Avatar of R31GN
  • Last Seen: 8 yrs ago
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    1. R31GN 9 yrs ago

Status

Recent Statuses

8 yrs ago
Current "You don't get be surprised then" -Eso, 2016
8 yrs ago
Don't forget the golden rule of comedy, everyone. Random =/= Funny.
3 likes
9 yrs ago
Instant demonic didgeridoo -SH4DOW 2K16

Bio

Heyo! So I'm R31GN, a nickname I picked up when a director fucked up the pronunciation of my name big-time, in cringelord L337 speak so I can use it as a username wherever I go. I originally started RPing on the PlanetMinecraft Forums because... I was a cringey weeb piece of shit? Stopped that after a dickload of drama (Fuck you, BlackFTW/SilentAero. You're a prick.), started RPing again here awhile ago, but stopped for some reason that honestly escapes me. Came back here again just recently to improve my writing skills in my free time.

As such, I exclusively deal in Advanced nowadays, though I might be tempted into High-Casual. I'm into about any homegrown setting, but those taking place in an existing universe (Star Wars, Warcraft, Warhammer 4K, etc.) are a turn off for me. Not to say I'm instantly opposed, I'm just far more likely to be critical.

I am an avid stalker of Polyphemus ever since my last account here, mostly because we shar(ed?) a lot of common interest and ended up being in quite a few RP's together. Also he's a sexy hunk of man meat, mmm mmm.

I dig gritty shit, I dig superheroes, and I dig fantasy shit.

I have an irrational hatred of all things anime/mango/whatever. Not jokingly.

I don't do 1X1 shit, not since the Dark Island incident tm.

I sexually identify as Tucker from Red vs Blue, my pronouns are Bow/Chicka/Wowwowself

Most Recent Posts

Oooh, hey! I know I'm a bit late to the party, but you wouldn't happen to have room for another?
"It's a pot. Lovely. Perhaps we make a stew for whatever it is that we're hunting?" Baron said as Cassandra finished her display of power. Though his words chided, his voice betrayed his jovial tone -no offence meant in the comment. "Pit of Creation, eh? Always respect for a named implement. Can't wait to see exactly what you create with your pit, mon trésor." He said, voice dripping with flattery. This witch was one of the few Baron didn't already have a negative attitude towards, and he was just itching for an excuse to move her to the other list. Something about witches tended to rub him the wrong way -well, maybe that's just everyone.

Of course, her chiding Drake only served to higher elevate his thoughts of her -maybe this team wasn't entirely bad. He, out of better judgement, refrained from laughing directly at Drake after the comment, though the temptation was there. His entrance into the cauldron broke Baron's willpower. Like a slab of balsa wood it splintered, and Baron let out a harsh wheezing chuckle. His tentacles moved around, tips pointing directly at Drake as they circled around. They (along with Baron) considered bodily pulling the man-child from the pot. He was rather glad to see that Jaklo took the initiative for him.

"We are on job right now. So stop fucking around before I send you back to the office in a wheelchair. You can mess around on your own time, not when there are lives on the line. So are you gonna act like a hunter or a child?" Came the harsh shout as the hunter brandished his weaponry. Baron smiled with a new respect for him. "Saying what we all were thinking." Baron stated simply, his tentacles waving in the storm.

A set of the tentacles flared bright orange, as the mist around them faded away. The now metallic tentacles swirled in a lazy pattern near Drake, anticipating an outburst or violent payback for Jaklo's maneuver. When Drake apolagised civilly, Barons eyes widened in surprise. "How... uncharacteristically mature of you. Maybe you're not a lost cause yet." He commented in passing, before looking to Jaklo. "Now, let's take some of that pent up aggression and direct it towards our quarry, hm?" He said, pulling out his dueling blade with a casual flourish. He stood straighter, allowing a tentacle of his to take hold of the cane as he pointed his sword in the direction it had appeared that Jaklo was most attentive earlier.

"Allons-y, mes camarades." He said rather non-committaly, turning back to Cassandra. "Assuming, of course, that you can move your 'Hole of Making Things', that is." He said, remembering the rather elaborate process she had had to go through just to conjure the thing, let alone get to the (hopefully) impressive part.
So we gonna wait until we actually find the Ice Gianttm to instate the post order, or just go for it whenever?
1. Jaklo / Ice Giant
2. Combat Team 1
3. Combat Team 2
4. Combat Team 3
5. Ice Giant
6. Baron
7. Combat Team 5

Dibs
In the furious blizzard, Baron felt a wave of numbing cold wash over him. His shining blue tattoos flared brightly, bringing a sharp pain all across his body as though he was being branded. Eventually the sensation faded, leaving Baron comfortably warm despite wearing little more than casual wear in the middle of the raging storm. He smiled, glad for the spell despite any pain it brought him. His eyes surveyed the offensive team gathered around, eyes working hard to pick them out from between the flurry of snowflakes. "Atlas... Mithias... Drake... Jaklo..." He thought, taking a mental inventory of the team as he looked. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw an extra body pop through the portal. "Who the hell?" He thought, eyes narrowing as he peered at her. His intuition made him think demonologist right off the bat, though that was hardly reliable in this line of work.

“Don’t worry, lads, I’ve come to add a feminine touch. Cassandra Owens at your service, pleasure to shed blood with you.”

Baron smiled at the words, though his tentacles still waved annoyedly at the unexpected guest. Almost mindlessly, the tentacles waved in a repetative pattern -every second or so one would sweep across the ground and remove a layer of snow. This resulted in a steadily growing area of clear ground around Baron himself. He looked down at his metallic arm, frowning as he felt the mechanics respond slower. He idly brushed away snow that was getting caught in the workings of the device, frowning as he did so. His head perked up from his preoccupation when Jaklo spoke.

“Whatever this is it’s a lot bigger than we thought. We should try to get a closer look so investigations knows what we are dealing with.”

In response, Barons tentacles moved of their own volition, spreading out just slightly wider as if to make Baron appear larger -similar to what one might do when facing a mountain lion. A grimace crossed his face. "Yes, how lovely." He stated simply, as many of his tentacles faded from existence, only to be replaced with new ones. Rather than the conglomeration of orange and blue he had sported earlier, the large majority of these were oily black surrounded by a purple haze. As the orange tentacles vanished, Baron slumped further down until he began actually using his cane to hold himself up once again. He moved -or perhaps limped closer to the new arrival, raising his head.

"So, what is it that you bring to the table, as far as 'shedding blood' goes?" He asked curiously, raising his voice above the howling winds. As he raised his voice, his natural French accent became more prominent, slurring the words just slightly. His tentacles all moved downwind so that their disorienting fog wouldn't be blown into the area of his teammates. Even as he spoke, his eyes peered into the blizzard, hoping to catch some sign of their adversary.
I can only imagine Ramsey:

>Mfw I accidentally take the wrong drug.


Ecstasy, LSD, Superman in a pill, it's all the same to Ramsay after all
I'm back (work was overstaffed, yaaaay), made some edits to the end of my post, just as an FYI
Kinda rushed this post out 'cause I've gotta go do shit, but hey that's life. (Proofreading is for the weak and those of weak will.) Let me know if I messed anything up too much, I'll fix anything I can when I get back.

When K-Ton took cover by Ramsay, the driver offered his fellow H-10 member nothing more than a friendly pat in response to the nod. Indeed, no time for a tea-time chat. He considered saying something, and opened his mouth to do so, but quickly thought better of it when a fireball whizzed past their shared cover. When K-Ton launched his own assault against the man, Ramsay peeked up from cover with his gun in hand, hoping to provide some covering fire and line up a shot. A spray of bullets from another direction changed his mind rather quickly as Ramsay was forced to duck down beneath a splintering shower of broken wood chips bursting from his cover. By the time Ramsay got his bearings and was able to look up again, he saw K-Ton standing over the Breaker.

BANG

"AAAAAAUUUUGGGGHHH!"

BANG

"AAAAAAAAAUU-"

BANG

Ramsay watched with wide eyes as K-Ton went through the brutal ritual of taking out the flaming Beater. Though his eyes at first showed nothing but shock, Ramsay let out an almost detattched chuckle.

"Hohoholy shit bro. Holy shit." Ramsay laughed out as K-Ton returned to the cover. He was otherwise at a loss for words. After taking a moment to breathe, a stray gunshot caught his attention, bringing him back to the fight. Peeking through a rather convenient bullet-hole that had punched through the wooden crate, Ramsay saw that one of the Breakers had a similar idea -just a couple feet away he was hiding behind a very similar crate. A smile slipped across Ramsay's face as he saw the Breaker begin to stand, about to switch from cover to cover. "OI! JACKASS!" Ramsay shouted to get the mans attention as he rose from cover, gun leveled at his head. The Breaker looked at Ramsay with the eyes of a dead man, stopping dead in his tracks. He had a strange multicolored glow coming out of every orifice, nauseating to look at. Hopefully an effect from Neon. "Lights out, prick." Ramsay said with a smile, pulling the trigger.

click. click. click. Came the gun's unenthusiastic response. It was the Breakers turn to smile as he raised his own pistol after he fully digested the situation. Not hesitating to let the man line up his shot, Ramsay dove at the man furiously, shoving him down to the ground. "Goddamnit, that was going to be really badass!" He shouted angrily, using his MAC-10 as a club to beat the man. All it was good for, at this point. Again and again, the cold metal of the gun came down on the gangsters head, crushing in the skull like a rotten pumpkin. Ramsay didn't stop until the face was completely unrecognizable, at which point he spit on the corpse. This time he didn't hesitate to move, truly understanding the gravity of the fight. He dashed to more cover, grabbing the Breakers pistol as he ran. Upon finding cover behind some old beat up jalopy -a junker of a Fisker, it looked like, Ramsay checked the pistol for ammunition. He looked back to the crate where K-Ton was, giving him a non-committal nod as he leveled the pistol across the hood of the car. He readied himself to provide cover for the man if he chose to move over as well, but otherwise focused on the fight.

Ramsay scanned the carnage, eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. Dead breakers were in a maccabre orgy of corpses strewn across the cold floor of the AutoMach, blood pooling into great murals of violence on the concrete -a tribute to the bloody deeds of the Breakers. All around, the fruits of their labor was evident: a man with a hole through his chest the size of a watermelon, a man shot through his kneecaps and face, a bloody pulp that Ramsay could only assume was once a living human, a man with a fist-shaped hole in his head- that one stopped Ramsay cold as he recognized the face.

Perhaps it had been naive to think that only Breaker blood would be spilt in this firefight, but Ramsay had never actually considered the fact that some of his crew wouldn't be making it back. Ramsay's eyes lowered away from the battlefield, hands shaking violently as he loosened his grip on the pistol. Even as he considered walking away, going back to the van and letting it all blow over, his mind strayed back to the poor Breaker lying on the ground with a hole punched through his chest -reminding him of why it was they were here. This wasn't a power play, this wasn't for territory. This was revenge. Goddamn if revenge wasn't something the H10 crew did best. With this inspiration, Ramsay popped his head up from cover, pistol waving wildly from side to side as he searched for a target. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards as he saw a Breaker just standing around, doing some Tai Chi shit or something. He squeezed the trigger and -

click. click. click.

"Son of a bitch! Again?" Came Ramsays infuriated response as the pistol in his hand sprung to life seemingly, the magazine coming out to waggle in front of his eyes tauntingly. He looked again at the Tai Chi motherfucker and realized he was riding a hell of a glow on Neon. His voice was small as he looked around at the psychic's influence over so many weapons around the battlefield. "But that was my schtick..." He said softly as his bullets danced around his head like sugar plums on Christmas morning. As if he had something to prove, Ramsay pulled a pill from his pocket and quickly swallowed it, taking no time to savor the chalky texture.

Almost instantly, Ramsay looked down at his necklace containing his two doses of Neon and realized his mistake. His skin tingled with stimulation from all angles, the exact opposite of Neon's effect on him. He turned out the pocket, trying to figure out exactly what pill he had just popped from his collection of designer drugs. His fingers shook, spilling little colorful capsules of wonder all across the floor, as well as the magazine he never loaded into his MAC-10. Forgetting his drug-induced plight, Ramsay hurriedly loaded the MAC-10 with a wavering chuckle before shoving it into a shittily put together holster at his hip, instead raising the half-assembled Breaker's pistol.

Even as he held up the 'borrowed' firearm, it was being pulled apart by the psychic. That just pissed Ramsay off more. He slid across the hood of the bullet-riddled car he had been hiding behind, and started a furious charge at the psychic, only to see him swarmed by... wasps? "Huh. Neat" Thought Ramsay as he lunged at the man to tackle him, prepared to pistol whip him dead like the other Breaker.

As he raised his pistol over the incapacitated psychic, he felt rough hands grab him from behind, and throw him to the floor. He realized he was in a pretty bad spot when the Breaker then mounted him, and slammed the end of a pistol into his temple. Head spinning, Ramsay raised his hands in defense, only to take another blow to the wrists that knocked his defenses down. Perhaps because he thought he had won already, the Breaker stood up and began hauling Ramsay's body towards the flaming wreck of a car. Perhaps thanks to the mystery pill he swallowed, Ramsay was able to fight through the pain and bite the Breaker in his shin.

"Fucker!" Shouted the man, earning Ramsay a swift kick to the chest. "Ow. Fuck. Yep, that's a broken rib." He thought as he felt a sharp pain manifesting. Almost lazily, he pulled his MAC-10 from the holster, and aimed it at the Breaker who was currently preoccupied with dragging Ramsay's mostly limp body. Ramsay's aim shifted from side to side quickly, trying to figure out which of the man's three heads to aim at. Finally deciding on the center head, he fired. Bullets ripped violently into the calf of the Breaker -not quite where he was aiming, but it'd do. The Breaker himself crumpled to the ground, blood gushing from the wound. "John Fucking Kennedy, is this a Tarantino movie?" Came Ramsay's internal monologue as he stared at the unnerving amount of blood that ran from the man's leg. "He really should see a doctor about that." He muttered mentally, thoughts slurring.

A flare from KillRoy brought Ramsay back to the fight, shaking off the drugs just a bit. "Shit. One minute. That's my cue!" He said to no one in particular, looking around for the exit. Finding the hole he had entered through, he made a mad dash through the firefight, stumbling over himself more than he'd like to admit. As he ran, he spotted a familiar face standing in the open, looking like a lost little puppy dog. "Lana? The fuck are you doing here? You... you need to get gone, it's a fuckin' cluster fuck out here. Listen, I'm going to go grab the 'party favor', why don't you come with so we can get you somewhere safe?" He said, eyes nervously shifting around as he spoke.

His eyes rested on Jackie's (hopefully) unconscious body lying next to Lana, and the realization hit him like a boot to the gut -well, not really. He had just taken a boot to the gut, and that was a hell of a lot more painful. More like a punch to the face from a vegetarian, really. He saw her draw a ragged breath, and cocked his head at her limp body. Ramsay was pretty sure he had seen something on a cop show about how you're not supposed to move people if they're hurt, something about making it worse, but hey -it's just TV after all. In something of a bastardization of a fireman's carry, Ramsay picked up Jackie. He grunted under her weight and soon felt the culmination of his injuries coming back. He buckled, and just barely caught both himself and Jackie. "Yep, definitely broken rib." He winced, before giving Lana a sideways nod. "C'mon kiddo, let's get going before I pass out too." He said, offering a wheezing laugh as the two made their way back to the fuel-filled van.
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