NationStates Jolt Archive

Copperhead Road
Fifteen years has gone by since John Lee Pettimore III ( "same as my daddy and his daddy before ") came back from Nam and changed the Pettimore outlaw ways.
Oh, they were still outlaws, all he changed was what made them outlaws. White Lighting didn't sell any more, not enough to make a living off of. No, John Lee brought seed ("from Colombia and Mexico" ) of the highest quality. No, he didn't plant them in the holler-(" he had learned a thing or two from Charlie, don'cha know" ). He used the vast limestone caves that trace through Johnson County as his green house instead. Oh, he had some of his shiftless, shirttail kin grow a little here and there for the Feds to search out with their choppers, but that was all small time diversionary stuff.
He branched out too, using those same interconnected caverns to move munitions, cigarettes that had some how been packaged up with out the Fed's tax stamp, hi-jacked goods and on occasion bodies- live and other.
Little has changed - subsistence farming on tiny plots of land carved from the mountain side, or working in one of the limestone quarries, tough, independent, mind your own business while looking out for your family and friends cause blood is thicker than water and dearer than money
The heart stayed the same. Out in the hills and hollers it is still the good ole boys and their kin 'gain the Man in all his many forms.
But the 'Man has gotten smarter too, and willing to use tactics as unorthodox as the outlaws...
So come be an outlaw with us! Or take your chances down the infamous Copperhead Road as 'the 'Man...if you dare...
The year is 1988, and the living is interesting, if not easy.

Copperhead Road
Fifteen years has gone by since John Lee Pettimore III ( "same as my daddy and his daddy before ") came back from Nam and changed the Pettimore outlaw ways.
Oh, they were still outlaws, all he changed was what made them outlaws. White Lighting didn't sell any more, not enough to make a living off of. No, John Lee brought seed ("from Colombia and Mexico" ) of the highest quality. No, he didn't plant them in the holler-(" he had learned a thing or two from Charlie, don'cha know" ). He used the vast limestone caves that trace through Johnson County as his green house instead. Oh, he had some of his shiftless, shirttail kin grow a little here and there for the Feds to search out with their choppers, but that was all small time diversionary stuff.
He branched out too, using those same interconnected caverns to move munitions, cigarettes that had some how been packaged up with out the Fed's tax stamp, hi-jacked goods and on occasion bodies- live and other.
Little has changed - subsistence farming on tiny plots of land carved from the mountain side, or working in one of the limestone quarries, tough, independent, mind your own business while looking out for your family and friends cause blood is thicker than water and dearer than money
The heart stayed the same. Out in the hills and hollers it is still the good ole boys and their kin 'gain the Man in all his many forms.
But the 'Man has gotten smarter too, and willing to use tactics as unorthodox as the outlaws...
So come be an outlaw with us! Or take your chances down the infamous Copperhead Road as 'the 'Man...if you dare...
The year is 1988, and the living is interesting, if not easy.

(Thanks to Tanara for the opening post...)


Disclaimer

This RP may contain all, some, or none of the following:

Harsh Language (Four-Letter Words, Derogatory Slang, and Generally Things You Wouldn't Say In Church/Mosque/Temple)

Violence (Blood, Guts, Gore, Dismemberment, Decapitation, Disembowelment)

Drug Use (Dur!)

Sexual Content (We're All Adults Here, But Keep It R-Rated At The Most)

I, Mercenary Soldiers, or the participants of this RP, accept NO, I reiterate, NO responsibility for damage to your kid's mind (or whatever pitiful excuse you choose to harass me for), that might be caused by this RP.

In short:

I (An Implied 'We') am not responsible for what your kid reads on the Internet. That's your job. Don't harass me because of your poor parental skills.

My Rantings

First off, my usual spiel about tech-level, realism, and the English language...

Tech Level: Modern, Strictly directly post-Gulf War I. This means no OICW-style weapons, laser-guns, reactive body-armor, ceramic trauma-plates, smart munitions, etc. This also rules out weaponry produced after 1990. Do a bit of research if you aren't sure, or just ask.

Realism: Overall, no-one should be dodging bullets, double-fisting large caliber handguns with pinpoint accuracy (Desert Eagles, anyone?), or using a handgun as a sniper weapon (i.e. shooting anything accurately past one-hundred meters, and that's stretching it). This also applies to the type of weaponry you choose to outfit yourself with...

NO KATANAS, NINJAS, OR OTHER OFF-THE-WALL SHIT LIKE THAT!

...That said, you aren't going to be able to afford really nice military-grade stuff if you aren't funded by the government (Johnny & Co.), but aren't going to be packing high explosives (Like RPG's, Plastic Explosives, or anything above a thrown or launched grenade) if you're a Fed. You do have to operate under Federal law, even if the people you're after don't.

And for clarification, 'nice' military-grade stuff doesn't include an RPG, AK-47, AKM, Dragunov, etc. Most of the time, you aren't going to need the fancy stuff if you're one of Johnny's folks, a deer rifle would be something familiar and effective for such a person.

And last, but not least, the English language. For some, this is kid's stuff. For others, it's a major stumbling block, about the size of an enraged Russian Sailor. All I'm asking for is as few spelling errors as possible (If you have it, use the spell-check button on your browser toolbar), posts of more than a few sentences in length (Two paragraphs would be excellent, unless you get your point across in fewer words), and proper use of grammar.

Okay, now that that's done with, we can get to the fun stuff.

Fun Stuff

There are two main groups in this RP that you'll be role playing as members of:

The Feds: The Man, The Pigs, whatever you want to call them. Currently they consist of the DEA, ATF, and a detachment of SEAL Team 6.

Johnny's Boys: A conglomeration of white-trash, military vets, white supremacists, red-necks, and general hill folk all banded together for four purposes; Get Drunk, Get High, Make Money, and Shoot Shit.

These factions are broken down into sub-categories:

FEDS:

Drug Enforcement Agency: Task Force Juliet is headed by Special Agent Dominic Matthews, formerly of the US Army and recently employed in the DEA.

Alcohol Tobacco and Firearms: Secondary federal agency sent in to help dispose of Mr. Pettimore's stockpiles of illegal weaponry, and to assist the DEA in their apprehension of Mr. Pettimore.

SEAL Team 6: Called in from a joint training operation out of Fort Campbell, Kentucky, after DEA and ATF search teams encountered stiff resistance and elaborate booby traps. Headed by Chief Petty Officer Dekker Bray, since the commissioned leadership has remained at Ft. Campbell for the remainder of the exercises. Comprised of volunteers from the unit itself.

JOHNNY'S BOYS:

Military Vets: Most are Vietnam Veterans, draftees who don't like the government very much, and want to better their lives through the funding gained by drug dealing.

Locals: Johnny's kin, along with a few friends, motivated by getting stoned and making money the easy way.

White Supremacists: Looking to increase their ranks and up their arsenal, something Johnny Pettimore has promised to do after a period of helping him keep the Feds out of his business. There are a few Arian assholes in this group as well.

PEOPLE OF NOTE

Each faction has its own people of note, basically people of importance. Those preceded by a star indicate 'charmed' status. I.E. they're still alive in the present, and can't die in the past.

The Feds:

*Special Agent Dominic Matthews:
Matthews is a former Army Ranger out of Chicago, Illinois, who experienced his fill of open combat on the sandy plains of Iraq and in the jungles of Grenada. His new position in the DEA is part of a gradual down-keying of his lifestyle towards retirement in the distant future. Matthews is of mixed stock, part Samoan and part Cherokee Native American. Matthews has been involved in the martial arts since he was young, and is a professional-quality kick-boxer, in both traditional and Muay-Thai disciplines. Matthews is an assertive, and occasionally aggressive agent who doesn't mind getting his hands dirty.

*Chief Petty Officer Dekker Bray:
Bray is currently a Navy SEAL, a former Marine Gunnery Sergeant, and all-around tough cookie. Having seen action in both Grenada and the Gulf, he is an experienced leader and cool under fire. Bray comes off a somewhat standoffish, an assertive fitness freak and gun-nut, and a bit of a redneck when his accent is considered. Bray is a native of Kentucky, out of the infamous town of Hazard. He is an extremely competent unarmed combatant, trained in such reality-based styles as Sambo, Hanganah, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and Pankraton. A career military man in a long line of the same, Bray's father served with Pettimore as a Beret in Vietnam while his Brother currently serves in the Army's elite Delta Force.

Petty Officer Michal Kilroy:
Kilroy, hailing from way back west out of some nameless town in New Mexico, is a crack marksman. His skill stems from shooting snakes throughout his youth, and this skill transferred over well into the SEALs. While respected for his shooting abilities, Kilroy still has few real friends in his SEAL team, owing more to his reclusiveness than any personality quirk. This also seems to be something of a blessing, since snipers rarely work in groups. An avid hunter, he hopes to complete this operation with enough time to bag an off-season deer or two before heading back to home base.

Petty Officer Junior Wallace:
Wallace, like Kilroy, is a western American, born and raised in San Francisco California. His superb swimming skills practiced from long hours in the surf earned him comparably easy entry into the SEALs, and his diplomatic knack for making friends has made him a favorite among his peers. Wallace enjoys surfing, drinking, and poking fun at his comrades.

Petty Officer Jesus Sanchez:
Sanchez, son of Mexican immigrants, joined the Navy right out of high school, working hard to join the ranks of the elite SEALs. His work ethic and rapport with electronics quickly landed him a position in SEAL Team Six as a radio operator. Sanchez commits every fiber of his being to each assignment given to him, and has a reputation as a highly efficient team member.


Johnny Pettimore's Boys:

Johnny Pettimore III:
Pettimore, a native of Johnson county, returned home after the war in Vietnam to build a drug empire in the backwoods. A former Green Beret, he's an intelligent, motivated, and extremely skilled adversary, unfazed by the rumors that SEALs might become involved. Skilled with numerous hand weapons and an excellent close-quarters fighter. Rumored to favor his Beret Tomahawk.

Nathan Greene:
A long-time friend of Johnny's, and a former Beret to boot, they made an excellent team in Nam, and still do. Almost inseparable, he's just as qualified as Johnny to ruin some one's day.

Johnny Pettimore I:
The oldest in the Pettimore line, he spends most of his time on the porch of the family homestead, brewing a little moonshine to supplement his grandson's weed money.

Earl Welch:
Welch is a very anti-ethnic individual, violent and racist in every sense of both words. While not ex-military, he's a crafty bastard, strong and temperamental. A hunter from the day he could raise a rifle, he can also shoot pretty well.

EQUIPMENT

Everybody carries different things, so here's an overview of stuff these factions would realistically carry...

The Feds:

Favoring automatic handguns for Federal Agents, and short-barreled 5.56x45mm carbines (Colt makes a few, and I think Armalite also has a few designs...) for the SEALs, these people pack the latest in high firepower.

Johnny's Boys:

Carrying anything from AK's to Galil's to crossbows, anything used to hunt is a viable and familiar weapon. Bows and arrows are not uncommon, as are black-powder rifles and surplus military hardware like M16A1 rifles.

ROLEPLAYING

Sign on with either faction, and post an overview of your character, but not in that regimented sense of Height:, Weight: etc. Post what we'd see if we saw them on the street, interests, that sort of thing. Be creative. This will also give me an idea of where you stand skill-wise.

Again, many thanks to Tanara, for without her extensive and passionate research, this RP wouldn't be half of what it can be...

Howls happily and throws Copperhead Road on ...

Johnny's Boys / Local/ Kin - and not a shirtail shiftless one either!

Jonni Lea Pettimore (http://www.atddm.com/jonnileepettimore.html)

Johnny Lee's younger cousin.


I remember when John Lee first came home on leave... I was four or five at the time and wild as a march hare. He scared me more'n half to death, and I wouldn't let him near me. It went on like that for a couple of years even after he came home for good. I think I didn't say more than two words to him most days, and never got with in arms reach, but then again I was that way with most every one. Did good in school, so the teachers at least knew I was intelligent, and I read every book the small school library had. But most of all I could be found out on the mountain side, alone with the animals and the wind in the leaves.

Then one night he started crying and screaming in his sleep, it woke me up. I couldn't stand it, he hurt so bad, I could tell. So I held him in my skinny ten year old arms, singing what I remember Meemaw sang to me, rocked him as best I could until he quieted, and slept. I wasn't afraid of him after that. Meemaw had to practically lock me up or I'd be two steps behind him night and day. He started calling me Shadow, and that was what I was, he fascinated me as much as he'd scared me before. He became part big brother, part dad, part teacher, and every bit a man willing to take time for a scrawny, ugly ducking of a girl.

I'm not hard on his heels now days, but we're still close. He taught me a lot, things that probably aren't too pretty, aren't too civilized, and if Meemaw had known she'd a taken a leather belt to both of us. Setting claymores, making man traps, and being an outlaw aren't high on her list of skills a young woman ought to have. But I'm a Pettimore through and through. The outlaw life is where I'm happy, and I don't aim to settle down any time soon. It'd take a special man to catch my eye serious like. He'd have to measure up against the two best men I've ever known - Grand Da' & John Lee Three...


Don't mess with her, her relatives wouldn't be pleased and even worse - neither would she!

However she despises Earl Welch with a blazing passion.

http://www.atddm.com/pettimore2.jpg

Hmm. Veeeery interesting...

Just as a side note, if you want historical accuracy...the Colt Model 720 was adopted as the M4 Carbine by the U.S. Army in 1994. Six years later than this happy RP, no?

Now, the Model 720 itself would have existed, and it would be in testing, but it would not be in general usage.

Possible ideas would be the Mk4 Mod 0, a version of M16A1 developed in 1970 for the U.S. Navy SEALs, blah-de-blah..

Really, just replace "M4" with "Colt Commando" and you're golden.

Similarly, and unfortunately for you, SEAL Team Six was decommed in 1987, becoming DEVGRU.

Also, the Persian Gulf War (GW1) began with Iraq's invasion of Kuwait on August 2, 1990. So if we're in 1988, we're pre-GW1.

Also, ceramic ballistic inserts were first used in the early 1960s w/ the ballistic nylon vests that predated the use of Kevlar. (yay, globalsecurity.org) Notably, though, infantry wouldn't get an insert for the PASGT vest until '96.

That said, you can simply say "This is alternate history Rev," and I'll say "that works for me."

Anyways, on to the introduction.
----

Ladies and Gentlemen, I invite you into the orbit of Mr. Wesley Michael Yoren.

Wes Yoren was born in the flat and bland state of Kansas on the seventh day of the seventh month of the wonderful year of nineteen fifty. His father was a farmer, his mother was a homemaker. Shortly after he graduated form high school, he decided that instead of risking the draft board, he would simply volunteer. Which he did.

The army suited Wes quite nicely. The work was easier than the constant drone of farm life, and his marksmanship, honed since he shouldered a hand-me-down lever-action .22 at the age of five, was uncanny.

He was shipped off to Vietnam late that year, arriving just in time for the most incredible Welcome-To-The-War party ever. January 30th, 1968. The Tet Offensive.

During the offensive itself, and the aftermath, in which Wes was involved in the actions within the city of Hue, he developed a dislike of the M16 rifle, feeling it far too weak at range and too unwieldy for close-in fighting.

Wes served with distinction in numerous conflicts, being promoted to the rank of Sergeant before he was removed from the front line and assigned to training cadre for ARVN units.

He saw action numerous times, but only for short periods, always returning to the training cadre. A short break occured wherein he returned stateside for further instruction, attending Ranger & Pathfinder schools.

Wes Yoren left Vietnam in 1975, holding the rank of Master Sergeant. Highlights of his extensive list of awards and decorations include:
Combat Infantryman Badge, Pathfinder Badge, Ranger Tab, Master Combat Parachutist Badge (2 stars,) President's Hundred Tab (pistol & rifle,) Two Silver Stars, Purple Heart, Distinguished Service Cross w/ 1 oak cluster, Vietnam Armed Forces Honor Medal (2nd class,) Vietnam Military Merit Medal.

MSG Yoren mustered out shortly after his return from Vietnam, wherein he was promptly picked up by the Federal Government. He served in the FBI's Hostage Rescue Team beginning at its formation, until 1987, when he was seconded to the DEA to repair a perceived lack of professionalism in the DEA's tac teams.

Special Agent Yoren has recently been assigned to the task force headed up by SA Matthews, due to the potential threat level the unit faced. Seeing as Yoren is not a DEA Agent (he is merely on attached duty, still FBI,) he has the odd distinction of being outside of Matthew's direct control while still being "under" him, in the sense that he has no authority to command DEA operations or agents.

Wes Yoren is a powerfully built man of roughly six feet, with short cropped brown hair that is just beginning to show the first hints of silver. He bears numerous scars along his right arm, courtesy of shrapnel from a mortar shell.

He tends to wear casual clothing, khakis and a black t-shirt under a lined jeans jacket. When expecting trouble, he wears black fatigues, a tac vest, etc.

Normally, he will carry a Colt Government Series 80 pistol in a shoulder holster and a slim fighting knife in his right boot.

He drives a 1979 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am in Starlite Black, featuring a four speed manual and a 6.6 liter V8. The secured locker in the trunk contains a Mossberg 590 Military shotgun, an Accuracy International Arctic Warfare Super Magnum in .338 Lapua, and a Heckler and Koch MP5SD2 with a Trijicon reflex sight. Also in the trunk is his body armor (kevlar vest & ballistic plate, etc,) ammo, & tac gear, a few flash-bangs, some smoke grenades, a few concussion grenades, and two frag grenades.

Wes has been trained in the Fairbairn system, and carries an Applegate-Fairbairn fighter made by T.J. Yancy in a sheath on his tac vest. His full-time carry knife is a Bob Loveless designed integral-hilt hunter kept in his right boot, as mentioned prior. He also carries a pouch of 440C blued-steel throwing knives.

While in the military, he carried the nickname of "Shrike," for his habit of leading VietCong into their own stickpit traps, leaving them impaled on the sharpened stakes, thus resembling a Shrike's insectoid prey. The nickname has carried over as his Team name & general callsign.

He enjoys reading poetry (only certain poets,) and keeps a copy of Field Marshal Viscount Wavell's Other Men's Flowers about him regularly.

He has the word "Pilgrim" tattooed onto his left bicep, a reference to a John Bunyan poem.

Shrike is extremely stealthy, able to blend in to almost any environment and move unseen. Similarly, he is able to move almost unnaturally quickly through most natural environments. Perhaps his most deadly skill, however, is his absolute calmness. He doesn't scare and he doesn't break. Ever.
---

A bit more detailed than perhaps necessary, but I got into the research and it went from there. His little biography there is purposefully spotty -- like exactly why he was promoted...ever. Or what he did in Vietnam, other than train ARVN. This is because he was involved in...shady...things. Which are so shady that I haven't decided what they are yet. Simply giving myself options, y'know.

He's got a bit of an attitude about him, so I expect that yon DEA agent wouldn't like him. Oh, another suggestion...if Matthews is leading the taskforce, shouldn't he be a Senior Special Agent? I worked around that with Yoren, but if you expect other people to play G-Men, making them be "Junior Special Agents" could be annoying.

Of course, then Wes could call them "Junior."

He's got an arsenal because he's HRT. He -knows- that the 9mm is too weak for one-shot kills, and thats why he still carries a .45. (this is pre 10mm Auto, so no SW 5076 or HK MP5/10 for me.) The .338 Lapua round gives him enough range to do some -real- sniping, and has some truly wicked punch. Great for taking out terrorists in flak vests.

While I'm rambling, very few people should be able to shoot a hand gun accurately past 20 meters. 100 is well into shoulder weapon territory. Well into it. Max range for a handgun is reasonably about 50 meters.

Setting Wes up even further, he's a very egalitarian person. He served alongside blacks in Viet-Nam, and believes firmly and strongly that they are just as much people as anybody else. He no longer makes distinctions based on race and gets annoyed when people do. (There's a nice hook for you.)

Well, that's my character and my nitpicks.

ADDED:
The Pilgrim, John Bunyan

Who would true valour see,
Let him come hither;
One here will constant be,
Come wind, come weather.
There's no discouragement
Shall make him once relent
His first avowed intent
To be a Pilgrim.

Who so beset him round
With dismal stories
Do but themselves confound
His strength the more is.
No lion can him fright,
But he will have a right
To be a Pilgrim.

Hobgoblin nor foul field
Can daunt his spirt:
He knows at the end
Shall life inherit.
Then fancies fly away,
He'll fear not what men say,
He'll labour night and day
To be a Pilgrim.

(This is the poem referenced by Yoren's tattoo.)

-Rev

Here's a little bit more about the real locations of Copperhead Road. I had to back track off of current information. (Even now - in '06 when Mountain City has become a "Championship City" and destination for those who want prime real estate close to superb skiing and other sports venues it has a population of less than 2,500...)

Back tracking to 1992ish...boy was that an eye opener.

The population is barely that of a good sized Texas flyspec on the road...only about a thousand.

Here's Mountain City and environs (http://www.atddm.com/chrfaq.htm)

as Mountain CIty is the county seat there is the:

Johnson County Welcome Center & Museum
716 S. Shady St. Mountain City, TN
and there is a library attached. though it is very small and under funded.

The police force is a joke, flat out, but then again they don't have much to police.

There are two banks - the Farmers State Bank and the Johnson County Bank.

Most of the good paying jobs are at the limestone quarries just north of the city, at one of the two banks, the funeral home, and the local schools. Or the Tri State Growers Co-op (http://www.mountaincityonline.com/tristate/) - they employee nearly two hundred people either full of part time, though most of those are scattered to other places in the tri state area that the co-op covers

The only motel in the city is:

Mountain Empire Motel
1537 South Shady Street
Mountain City, TN 37683
http://www.atddm.com/mem1.jpg

Though there is also:

The Iron Mountain Inn -just opened new Bed & Breakfast - located off Highway 67, between Hampton and Mountain City, TN - though they only have five rooms, and are well out of the price range of the locals.
http://www.atddm.com/imi1.jpg


The Mountain Empire Motel has a coffee shop attached, and there are two cafes in town and a Burger Barn.

I can find no evidence of a movie theater, but Johnson City is just an hours drive away. and there is NO - I repeat NO Walmart ( or McDonalds, Jack in the Box, Sonic, Taco Bell, Long John Silvers - any sort of chain fast food )any where near about, nor is there a super market, though there is a grocery and many road side stands.

There are bars and liquor stores, but not many - again the population isn't there to support them. And there is nothing resembling a night club.

Here is a page with some actual pictures of the country side and main street of Mountain City (http://www.atddm.com/countryside). Please feel free to make your descriptions as real as possible.

Small and hicksville it may be but the Appachalian mountains are some of the most beautiful - if hardscarbble living - on the planet.

*#*

Gentlemen if you both don't cut the crap I'm going to frag both of you.

Thank you to every one and my apologies for being such a gritch.

He drives a 1979 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am in Starlite Black, featuring a four speed manual and a 6.6 liter V8.

And scorches the quarter mile at a blazingly fast mid 14 second run at about 96 miles per hour on a good day with a tail wind down hill and a fresh motor with John Force behind the wheel. Most drivers would be happy with a 15 flat. Thing can barely out run a squad car.

I'm tired as all fuck, so I'll have a character up tommorow some time.

Gentlemen if you both don't cut the crap I'm going to frag both of you.

and thank you so very much NOT MS for taking your opening post down.

Talk about killing an RP before it even gets started, and over some nit picky bullshit that can be over looked, dismissed, and freaking ignored...

I really, really don't appreciate your actions MS. It's very disrespectful and unappreciative of all the hard work I did.

You asked for my help and I gave it freely, and now you took your toys and went home over and YES I AM GOING TO REPEAT IT!

over some nit picky bullshit that can be over looked, dismissed, and freaking ignored...

Now Revenia didn't have to be a nit picky ponce....HOWEVER


So we aren't doing this then? Oh well. Guess I can just crawl back into my hole of car forums and wait till this one gets back up and running.

Oh No this is going to go forward. Don't you dare disappear on me again Imitora!

If MS won't GM this I will

and MS you have a TG headed your way.- well there was going to be but it seems as if NS is down. ( I sent one off to you before I saw what had happened in this thread...

I don't have half of MS's familiarity and out and out hands on knowledge of the Teams, the feds et all, but if people are interested I'll do my best.

OOC: I'm going to appologize for that little incident. As my 60th B-Day grows ever closer, I'm having more and more trouble remembering things, from where I left my car keys and the bushing wrench for my 1911, to things like the dates for the Gulf (I spent most of that in Quantico after a knee injury during a training exercise, which prompted my transfer from rifleman to the quartermaster corps, which ironically set me on the career path I've recently retired from...) that really scared the shit out of me in the first post. While it was childish, forgetting something major like that can frighten the Hell out of you.

I'm going to have to get used to the fact that I'm getting older, not younger, and find some way to cope with it, which will probably involve more time spent with search engines to double-check what I think is right. While I can't change time (believe me, I wish I could...), I can try to make this right by getting this thing off and running.

My biggest apology goes out to Tanara, as she did most of the 'nit-picky-bullshit' research that makes these things worth while. I did a bit of editing (Now we're going with 1992, one year after the Gulf ended so characters with frontline military expirence as a possiblity without them having to be special ops troops), but left some of the stuff that's supposedly incorrect the same. While it may not be historical-novel accurate, it'll be more accessible to the average NS'er than the correct stuff (I still don't know what a DEVGRU is, they've been SEAL teams for as long as I can remember... Matthews is in charge for a different reason, which will be explained when this thing kicks off...)

Anyway, how many people do we have so far?

With myself, Tanara, Reveneia, and possibly Imitora (because cars with most definitely be involved...), that would make four, and if Theo uses his odd Russian guy he's been TG'ing me about, that'll make five.

Is this a good number, or do you think we need more?

Whoops, Hollers, throws arms about MS and gives him a huge kiss.

"Apology accepted. When I managed to get back on line - the connection had been down for three hours, the meds I'd had to start last night had my stomach most unhappy, and the a/c had stopped working - again- I wasn't very tactful or diplomatic, and I know I can't compare to you in your knowledge of things military and Fed...

MS, I'm only 8 years behind you, and yes it can be scary. But hey we both know that in our hearts we're forever 36 ( thats 18 and imortal twice over LOL )

Ps- Ignore the TG I just sent your way. Apologoies of my own to you.

1992 - okay- there isn't much of a difference in Mountain City and the surroundings, lives, life styles etc.

MS, Why don't we keep the sign up open through the weekend, give those a chance who got dragged off for 'that last bit of vacation before school resumes' a chance to see our descent in to liquor drinking, pot toking, nitty gritty road racing good ole boy outlaw... or upright and stronger than any ten men becuase their cause is pure Fed dom ( and oh how I am biting my lip over that line of ...male cattle poo )

Just to let every one know there has been some major changes in Jonni Lea's profile - since MS bumped it up to 92 I get to have the backgound I really wanted.

Also just to let every one know - the page of pictures is now linked- I had forgotten to put the link in my earlier post.

Also some of the information on the CHR faq page has been fixed and redone...

Also not that much of our playground is actually within a National Forest and therefore all sorts of interesting jurisdictional conflics arise.:cool:

Quick question, is the USSR still around, as if not, my character will need serious re-working/or perhaps being completely rebuilt under a new premise.

The USSR died in mid 91- but that doesn't mean the organizations like the KGB weren't still around and still powerful.

How ever the Russian Mafia is comprised of lots of ex KGBer's they say...and maybe some not so X...

OOC: Last I checked, the KGB also had a habit of sending advisers to various anti-western groups (Like the IRA in the novel Rainbow Six...), perhaps your character was out of the country at the time and embedded with one of these groups when the collapse occurred, and now works for the highest bidder since his paycheck has been suspended indefinitely...

And the web-page is a nice touch, Tanara.

Whoa. Seems like a whole lot of drama even before anything's started.

*shifty eyes*

*tries to escape before he gets shot by Shal*

*is shot by Shal anyway*

Ooof. And I STILL can't outrun a '36 year old'........

>_<

Does this sound viable?

He began working with the Pettimores sometime during late '90/very early '91 and when the USSR fell in '91, he decided to continue working with/'using' them and continue messing with Uncle Sam.

That sounds good to me Theao.

and grabs GU before he can get away. You might want to toss a chacater in Gu, have some fun being an outlaw!

Ivan Ivonavitch, or Sean Miller as is his 'legal name' is the non-descript type of person that almost personifies the nick-name Joe Average. With medium height, and a little better than medium build, the blue eyed, black haired Russian was one of the Vympel agents sent to stir up internal dissent and havoc amongst the evil Americans before the fall of the USSR.

Rather than returning to Russia as did many spies, sabotures and others involved in causing mischief amongst the servants of Uncle Sam. He remained for two major reasons, the first being he had a deep hatred of the American goverment, and the second, the Bratva of the Pettimore were sufficiantly interesting and useful in his mission even though it was no longer in force.

His loathing of the American goverment, thought not so much it's people, stemmed from an assassination of a ranking Party member, which also took with it his parents and beloved sister. This lead to his joining the KGB, and more specifically the OSNAZ units. From there he graduated as one of the youngest, and most skilled of the recruits, and was put into the Vympel. From there he was sent to the USA to find a viable oppertunity to disrupt the Americans and to focus information upon themselves rather than on the outside world. He soon found an ideal group in the Pettimores and from there set about intergrating himself with the Bratva and continuing his mission.


Look good?

Looks good to me... and boy is he going to be the odd spy out, among the good ole boys just looking to get laid, rich and stoned, and the Feds looking to put a halt to all three...

So it is 1992? Fucking a, your all screwed now!
___

Mountain City, Tennasee. It might as well be Timbuckfuckingto.

We've all been there, that nice situation where you realize you've royaly screwed up, put yourself in one hell of a pickle, and fully know and understand that well, there is no way in hell you are gonna get clear unless you run.

And run he did.

Not everyone gets lucky the way some do. Some people get to graduate from highschool and go to a fancy college, get a nifty piece of paper that says your smarter than the guy flipping burgers at Mickey D's, and make a nice living, driving a fancy pasta rocket. But most never get that far. David Robert Kelly was one that never made it that far.

He was no one special, no one to take note of, nobody that made a difference. Growing up in west Texas in the 80's put alot of people into that position, where you only had three options, and they all sucked: Work on an oil field, get a schoolarship and play ball for one of the big schools, or join the military and go to exotic countries, meet fascinating natives, and kill them. David took the third option. Sure, he played ball, but wasn't that great, and yeah, he had friend's who could get him onto one of their daddy's rigs, but he never wanted to pull oil. He wanted to burn it. But an ASE certification cost to much, and he could never get his hands on any car parts for his beat up 82 'Maro His one ture passion, cars, would have to wait. He would be a race dirver sooner or later, he knew that for sure. So, in the early morning hours of June 5th, 1988, at the tender young age of 18, he loaded onto a bus that would run him up to Dallas, the big city. From there, he would grab a flight out to Paris Island, and take the first steps towards becoming a United States Marine.

He excelled in boot, not because he was anything special, but because he took orders well and was able to produce exactly what the DIs wanted. His own father, one who had followed in the same footsteps, had taught him that exact skill. Do what the fuck your told, and you'll get along just fine. And he did just that, get along. He could out shoot most of his squad mates, being raised on firearms and deer hunting, but wasn't good enough to make sniper. He was faster than a good bunch, used to the heat and long runs from his football days, but he never led the pack. He could lift a good bit, but wasn't the muscle man that many other Marines turned out to be. All in all, he was average. But he had one skill that few could match.

He had played linebacker back in school, and had learned the ability to read a situation as it unfolded, to be able to pick up on the subtle touches of a living offense, and adapt to counter it. It served him well throughout his training, and when the finall call came that he was shipping out to some asshole in the Middle East called Kuwait because a couple of camel jockeys were duking it out, he was happy enough to end the games and drills and actually get some combat time.

Of course, as we all saw on CNN, the battle raged on for weeks before our ground troops even got there, the most advanced military in the world taking the fight to a bunch of people who couldn't even get their planes off the ground before the black and white picture turned to static. David's unit was on the ground for three weeks, and got all of ten days of any actuall combat like situations before being sent stateside. David, turned up and ready to rock, only killed two people. Bees kill more people than that.

Discharged by a down sizing Corp, David returned to Texas, but swore to himself to never return to that shit hole Midland ever again. He settled outside of Ft. Worth in a small neighborhood, and got a job working for the state. It was menial work, working on the highways, and state sponsored construction. However, with his military pension in hand, and a decent job to give him cash, he was able to fund his true passion. He had been swepped up into the growing import frenzy, and picked up a nice 1989 Mazda RX-7. Sure, the rotary was finicky, and yeah, it was tiny compared to the big blocks that prowled 377 and North Beach, but it was his, and he made it fast.

And thats how he ended up here.

Sort of.

It was late in the winter, January of 1992, when his FC received a challange. He had been talking up the abilities of the little Mazda from the roll, claiming that no shit block V8 could hold from a highway run, and someone took the challenge. And so they lined up, a '69 SS with a 454 big block, and his tiny little FC, with its 1.3 liter two rotor. The results were not pretty, and Dave didn't have the thousand bucks to spare on the bet. So he did what any smart man would have done. He ditched the FC, hopped a train, and disapeared.

After a few months, he managed to scrap together enough cash to grab a new ride, but settled somewhere far away from civilization, far from any action or adventure, somewhere where he could just work on cars and keep a nice quiet life. Or so he thought.

Forget Timbuckto, this place might as well be Baghdad.

David owns a small, well, runs, a small shop towards the center of town that doubles as a house. Well, house is more of an arguable term, as its really just a large garrage attatched to a bedroom, kitchen, and shower. He makes enough to scrape by in the small town, enough to buy cheap beer and food, and keep paying some kid to help him get free cable. His main mode of transportation is an old battered Ford pickup truck that sucks up more gas than it actually uses, but blends in just fine with the rest of the town. However, things are a bit different out back.

Underneath a black heavy tarp, protected from rain, hail, bugs, and prying eyes, is (well, for 1992) a technological wonder. His new pride and joy, underneath the tarp is a black 1992 Mitsubishi Gallant VR-4. He picked it up, well, more appropriately he picked the keys up of the table of an unwatchfull eye, in Nashville on his journey out to Mountain City. Before the craze that brought the EVO and STi into popularity, before all wheel drive and turbochargers became the standard, the Gallant VR-4 was the car that started it all.

Underneath the hood of the rather mild looking four door grocery getter sits the ever potent 4G63 2.0L Turbo I4, found in every iteration of the Lancer Evolution, and powering all first and second generation turbo'd Eclipses and Lasers. It sucks in air through an open cone filter, and that air is pressurized and sped up in the whirling blades of a hybrid T3/T4 Turbo. The air is then forced into the motor, where it is mixed with fuel from the fuel pump off a '90 Supra Turbo, compressed, lit with a spark from a set of AC Delco cold range plugs, and then sucked out through the high flow HKS exhaust manifold manifold, and spit out through a custom three inch turbo back exhaust. No cats, of course. Boost pressure is mild, a light 16 pounds per square inch, but in the motor that has been described as 'look at it wrong, and it will make more power', the combo of the turbo, the high red line, and the custom milled 272 cams sitting in the motor are good for somewhere north of 275 at all four wheels with a mild tune.

Yeah, all four.

The Gallant uses the same AWD set up found in almost every Lancer Evolution, and the Eclipse GSX. But thats not all it has. A rather trick all wheel steering setup keeps the sedan pointing in the right direction. The wheels are nothing spectacular, only 215mm at all four corners. However, as one who drives these roads should know, a skinier tire with the proper tread grooves is what dominates on gravel, mud, dirt, and snow. Coupled to a sweet shifting five speed, the Gallant has, unfortunately, never turned it's wheels in anger. He has heard the sounds of the big blocks out in the country, racing along, possibly running from someone with a piece of tin, but he has never investigated himself. Although with recent events brewing up in Mountain City, David knows it wont be peacefull for too long, and soon that little unassuming four banger will be used in the way it was meant to be.

Afterall, in a town full of sledgehammers, someone has to know how to use a scalpel.

David is quiet and unassuming, and would rather stay out of trouble. But if the money is right, he'll be there. He's not a racist, but his southern upbringing and time in the Marines lends him to stereotype other's easily, and while having admiration for the blacks he served with in the military, has been known to crack an off color (no pun intended) joke more than once or twice. He has a good sense of humor, and laughs easily, although he doesn't socialize much. And if the girl is good looking or old enough, he'll work for free. He's good with a rifle, but doesn't actually own one. However, he does keep a Beretta 92F with him whenever possible. He's hand to hand combat skills are limited to what he was taught in the Corp. However, his driving skills are, as he believes, second to none.

All in all, he's the perfect person to just get sucked into the mess that is Copperhead Road...

LOl if he can tune then he might have a regular customer. Only the best get to lay their hands on the Midnight Blue. Jonni Lea is more particular about who touches the Challenger than who touches her - and it is known that at least one person has a permanant case of dead becasue of touching her with out her permission.

and Jonni Lea isn't a sledgehammer, she's the distraction that keeps one from realizing that Johnny Lee 's coming up on one from behind.

However she is quite a bit more than she seems to be.

MS, what you say we kick this shindig off tomorrow - Saturday, but leave sign up open a little longer?

Ivan/Sean doesn't have any objections to getting rich/laid, though he's not interested in stonage. Drunk maybe, but not stoned. He's also a decent 'mimic', and will only have a faint 'gutteral' accent to his speech. He'd likely be somewhat odd, but able to fit in fairly well.

LOl if he can tune then he might have a regular customer. Only the best get to lay their hands on the Midnight Blue. Jonni Lea is more particular about who touches the Challenger than who touches her - and it is known that at least one person has a permanant case of dead becasue of touching her with out her permission.

and Jonni Lea isn't a sledgehammer, she's the distraction that keeps one from realizing that Johnny Lee 's coming up on one from behind.

However she is quite a bit more than she seems to be.

MS, what you say we kick this shindig off tomorrow - Saturday, but leave sign up open a little longer?

I'm sure he can figure out how to work on a Challenger, hell its all gas powered in the end. And the refrence to sledge hammers and scalpels, I was talking about the cars. Bunch of big block, big power, big torque tire spinners, and this itty bitty two liter four banger.

OOC: I'm extremely impressed, Imitora. That made my brief character bio's look like total ass. I'm guessing you're going to have some major fun with this one, as much as you seem to like cars.

OOC: To answer Tanara, I'd be more than okay with that. Do you want to use the opening post for the sign-up as the opening post, or write something totally new?

Well, the intro is not quite right any more since you changed the date - and I have no problem with the new date - it actually gives Mountain City a few hundred more populace...LOL as if thats going to make much difference

Let me see what I can come up with over night - if inspiration doesn't hit of course we can use it....

and a TG headed your way...

OOC: Roger that. I'll be waiting with bells on (or whatever...).

TG sent and I refuse to divulge the mental image that comment gave me...

One would think I've been drinking to night - and no I haven't ...just in a wierd, and possibly dangerous mood.

Of course it may be attributed to too much outlaw/ southern rock tonight. And viewing the maps of 421 coming west out of MC, and looking at those hair pin turns going up / down the mountain - and wondering what it'd be like in a rig with failing brakes...

and that'll be explained later

oh and here's the write up- if it's acceptable to you MS, on Johnny Lee's boys primary hang out..

The Boars Hole Tavern (http://www.atddm.com/boarshole.html)

OOC: How exactly can I argue with that? You've got a freaking map for chrissakes...

And how exactly did you come up with a name like the "Boar's Hole"? We're not going to discuss that mental image, either...

Actually it's a variant of the bar named in the Dukes of Hazzard series...I figured that Boars Wallow just didn't sound as rednecky and well...trashy...and this place *is* trashy, it's a outlaw hang out for pete's sake and not some high class Miami Vice, or West Coast Drug king / Kingpin night club, or pretty people venue...

but you have to agree that it is better than the probably inevitable Dew Drop Inn and/ or the Meet Market...

MS, none of this is tons of work, if you don't feel that it fits, or is what you are visualizing, just say so!

and given that I am on a role tonight, opening post of

Copperhead Road taking the load off...is about to go up.

IC thread can be found here - please NO OOC in the IC thread, please no sigs either.

Copperhead Road, Taking the Load offf (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=11533516#post11533516)

OOC: I'm extremely impressed, Imitora. That made my brief character bio's look like total ass. I'm guessing you're going to have some major fun with this one, as much as you seem to like cars.
Thanks. I'm suprised it turned out as well as it did, considering I wrote it at 1 in the morning after one of the hardest work days I've ever had.

In 1970 the National Guard Armory in Newburyport was firebombed and robbed. The crime resulted in the death of one police officer. The woman who masterminded thius this remained at large – and on the FBI’s most wanted list for twenty-three years, before she gave herself up. When she did, she wsa convicted and given five years at Club Fed. She is the one most people think of when they hear of a National Guard Armory being robbed.

However the biggest and most daring heist of weapons and materials from a National Guard armory has never made it into the public news. The Powers that Be are too afraid to let it get out. But on a rainy night in late December of 1991, fifteen masked men broke into the DC National Guard Armory, 2001 East Capitol Street, SE Washington, DC 20003. And after several leisurely hours of selective acquisition, they made off with three semi’s packed chockfull with weapons and other military goodies. Including nearly 1,00 brand new H&K 5K PDW's (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Mp5k_brief.jpg) < of course part of the reticence to talk about the theft might be because the National Guard shouldn't have had said H&K's in their armory...or any of the other top of the line, state of the art goodies that were taken >The brazen thieves have never been caught, and the stolen goods, mostly weapons, have never surfaced.

Now it’s late November of 1992, almost a year later, an equally cold but not rainy night and Johnny Lee Pettimore III has just paid a little over six million dollars, cold hard cash – he just doesn’t trust Off Shore banks and the sellers don't trust Swiss banks – to the surviving thieves for the three trailer loads of stolen goods.

If he can sell them, if word doesn’t leak out that he has them and rivals come calling, if his contacts can be trusted, and though it'’s been carefully inspected ifthere isn’t something wrong with the goods…That’s a lot of if’s.

But fortunately the trailers have disappeared off of the face of the earth- for they have gone into the extensive cavern network that Johnny Lee and his boys have put to so many good uses.

Johnny Lee’s most likely buyers? Those assholes who call themselves the Aryan Brotherhood. Unfortuantely he kinda owes them. Though there are those who really don’t want to see him do that – first and foremostly myself Jonni Lea, his ‘lil sis’ but while I’m family and he practically raised me, I’m not one of his ‘boys’ – He tries too much to keep my nose clean for me. I think he’d like to see me out of the ‘life’ – I know Meemaw would- and happy somewhere far away from here. But I’m a Pettimore through and through, and the outlaw life is where I’m happiest. But enough about me.

Where the goods have been and why there are only ‘surviving thieves’ aren’t germane to our little tale - getting it off our hands and out of our lives before the Fed stick their long noses in [b]is[/i]…so how does our little passé d’ guerre come complete?

Places every one, whether you are at the Boars Hole (http://www.atddm.com/boarshole.htm), or the Mountain Empire Motel (http://www.atddm.com/mem1.jpg), at the roadside café (http://www.atddm.com/café.jpg) on the east end of Mountain City, or at one of the in town diners (http://www.atddm.com),sitting on the porch up at Copperhead Hollow, or off being all ‘in the army now…” .. let us introduce ourselves briefly and the play begin…

LOl started things out lively - come join the bar brawl!

LOl started things out lively - come join the bar brawl!
Is there an gun shop in town that would handle/be able to import 'exotic'(Soviet made) ammunition?

LOL there will be a few long guns ( hunting rifles and shotguns ) at the general store - or you can drive the hour to Johnson City ( might have a military surplus store with what you are wanting ) - or lol have asked Johnny Lee for such in the past- if you are at least a semi regular part of his "Boys" he'll make sure it's available to ya... I mean AK's are every where...

True enough, thought my character would be more interested in the 5.45 x 39 mm rounds for the 74 rather than the 7.64 x 39 mm rounds for the 47 and the 7.62x54 mm SVD rounds.

'The only army I haven't supplied is the Salvation Army"

If you are really serious, talk to Johnny Lee, he'd find it for you...for a price.

Lets hope your can afford it.

Tan, tg.

The first and most important rule of gun-running is: Never get shot with your own merchandise.


and replied.

Woooaheeaaahrrgh.

If I ticked anybody off, I apologize...apparently there was some of that, I've been too busy to get online for a bit. But. Anyways.

The Wes Yoren detailed earlier was designed for a 1988 setting. So we'll just re-do the whole thing.

Wesley Michael Yoren was born on a farm in the flattest part of the awfully flat state of Kansas. He was a big lad, and by the time he graduated from High School, he had become a large man.

Six foot one, around two hundred pounds. He could have played football, but he worked the fields instead. Same result -- lots of muscle. Also lots of time for thinking.

His test scores were such that he was able to attend Fort Hays university with a fairly decent scholarship. Three years later, his funds ran out and the scholarship wouldn't cut it alone. So he sold his soul to Uncle Sam.

Uncle Sam decided, in that most decisive manner of his, that Young Mr. Yoren would make a fine officer in his beloved Army. Mr. Yoren did not object.

Skipping ahead approximately a year, Second Lieutenant Wesley "Wes" M. Yoren, age twenty two, had the misfortune of encountering a Captain J. Arthur Damm, an individual who had an extremely impressive dress uniform, missing only one thing -- a unit patch.

Captain Damm was extremely impressed with the young Lt. Yoren, and that is where the Army loses track of the aforementioned butter bar.

It is a few years before Wes Yoren surfaces again. The year is 1991, Saddam Hussein has invaded Kuwait. The United States are leading an interventioned force. The fear is that Iraq will make use of Weapons of Mass Destruction.

It doesn't.

There is, amongst the mountains of resulting paperwork from Operation: Desert Storm, a citation awarding 1st Lieutenant Wesley M. Yoren the Distinguished Service Cross for service above and beyond the call of duty in and around the country of Iraq. The same citation dictates his promotion to Captain. It also dictates his honorable discharge from the Armed Forces of the United States of America.

Approximately ninety seconds after that discharge goes into affect, he is a member of the Federal Bureau of Investigation's Hostage Rescue Team.

Six months later, Special Agent Yoren is detached to a DEA task force led by an SA Matthews for various vague reasons.
---

Wes Yoren, callsign "Shrike," (He'll say he got the nickname in the Army. He won't say why,) is twenty seven years old, roughly six foot one, somewhere below two hundred pounds, and other than a nasty scar on his left cheek, seemingly unremarkable.

He does have a tendency to wear sleeved clothing and long pants -- the reason is that his body bears the marks of his years going places that don't exist and doing things that never happened.

He has dark brown hair with a faint curl to it and eyes that are either green or gray depending on how color blind you are.

SA Yoren drives a 1991 Dodge Stealth TT (Twin Turbo), Firestorm Red. The 3.0 liter V6 makes three hundred horsepower and three hundred seven foot-pounds of torque. Also notable is the fact that the Stealth is an AWD vehicle.

Yoren has outfitted the vehicle with a Viper electronics system and a Pioneer-based sound package with an in-dash CD player rather than a cassette based changer. However, the vehicle does have a "false top" in the trunk that conceals the subwoofer and Yoren's gear locker. The locker is accessible from the trunk, and also from the interior of the vehicle by pulling the back of the rear buckets forward.

Within the locker, Yoren keeps a Heckler and Koch MP5SD2 (9mm, integral suppressor, fixed stock, Safe-Single-Full trigger group -- the FBI MP5/10 wasn't adopted 'til '94..yargh,) fitted with a Trijicon reflex sight, an Accuracy International Arctic Warfare Super Magnum in .338 Lapua (in gun case,) and a Mossberg 590 Military.

His carry weapon is an FBI issue Smith and Wesson Model 1076, worn in a shoulder holster on his left side. Wes' 1076 is largely stock, featuring only a slightly reduced double-action first trigger pull (10 lbs ish) and a barrel threaded to accept a suppressor. The pistol has, however, been tightened down and is a much more accurate weapon than the average FBI issue sidearm.

The 1076 is a compact pistol with a 4.25" barrel, a nine round magazine, frame-mounted decocker, stainless steel construction. The weapon will fire when a magazine is not present, as in all FBI 1076s.

Wes fires full-power 10mm Auto rounds, as originally designed by Norma. The cartridge lies between the .357 and .41 Magnum cartridges in power.

All that said, the commentary commences.

Basically, similar characters, except W. M. Yoren Mk.II is younger and not an ex-senior enlisted man. On the other hand, mentally, he's probably older than Yoren Mk.I.

Wes' spent a lot of time making the world a safe place for democracy. He was very, very good at it. Eventually he got tired, and after Desert Storm, decided that there was enough trouble back home that deserved a man of his talents, and his superiors agreed -- in that business, you can leave whenever you want. Provided you keep your nose clean, otherwise somebody very much like yourself will come looking for you.

Anyways, Wes is a grim, quiet, haunted man. He has a philosophical bent, and finds solace in literature and poetry. He keeps a copy of Field Marshal the Viscount A.P. Wavell's Other Men's Flowers in his glove compartment.

Yoren has two tattoos: one, on his right bicep, reads "pilgrim." The other, on his left shoulder, reads "Rough Men" in block letters, curved slightly, like a unit patch. It is a reference to a George Orwell quote:

"People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf."

Zer.

LOL nicely done, so come on dowwwwwwn ! The posting's fine!

LOl nice posts both Imitora and Revenia - though it is the Boars Hole - not Boars Head ( my favorite brand of deli meats )

and if Mr. Wes Yoren kas a dossier on Johnny Lee Pettimore, he probably has one on his cousisn/ "lil sis" Jonni Lea as well...

and we aren't afraid of revenuers - our family has disposed of them before...and probably will again.

and as far as western crime lords wanting a chunk of the east? OH my he's in for a bit of a shock - we've been doing this longer than he has and it's always hard to dig out the entrenched - and to the locals they are just as much outsiders as any gov'ment man...

just remember...

"The problem with gun runners going to war, is that there is no shortage of ammunition."


Now about the race tomorrow night - Jonni Lea called it the Circle and here's the map of it. Give it a chance to load -it's kinda large and it's composed of rl maps - these roads actually exist and the scale is 1 inch = 700 meters...

Great Circle Map (http://www.atddm.com/monstermap1.jpg)

I'll talk about it more in game. Its not the purpose of this this chapter but it is a good subplot...and lets me see who has the stones for more daring stuff...

Would Johnny Lee have included Sam in his 'Mount up boys' comment as Sam does work for JLIII, but I'm not sure if he'd be counted.

If you consider yourself one of his boys then you were included in the comment - I'm sure that Johnny does.

Just to let every one know I'll be off line for all tonight and Imitora says he probably won't be back on till Sunday night, but there are plenty of other character to play, so feel free to post away.;)

Oddly enough, I'm going to be out of town 'till sometime sunday and probably won't be posting 'till Sunday afternoon, while we're on that. But maybe I will. Depends on how bored I am.

Figured that seeing as I've been changing designations on the FBI helo three times since sunday I should go ahead and give info on that.

The Helicopter in question is a Hughes/McDonnell Dougles OH-6E (MD-530F) Super Cayuse, an improved version of the OH-6A Cayuse that filled the Light Observation Helicopter roll in Vietnam. The MD-530F/OH-6E is also the basis for the AH-6J/MH-6J "Little Bird."

It is unarmed, but very fast, packing a 650 shp turboshaft and a maximum speed of considerably over 200 kph.

Interesting turn of events.

...I think you done run over some poor fellers dog, sarge...

But, really...spontaneous humanoid combustion? We were doing so well, too. Something I missed? I mean, if we're going to kill the thread, we should at least make it formal and post a notice of death...right?

I wasn't aware said issue just happened, I'll need to look into it, but on an outside OOC note, Shal was admited to the hospital yesterday, not sure what the exact case was (internal bleeding? Eek...), and since she won't be posting for a bit, and I don't think MS or others have been posting all that much, I think its quasi game over for a bit?

I wasn't aware said issue just happened, I'll need to look into it, but on an outside OOC note, Shal was admited to the hospital yesterday, not sure what the exact case was (internal bleeding? Eek...), and since she won't be posting for a bit, and I don't think MS or others have been posting all that much, I think its quasi game over for a bit?

Hope she gets better with all possible speed and with least complications.

They kicked me loose at roughly 6 pm tonight, and I'm home now. Will be posting asap, my apologies for not being able to post.

They kicked me loose at roughly 6 pm tonight, and I'm home now. Will be posting asap, my apologies for not being able to post.

Yayy, happyness and joy, Tan is well again. Welcome back.

Just to clear something up, as stated previously, the FBI helo is an OH6-E Super Cayuse, AKA the MD-350F, as built today by MD Helicopters. (Here: http://mdhelicopters.com/products.php?id=MD_530F)

It is not the AH-6J light attack helicopter nor the MH-6J light transport, thus not a "Little Bird." No miniguns here. Similarly, it is a fairly common civilian helicopter. Just making sure we don't get any strange ideas or anything. That would be bad.

I know, but I'm to tired and lazy to look up how to spell Cayuse properly, and I know how to spell Little Bird.

Ahh. Fair Enough. Just making sure. Actually, there is no reason that David couldn't call it a Little Bird, they do look awful similar. The big difference is that the Cayuse is available on the civilian market...and that was the part that worried me.

and one does have to add in the fact that it is night, and David was rather frazzeled..and besides to the prevellant local mindset, who but the govm't would have a chooper up around there at all?

Damned revenooers!:p

Picture Johnny Lee as Sam Elliot of about the time he did Shakedown - but only slightly graying and clean shaven.

Shal is gonna be out for a bit, she took a nasty fall earlier today, and had to head to the hospital...

This is not her week. Hope you recover with no complications, scarring, whathave you, Tanara.

Hey all...

I'm really enjoying this RP, and I really don't wanna see it die. If its cool with ya'll, until Shal returns, I was thinking of running the RP, or doing my best to keep it bumping along 'till she comes back. If its ok with ya'll, just say so, and I'll take over and do my best to run this till she returns, which is hopefully soon.

Fine by me.

The fall I took fractured my pelvis.

However I'm back, but on some hefty pain meds - and there fore my posting may be a bit erratic (me+codine=fuzzy headed )

Yayyyyyyyyyy, you're, sporatically, back.

Hope it heals with all possible speed and no complications.

Hello all! New here, and not joining your thread, although it's VERY good! :)
Just wanted to say thanks for an enjoyable read!