King Steve VII

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About King Steve VII

  • Rank
    Advanced Member
  • Birthday August 11

Profile Information

  • Gender Male
  • Location Frankfort, IL
  • Interests Hunting, Fishing, and Gaming
  • Nation Osean Federation
  • Alliance Liquid Zero

Contact Methods

  • Skype thegreekboy250
  1. E3 2012

    I though Ubisoft's conference was great. I'm really excited for AC3, and Watch Dogs looks like amazing new IP that I'll HAVE to pick up.
  2. Medal of Honor: Warfighter

    Medal Of Duty: Battle War 2 Welcome to generic corridor shooterfest 2012!
  3. E3 2012

    The first part of the MS conference was alright, and then it just deteriorated into horrible, horrible crap
  4. The Game Called War

    Legate Mara saw the main Drakain Force split into two sections, the biggest heading towards the bridge, just as he predicted. "Reaper 3-1, 3-2, and 3-3, move over to the east and dig in." the Legate said into his headset. "Roger" "All Shield units, you are cleared to open fire on the unit approaching the bridge." "Firing" "Thunder, fire on that tank column, spotter will relay the co-ords" "Roger" "Razgriz, blow the bridge." -------------------- The wing of black planes took off from the newly-built Osean Aerodrome, and zipped towards the battlefield. "This is Blaze, we got bogeys, twelve O'Clock. Let's do it" "Swordsman here, engaging." The bright blue guided rocket under the wind of "Swordsman's" plane arced towards an unsuspecting Drakian fighter, exploding and drenching the fighter in bright red paint. "That's a hit!" The elite Osean squadron weaved through the ranks of the Drakian fighter-bombers, taking every one that engaged them out. Callsigns Archer and Edge broke off out of formation, and just before the Drakians got into the blast radius, deployed two 500lb bombs, turning the bridge into a pile of rubber flowing downstream. -------------- Legn. Howard marveled at the speed and efficiency that his own army moved. Immediately, he saw the black planes arcing and swooping through the Drakian lines. "Black planes, and that insignia" an Osean soldier near him whispered "It's them" Near him, a Drakian shell exploded, the hill in front of hit blocking most of the blast, but still showering a few soldiers with red paint. "Damn it!" they yelled before walking behind the lines. Howard heard a call go out through the front line "They're in range! Open Fire!!" Howard resisted the urge to blow through all of his ammo in long bursts, instead, he switched his SIR to single shot and peppered the Drakian force with paint, while the tanks blew huge masses of paint over the Drakains. The artillery zeroed the Drakian transports trying to flank them, and opened up in earnest. All along the Osean lines, fire opened up, helicopters took off, and red paint rained. ---------------- Just to clear things up, my forces are in front of the first bridge, so 3/4 of your forces or w/e are moving directly towards me, while the other quarter are flanking and being fired upon by helicopters and arty.
  5. The Game Called War

    Legate Mara overlooked the Osean Defensive line. which was comprised mainly of portable steel barricades and machine gun nests overlooking the river. "Legate, the 45th armored legion has arrived." said one of his Centurions." They are loaded with the dummy rounds and are fitted to shut off when hit, as requested. " "Excellent, Thank you" replied the Legate. "Bring them into the tank trenches that the engineers blasted. Keep the transports behind the main line. " "Sir." (Only the Osean Special Forces use traditional military ranks, the main army, AF, and Marines use Roman Ranks) ------------------ Legionnaire Howard was running back and forth along the defensive line, bringing paint ammo to machine gun nests, stacking cases of Standard Infantry Rifle ammo, and hauling paint shells to artillery and tank lines. Finally, he sat down, picked up his SIR, loaded it, and took his position among those in his cohort. After he sat down on his green army issue stool, he slipped his black shooting gloves on, lowered his goggles, and zipped up his green and brown flecked summer camo, emblazoned with the bright blue Osean insignia. He looked back at the 7,000 plus men garrisoning the hill beside the river, and felt good that they would beat the Drakian Army, who were advancing slowly across the field opposite to them on the warm spring day. ----------------------- "This is Legate Mara, commander of the 1st Osean Army, all units report in." "This is the 45th Armored Legion, Callsign Shield reporting in" "This is the 3rd Osean Fighter Squadron, Callsign Razgriz, Reporting in" "This is the 4th Osean Artillery battery, Callsign Thunder, reporting in" "This is the 76th Legion, Callsign Reaper, reporting in" "Legate Mara to all Callsigns, Operation Wargames is go, I repeat, operation is go. Give 'em hell, boys."
  6. The Game Called War

    Well that's my silly name irl so I figured I'd use it for this ---------------------- Archon We accept, and would like to suggest that the games take place in the uninhabited land east of Corneria. Our soldiers will be firing paint rounds, and our artillery and air support will be using sound rounds that make a loud explosion noise but do not actually do damage. Your side may set the terms and the exact time and sequence that the events occur. Our two sides will meet afterwards for a discussion of the tactics used in the games.
  7. The Game Called War

    Dear Archon, I apologize for replying to your offer so long after it was given. The Osean military, in particular its airforce, has undergone some immense changes as of late, and I did not want to reply with a no due to something as easily solved as the problem we had encountered. Regardless, the Osean Federation accepts your offer, and would like for you to send over the details as soon as possible. Sincerely, Primarch Pleasant
  8. Confessions from the Grave

    "Yea." The group heard tribal yelling getting closer. "We gotta get out of here. We'll talk later." The yelling got closer and closer very fast, and the team habitually hid in the darkness and shelter of the downed chopper. Suddenly, it got very quiet. Costa nodded to Stefan, and Stefan stepped out of the chopper gingerly. Almost immediately, a tribal jumped from the chopper and tackled Stefan, while 5 more slid down a hill next to the wreckage and drew thier war axes. Jordan fired, hitting one of the tribals in the chest, who fell into the dark snow with a soft thud. The rest of the tribals ran at them, crude rifles on their backs, ceremonial axes in hand. Costa's shell caught one in the chest, the man buckled. Jordan drew his knife, and after catching the tribal in his knees with a well timed tackle, he buried his knife in his neck. Jordan looked up and saw another tribal bringing his axe down upon his head, when, just in time, another of Costa's shells sent the tribal flying backwards. Jordan glanced at Costa, quickly drew his pistol, and hit a tribal behind Costa 3 times in the chest, the tribal slowly falling to his knees and dropping his weapon as Costa turned around. The two looked over at Stefan and saw only a tribal lying on top of him, both not moving. As they neared the two, the Stefan pushed the tribal slowly off of him, his own knife glistening with blood in the moonlight. Each of them looked at each other with mutual respect, and set out, reloading their guns as they walked.
  9. Confessions from the Grave

    Why do the tribals sound like cavemen? lol -------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Bill! Bill! Where are you?" Sgt. Costa yelled as he stumbled out of the wreckage. As he wiped the blood off of his face, Costa got his answer. As he looked down at his now-bloodied hand, he saw the burnt and mutilated body of his friend. Costa knelt next to the body and gently cried. -a couple minutes later- Costa heard footsteps, and darted back into the now-smoldering wreckage of the Scythe. He picked up his gun, a modified Osean military shotgun, the Standard Infantry Shotgun, usually called "sis" by the soldiers. The gun was outfitted for survival in case of the exact situation he was in. It had a sharp Ka-Bar knife attached to it, along with a side mounted flashlight, fiber-optic beads as sights, a hollow butt with supplies inside, and different type of shot in a side saddle. Costa loaded 4 shells of buckshot and 1 flare shell into his gun, and turned around just as a crazed man wielding a sharp, sleek looking axe pounced on him yelling a fierce battle cry. Costa rolled out of the way, just in time. The crazed man, whom Costa identified as a tribal, took another swing at him, arcing the war axe in a deadly arc towards his skull. Costa brought his gun up and blocked the axe with the barrel of his gun, then whacked the tribal in the jaw with the butt of his shotgun. The tribal quickly recovered, and swung the axe once more, and once more Costa evaded, this time hitting the tribal in the chest hard with is foot, sending him into the hot metal wall of the helicopter. The tribal yelled in pain, and before he could react, Costa hit him in the face with the butt of his gun with all the strength he could muster. "You bastards!" he yelled, tears streaming from his eyes. He hit the tribal again and again "You killed him! You bastard!" he yelled. His blows hitting faster and faster, the tribal's face turning redder and redder, blood pouring from his skull, as he slid down the wall. Costa stopped and collected himself. He heard more footsteps and pointed his gun at the direction he heard the steps from. His dirty face, smeared with blood, dirt and tears showed only desperation and anger as he yelled. "It might have taken only one of you ********s to kill Bill, but I aint going down without a god damned fight!" ---------------- I'm gonna try to turn this into a more "behind enemy lines" scenario
  10. Confessions from the Grave

    May I come in? --------------------------------------------- The Osean VR-92 "Scythe" transport helicopter was patrolling the area around the tribal HQ that they destroyed, in order to make sure that they did not return. Sergeant Greg Costa sat in the crude, worn out leather seat in the helicopter. He stared blankly through the window, daydreaming, and thinking about how boring these patrols were. His dream was interrupted by the pilot, Bill Wallace. "Greg, we got two blimps on the radar. Looks like Germanian birds. Wonder what their doing all the way out here. I wond- wait. What the ********?" "What now Bill? You forget your wallet at the base or something?" he said with a slight chuckle "No, Greg, this is for real. The blimps just disappeared. that smoke in the distance? Holy ********! The birds went down! We gotta do something!" ----- "Almost there, Greg." Wallace said as he noticed how dark it was getting. He checked his fuel- just enough to get back to base. Wallace flipped on his night vision." "Germainian patrol, Germainian patrol, this is Osean patrol aircraft niner-delta-foxtrot-charlie. We saw your crash. We are almost out of fuel. You seem to be stranded. Radio us if you need assistance. Repeat. You have a 5 minute window to call for assistance due to a lack of fuel. Over."
  11. Return to Sender

    Connors, waiting silently in the background, spoke up. "Tetrarch, that won't be necessary." he said "I'm not going to deny your fighting spirit, nor your ability to get results, but we don't condone this behavior. Bring them back to your country and do what you like with them, but we are both civilized peoples, not barbarians." The sniper teams walked down the hill and stepped in the chopper, followed by the specops squad. Foley stepped out of the tunnel. "I know you guys told us that the bomb wasn't necessary, but they could always come back. Gotta make sure that's not possible. I suggest you guys extract within 10 minutes." he said to the Tetrarch. He then stepped into the chopper with the prisoners, and the Oseans flew away. After the Drakians too, extracted, the peak exploded, raining snow, dirt, and rock everywhere. It was, from then on, known as Crater Peak, unmarked but not forgotten, a steadfast reminder of what happened there, and what it would bring...
  12. Return to Sender

    (Just to be clear, my guys are on diagonals to the entrance, so your guys can see inside, and my guys can fire at the tribals behind some of thier cover, while yours cannot) Davenport's spotter started spitting out information "Tango, northwest, you see him?" said Howard "Yea" said Davenport as he lined up his crosshairs on the man, who was crouching behind cover, firing an old AK at the yelling Drakians Very quickly, Howard starting giving more info, "Wind is 5 mph west, with a crossbreeze halfway down the hill , adjust elevation 2 ticks up and 1 to the left. Davenport adjusted and squeezed off a shot. The bullet sailed into the tribal's chest, ripping through one lung and tearing another. The tribal slumped. Davenport loaded a fresh round into the chamber. A hundred yards to the west they heard their other team fire. They kept the cadence, and alternated shots. The fire on the Drakians died down, but did not completely subside. --------------------- The Tetrarch and his men sprinted down the hill, and slid into cover, using the slope to propel them. The Tetrarch was yelling orders, firing his assault rifle. He soon heard the shots ring out from the left and right. The enemy fire subsided momentarily as the untrained tribals ducked. "MOVE" the Tetrarch yelled The citizen troopers sprinted and once again slid into cover once the firing restarted. They were close enough now that the Tetrarch picked a grenade off of his belt and lobbed it in the direction of the fire.Again, more shots, again, the citizens moved up. As they slid into cover again, one of their solders was hit mid slide and fell flat on his back. No soldier turned back to look. They popped up in different places in random patterns to fire, so the tribals could not acquire them. Their aim was true, and many a tribal died there, but no matter how many died, more poured out of the cave entrance. The Tetrarch muttered "********" under his breath. A Drakian commander didn't like to do what he was about to do. "Anvil, we need the bomb team to come in, we've lost only one man, but too many of them are pouring out of the base. We won't be able to carry out our plan as is, we need reinforcements. Out." "Hammer, this is Anvil 2-1, coming on in." ---------------- "That'd be it for now" Howard said "Yep, their either in or almost in by now, we just need to wait for them to get out" Their earpieces piped up "Anvil 1, this is Anvil 2-1, change of plans...." [Again, my guys are yours]
  13. Return to Sender

    -Shield Wall Mountain Range; 300 miles South of Germainia- Snow fell lightly over the small valley. It was summer in those mountains, meaning the temperature was slightly below freezing. The air was thin, and even the most hardened spec-ops soldiers ran out of breath quickly. However, Corporal Allen Davenport of the 104th recon platoon didn't let it bother him. He was lying prone in the snow, overlooking the supposed entrance to the Tribal HQ, along with three other men chosen from his platoon to go on this mission. He was dressed in stark white and black flecked camouflage, he wore a full face mask, covering all but his eyes, with a small vent by his nose and mouth for breathing. This, along with his tight fitting but warm gloves, and his waterproof insulated boots, was the typical Osean cold weather gear. What was not typical, however, was the rifle he held. It was small and compact, again, befitting of the Osean style of weaponry. It was also white and black flecked, with a waterproof and glare resistant scope mounted on top. The bolt was made so that when reloaded, it broke ice out of the chamber, making jams due to ice a thing of the past. However, because of it's weight and size, it didn't chamber larger calibers, and therefore was not suitable for stopping vehicles of piercing thick armor, as other rifles made by other countries were. His spotter tapped him on the shoulder. "Dav, the Drakian infiltration team is going in." PFC Jacob Howard said quietly "You remember the plan, right?" he asked "Sure I do, Jake! We went over it a million times in briefing! We stay out here. The Drakians go in and pull our man out, doing maximum damage as they go. Then, we pick off any guys coming out after them. After that, our spec ops guys drop in via helo toting a nice big bomb. Them and the Drakians go back in and plant the bomb, then the helo comes back and we all get the hell out before the peak explodes." Davenport said "Just making sure." Howard said with a slight smile
  14. Return to Sender

    LATER THAT NIGHT "This was a very nice dinner, Archon." The President said. "I trust you will have your forces at the coordinates I gave you at the appointed day and time?" the Primarch said. "We will be sending the best men from our 104th recon platoon, along with a squad of special forces-the ones you see with us right now."
  15. Return to Sender

    "We would be honored to join you for dinner, Archon." "7:00 sharp" the Archon said "We will proved transportation to and from your lodging" The Archon led them to their car, bid them farewell, and the car drove away. In the car, PFC Bradley whispered to the Primarch, "Sir, did you see the tattoo on that girl's neck? She's slave!" "Yes," the Primarch replied. "I don't agree in the slightest with their ideals. However, they are a very powerful nation, and it would be best for Osea to stay on their good side." The car pulled up to a large, formidable hotel. Another slave, this one a man, led them to their room, a very nice penthouse suite, and offered them complimentary services, including prostitution. This took the Osean guards by surprise, as in their state this was frowned upon. The party politely declined, and as wasOsean custom, Bradley tipped the slave man. The man's eyes widened and he snatched the money and shoved it in his pocket, looking around quickly. He whispered "bless you!" and walked away quickly. "Don't do that again." the Primarch said. "It can be taken as an insult by higher-ups." "Yes Sir." Bradley replied apologetically They walked around in the room. It was decorated beautifully, and had a very nice view of the Northern Sea. The Osean Prime Minister sat on the bed inside a small but cozy bedroom inside the suite, and seeing his guards' uneasy looks. Instituted a "watch", in which they would rotate sleeping. It was 3:00, a good four hours until dinner, so they would each get plenty of sleep. The Primarch took first watch, acknowledging the hard work his eight remaining men put in the previous day.