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Post by Orca on Jun 8, 2008 18:16:25 GMT -5
"Wingin' It RP" as of 5/9/2010CHAPTERSDay I Page 1 - 11Day II Page 12 - 27Day III Page 27 - 37Day IV Page 37 - 51Day V Page 51 - 61Day VI Page 61 - 73Day VII Page 74 - 90Day IIX Page 91 - 108Day IX Page 109 - 126Day X Page 127 - n/aPlayers/Characters:-OrcaAnita Wright ( P-51H Mustang) Ari "Raid" Wright ( P-51D Mustang) Griselda "Zelda" Sylvester ( Focke-Wulf FW-190G) Luke and Logan "L&L" Alliston ( F-82G Twin Mustang) Jean "Pinball" Pienaar ( P-63A Kingcobra) Michael von Schultz ( Messerschmitt Bf 110) Hans Albrecht ( Heinkel He 111H) Christopher "Freefall" Lewis-Atley ( F-14 Tomcat/ F-15 Eagle hybrid) Zachariah "Zigzag" Clements ( F11F Tiger) Benjamin "Birdbrain" Toole ( F11F Tiger) Julius Osmond ( AH-1G HueyCobra) "Murphy" ( L-19 Bird Dog) Sid Camm ( Hawker Hunter) Estelle Tetreau ( Dewoitine D.520) Angus Fitch ( Cessna Skywagon) Pamevlyn Fitch ( Cessna Skylane) Edward "Eddie" Bluth ( P-40 Warhawk) Sandra Lewis ( F-14A Tomcat) Nathentis "Atlas" Atley ( F-15A Eagle) Susanne Clark ( F-8 Crusader) Wern Kaiser ( Tornado IDS) - pendingCecil Wilsen ( Hawker Hurricane) Kaede Ito ( Kawaski Ki-61) Stephen Malick ( F4U Corsair) "Nevaeh" ( F-22 Raptor) James "Jim Luddy" Ludington ( MH-6 Little Bird) Arthur Jacobs ( F9F Panther) Tiffany Wade ( Ikarus C42) Cherise Norfleet ( Aerocomp Merlin) Madison Paige ( Westland Lynx) Dierdre Seaver ( P-51 Mustang) "Bleu" ( P-47 Thunderbolt) * three male P-39 Airacobra youths, woodland camouflage -EvangelineMalcolm Everidge ( Supermarine Spitfire) Jenna Jaeger ( P-51 Mustang) Blanche Woodman ( F-111 Aardvark) Oliver Clarkson ( Noorduyn Norseman) Joshua Kaplan ( F8F Bearcat) Otto Dessauer ( Messerschmitt Bf 109) Matthew Gordon ( Avro Arrow) Yvonne Floyd Gordon ( Avro Arrow) Elspet Gordon ( Avro Arrow) Zoe Gordon ( Avro Arrow) Jonathan Crawford ( Avro Arrow) Pamela Blackburn ( Avro Vulcan) Carlo Atkinson ( B-47 Stratojet) Cheryl Lycoming ( Lake Sea Wolf) Bram Lycoming ( Lake LA-4 Buccaneer/Renegade) Gabriel Stearns ( Lear Jet, 24/31 mix) Lin Susskind ( Avro CF-100) Aimee Stearns ( Lear Jet) "Constanza" ( Avro CF-100) Wolfgang Von Klascher ( Junkers Ju 87/Stuka) Zach Everidge ( Supermarine Spitfire) Zoya "Whisperer" Lyulka ( Su-27 Flanker) Heather Niatross ( F-105 Thunderchief) Bernadette Tavers ( F-105 Thunderchief) Iris Wheelock ( F-106 Delta Dart) Ulrike Stammel ( Eurofighter Typhoon) Oksana Andreyovitch ( Il-2 Stormovik) Thomas Jaeger ( P-51 Mustang) Miriam Jaeger ( P-51 Mustang) Mason Jaeger ( P-51 Mustang) Gabe Villanova ( F-86 Sabre) -rizahawkeyeTodd Grant ( Cessna 208 Caravan)
It was almost like flying through soup. While the clouds were not overly moist or too dense for navigation, they were everywhere. Any higher than 2,000 AGL and one would find themselves cruising through layer after layer of vapor, completely dependent on auditorial input and radar. The Mustang known as Raid kept his line of sight forward, listening to the drone of Zelda's engine off his starboard wing. Below them, unspoiled wilderness stretched away in each direction, a myriad of rolling hills and spots of forest here and there. Over the radio, he listened as one of the twins - holding station another thousand feet ahead, above them, lost in the cloud bank - finally spoke up, breaking the radio silence that had fallen. A moot strategy, considering the encrypted comm system was only shared between the four warbirds. " We got something, boss-bird." "Go ahead, Luke." " Good-sized target, bearing twelve o'clock, about a couple miles out." "How large?" Logan's distinctive baritone rumbled, " Your size, perhaps a bit bigger. Sounds like a turboprop. Probably be good for a little excitement. Turn it up a notch and you'll be on top of 'em in no time." "Copy. Keep an eye on them: we're going in." Raid glanced sideways at his wingmate, noting a perceptible wag of her ailerons - the unspoken sign to proceed - and she climbed further upward. He smirked in response, dropping one wing and banking a few degrees west, more directly into the wind. Zelda would approach from behind, distracting the target while he moved in at another angle. This would be some welcome fun. It was about time they had found some hapless rover to pester today.
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Post by Evangeline on Jun 8, 2008 19:40:17 GMT -5
Malcolm Everidge was aware of the small group that was about ten o' clock on his periphery, intent on the path of another aircraft some miles ahead of them in the same direction. The gambling man in him calculated that they would be on the "target" in less than a minute at their current rate of speed. The reaction of said target would be debatable - now there was the great, intriguing and potentially entertaining uknown. The deep-black Supermarine Spitfire, a third-generation descendant of the original warbirds, huffed water vapor out of his nose and cursed under his breath at the fog layer. As long as he remained directly on the gang's six or thereabouts, they would never know he was there. That was one trick he'd picked up from his grandparents. Nevertheless, he was content to remain at a conservative 275 knots, far from overstraining his supercharged V12 engine. His girlfriend, Jenna, occasionally made light of this. But Malcolm, unlike Jenna, had no ambitions in professional air racing, and no desire to exit life as a particularly interesting and composed debris field on some mountainside.
For now, he kept the gang in sight.
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Post by Orca on Jun 8, 2008 20:53:05 GMT -5
((I figured I'd set where Anita is [fictional, pit-stop of an airport] while we wait on Riza.))
With a mental sigh, Anita Wright finally glanced toward the small posse of local Airacobras. Her blatant expression of NOT-INTERESTED seemed lost on the trio of young cavaliers. Indeed, they beamed at her in greeting, seemingly delighted at catching her eye after a half-hour-long eyeballing session.
Ugh. You'd think they've never seen a semi-decent female come wandering through these parts before, the way they stare.
Normally, she could contend with the looks that would-be suitors shot her way. It seemed to happen at every other airport, whenever she was condemned to wait until the holding pattern had thinned out. Now wasn't one of those times, not when that last lead had sounded so promising. Not when those rumors of a marauding Mustang-Fw 190 pair seemed so common to the area, and she was grounded by the need to refuel.
The last thing she wanted was one of them, not knowing better, to muster enough bravery to drop a line.
Eyes narrowing, she pursed her lips and scowled warningly, conveying her disgust at their behavior. Peel off, boys. I'm not in the mood.
Fortune seemed to be on her side. Instantly disheartened, they quickly looked away, huddling over their avgas drinks.
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Post by rizahawkeye on Jun 8, 2008 21:26:10 GMT -5
Todd just soared through the air. He had no distinct idea where he was headed, but his senses told him that he was on a course with only the wind and his endurance for a guide. His thoughts shifted as his excitment over his trip grew... he was off to see the world.
He knew, subconsciously that he would miss his small town in Alaska and, of course, his mother who would be eagerly awaiting his return, but until then, he just felt like Columbus... an explorer to go where no man (or plan, rather) had gone before. It was like he was a child again, playing in the abandoned air field where his father had worked all before the accident of '96.
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Post by Evangeline on Jun 8, 2008 21:32:31 GMT -5
<<< And I'll establish where Blanche is >>>
Proceeding at a liesurely pace, undercarriage motors humming, Blanche Emmeline Woodman negotiated her way through the throngs at the airport shopping plaza. She was taking a wander after several hours manning the Air Vets station, where the veterans' services group was raffling off a gift certificate from the mall. The F-111 Aardvark couldn't resist checking out the new plantings in the mall's flowerbeds, though her principal interest was in shrubs and flowering trees, with at least a dozen different cultivars on her own property in Utah. Indeed, she was now considered something of an authority on ornamental trees, and her prize cherry orchard was the envy of the state. At some point, she intended to improve the automated irrigation system and remote-controlled equipment that helped her tend the property with a minimum of hired help, but that would have to wait for another year.
Now outside, Blanche breathed in the fresh air, flexed her elevators, and observed the goings-on at the fuel stop, her mouth turning up in amusement as she saw the Mustang female spurn the attentions of several young gallants. It was all too easy to remember herself in that position, in younger days. The wrinkles at the corners of her mouth and the squint-lines of her eyes took Blanche a few notches down the check-her-out scale, but she had been quite a looker in her youth. The more things change...
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Post by Orca on Jun 8, 2008 21:56:55 GMT -5
A Cessna.
Griselda Sylvester, AKA "Zelda," grinned slyly to herself, watching as the blip on the radar manifested into the outline of an actual plane. Even at this distance, without the twins' input, it was easy to discern what kind of target they had happened upon: an easy-going, in-no-hurry turboprop.
Now, what to try, drop out of the sky in a close-proximity dive, or circle around for a pincering tactic?
She gunned it, zipping forward on a new burst of speed. From here she was a good 500 feet above the 208 Caravan. The distance closed swiftly, and she dove, dispersing a large plume of cloud, and made on the pass - way too close for any plane's comfort.
That was the idea.
Simultaneously, Raid came roaring in from the left, crowing, "Hey, deadbeat, look alive there!" as he skimmed through the air beneath the Cessna fuselage.
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Post by Evangeline on Jun 8, 2008 22:05:46 GMT -5
Oh, so that's their little game... Malcolm sniffed as he observed the gang's first move. Teasing people in the air had never really been his thing. He'd rather fleece them on the ground with loaded dice, much safer for everyone, even if they wound up a little poorer and wiser afterward. The Spitfire still maintained a careful on-their-six course while he debated what his course of action would be. Mind his own business, or stick his wing out and possibly pay for it later?
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Post by rizahawkeye on Jun 8, 2008 22:06:22 GMT -5
Todd looked around, suddenly confused by the sudden voice and the roar of an engine. "Wait... what?" He asked, his voice wavering and his eyes becoming wider by the second.
He looked down to see another plane coming closer to him from underneath. "H-hey, what are you doing?" he stammered.
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Post by Orca on Jun 8, 2008 22:16:43 GMT -5
Raid sneered, pleased that the first round had so managed to jangle their prey's nerves. Completing the pass, he leaned left again, pulling a sharp turn, cutting back across the Cessna's flight path. An easy move: the best targets were always the slowest, most cumbersome ones.
The least he could do was oblige the guy with a response. "Nothin' too dastardly, pal, relax," he called, pulling into a loose circling pattern. "It's only a little shadow combat."
Solidifying his words for him, Zelda made another move, plunging straight straight down from above, coming within feet of connecting her left wing with Todd's right.
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Post by rizahawkeye on Jun 8, 2008 22:22:44 GMT -5
Todd nearly stopped in his flight path as the planes came near him. "L-leave me alone, y'hear!" He said, trying to stick up for himself... but he knew (and guessed that they knew) he was no good at that sort of thing.
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Post by Orca on Jun 8, 2008 22:31:51 GMT -5
"The sooner you level off and hush the sooner it'll be over with."
The stutter spoke volumes in Raid's mind. The glasses, the tenor of the voice, it added up to one easy conclusion, that this guy was a pushover.
Trading off from his wingmate, reducing his speed at the same time, the fighter leaned and sidled up to Cessna's nine o'clock. Percariously close, riding wingtip-to-wingtip, he gave a pointed look to the rattled turboprop, smirking sadisticly. "It's all in good humor, buddy. We aren't gonna hurt you, only use you for a bit of target suplimentation."
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Post by Evangeline on Jun 8, 2008 22:42:48 GMT -5
Malcolm had always considered himself a "professional coward", preferring to best his adversaries at the gambling table, but something about a group of young toughs picking on a slower, less agile turboprop was starting to bring out the instinctual beast in him. He could smell the Cessna's fear in the wind blowing past him, something very real even if his pursuers were only playing. The V12's roar altered in pitch as the black Spitfire picked up speed and altitude, banking a few degrees right to hide his intentions and give himself an opportunity to disappear overhead. With some luck, he might evade the twin Mustang's radar until he made his move. His unhappy stint in his family's re-enactment company had left him with enough skills to take on a few punks, or so he hoped...
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Post by rizahawkeye on Jun 8, 2008 22:42:58 GMT -5
"Well, stop it! You're freaking me out!" Todd answered, his voice on the point of a knife of becoming hysterical. It was at this point that he was regretting leaving his small, comforting hometown.
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Post by Evangeline on Jun 8, 2008 22:49:46 GMT -5
Arriving at a decision, Malcolm initiated a distraction play. Going directly after the Mustang and FW would put the Cessna at risk. He'd go for the twins. He always did have a very good dive and he rolled effortlessly into it as he sighted the twin Mustang and began to bear down on the pair from 10,000 AGL. The other two aircraft would definitely notice that...
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Post by rizahawkeye on Jun 8, 2008 22:58:58 GMT -5
Hearing another aircraft come by, Todd increased his speed as to get away like a mouse seeing a hole in a shoebox. "Perhaps I could slip off without them catching up to me..." he thought hopefully.
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