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Roleplay Leads needed for 1940's Festival and WW2


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That's right the festival is rolling into town at the Oceana WW2 Area.  This celebration event will feature many fun things to enjoy for the day.  The following roles are needed to participate as lead roles for this event.  Participate with us in launching the WW2 1940's themed area with a Winter Festibal on Sunday 29th at 1:00 pm slt.   If you have experience in the following areas and are intersted in joining the festival as a lead participant please concact Jewels Silverblade.   

Livestock Auctioneer
Campfire Story Tellers
Santa
Elves
Major
Bartender
Count
Contessa
General Allied Forces
General Axis Forces

Read over the backstory and visit the sim to get a feel for the time.  Take the teleporter in the mall to the WW2 platform area.

Oceana WW2 Mediterranean Theater
Roleplay Backstory

http://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Oceana/72/142/2040


In the distance could be seen the ruins of an ancient civilization that once stood proud in the outskirt of this small island which rumored to have the most beautiful beaches to be seen anywhere down the coastline.  As the morning sun rose above the Mediterranean horizon, the small semi secluded village began to come to life. The sound of morning song birds and local livestock echoed through the surrounding hills covered in moss and dew. The town itself which, had an ancient heritage of trade relied on local commerce to sustain life. The fishermen every morning ventured out past the surf to wrestle with the daily catch to sell in the marketplace in the center of town, while the farmers in the surrounding farms milked their cows and toiled their crops in hopes of receiving a good price at to the marketplace.

As the town awoke from its slumber, the smell of fresh baked breads, the aroma of coffee and the sounds of brooms sweeping blend with the sounds of the surf from the sandy beach on the outskirts of the village.  Pietro was amongst the many who called this place home.  Stretching from his morning slumber at the edge of his wooden cot he took his worn and mud stained pants of the small leather chest near his bed and slipped them on.  He could barely keep his eyes opened from the wrestles night he had.  Sometimes at night he could still see the fiery skies in the distance that made him wonder how long it would be before the enemy soldiers made their way to this quite town.  Sluggishly he made his way to the small window to glance at the small airfield located just in front of his barracks.  Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he could hear the clatter of the city noises bustling through his thin walls. 

 As the local café opened its doors, the villages entered into their daily routine of breakfast and conversation which always turned to the subject of the war. The locals were proud people who had lived in this region for hundreds of years and have had their share of sending their sons off to faraway lands in the name of war, and they wanted no part of it.   Pietro sleepily closed his eyes for a moment to envision his charming village as it was before the war.  Travelers from all parts of the world frequented this area.  Weather they came for the festivals or trades people from all over the world seasoned the village with their presence, however as of late questions still were asked about the safety of the village, how close is the war to coming to their shores and what would they do if it did. 

The smell of fresh bread baking always was a welcoming aroma for Pietro as he pondered taking his morning walk through the plaza where he could sit at the pond for hours talking with friends or hearing the occasional reminder from the church bells that soon Sunday services would creep up on him.  It had been a long time since he attended services, since the beginning of the war. 


He could always count on the villagers making the best of everyday by carrying out their ordinary routines.  The bistro still opened daily trying to feed more mouths daily and season the dreary lives with a little bit of old rag time music.  Occasionally they even got a local travel show to come in and perform. Closing his eyes he could almost imagine another sultry sound playing on the piano reminding him a distinct reminder of the latest flick, Casablanca.  A small smile lined his aging face as he headed to the kitchen nook to put some morning tea to boil.

Beyond the sound of clinking plates, and coffee cups was the faint sound of the local airfield and the droning noises of planes firing up their engines. The villagers did have a local defense should the war ever reach their shores in the form of four captured war planes from various nations that had crashed into the sea or near their borders.   Villagers, some of who have been in the military had salvaged them and brought them into operating condition and now  made sure they were ready in the event that the war came calling.  While refurbishing old equipment had become an opportunity for the villagers, defending the area would not be easy.  The rocky hills would make this terrain difficult to defend if the enemy troops were to make their way to this small village. 

Taking another glance over the airfield he could see all the pilots lining up their winged friends for the morning flight.  Many in the village looked at the scare force of men at the airfield as their protectors and their curse and many only wished the war would pass them by, however looming on the horizon  were forces from other nations fighting recklessly and getting closer day by day.  Still the island seemed well protected with the exception of an amphibious landing or air raid.

He wondered if there was any news on the movement of the threats they had hoped wouldn't come to their shores. Rumors of whole cities being bombed and occupied leaving many lives changed had been circulating for months.  He had already spent weeks building barbed wire around the beach heads, lining the beach with mines and a few cannons.  He had heard about the allied naval support guns as well, being so close to the sea would give an advantage for the ships to be infantry support.  An enemy invasion would have to face a solid wall of high explosives making it a saving factor that included artillery, naval shelling, and tons of bombs.

Suddenly he realized he would have to make the Mayor's meeting at midday.  He knew that would be the place to gather up any news of the outside world.  Deep in the thought his eyes glazed over as he thought on how useless the Mayor seemed to be these days, a mere puppet like Vinchy French.  He wondered how he ever got into power in the first place and reasoned it is probably just what people wanted, someone to be a face and nothing more in  his dealings with real politics.  He reached over the wooden cabinets for a pill bottle he had received at the infirmary for the back aches plaguing him from hours of sitting ackwardly in the muddy trenches.  It made him proud that even the nurses helped in any way they could, even filling bags full of sand to help protect the field hospitals.

Looming in his thoughts he barely heard the whistle of the tea kettle hissing. He suddenly come to focus and his mind barely could understand the sounds he was hearing.  It wasn't the tea kettle at all!  His eyes swept back to the airfield as airmen ran back and forth at a quick pace.  His heartbeat quickened, pounding faster as he felt the sudden rush of adrenalin.  He ran quickly to the door to glance out at the skies.  In the distance, he could hardly believe what his eyes were seeing, massive flocks of metal birds darkening the sky from its brilliant sunshine. At last, the inevitable was here.  The town played on, the worked to forget, and at night they prayed….. for salvation  from the ravages of a war just outside their door. The army had reached their shores at last and despite the ordinary feel of this day it would be unlike any other.


WW2 Area STANDARDS

Roleplay:  This is a roleplay area seasoned with combat.  Please make sure to be respectful of roleplay etiquettes.  Create your own character from this background history as you would like to fill in this little time frame in history and small village.

Terrain: Rocky hills, blown bridges that need constant repairs in water and weather exposed areas, water ways cluttered with debris, muddy terrain in times of rain or snow

Weather: mud, rain, and cold of an unusually bad winter

Transportation mode: 1940 vehicles, bicycles, horse drawn carts, mules  , "bullet proof kangaroos"

Dress Code: Vintage 1920-1945 style

No gestures in this area that disrupt the continuity of roleplay. 

Please do not disturb roleplay with voice, gestures or out of place combat.

Combat:  VICE combat, para roleplay, DCS, or spellfire (DCS and Spellfire enabled sim) agreed to by both parties.

Weapons:  Absolutely no modern weapons in this area.


Roles: farmers, farmhand, fishermen, wood worker, vinyard worker, dancers, axis army, allied army, politicians, merchants, bee keeper, nurse, doctor, veterinarian, civilians, underground, tailor, engineer, blacksmith, bartenders, count, contessa, gangsters, police, firefighter volunteer, street performers, baker, butcher, barmaids, Major (one role only), etc  LEAD ROLES FOR ROLEPLAYERS ARE OPEN PLS INQUIRE

 

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