I think my eyes are open, it's so dark it's hard to tell for sure. I try and move my hand slightly...
and a series of concentric, green rings highlight the gesture, a hand trying to clutch at a pitch black surface. My hand. I am face down on something black and plastic-like.
Ah.
I take a step forward, the lighted rings are there again, the only light in a universe of darkness. A sudden deep pain in my chest adds a deep, lime haze to my vision. It fades, cut, then appears again, coinciding with another sharp pang. A heartbeat, why?
Still face down, I focus on the green lights. They are words. cut them free. I try to read them but recognition rebels, they evade me, twist before my very eyes to remain indecipherable.
I call out, carbosilicate flows forth from my mouth like bubbling pitch, dripping from my chin to the ground. Cut. The light of my movement flows behind the growing pool of graphite-like liquid. Revealing the order, the order of it. It spreads out thin, like a spider's web. Each thread an action, a word, a gesture, an expression. A world, a universe, a creation of possibility, second by second denied. Reaching up I select a thread. It's cool texture hardens with a green burst. A choice made, a thousand billion other possibilities destroyed. Cut.
They... approach from the corners of my eyes. Familiar faces marred by hollow sockets, twisted grins of betrayers. I know them... friends. Cut Them. Stumbling into view. Their every step a mockery of human motion. I note that their limbs have been flayed away. Flayed but for the bone and tendons. Tendons that rise up, disappear into the darkened sky. I try and crawl away, but the carbosilicate clings, will not allow me the escape I crave. The tendons... they are like the strings of a marionette. Cut Them Free.
"-gh!" I shout, breathing sharply. This is... the van. I'm in the van, seat's reclined, sleeping. Just a nightmare.
They must've let me sleep on the ride here. Nice of them, I suppose. I open the van door and half hop, half stumble onto the ground in front of the Palomar wall. They must've made it inside. Drat.
I wave to one of the mutants patrolling the wall, "Ahoy there! Did the group who own this van." I shout up, gesturing at the van, "go in there," I add, now gesturing at the gate.
Marshmallow on
0
Tommy2Handswhat is this where am iRegistered Userregular
edited April 2010
oh there is marsh
hi marsh!
sorry I missed dnd today did felix kill stuff anyway?
Inside the Winnebago, Dusty glances over at Crabby, buckled as snugly as his frame could be in the passenger seat. "Concerned about mission. Mutant-human relations bo-o-ound to be tense. Possibly resulting in ta-a-aking aggro from one rrrk both sides." He meets his gaze with the sleepy, recessed eyes of Walken-Prime. "Hmmph. Worry too much." The tape player whirls into life, as if on cue:
Inside the Winnebago, Dusty glances over at Crabby, buckled as snugly as his frame could be in the passenger seat. "Concerned about mission. Mutant-human relations bo-o-ound to be tense. Possibly resulting in ta-a-aking aggro from one rrrk both sides." He meets his gaze with the sleepy, recessed eyes of Walken-Prime. "Hmmph. Worry too much." The tape player whirls into life, as if on cue:
Viscount Islands[INSERT SoKo HERE]...it was the summer of my lifeRegistered Userregular
edited April 2010
[Deluge] Makali: Phys 1 \||||[] Soc 4[] Ment 4(Telekineticx2)[] RAD ||[/color[Replica Katana][W+2][+3: 5+,5+] Makali generally responds to the party-goers words with a smile and a laugh, explaining that he's not trying to take over. That sounds so hostile! Just having a bit of fun, and make sure you go to the party tonight it'll be a treat.
He hangs around and goes to a local dinner (if one exists) and has a reinvigorating meal there.
Viscount Islands on
I want to do with you
What spring does with the cherry trees.
"Ya don't seem ta get my point, my point was that I don't care that yer better than me, don't make ya more deservin' a respect, but I don't expect ya ta unnerstand, so don't break yer head over it. Not that ya'd do that, anyway.
And no, I grasp perfectly that ya think there is no I, but there is. Ya see, the fact the ya got emotions, thoughts, 'nd a persanality a yer own, indicates that yer a person, an individual. Unless yer Singular one is incredibly insane, with a whole slew a split persanalities yer channelin'. Well..... I'd have ta revise my theory then and actually take pity on you bunch a pansies....."
[Dan]COLOR="Lime"]2[/COLOR Dan wheels to the door and tugs on the handle. It turns easily, but the door refuses to open. It seems to be stuck, or, a bit more disconcertingly, barricaded.
Jen and Sydney arrive on the scene just in time to see him wiggle the door handle uneventfully. It looks like the side window of the cabin is open slightly.
Meanwhile, a few minutes in the future, perhaps many. Not you personally. You as a species. We are better. Incomplete, but better. You have one advantage, and we will take that now and we will be the best. She snaps her fingers. Emotions an unfortunate side effect of the shell. Fixed soon. Then everything will be good. Everything perfect.
We are not doing what we are told. You seem incapable of grasping simply concepts - no "I". Carbosilicate monocrystal shell designed to channel ރޑ. Singular. One. She casually cuts open T.H.M.'s legs, pain racing up his spine as her fingertips slide through the skin and muscle.
Syd toss the keys to Dan before checking out the window, hoping this doesn't end up the same as checking out the vent in the asylum.
NeoToma on
0
Viscount Islands[INSERT SoKo HERE]...it was the summer of my lifeRegistered Userregular
edited April 2010
Soooo....
Viscount Islands on
I want to do with you
What spring does with the cherry trees.
hey De?ad, when you aren't vomiting into a toilet, what sorts of things in the mutant camp can we explore? Wolf's going to be looking around and doing a bit of shopping and politicking.
Also I was either a terrible traitor, and everyone knew it was me within a few minutes, or I was a terrifying traitor, and not a single person (even my target) suspected it was me until the end.
Oh man, one time my assassination target was passed out in the security room. I unscrewed the glass, crept in to the (formerly) locked room, fed him a cyanide pill, then went back out and shut the glass behind me.
I then called in my own target's murder over the radio, and waited outside the locked room (which I had no key to, of course) so that security could confirm there was no way I could've committed the crime. It was beautiful.
Security officers were always suspicious, violent, power-mad pricks whenever I played. It's why I always kept a fully charged shock glove or two on me, for dealing with security who decided bullying the only guy interested in keeping the engine running was a good idea.
Posts
aaaaaand hes back
san francisco cocksucker!!!
fucking watch this, and if you dont want to watch deadwood after, you are insane.
[Henry Phys 2 Soc 4 Ment 2 RAD BS||||||]COLOR="RoyalBlue"]ICC[/COLOR
I think my eyes are open, it's so dark it's hard to tell for sure. I try and move my hand slightly...
and a series of concentric, green rings highlight the gesture, a hand trying to clutch at a pitch black surface. My hand. I am face down on something black and plastic-like.
Ah.
I take a step forward, the lighted rings are there again, the only light in a universe of darkness. A sudden deep pain in my chest adds a deep, lime haze to my vision. It fades, cut, then appears again, coinciding with another sharp pang. A heartbeat, why?
Still face down, I focus on the green lights. They are words. cut them free. I try to read them but recognition rebels, they evade me, twist before my very eyes to remain indecipherable.
I call out, carbosilicate flows forth from my mouth like bubbling pitch, dripping from my chin to the ground. Cut. The light of my movement flows behind the growing pool of graphite-like liquid. Revealing the order, the order of it. It spreads out thin, like a spider's web. Each thread an action, a word, a gesture, an expression. A world, a universe, a creation of possibility, second by second denied. Reaching up I select a thread. It's cool texture hardens with a green burst. A choice made, a thousand billion other possibilities destroyed. Cut.
They... approach from the corners of my eyes. Familiar faces marred by hollow sockets, twisted grins of betrayers. I know them... friends. Cut Them. Stumbling into view. Their every step a mockery of human motion. I note that their limbs have been flayed away. Flayed but for the bone and tendons. Tendons that rise up, disappear into the darkened sky. I try and crawl away, but the carbosilicate clings, will not allow me the escape I crave. The tendons... they are like the strings of a marionette. Cut Them Free.
"-gh!" I shout, breathing sharply. This is... the van. I'm in the van, seat's reclined, sleeping. Just a nightmare.
They must've let me sleep on the ride here. Nice of them, I suppose. I open the van door and half hop, half stumble onto the ground in front of the Palomar wall. They must've made it inside. Drat.
I wave to one of the mutants patrolling the wall, "Ahoy there! Did the group who own this van." I shout up, gesturing at the van, "go in there," I add, now gesturing at the gate.
hi marsh!
sorry I missed dnd today did felix kill stuff anyway?
Need to figure out how to subtly ask for days off without it being obvious that it's for silly "games with friends" reasons.
Sowwy! Spontaneous visit to Janson's
I was thinking of you the whole time
[Bro]
Inside the Winnebago, Dusty glances over at Crabby, buckled as snugly as his frame could be in the passenger seat. "Concerned about mission. Mutant-human relations bo-o-ound to be tense. Possibly resulting in ta-a-aking aggro from one rrrk both sides." He meets his gaze with the sleepy, recessed eyes of Walken-Prime. "Hmmph. Worry too much." The tape player whirls into life, as if on cue:
On a mission from God
Twitch (I stream most days of the week)
Twitter (mean leftist discourse)
we concocted the idea together, though
Twitch (I stream most days of the week)
Twitter (mean leftist discourse)
so much
I wish I could love you to DEATH
is humanity
Twitch (I stream most days of the week)
Twitter (mean leftist discourse)
damnit
Twitch (I stream most days of the week)
Twitter (mean leftist discourse)
What is not the best? Random fluish symptoms with no clear source.
Makali: Phys 1 \||||[] Soc 4[] Ment 4(Telekineticx2)[] RAD ||[/color[Replica Katana][W+2][+3: 5+,5+]
Makali generally responds to the party-goers words with a smile and a laugh, explaining that he's not trying to take over. That sounds so hostile! Just having a bit of fun, and make sure you go to the party tonight it'll be a treat.
He hangs around and goes to a local dinner (if one exists) and has a reinvigorating meal there.
What spring does with the cherry trees.
A mutant human babby would maybe help ease the tension between the mutants and human village. Dunno what else we should get up to in the meantime
This excellent thing to wake up to.
quit making awesome as hell things
B]Dan[/B
THM: ?
"Ya don't seem ta get my point, my point was that I don't care that yer better than me, don't make ya more deservin' a respect, but I don't expect ya ta unnerstand, so don't break yer head over it. Not that ya'd do that, anyway.
And no, I grasp perfectly that ya think there is no I, but there is. Ya see, the fact the ya got emotions, thoughts, 'nd a persanality a yer own, indicates that yer a person, an individual. Unless yer Singular one is incredibly insane, with a whole slew a split persanalities yer channelin'. Well..... I'd have ta revise my theory then and actually take pity on you bunch a pansies....."
I open an eye. "Got a smoke?"
http://deicidecomic.tumblr.com/
READ MY COMIC ^^
Syd toss the keys to Dan before checking out the window, hoping this doesn't end up the same as checking out the vent in the asylum.
What spring does with the cherry trees.
I must know!
he then shoved his corpse in a meat grinder
I was the worst traitor
that's detective Billy Bob Bo Bob to you, civilian
What spring does with the cherry trees.
I thought it wasnt that bad, personally
What spring does with the cherry trees.
Also I was either a terrible traitor, and everyone knew it was me within a few minutes, or I was a terrifying traitor, and not a single person (even my target) suspected it was me until the end.
Oh man, one time my assassination target was passed out in the security room. I unscrewed the glass, crept in to the (formerly) locked room, fed him a cyanide pill, then went back out and shut the glass behind me.
I then called in my own target's murder over the radio, and waited outside the locked room (which I had no key to, of course) so that security could confirm there was no way I could've committed the crime. It was beautiful.
explosives engineer walks in, a minute into the game, and suicide bombs the security office
had to tell the admin so people weren't wandering around for twenty minutes wondering who the traitor was
silly geese make ss13 way less fun than it could be
Twitch (I stream most days of the week)
Twitter (mean leftist discourse)
We are dealing with Mini-Mini-Wheats
http://www.audioentropy.com/
mostly because I'm really great at combat after months of dieing to griefers
nowdays, the only people I murder when I'm not the traitor is the chef
because god damn get my sandwich right you silly goose
also, they added a syringe gun, as well as a garbage disposal chute
fucking score