Yessir

[Dannno]

Setting: Unnamed Meditteranean war-torn nation. UN peacekeepers are working to prevent rural warlords from raiding farmhouses.

Characters:

• Lieutenant Shaun Smith (me) - American peacekeeper. Photogenic poster-boy of the forces and ranking officer. Has the build of someone training for many years - ripped pecs and abs, and a particularly strong-looing, v-shaped back. Green eyes, a scar running down diagonally across his forehead and a marine's haircut. Strong, selfish, somewhat manipulative and courageous under fire. Well known for his libido.
  
  http://images.wikia.com/starwars/images/5/58/JagFel.jpg​
• Sharla Micallef - naive Meditteranean girl and daughter of two farmers. Auburn haired, long legged and tanned, relatively fluent in English. Becomes hopelessly devoted to Shaun.
  http://www.latinateensblog.com/images/dec_MS1.jpg
  
  
  
• Others - likely men, Smith's co-officers and subordinates. One or two will pop up later in the story. One of Sharla's distant family members may also turn up.

Scenario: A local warlord and his men raid Sharla's parents particularly large farm for food, land and women. All of Sharla's immediate relatives are killed but Sharla is rescued by Shaun Smith and his men. Sharla is desperate and Shaun allows her to stay in his barracks, as she becomes hopelessly devoted and in love with the manipulative man - and her hero. .
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Currently only looking for a talented and kinky female writer to fill the role of 'Sharla' (a likely sub), with other roles to be filled later

Please PM me/post here if you're interested in the role

 

[sierrahughes]

OOC: Shall I just begin posting as Sharla, or wait for you to set things up?

 

[Dannno]

Like black, armored, reptillian snakes, Shaun Smith's platoon of UN peacekeepers crawled through the marshlike crops, oblivious to the thundering gunfire blasts and minor explosions occuring some hundred meters away. Shaun paused briefly, glancing over his shoulder at the twelve men under his command: each dressed in muted black plastoid armor, the only visible part of their bodies their eye-slits, the white - although usually slightly muddied - logo of the UN over their breastplate.

They were getting close. Shaun gave a hand signal to his troops, and they began to peer through the enormous crops at the clear, grassy knoll infront of them - and the large wooden farmhouse in the distance. Cattle lay sprawled across the ground or ran rampant away from the Warlord's 'lightly armored' guerilla warriors.

Just petty criminals wanting a slice of the Warlord's booty.

Shaun counted under his breath, before finally shouting "GO-GO-GO", Shaun and the majority of his warriors sprinting in a near-straight line of soldiers, each opening fire with their rifles at the visible invaders. They were easy prey. They didn't get not one of Shaun's soldiers.

The platoon reached the compound, soldiers filing about, picking off the invaders easily. Shaun was cool and methodolical, shooting the untrained attackers fearlessly - many surrendering as the highly trained peacekeepers whittled down their numbers. But trouble was still brewing - screams and thuds were continuously heard from inside the compound.

Shaun and two other soldiers did the opposite of what would be expected - creaking quietly through the half-ajar front door. A desperate, damsel-in-distress-esque scream sent chills up Shaun's spine as they rounded the corner. Shaun began to trot down the corridor, his two accomplice soldiers following - and then he raised his hand, as if saying I'll handle this.

He creeped quietly down the corridor, slowly turning the corner, rifle readied. An elderly figure's bloodied body laid sprawled across the carpetted floor, one of the warlord's soldiers standing with his back turned to Shaun, towering over a woman who must've been about nineteen - four years younger than Shaun. He spoke to her harshly in a foreign tongue. . . And, oddly, Shaun was struck by her curvaceous figure.

Not for that long though. With a powerful punch to the invader's temple, he too lay sprawled on the ground. The girl made an odd, whimpering noise, and Shaun paused, wordlessly watching her, cautiously letting his gun relax. She was georgous. .

Remembering where he was, he reassuringly took his helmet off, watching the distraught, tearful girl, her blouse ripped by the invader. Gunfire had ceased, and he stood infront of her, sunlight breaking through the window for the first time in days, illuminating his figure. He tucked his helmet under his arm, frowning. She had to be the only survivor. . .He offered the tearful girl his hand. .