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    1. DR_TRAPEZOID 11 yrs ago

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In U.A.U. 11 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Bernie turned abruptly, a bit surprised at the person behind him, raising his hands in a furious flail of fake Kung fu. After he got a good look at her, he lowered his hands, crossing them behind his back. He felt a bit ashamed of this beautiful display of his trained reactions, especially considering how much military training he had. Running his fingers through his hair, a bit embarrassed, he began to speak.

"Hey there. I'm not -" he managed to stutter out, before violently coughing. He was fairly certain that he saw some black smoke come or that time. "Sorry about that. Anyways, I'm not really sure how much of that you caught. The name's Bernie. You must be in the same boat as us, then?" He guessed, his voice still retaining the zombie-like raspiness. "That is to say, 'useless'." He muttered, voice laced with a deadly dose of sarcasm. "Well. At least that's what they're calling us these days." He continiued, voice ridden with an emotion somewhere between anger and sadness. "Well, let's hope you guys aren't as useless as I am." He said, turning to look back at the solitary man in his room.
Interested in piloting your mighty vessel, but I have the same concerns as Aristo.
Wheeee.
Clearly my best move, strategically, is to take over Xir'ain's dungeon.

I'm kinda dissapointed I wasn't able to post until now, it would've been fun writing my dungeon exploding. Still.

I'd wish Cyclone fun on his trip, but from the looks of it, he's already gone.

Also, sorry for low quality posting. It's late, but I felt guilty about not having written in so long. I was supposed to have more time to write, but I don't.

I'll still try to get another Ifrit post up sometime soon.

<>
As Stamrad approached the Dungeon once again, metal legs creaking beneath his weight, he breathed a sigh of relief- all had gone according to plan. The pile of bodies was impressive, certainly enough to fuel the machine of war that was his master. There had been minimal casualties, only one minotaur had been lost. Yes, things had been looking up for Stamrad ever since he got rid of that little gray pest of an imp, always stealing his glory and well deserved praise.

However, as they trudged across the cold hard tundra, he caught sight of some movement out of the corner of his eye. As he looked up, he saw a glowing object streaking towards the dungeon, shuddering in it's fiery descent. The foreign object rocketed with terrifying speed, smaller shards falling off as it sped towards it's target, drinking in the magic that emanated from the dungeon. Stamrad only barely managed to leap to the side to avoid a sharp shard of the red stone implanting itself in the ground where he stood moments ago. Fear filled his eyes as more of the shards rocketed down, destroying the very ground beneath him. The minotaurs carrying the bodies were scared just as much, and ran off in a frenzy. As they sped away, driven by animal instinct, the cart tipped and tilted wildly behind them, leaving a bread crumb trail of bodies and blood.

A deep look of sadness was on Stamrads face as he realized that he would have to clean that up, and began picking up the bloodied bodies.
Viktor looked down with pride at his creation, finished but moments ago. Skin and flesh carefully molded to create a beautifully sleek creature, seemingly days spent perfecting the monster. The creature was amazing, surpassing anything that he would ever be able to mould again. Out from the gaping maw of the creature spurted a gout a flame, hot enough to mar the hard stone it rested upon. Upon gaining it's bearings, it flapped it's wings, creating a gust of wind enough to knock a soldier to his knees. Yes, these terrifyingly powerful creatures would make a wonderful addition to his army. In truth, there was little short of a god that could stop these creatures- their speed and strength unmatched by anything on this world.

Viktor gently reached out a claw to grab the creature, move it somewhere safe to preserve this perfect blueprint. The creature slapped the hand away with it's poisonous claw. 'Master. I am surely capable of keeping myself safe.' The creature spoke, in a soothingly smooth voice. Viktor had nearly forgotten, the great intellect and mind reading capabilities that the creature had been imbued with. Yes, this could not be a more perfect soldier, nearly unkillable.

A great rumble filled the air, causing both Viktor and the new creature to look up. Bricks shattered down upon the two, the glowing meteor eating through the very stone as it landed on the new creature. Crushing a large percent of it's mass. A pathetic screech managed to escape the teeth of the creature, as it struggled to claw it's way out from beneath the destructive force, it's very skin flaking off as it was ripped apart. Viktor quickly reached out his metal appendages, tearing it out from beneath the massive stone, having to sever much of the creatures body to save the important parts.

As he hastily threw aside the mangled beast, once the image of perfection, he turned his attention to the trespassing object. He was intrigued by the runes scrawled across it's surface- He prided himself on his knowledge, and was surprised to find that he didn't even know where to start reading these. He raised a chisel in one mechanical arm, and began prodding at it, clearly the master of the scientific method. The chisel began rusting away as soon as it entered the crackling red aura that surrounded it. "Listen to me, Master of Machines. The war you wage on this world is weak. The mighty force of Altearx will stomp on your frail army like naught more than a pathetic insect. I can help you. Make your forces strong enough to defeat- no... destroy all who stand in your way."

Viktor stared at the runes, deep in thought, considering the offer. A deep metallic chuckle filled the air. "That's quite the proposition. Though you have peaked my curiosity, I believe that my answer is going to have to be 'no'. My army is, and will be more than powerful enough, and I don't need any strangers meddling in my business, no matter how... interesting an offer they pose. However, this vessel of yours shall prove itself useful. I would prefer you not attempt to communicate with us further."
The small gray creature continued its trek through the tundra, seeing the massive stone castle he was headed to. As he approached, he was met with a small chunk of glowing red gem, inscribed with a strange rune. "I can help you. Get revenge. Destroy the ones who betrayed you..." It spoke in a low voice, luring the creature closer. Once a very quick-talking beastie, the creature responded in a slow, calculated voice. "I'm listening."

Thanks for the encouragement, guys. <>
Anyways, yeah. I'm ready to skip whenever.
Just going to apologize in advance for that post, it's way too wordy for what i was trying to do and probably a bit confusing. I just felt guilty for having not posted in so long, but also only tend to have free time around 2 a.m., which doesn't make for the best quality posts...
As the deacon approached Ben, disgusting smile plastered on his face, he conveyed a message nearly similar, if not identical to that relayed to the rest. Not that Ben needed to listen. He had a bit of a habit of eavesdropping on others conversations. You might call it rude. He called it business. Still, Ben listened intently, impressed by the mans commitment.

The polite smile fell off of Bens face when Billy said something he really shouldn't have. "Give you a bit of peace. Especially if you're stuck in the middle of bumfuck nowhere." Ben let out a bit of an angry chuckle, while still managing to keep a stern scowl on his face.

"You think your god is going to offer me guidance, pal? Your 'god' left me 'in the middle of bumfuck nowhere' when he killed my parents. You know what that does to a kid? It'd take a little more than some 'spiritual guidance' to bring me any peace. Nah, there ain't no god in this world, and if there is, he sure as hell isn't a helpful one." Ben said, his voice slowly getting louder as the fake 1950's accent faded away. He tended to get sensitive about religious things, especially when it came from people so clearly blind to the pain he had gone through.

Still, he instantly regretted having made a scene about it, and began mentally berating himself for the uncivilized reaction. As he opened his mouth to sputter out some weak apology, the Deacon raised his hands, interrupting him. "Hey, it's fine. I understand. Listen, life gets hard. You can't do anything about that, but as long as you have someone by your side, it'll all turn out fine, and I'm sure you've got a close friend with you."

A confused look rested on Bens face, as he took in the implications of the mans statement. As it registered, the look only got stronger, his thick brow furrowing as deep wrinkles cut their way into his otherwise unblemished skin, dark cracks marring his pale visage. As the man left to continue preaching to whatever hotel dining rooms would listen, Ben halfheartedly called after him. "Wait up now- What is that supposed to mean?"

Unsurprisingly, he was met with no answers but silence. Sighing, he looked out the window, to seek advice from Flush. Ben was a bit shocked to see that Flush was nowhere to be found, which was very out of character for him. He was always there for Ben when advice or guidance was needed.

He had to have been talking about Flush, right? But there's no way that he could have known about him, right? But then what was he talking to the others about? Does Flush visit them, too? He stared deep into the wall as the questions ran through his mind, like a plague of locust, buzzing and angry, each vying to get his attention, only to fall back into the swarm.

Hesitantly, he resolved to later stop by the church, where he could hopefully answer at least a few of the questions. An aggravated growl left his throat. This was supposed to be a simple business trip. In and out, take one or two phone calls, then be done with it. Speaking of business, he thought to himself, as he felt a vibration disturb his pocket, soon accompanied by the smooth tunes of Frank Sinatra. With no hesitation he picked up the call, responding with a simple 'no', before hanging up. This day was not his best, and he had a feeling that it was going to get worse as he looked around, taking mental note of those others that the deacon had approached. No matter how many questions he thought of, one always rose above the others. Who are these people?
Added in my S.P.E.C.I.A.L. I figure Charisma should be as low as possible, considering Thomas'... condition.
Very interested. I have been looking for a good Fallout RP.
I plan on attempting to post now. I've had quite a bit on my plate recently, though nothing quite as dramatic as everyone else.
Yay for terrible devices that post when I'm not finished yet...
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