Excalibur Squadron OOC Thread

[Len Hyet]

Bitch please. That's Szass Tam's shtick

Quit stealing other people's shtick! Find your own!

This isn't my shtick! It's Szass Tam's shtick!

[Monfrox]

Quit stealing other people's shtick! Find your own!

This isn't my shtick! It's Szass Tam's shtick!

I was agreeing with you, calm down!

[Britcan]

(when ever Hitler was born.)

"MA'AM! Your child will be a mass murdering-one balled-psychopath!"

*puts paint brush into hitlers hands*

"PAINT! PAINT DAMN YOU!

(years later)

Adolf Hitler gets enrolled into art school, world saved.

Hitler actually had two balls.

It was Goering who only had one, he lost the other in the Beer Hall Putsch IIRC.

[The Tiger Kingdom]

(when ever Hitler was born.)

"MA'AM! Your child will be a mass murdering-one balled-psychopath!"

*puts paint brush into hitlers hands*

"PAINT! PAINT DAMN YOU!

(years later)

Adolf Hitler gets enrolled into art school, world saved.

Hitler actually had two balls.

It was Goering who only had one, he lost the other in the Beer Hall Putsch IIRC.

I can't find that specifically - the Wiki mentions he was shot in the leg, which accounted for the beginning of his crippling morphine addiction.
EDIT: Other sources say he was "seriously" and "painfully" injured "in the groin and leg", so I suppose it is possible.

[The Tiger Kingdom]

IC post and new Forging the Sword up tomorrow - stuff kinda got in the way tonight and revisions were necessary.

[Len Hyet]

This isn't my shtick! It's Szass Tam's shtick!

I was agreeing with you, calm down!

I can't!

[Kouralia]

I was agreeing with you, calm down!

I can't!

Calm down, or the Snowdrops'll do it for you!

[Goram]

A boy of roughly eight years old ran, hell for leather, across farm land. Roughly 50 yards behind him, his father strolled along at a brisk pace. All of a sudden, the boy pulled up and began waving wildly, as a droning noise came up. The father soon arrived, hoisting his son onto his shoulders and all the while the noise drew closer. The droning turning into a roaring, as the boy waved, until a De Havilland Tiger Moth sped over the heads of the two. The pilot, as he climbed away from the De Havilland flight school acknowledged the pair with a quick roll of his wing tips in a waving motion.

For an eight year old Douglas Stanford a love of aviation was born. It was a love that would take him all over the world, from Southern England to the Chinese/Korean border to North Vietnam. He would see things that would both haunt and motivate him until the day he died, as his career took him from Spitfire to Sabre to Phantom to 747. This is Stanford's Story.

---

Twelve years later

Bandits 7 o'clock high! Christ they're coming down, break left, break left!

The call was frantic and desperate. Pilot Officer Douglas Stanford craned his neck around in time to spot the bandits, diving out of the sun, just as they opened fire. The RAF aircraft broke left, pulling hard across the path of the diving Germans. Braving the maelstrom of cannon fire was their only option; pulling right or continuing head on would have allowed the Germans to latch onto their tails. Pulling across them meant that the enemy would likely overshoot, giving the British a chance to re-engage on more favourable terms. Whilst the tactics were sound, they were risky and did not work for everyone. One of the trailing aircraft, flown by a relative veteran of the unit, pulled across the nose of a Bf.110 which proceeded to pummel the Spitfire into a burning ruin. The pilot was killed outright as a 20 millimetre cannon shell penetrated the cockpit and exploded there. The resultant blast and incendiary effect meant that when a German infantry patrol came to identifying the wreckage and body, they would find very little that could be identified.

Stanford caught a glimpse of the burning aircraft as it fell. It was the first time he'd ever seen a friend killed and it filled him with a grim resolve to avenge the fallen pilot. The move, however, had worked. The Germans were unable to match the turn, overshooting the Spitfires and forcing them to wheel around to make another pass. In order to counter the next enemy attack, the British turned back into their opponents in order to make a head on pass. With neither side quite on the nose of the other, the pass occurred without gunfire, but resulted in the two formations breaking apart in order to do battle with the enemy in a frantic fur ball. Stanford pulled his machine around and climbed out of the developing battle, in order to better his view of the action and pick the first target he saw to latch onto.

Stanford spotted his quarry quickly, the climb and resultant dive onto the target had taken less than 10 seconds. The pilot officer spotted a lone Bf.110C on the edge of the battle; presumably the crew we disengaging in order to rejoin the furball of Spitfires, 109s and 110s. Stanford rolled hard and dove into the 110, with a lead angle on the German aircraft. As he closed in, the German spotted him and panicked, breaking away from the diving Spitfire. Stanford was easily able to follow the turn, bringing the Messerschmitt briefly into his gunsight, letting off a burst of less than a second as he did so. It was the first time he'd fired his guns in anger and he was almost stunned to see small parts of the 110's port wing explode as the rifle calibre rounds struck home. The damage to the German was not particularly bad, but it put the taste of blood into Stanford's mouth and the fear of God into his opposition. The German made a diving turn to port and Stanford followed. The German, burying the stick in his gut wrenched the big twin engine fighter into a tight turn and the rear gunner proceeded to let off long bursts of wildly inaccurate fire. In a turning fight, such as the one that the German had initiated, the Spitfire held every advantage. Stanford buried his own stick and pulled hard, clenching the muscles in his lower body to counter act the G-forces. Within seconds, Stanford was inside the German's turn with his pipper about half an inch off the nose of the 110C. Stanford jabbed the button quickly, firing a short burst before letting off a much longer blast. The .303 rounds smashed the already damaged port wing of the German machine, ripping the Daimler-Benz engine to pieces. Almost immediately, the engine began belching smoke and the aircraft lazily rolled to port, before the nose wobbled and eventually dropped into a dive from which the aircraft would never recover. Of the two man crew, Stanford saw only one parachute; the gunner he thought.

The 20 year old Pilot Officer had no time to react on his first victory, that had taken less than two minutes of combat to achieve. Craning his neck around, Stanford spotted the rest of 41 Squadron. They seemed to be alone. Over the R/T the confirmation came, as quickly as the Germans had arrived, they were gone again, but they had left their mark. Several of the RAF fighters showed battle damage and two of them were no longer there. The battle had claimed two British and three Germans in less than five minutes of frantic action over Dunkirk. Still, the remains of 41 squadron were all the RAF could field over the evacuation at the time. It would be another 25, tense, minutes until a Hurricane unit appeared over the battlefield to relieve them.

It had been a memorable first combat action for Stanford, who'd only flown three operational sorties before this one. It was a day he would not soon forget.

[Morrdh]

Just a note of reference, Kaya probably has had something like this painted on as noseart for the Douglas DC-3.

She's also called the plane 'Blue Boomer', which is Aussie slang for a male red kangaroo.

[Len Hyet]

I can't!

Calm down, or the Snowdrops'll do it for you!

[Kouralia]

Calm down, or the Snowdrops'll do it for you!

He sees your lack of calm, and cares not one jot.

[Morrdh]

He sees your lack of calm, and cares not one jot.

Guys, could you please knock it off already?

TK has asked that you guys stop doing this.

[Kherkov]

Hello, I've heard from Brit that this is a good RP, are there still spaces?

[Zeinbrad]

Hello, I've heard from Brit that this is a good RP, are there still spaces?

Yes, At this rate we better call ourselves Excalibure air force army(Or what ever their called)

[The Two Jerseys]

Hello, I've heard from Brit that this is a good RP, are there still spaces?

Applications are always welcome. Our current mission is nearing a built-in break, so if you get your app in soon Tiger might let you jump in for the second part, he's usually pretty accommodating with that.

Yes, At this rate we better call ourselves Excalibure air force army(Or what ever their called)

I'm telling you, Excalibur Wing is going to happen. Then we'll have some promotions all around!

[The balkens]

Calm down, or the Snowdrops'll do it for you!

WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!?

[Kherkov]

Hello, I've heard from Brit that this is a good RP, are there still spaces?

Applications are always welcome. Our current mission is nearing a built-in break, so if you get your app in soon Tiger might let you jump in for the second part, he's usually pretty accommodating with that.

I'll probably sit this mission out, due to exams and such, but I'll hop in the next mission.

[Calizorinstan]

Hello, I've heard from Brit that this is a good RP, are there still spaces?

Applications are always welcome. Our current mission is nearing a built-in break, so if you get your app in soon Tiger might let you jump in for the second part, he's usually pretty accommodating with that.

Yes, At this rate we better call ourselves Excalibure air force army(Or what ever their called)

I'm telling you, Excalibur Wing is going to happen. Then we'll have some promotions all around!

Oh yeah... Pat is stoked already about being a flight commander..

[Len Hyet]

WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!?

A Devil Crab

[The balkens]

Hitler actually had two balls.

It was Goering who only had one, he lost the other in the Beer Hall Putsch IIRC.

I can't find that specifically - the Wiki mentions he was shot in the leg, which accounted for the beginning of his crippling morphine addiction.
EDIT: Other sources say he was "seriously" and "painfully" injured "in the groin and leg", so I suppose it is possible.

hence the one ball legend.......

[Len Hyet]

Figured I should make the first Chapter of Silva's Story. Fair warning, En Medias Res.

It was a cold night. The kind of night that made most sane people want to hide inside by a fire or a heater and huddle close to their loved ones. Of course, this group of seven men weren't the sanest. Their arms were decorated with a red band, on which a single white circle had a black swastika imprinted on it. These men were of Hitler's elite. The Waffen SS. So it begged the question, why were these fanatics outside on this cold winter night, and why were they all armed to the teeth, Submachine guns and Grenades, and extra ammo instead of entrenching tools. One of them lit a cigarette, and casually kicked the bound figure at his feet. A constant stream of curses spewed forth from the man.

"God damn mother fucking cock sucking fag bastards! I'll rip your fucking dicks off and ram my foot so far up your tiny little asshole you can lick my fucking boot clean! Your god damned Fuhrer probably likes to get fucked by you pussy little bitches! Or do you whoresons like it in the ass?!"

The one who had kicked the man swore back in German, and tied a gag around the prisoner's mouth. This only had the effect of muffling the vitriol that spewed forth from the prisoner's mouth. One of the other Nazis kicked the prisoner again. The prisoner wore the uniform of a Republican Pilot, which explained the smoke plume that was barely visible a few miles away. It came from the wreckage of what had once been a Nationalist Air Field, which also explained why there were Nazis escorting this particular downed Pilot. He had dropped a bomb right into the barracks of a visiting Luftwaffe Major, killing him and the majority of his staff before taking a Flak round through the wing. Understandably, the Nationalists had been more than happy to hand this particular Pilot over to the Nazis, after delivering a few well placed punches and kicks themselves. The Nazis planned to hand him off to another group of SS Officers, who would transport him to one of General Francisco Franco's torture cells, where the Pilot would remain for several months screaming his lungs out until they took pity on him and put a bullet in his head.

The Pilot stopped cursing for a moment, feeling his point had been made, and indeed he had been so colorful that a Sailor would have blushed, and possibly gagged the Pilot himself. Of course the Pilot would then have had to make multiple inter-service jokes about how the Navy was full of sissies who couldn't deal with a real man. In this case however, the Pilot had stopped cursing because his point had been made. The Nazis now had totally tuned him out, which had been the point. That and telling them exactly how he felt about them, their Major, their Fuhrer, their Fatherland, and their Third Reich. It was less than complimentary.

Now however, they had tuned him out, effectively ignoring any noises that came from anywhere near him. Which meant that the slight sawing noise that came as the Pilot used the jagged bit of metal from his plane, which he had saved by encouraging the Nationalists to beat him instead of search him. It had resulted in many bruises, and more than one cracked rib, but in the end the Pilot had been able to keep the small piece of jagged metal safe, a piece of jagged metal which he now used to saw quietly through the ropes that were binding his hands. Whenever one of the Nazis turned towards him, he resumed cursing violently around the gag. After what seemed like hours, but in reality was something like thirty minutes, he felt the rope give. The Pilot kept his face carefully furious, and resumed questioning the heritage, sexual orientation, courage, and presence of genitalia, of the Nazis.

One by one, the Nazis went to sleep, until finally only one was left on watch. Apparently it would be another few hours before the General's men came, and until then the Nazis decided to get some sleep. The one on watch came over to kick at the Pilot, who had been waiting for a chance like this since his hands were freed. Cramped muscles screaming in protest, the Pilot leaped up, and slashed the Nazi's throat with his makeshift dagger. The man's eyes widened, and he clasped his torn throat, blood gushing over his fingers. Slight gurgles came bubbling out, as the Nazi bled out. The Pilot glared at him coldly, and grabbed the man's MP-18, most of his extra ammo, and as many grenades as he could carry. The Pilot even stole the Nazi's belt, including the Luger in a hip holster.

The Pilot spat onto the Nazi's corpse, and looked over the six sleeping Waffen SS Officers. He grinned savagely. All six were laying close to the fire, trying to conserve warmth on the cold night, and being in friendly territory they hadn't seen the need to space themselves out. The Pilot pulled the pin on one of his Grenades, and tossed it into the middle of the group, then took cover behind a tree. The grenade exploded, killing four of them outright. The other two, partially shielded by their dead comrades, staggered up, confused and frightened. The Pilot put them down with two short bursts from the MP-18. He tossed the magazine, grabbed a new one, another grenade to replace his spent one, and, using his newly acquired combat Knife, took the dog tags from each one of them. Although the Pilot didn't know it at this point, the habit of collecting dog tags from his fallen enemies was one that would stay with him until he officially left battlefields behind for good.

As the animals who had been startled by the grenades slowly began to look around again, the Pilot looked at his new compass, took a reading, and set off at a jog towards Republican lines. It was going to be a long night.

[Kouralia]

In Media Res best In ... Res

[Len Hyet]

In Media Res best In ... Res

Wat?

[Kouralia]

In Media Res best In ... Res

Wat?

The other one is In Ultima Res, which got me marks knocked off in GCSE English Language Creative Writing Task Two. 'Write a short story with the title 'The Journey'.'

[Kherkov]

Applications are always welcome. Our current mission is nearing a built-in break, so if you get your app in soon Tiger might let you jump in for the second part, he's usually pretty accommodating with that.

I'll probably sit this mission out, due to exams and such, but I'll hop in the next mission.

Oh, and yes, app will be up tommorow.