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DukeOfWellington

Head of Community Staff
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DukeOfWellington last won the day on November 12

DukeOfWellington had the most liked content!

About DukeOfWellington

Veteran
  • Rank
    Caporal-chef

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  • Motto
    Semper Fidelis
  • Nation
    United Kingdom
  • Class
    Commander

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  1. DukeOfWellington

    " I'm actually head of head admins across about 14 different servers" - not good, means you won't have time for NRP "Position you are applying for: Head of Head Admins" sorry but Wootz is already that "Also the server's fricking dead and is clearly lacking someone like me who will play for at least 30 seconds per week at times when the server is totally dead." wE dOn'T nEeD nEgAtiVitY HeRE /vouch
  2. DukeOfWellington

    Even though i've already said it on discord to waterpolo - could have handled this alot better on my part , sorry.
  3. DukeOfWellington

    Noted, ill keep what you said in mind @Retired Scandy assuming I stay. As much as HoCS is about delegating , some things can't be delegated or I simply dont believe in the capabilities of the people of which i'd delegate to to accomplish it well in some cases.
  4. DukeOfWellington

    camaleão
  5. DukeOfWellington

    Scripts when?
  6. DukeOfWellington

    but for the moment the application is lacking - its a /devouch from me
  7. DukeOfWellington

    The Fort that the french built in the last map, that was heroic.
  8. DukeOfWellington

    JBR still exists tho
  9. DukeOfWellington

    needs alot of work and maybe it'll get a vouch from me then..
  10. DukeOfWellington

    what a absolute waste of time You were warned and continued going on ,the fact that you come here proves that, along with that screenshot which is evidence - you were muted for toxicity and insubordination, something you forgot to screenshot. Furthermore Florian quit of his own accord and after we solved our dispute he told me he'd been wanting to quit for a while. You were removed from CS because you were useless , and i dont need people who obstruct progress to "work" with us. We're not a professional team, we work for the benefit of our community on a game proffesionalism isn't necessary or atleast not to the level you dream of (which you fail to attain by going on and on) I already had warned all of you i had exams this week and needed a break from my tasks so when Wilhelm made a particularly rude comment , yes I went on a break - 2 hours before the event and Wilhelm agreed saying he was fine managing what he had to do when i was away - there's more to life than NRP. "proving easily it can done by somebody else" except i didn't fully go because i still had plenty to do movewise which without the campaign would not have happened, just like the hours i invested to theorising in the campaign dev channel without your help. The person who got emotional here is clearly you , who continue as if this were some blood feud. Removal? sure thing let me just kill the server :nwdab: resignation? No - blackmail does not work here i will resign when im burnt out which is likely soon - happy now?
  11. DukeOfWellington

    there's more than battle roleplay on the server.... /devouch
  12. DukeOfWellington

    In truth, none of us volunteered to fight the French. Their ambitions proved to be their reckoning, yes, but that makes the deaths of all of our men that much more of a tragedy. I’m sure they- and by they I mean us and them- wished to have our finest hours fighting the Republicans, preferably at the gates of their den of infamy. But beggars can’t be choosers, and not one of us complained when we heard that the enemy had come to us on our blood-sodden land. So many up’n ran over the battlefield- didn’t even get fully dressed. We got there quick, too; our eyes were stingin’ with sea air and beads of sweat pouring from our brows. But we didn’t care about that then, only focused on the invaders, who must’ve been forced to embark on such a mission like this, and would run the moment they saw combat. If not then we would make them run, ourselves. They gave us scars that day. They gave us mighty deep scars. We found them while they were camping by a fishing village, with none of the original residents in sight. One shudders to imagine what could have happened to them, if they had not evacuated in time. But their departure was not necessarily good for us, now we knew that neither side would refrain from shelling the whole complex, threatening to turn it into a pile of timber that neither side could use. But, as long as it was still standing, we had to capture it to deny the enemy a command center in the region. It seems they took their time packing up, since we made it into the village and even had time to prepare our positions. Not that we cold see much, however, as the previous inhabitants had not had much care for including windows in their houses, though finding glass out here in the outskirts was a luxury in itself. Much to the dismay of the men, we had to clamber upon the roped-up roofs and set up an array of sandbags there. I tried to get the boys to line up against them for cover, but every so often one of the bags would fall off the roof and spill its contents all over the floor. Seeing that, it was not difficult to imagine what would have happened to a person. When they finally got themselves ready, they didn’t bother to do anything special for us. I suppose all their officers were too groggy to make a plan any more complicated than pointing in our general direction. That’s not a complaint, by the way, just an observation. Although I suppose the Republicans think quite high of themselves, not entirely without reason. But valor is just about as good at stopping bullets as cowardice; that’s what I say. We had this system for shooting at them, where a musket would be passed around five or so people, with each one having their go at the enemy. The unoccupied people- having nothing else to do except load the spent muskets- would then throw insults over the shooters shoulders and at the enemy. Insults the enemy could neither hear nor understand, but insults nonetheless. They tired to form a solid battle formation, but as they reached the thin streets of the village their lines became a block, which became a huddled mass as the men pushed against each other and gasped for air. This was when our shots became extra effective, as even those who were not killed collapsed onto the ground, and were consumed by the roving horde of their countrymen. Despite these setbacks, the column was most definitively moving forwards, towards our positions inside the various shacks and and on the threadbare roofs at the very end of the road. In some sort of godly intervention, our artillerymen chose that exact moment to fire on the enemy, just as we started to worry about our blackpowder reserves. It was as if Moses himself had split their formation apart, as a line of bloody pulp went straight through the entire block, as the dreadful ball bounced its way merrily through. Their golden-edged standard had been split in two, the staff shattering into razor sharp splinters flying all over the place. They no longer needed any orders- their natural instincts directed their retreat. The insults grew in magnitude as we saw them scramble over one another in their vain attempt to escape. We directed our shots at the sky, and smothered the air in plumes of gun smoke and ash. I myself fired my pistol at the our blue-backed enemy, though there was not even the slightest care whether or not it hit them. What mattered now was the sallying forth from our positions, to drive the invaders back into the sea, and bring the our crusade of liberation to their doorstep. As it turned out, they could pack everything up much faster than they could bring everything out, with the notable exception of their tents and a large score of their cots. Besides that and a few apple cores left discarded, all that was left of the Republicans were a heap of footsteps. Like bloodhounds, we were, tracking a bleeding enemy through gravel and grass. When we found them again, they had fortified in the first pack of buildings they had seen, which also happened to be the last before the open sea. Unlike the village, they had a proper town on their side, with rows of hedges leading to the main manor itself, where they had placed half a regiment inside. Right then I knew this was going to be a most sordid affair; the hedges might as well have been stone walls, which would funnel us straight into the enemy’s sights. Even if we made it through, every entrance would be guarded by a wall of bayonets, with men standing behind them, ready to fire. I told him that- the general, I mean- and I believed at the time he agreed with me. Enter our cavalry officer. Out of respect for the dead I will not tarnish his family’s reputation by naming him, but he was notably present from our meeting. If there ever could be an ideal soldier of the Confederacy, it wouldn’t be too dissimilar to him. Fresh face, eager heart; the first to jump in and the last to jump out. He took it upon himself to apply that doctrine on the enemy positions that day, and ordered our entire mounted force to encircle around and harass any and all scouts and baggage staff outside of the manor. However, the large rows of hedges hemmed the cavalry in, leading them well into range of the Republican muskets. The horses- many of whom were requisitioned from farmers and were thus unused to the sounds of battle- bucked their riders off and blocked off the sole exit. Whatever the cost, we could not risk the annihilation of our cavalry, as unlike our enemies we could not simply replenish our ranks with such experienced men. So, God help us, we advanced. My sergeant was the first of us to go, and was unfortunate enough to survive the hit to the neck long enough to choke on his blood. He collapsed on the ranker behind him, who could do nothing but cradle him as he watched the life drain from his pale eyes. Most of the French hadn’t even been aiming at our line, but look at what they did. Look at what they did. I could in the windows that the shooters had retreated into the safety of the room, only to make way for a new group of soldiers with loaded muskets to learn partly after the window and take aim. The line before us was shredded now, cast aside like any other plaything would. The next volley would be for us. And their cycle continued: the shooters, satisfied with their dread toll, made way for a third line to peer out the windows, and by this point they hardly had to aim. I won’t soon forget that moment when they fired on us. I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen, most surely lethal, but to my shock felt that I had not been hit at all. I had merely clenched my stomach to the point of pain. My men weren’t so lucky; a dozen collapsed with all manner of wounds. I had no time to process that, however, as a new threat emerged from the farm house. We could see their bear-skin caps long before they revealed their dreaded weapon, but by then it was too late. These were the men we were taught to fear, no matter how brave we thought we were. The Republican Guard. Grenadiers. They said that each member had to kill a Englishman, Russian, and one of their own if they wanted to enter. Their legacy was fatal on its own, but they had brought crates of grenades with them, each one ferried from the invasion craft on its own boat. I suppose that’s why it took them so long to get themselves ready at the village- they wanted to blow us up rather than shoot us. This time, among the tight formations and overlapping lines, they would get their chance. They ripped us apart. Limb from torso, head from neck, man from life. The line simply ceased to be in that moment, and the following moments too. I won’t take shame in saying we ran away from them. It was either that, or you wouldn’t be hearing this story now. They sallied out of the house, hoping to finish our motley crew off once and for all. And in all of our minds we knew that if we were far too disorganized to mount an effective retreat. With our other army somewhere on the other continent, it would be only two days march to the golden gates of Drepesk. All the officers had to stay behind to look for any people who became lost in the mess of hedges, although by this point the entire field was in the hands of the French. It was here, through a small opening in the hedgerows, that I saw the last stand of the Piskow guards: the Saviors of Aisne. The Saviors of Aisne. Words cannot describe the sights I saw that day. Their exit was blocked off, and they were outnumbered by a factor of seven. But still, they fought as if the numbers had been reversed. One after another, even as their comrades fell around them, a Republican soldier would with a growing uneasy attempt to face a guardsman. And they lasted for however long it takes to raise a bayonet. They whole ordeal seemed to last for hours on end, as fatigue itself was kept at bay. One survivor made it out that day. A guardsman. While we made it away from the manor that day thanks to the guard’s defense, though it wasn’t long ‘till they found our position. By then, we had no guards left to save us. We fired, they fired, and there was nothing new that I hadn’t said before. I’ve gotten tired of war, no matter the cause. They keep telling us of unborn generations who will be damned to oppression if we don’t drive the invaders from the continent. Perhaps being unknowingly oppressed is worth a modicum of peace. The dead are free, after all, though I wouldn’t soon wish to join them. -Bulletmagnet
  13. DukeOfWellington

    Decent app and i know falcon is a goodmin from jb - it's a /vouch from me.
  14. DukeOfWellington

    Unfortunately the evidence provided is insufficient and therefore this application is: DENIED I suggest you read the medal requirements/description again.
  15. DukeOfWellington

    Good app overall, good veteran - easy /vouch from me.
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