when he heard some sonic boms further to the east, indicating that the Air Force was still fighting. Maybe that meant that the enemy air force was busy with that. He hoped. Peering ahead, he could see a massive semi attempting to pull off to the side of the bridge to allow the column to move forward. But with almost no room to maneuver, the beast was simply shuffling forward and back, jockeying for position. Finally it freed up one lane and most of another and the military column inched forward another ten meters or so. The battalion had proceeded about two-thirds of the way across, when Olsen noted a Cyan flicker amongst the buildings to the east. Then, rising in the sky, a similarly colored bolt, vaguely comet-shaped, lazily rose up towards the heavens, trailing neon flickers in its wake. When it reached the zenith of its arc, it seemed to hover, but then Olsen realized it was getting larger. It was heading towards them. Seizing the Microphone, he bellowed “Incoming!” just as the blue cometoid plunged into the Mississippi river. An unbelievable gout of steam flashed from the river with a deafening roar and shriek. The refugees similiary shrieked and roared in terror and began to run, knocking each other over, threading in between the tanks, and generally making things worse. The scalding steam drifted onto the bridge, and there were cries of pain from the fleeing civilians. “That was artillery!” Olsen yelled into his radio “A ranging shot! They are firing on us! We need to move NOW! Forward! Go! Go! Go!” His driver revved the track and the column moved forward. The lead tank surged ahead, but the panicking civilians were getting in the way. “Clamshell 15, this is Clamshell one. You are authorized to use force to clear this bridge! Do what is necessary. Just get us off!” The commander of Clamshell fifteen stood up in his cupola and racked the bolt of his pintle-mounted .50 Caliber heavy machine gun. He fired a burst into the air. The refugees wailed and scurried away. Those few cars that had not been abandoned were promptly abandoned and left for dead. A volley of cyan plasma appeared over the horizon. At the same moment the column began to creep forward. Clamshell 15 rolled over a car, crushing it like a beer can, forging a path through the tangled worm of the traffic Jam. Olsen watched as the Plasma artillery volley reached the top of its arc and began its ballistic trajectory down. He knew they would not make it. He dropped back into the Cupola as the rounds screamed in and squinted his eyes shut. The first three rounds fell in the river. As before, enormous, violent columns of steam flashed before the plasma burst, drenching the bridges in scalding vapor. The fourth was short and hit along the shore. A Longshoreman’s crane simply vanished in the obscene heat, and a merry fire burned in its place. The sixth round went long and gouted steam further up the river. But the fifth round was right on target. It touched the metal frame of the Crescent City Connection. Almost ten feet of Cantilevered trusses turned to streamers of vapor. Another three feet simply melted and ran like water. Drips and clots of the burning metal fell amongst the tanks and civilians. Their cries of agony were terrifying. Olsen stood up in the cupola, not quite believing he was still alive. He’d expected the bridge to collapse into the river, but it had held. The air stank of ozone and hot metal. The ambient temperature had risen almost 15 degrees, and there was hot steam everywhere, casting everything into a silvery halo of a fog. “All units! Forward full! DO NOT STOP! GO NOW!!!” He yelled into the radio. His command track lurched forward, the gas turbine whining with the sudden acceleration. He tried to block out all the bumps and wobbles that the tank went over. Some of which were cars, and some no doubt were civilians. Another barrage of Alien Plasma artillery arched over the horizon. He did not even look out to see it. He only heard its unholy screams as it tore water and metal asunder. He knew the bridge could not last long. Then finally, there was the break. The command track was rolling down the exit ramp and off the bridge. Olsen finally began to breathe. He popped the cupola and turned around to look back at the bridge and the rest of his battalion. The battalion was still crossing the bridge, but a lot of it had made it. Good thing too. Enormous sections of the bridge’s trusses were missing. The edges of the gaps glowed yellow. His heart went out to the refugees who’d been caught in the disaster, but there was no time to mourn for those killed by the alien fire. Or those ground into roadkill by his treads. “All units, assemble at pre-arranged jumping off points.” Olsen was a little out of breath. He flicked the radio frequency to the Armed Forces-wide band. “To all US Armed Forces in New Orleans. This is 1st Tank battalion 1st Marine Division. We’re from the government, and we’re here to help.” TAG: All players, Sanc -----signature----- Sic vis pacem, para bellum. "hahahahahaha. Is that all you got you Pansies?" -Marv, Sin City, The Hard Goodbye "An old man dies, a young girl lives. Fair Trade." -Sin City
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