FourtyTwoNah, I just have an interest in Russian and Chinese equipment, though I did use my experience to plan out the little stuff. Leaves do not make good TP, no matter what you've bern told. ._.
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Recent Statuses
10 yrs ago
Current
acquire raifu, defend waifu
10 yrs ago
Nothing quite like schizophrenic weather.
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10 yrs ago
At this point I don't even care where I end up. I just want to do something productive, bloody hell.
10 yrs ago
I still remember four...
10 yrs ago
Standing by to stand by, cap'n!
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
Name: Kirill Shelyapin
Rank: Corporal
Role: Grenadier
Unit: 1st Platoon, 1st Company, 6th Motorized Regiment
Callsign:
Age: 24
Appearance: Kirill stands at a rather short 1.74 meters tall, but this is offset by his slender, muscular build. He has brown hair cut into your standard military crew-cut. Dull, blue eyes set into an angular face, coupled with his pale skin makes him look a lot more serious and dangerous than he actually is.
Background: A first generation Chernarussian, Kirill was born in Volgograd to a teacher and Red Army officer. His family moved to Chernarus shortly after the fall of the Soviet Union in an effort to escape the rampant corruption that usually followed regime changes. When Chernarus separated from the newly-formed Russian Federation, Kirill and his family chose to stay and renounce their Russian citizenship in exchange for a Chernarussian one. It had seemed like a good idea at the time; Russia appeared to be slowly collapsing while Chernarus still bustled with the energy of a young state.
As a child, Kirill showed a fascination with military equipment, particularly tanks. It had little to do with their destructive capabilities or even their histories, but Kirill adored them simply because of all the thought and mechanical skill that went into building one. After all, when one thinks about it, it is amazing how by simply angling a sheet of metal one can deflect a shell travelling at close to transonic speeds. His parents, while disapproving of his odd fascination - they had wanted him to do something peaceful with his life - nonetheless supported him by trying to shift his interest in tanks to an interest in engineering in general.
In a way, they succeeded. Kirill went on to study engineering when he turned eighteen, and while he had dreams of being part of an indigenous Chernarussian armour industry, he felt more or less content with being a civil engineer as well. Still, that did not stop him from reading up about modern and historical armoured vehicles from around the world in his spare time.
When war came to Chernarus in the form of a communist uprising, Kirill decided to put his knowledge to use and joined the Chernarussian military, much to the displeasure of his family. He had been planning to be part of an armoured formation, but unfortunately, he was found to be unsuitable for the job. Terrible at driving and not a particularly impressive gunner, the CDF saw little potential in him. It seemed as if Kirill's military career should have ended here, but that was evidently not the case.
Where Kirill showed a total lack of skill in operating an armoured vehicle, he showed aptitude in knowing how to destroy one. In hindsight, it made sense - his interest in armoured vehicles not only taught him how they were built, but also gave him some insights as to where their weak spots were. While anyone could be taught how to aim at the lower glacis plates, cupolas or any other well-known spots, Kirill knew where to hit to rupture the armour, to destroy the wheel sprockets or even to knock out the entire drive train. It was said during training that he was like a sniper with the RPG, placing shots where they were needed with relative pinpoint accuracy.
Thus, it was no surprise when Kirill was assigned as the grenadier of Bayonet One. Though he might still be rather sore about not being able to operate an armoured vehicle, he finds solace in knowing that he is still doing his small part in keeping his adopted country safe, even if it is from her own people.
Languages: Russian, Czech
Equipment: (The names and codes are just for visual reference. Tried to put together a realistic loadout based on screenshots and the like)
Load Carrying Equipment/Uniform
- CDF Combat Uniform
- 6b5-19 (Heavily modified to reduce weight as much as possible)
- 6sh92-1 (Minus rucksack)
- M68 helmet
- Panama Hat (Folded and placed in pocket when not in use)
- Scarf/face wrap
- Quiver for 2 RPG-7 rockets; 2X PG-7VL Single stage HEAT. Both with warhead and propellant modules disassembled for easy carriage.
Weaponry
- AK-74; fitted with PK-01 red dot sight
- RPG-7
- 2X RGO Grenade
- 2X RGN Grenade
- AKM Type II Bayonet
Personal items
- Saperka Shovel
- Swiss Army knife
- Combat Rations; 2 meals, 2 days
- Sterilized Bandage; 4X 1 meter rolls
- Basic rifle cleaning kit; 1x Cleaning cloth, 1x collapsible pull-through rod, 1X Oil Bottle, 2x brush heads
- Flashlight; Red filter equipped
- Flares; 1X Red, 1X Purple
- Toilet roll
Rank: Corporal
Role: Grenadier
Unit: 1st Platoon, 1st Company, 6th Motorized Regiment
Callsign:
Age: 24
Appearance: Kirill stands at a rather short 1.74 meters tall, but this is offset by his slender, muscular build. He has brown hair cut into your standard military crew-cut. Dull, blue eyes set into an angular face, coupled with his pale skin makes him look a lot more serious and dangerous than he actually is.
Background: A first generation Chernarussian, Kirill was born in Volgograd to a teacher and Red Army officer. His family moved to Chernarus shortly after the fall of the Soviet Union in an effort to escape the rampant corruption that usually followed regime changes. When Chernarus separated from the newly-formed Russian Federation, Kirill and his family chose to stay and renounce their Russian citizenship in exchange for a Chernarussian one. It had seemed like a good idea at the time; Russia appeared to be slowly collapsing while Chernarus still bustled with the energy of a young state.
As a child, Kirill showed a fascination with military equipment, particularly tanks. It had little to do with their destructive capabilities or even their histories, but Kirill adored them simply because of all the thought and mechanical skill that went into building one. After all, when one thinks about it, it is amazing how by simply angling a sheet of metal one can deflect a shell travelling at close to transonic speeds. His parents, while disapproving of his odd fascination - they had wanted him to do something peaceful with his life - nonetheless supported him by trying to shift his interest in tanks to an interest in engineering in general.
In a way, they succeeded. Kirill went on to study engineering when he turned eighteen, and while he had dreams of being part of an indigenous Chernarussian armour industry, he felt more or less content with being a civil engineer as well. Still, that did not stop him from reading up about modern and historical armoured vehicles from around the world in his spare time.
When war came to Chernarus in the form of a communist uprising, Kirill decided to put his knowledge to use and joined the Chernarussian military, much to the displeasure of his family. He had been planning to be part of an armoured formation, but unfortunately, he was found to be unsuitable for the job. Terrible at driving and not a particularly impressive gunner, the CDF saw little potential in him. It seemed as if Kirill's military career should have ended here, but that was evidently not the case.
Where Kirill showed a total lack of skill in operating an armoured vehicle, he showed aptitude in knowing how to destroy one. In hindsight, it made sense - his interest in armoured vehicles not only taught him how they were built, but also gave him some insights as to where their weak spots were. While anyone could be taught how to aim at the lower glacis plates, cupolas or any other well-known spots, Kirill knew where to hit to rupture the armour, to destroy the wheel sprockets or even to knock out the entire drive train. It was said during training that he was like a sniper with the RPG, placing shots where they were needed with relative pinpoint accuracy.
Thus, it was no surprise when Kirill was assigned as the grenadier of Bayonet One. Though he might still be rather sore about not being able to operate an armoured vehicle, he finds solace in knowing that he is still doing his small part in keeping his adopted country safe, even if it is from her own people.
Languages: Russian, Czech
Equipment: (The names and codes are just for visual reference. Tried to put together a realistic loadout based on screenshots and the like)
Load Carrying Equipment/Uniform
- CDF Combat Uniform
- 6b5-19 (Heavily modified to reduce weight as much as possible)
- 6sh92-1 (Minus rucksack)
- M68 helmet
- Panama Hat (Folded and placed in pocket when not in use)
- Scarf/face wrap
- Quiver for 2 RPG-7 rockets; 2X PG-7VL Single stage HEAT. Both with warhead and propellant modules disassembled for easy carriage.
Weaponry
- AK-74; fitted with PK-01 red dot sight
- RPG-7
- 2X RGO Grenade
- 2X RGN Grenade
- AKM Type II Bayonet
Personal items
- Saperka Shovel
- Swiss Army knife
- Combat Rations; 2 meals, 2 days
- Sterilized Bandage; 4X 1 meter rolls
- Basic rifle cleaning kit; 1x Cleaning cloth, 1x collapsible pull-through rod, 1X Oil Bottle, 2x brush heads
- Flashlight; Red filter equipped
- Flares; 1X Red, 1X Purple
- Toilet roll
No problem, though if you were going for a Corporal in charge due to shortage of manpower, that would work too. It might get confusing in the long run when we have corporals under corporals, though. XD
Got my post up.
Also, @kingkonrad: We were given a 16-ton truck in the middle of an open field to camouflage, so we couldn't do it that well even if we tried. XD I did feel a sense of irony, though, seeing as how my parent formation dealt with aerial surveillance and photography...
Also, @kingkonrad: We were given a 16-ton truck in the middle of an open field to camouflage, so we couldn't do it that well even if we tried. XD I did feel a sense of irony, though, seeing as how my parent formation dealt with aerial surveillance and photography...
"When this over, I will get you paint thinner and some true Russian Vodka. Then, you can make your comments with valid reason." Zhenya said seriously, though the slight grin that tugged at the ends of his mouth gave him away. The Captain was right; never before did Zhenya imagine that he would be working alongside a Pole. He had nothing against the Polish, but he was pretty sure that the Polish were no big fans of Russians, to say the least. However, now here he was, sitting in a car with a Pole, an Englishman, an American and Australian heading towards certain death, talking about the future as if it were a certainty that they would make it out alive as a squad.
It was weird, but a good kind of weird. It was the kind of warm feeling that Zhenya had last felt in Chechnya, when he had just been a regular, enlisted soldier sitting in the back of a BMP racing down a dirt track towards the battlefield. The feeling of camaraderie and a powerful bond despite borders, language or even beliefs, that was a feeling that Zhenya never wanted to forget.
"Negative 54," Zhenya corrected and glanced towards Neil. "Last I was at Magdan, the temperature peaked at negative 54. Worse than the winter that stopped the Germans in the Great Patriotic War." He said, but then continued with, "But I admit that I would not do well in extreme heat. The most we experience of heat is the Moscow heat wave that comes every once in a while, and I imagine that is nothing compared to your Australian desert."
He leaned back in his seat, taking this brief moment of peace to entertain Scott's idea of setting up a bar somewhere quiet once everything was over and done with. It would certainly be a welcome change of pace, or hell, even a welcome change of life. He had experienced enough war and fighting for a lifetime, and even though it was the one thing he was good at, he knew that this was not a job that he could keep forever. Eventually he would have to accept a desk job, and eventually he found fade away from the frontlines and into the office.
"A bar in the Caribbean sounds like a good idea," He mumbled. "I think we all deserve a quiet rest of our lives after all this. The world owes us that much, would you all not agree?"
It was weird, but a good kind of weird. It was the kind of warm feeling that Zhenya had last felt in Chechnya, when he had just been a regular, enlisted soldier sitting in the back of a BMP racing down a dirt track towards the battlefield. The feeling of camaraderie and a powerful bond despite borders, language or even beliefs, that was a feeling that Zhenya never wanted to forget.
"Negative 54," Zhenya corrected and glanced towards Neil. "Last I was at Magdan, the temperature peaked at negative 54. Worse than the winter that stopped the Germans in the Great Patriotic War." He said, but then continued with, "But I admit that I would not do well in extreme heat. The most we experience of heat is the Moscow heat wave that comes every once in a while, and I imagine that is nothing compared to your Australian desert."
He leaned back in his seat, taking this brief moment of peace to entertain Scott's idea of setting up a bar somewhere quiet once everything was over and done with. It would certainly be a welcome change of pace, or hell, even a welcome change of life. He had experienced enough war and fighting for a lifetime, and even though it was the one thing he was good at, he knew that this was not a job that he could keep forever. Eventually he would have to accept a desk job, and eventually he found fade away from the frontlines and into the office.
"A bar in the Caribbean sounds like a good idea," He mumbled. "I think we all deserve a quiet rest of our lives after all this. The world owes us that much, would you all not agree?"
@Kingkonrad: If I'm not wrong, squad leaders were Junior Sergeants or Sergeants. Of course, I'm assuming this is following the command structure of most ex-Soviet (Or in this case, Russian) states.
Still accepting?
Any thoughts Connor had of knowing more about the skittish girl staying away from the rest disappeared when a sudden, violent lurch sent him flying into a tangle of cables which thankfully prevented him from slamming straight into the mess of pipes behind. As he slowly got to his feet and tried to steady himself, a cable which had managed to wrap itself around his right ankle brought him crashing to the ground the minute he tried to take a single step. This time, there was nothing to break his fall and he felt his whole body ache as he stood back up.
"Bloody feck," He muttered to himself as he straightened out his clothes. "Someone somewhere has a wicked sense of humour."
He was interrupted by a strange, hissing sound. Surrounded by so many pieces of machinery, most of them unknown to him, Connor initially wrote it off as just ambient noise. However, he briefly saw an oddly shaped creature darting up a wall. It moved faster than any man Connor knew, and he knew someone on the Shetlands who could outrun a horse for brief periods of time, so that was indeed saying something. The creature had disappeared from sight, but Connor kept his eyes on it's last known position, near the top of a ladder.
"Anyone else saw that?" He asked, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "There's something else here with us."
Gulping, he slowly backed away and drew his bayonet. Despite the tense situation, he noted that the blade of his weapon looked a little bit shinier than usual. Perhaps that sludge Corporal Brekker had convinced him to drown his bayonet in a week ago had actually done some work. "Whatever you're doing," He called out to the writer, who was trying to call for help via the horn. "I hope to God it actually works, otherwise I'm going to start cutting things and hoping for the best."
"Bloody feck," He muttered to himself as he straightened out his clothes. "Someone somewhere has a wicked sense of humour."
He was interrupted by a strange, hissing sound. Surrounded by so many pieces of machinery, most of them unknown to him, Connor initially wrote it off as just ambient noise. However, he briefly saw an oddly shaped creature darting up a wall. It moved faster than any man Connor knew, and he knew someone on the Shetlands who could outrun a horse for brief periods of time, so that was indeed saying something. The creature had disappeared from sight, but Connor kept his eyes on it's last known position, near the top of a ladder.
"Anyone else saw that?" He asked, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "There's something else here with us."
Gulping, he slowly backed away and drew his bayonet. Despite the tense situation, he noted that the blade of his weapon looked a little bit shinier than usual. Perhaps that sludge Corporal Brekker had convinced him to drown his bayonet in a week ago had actually done some work. "Whatever you're doing," He called out to the writer, who was trying to call for help via the horn. "I hope to God it actually works, otherwise I'm going to start cutting things and hoping for the best."
I'm still here. Will get one post up soonish.
Sorry for my absence. Been kept busy by my military license driving course. Should be able to get a post up by the weekend, once all this nonsense in the field is over.
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