Elfen High 2 (OOC 8, Closed, Will it Hurt?)

[Constaniana]

The UN kicks all the ass in EH, solely because of this man and his theme song.

[Agritum]

The UN kicks all the ass in EH, solely because of this man and his theme song.

United Nations: making the USA crazy by inspecting the shit out of magical superweapons and getting away with it.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Continuing my EU4 updates, Burgundy and France are making the rest of Europe their whores.

[Nude East Ireland]

Continuing my EU4 updates, Burgundy and France are making the rest of Europe their whores.

"How about I give you Portugal, in exchange for clearing my debt."

"Ew, no."

"Why not?"

"Portugal has AIDs. Seriously, you should get that bitch checked."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Ah yes, NEI. I need to incorporate you into a subplot.

I'll throw in Alice with Jade and Lana, she'll likely be the best fit for now. Just give me a moment.

[Nude East Ireland]

Ah yes, NEI. I need to incorporate you into a subplot.

I'll throw in Alice with Jade and Lana, she'll likely be the best fit for now. Just give me a moment.

What about Eamon and Francois?

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Ah yes, NEI. I need to incorporate you into a subplot.

I'll throw in Alice with Jade and Lana, she'll likely be the best fit for now. Just give me a moment.

What about Eamon and Francois?

Hmm.

I suppose that I can have them be called to duty by Brazeneck for something.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

NEI, check my latest post.

TIE, Ves, examine the drunken redheaded Irish woman in the bus.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"Tonight is a foul night indeed."

The bog was shrouded in darkness, with clouds of grey blocking out the moon and stars. Slowly the two men trudged their way through the mud, their boots entirely covered in the residue of the Earth. The only light was the flame in their lanterns, which silently flickered in the night.

The first Scot looked to his friend. "How far is it to Forres?"

The Scots came to a stop, as the light of their lanterns showed them three figures standing in the lonely swamp. The first figure appeared similar to a man; though bloated, hairless, and naked. Its eyes were black dots, like buttons sewn into its head, and saliva dripped from its large mouth. The second was short, skinny, with messy green hair and teeth filed to resemble the sharpest of daggers. The third was a woman, clothed in a tight gown. Her locks were soft and beautiful, and her eyes entrancing; she was seeping with beauty from every seductive pore.

"What are these creatures?" the first Scot - known by the name Banquo - asked, his hand falling to the grip of his sword. "They do not look like they belong on this Earth; yet they stand here." The five stood silent, as Banquo's grip tightened. "Do you understand me?"

The second Scot stood still, though the light danced wildly against his body. "Speak, if you can."

"Hail, Macbeth! All hail the Thane of Glamis!" the first figure - the bloated one - shouted, saliva splattering into the mud.

"Hail, Macbeth! All hail the Thane of Cawdor!" the second said.

"Hail, Macbeth, the King of times not-yet-arrived," the third continued, her voice soft and almost soothing.

The two Scots were silent, until Banquo smirked. "Fortune-tellers?" he asked. "Can you see my fate as well?"

The three exchanged glances, before the third smiled. "Indeed," she said, as she approached the two men. "You are the father to a line of great Kings, Banquo. All hail, Macbeth and Banquo."

Macbeth stepped forward through the mud. "Thane of Glamis, yes, but I am not the Thane of Cawdor. If you speak the truth, tell me more! I demand to know."

His words fell on deaf ears, as the three had vanished. Macbeth turned to Banquo, and the two both smiled. "Father to a line of Kings?" Macbeth asked.

"King yourself," Banquo replied. The two let out laughter, as they huddled next to each other; they had only just remembered the frigid air of their native Scotland. "And Thane of Cawdor."

"I think we may have had a little too much to drink," Banquo replied. Macbeth smiled. "Perhaps, my friend." The two turned towards the sound of footsteps, belonging to fellow Scotsmen.

"Hail, Macbeth!" they said in unison, as they approached the light of the lanterns. "The King is pleased with your success on the battlefield."

"We have been sent to give you His Majesty's thanks-"

"And," interrupted Ross - one of the two -, "a title that His Majesty has decided to place upon you."

"A title?" Macbeth asked.

"Indeed," Ross replied. The two nobles pressed their fists against their hearts and bowed.

"Hail, Macbeth! Thane of Cawdor!"

---

"Something is wrong, master?" the young apprentice asked, rubbing his tired eyes with his wrist.

The master - a man looking of his thirties who sported an impressive beard - nodded. "Yes, I've sensed a presence that I haven't felt since... well, that's not important. I'm heading for Scotland."

"Scotland?"

"Yes," he replied. "You think you can keep things orderly here while I'm gone?"

"If I'm lucky."

The master smirked. "Right. I'll be gone for some time, but I'll try to write. If the King needs another healing session, you have my technique correct?"

"Yes, sir," the apprentice replied.

"Very good, Edward. Don't wait up." The master picked up his bag, and closed the door. The morning air was cold, though he didn't mind. He began walking down the street, passing an older woman on his way.

He smiled as he approached, though when he passed her he adopted a face of annoyance. "Good morning, Mr. Crowley!" she greeted.

"It's never a good morning," he muttered.

Also, where's the next one?

[Nude East Ireland]

"Tonight is a foul night indeed."

The bog was shrouded in darkness, with clouds of grey blocking out the moon and stars. Slowly the two men trudged their way through the mud, their boots entirely covered in the residue of the Earth. The only light was the flame in their lanterns, which silently flickered in the night.

The first Scot looked to his friend. "How far is it to Forres?"

The Scots came to a stop, as the light of their lanterns showed them three figures standing in the lonely swamp. The first figure appeared similar to a man; though bloated, hairless, and naked. Its eyes were black dots, like buttons sewn into its head, and saliva dripped from its large mouth. The second was short, skinny, with messy green hair and teeth filed to resemble the sharpest of daggers. The third was a woman, clothed in a tight gown. Her locks were soft and beautiful, and her eyes entrancing; she was seeping with beauty from every seductive pore.

"What are these creatures?" the first Scot - known by the name Banquo - asked, his hand falling to the grip of his sword. "They do not look like they belong on this Earth; yet they stand here." The five stood silent, as Banquo's grip tightened. "Do you understand me?"

The second Scot stood still, though the light danced wildly against his body. "Speak, if you can."

"Hail, Macbeth! All hail the Thane of Glamis!" the first figure - the bloated one - shouted, saliva splattering into the mud.

"Hail, Macbeth! All hail the Thane of Cawdor!" the second said.

"Hail, Macbeth, the King of times not-yet-arrived," the third continued, her voice soft and almost soothing.

The two Scots were silent, until Banquo smirked. "Fortune-tellers?" he asked. "Can you see my fate as well?"

The three exchanged glances, before the third smiled. "Indeed," she said, as she approached the two men. "You are the father to a line of great Kings, Banquo. All hail, Macbeth and Banquo."

Macbeth stepped forward through the mud. "Thane of Glamis, yes, but I am not the Thane of Cawdor. If you speak the truth, tell me more! I demand to know."

His words fell on deaf ears, as the three had vanished. Macbeth turned to Banquo, and the two both smiled. "Father to a line of Kings?" Macbeth asked.

"King yourself," Banquo replied. The two let out laughter, as they huddled next to each other; they had only just remembered the frigid air of their native Scotland. "And Thane of Cawdor."

"I think we may have had a little too much to drink," Banquo replied. Macbeth smiled. "Perhaps, my friend." The two turned towards the sound of footsteps, belonging to fellow Scotsmen.

"Hail, Macbeth!" they said in unison, as they approached the light of the lanterns. "The King is pleased with your success on the battlefield."

"We have been sent to give you His Majesty's thanks-"

"And," interrupted Ross - one of the two -, "a title that His Majesty has decided to place upon you."

"A title?" Macbeth asked.

"Indeed," Ross replied. The two nobles pressed their fists against their hearts and bowed.

"Hail, Macbeth! Thane of Cawdor!"

---

"Something is wrong, master?" the young apprentice asked, rubbing his tired eyes with his wrist.

The master - a man looking of his thirties who sported an impressive beard - nodded. "Yes, I've sensed a presence that I haven't felt since... well, that's not important. I'm heading for Scotland."

"Scotland?"

"Yes," he replied. "You think you can keep things orderly here while I'm gone?"

"If I'm lucky."

The master smirked. "Right. I'll be gone for some time, but I'll try to write. If the King needs another healing session, you have my technique correct?"

"Yes, sir," the apprentice replied.

"Very good, Edward. Don't wait up." The master picked up his bag, and closed the door. The morning air was cold, though he didn't mind. He began walking down the street, passing an older woman on his way.

He smiled as he approached, though when he passed her he adopted a face of annoyance. "Good morning, Mr. Crowley!" she greeted.

"It's never a good morning," he muttered.

Also, where's the next one?

Later.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Khan, I would yell at you for stealing lines from Malcolm, but as I watch Episode 1, I can feel it leak into my brain.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Khan, I would yell at you for stealing lines from Malcolm, but as I watch Episode 1, I can feel it leak into my brain.

I'll be using that stuff in real life now.

And it'll be translated into Hindi, so nobody will notice.

[Agritum]

(Image)

Bullshit. We call it "preservativo" in Italian. Only hipsters use the English name.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Khan, I would yell at you for stealing lines from Malcolm, but as I watch Episode 1, I can feel it leak into my brain.

I'll be using that stuff in real life now.

And it'll be translated into Hindi, so nobody will notice.

He's exactly as magnificent bastard as I had hoped for.

"Oh, wait a minute! I know why she shouldn't! Because, you know, if she did that, she'd be dead."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

I'll be using that stuff in real life now.

And it'll be translated into Hindi, so nobody will notice.

He's exactly as magnificent bastard as I had hoped for.

"Oh, wait a minute! I know why she shouldn't! Because, you know, if she did that, she'd be dead."

The EH Taoiseach is Malcolm, but Irish.

[Nationstatelandsville]

He's exactly as magnificent bastard as I had hoped for.

"Oh, wait a minute! I know why she shouldn't! Because, you know, if she did that, she'd be dead."

The EH Taoiseach is Malcolm, but Irish.

What I find particularly interesting is that everyone - everyone - in the show is a horrible incompetent.

Except Malcolm, who is a force of goddamn nature. This is the first episode. He was in it for ten minutes.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

The EH Taoiseach is Malcolm, but Irish.

What I find particularly interesting is that everyone - everyone - in the show is a horrible incompetent.

Except Malcolm, who is a force of goddamn nature. This is the first episode. He was in it for ten minutes.

To be honest, that's how many governments work.

[Nationstatelandsville]

What I find particularly interesting is that everyone - everyone - in the show is a horrible incompetent.

Except Malcolm, who is a force of goddamn nature. This is the first episode. He was in it for ten minutes.

To be honest, that's how many governments work.

I'm well aware.

He's like a Scottish Lyndon B. Johnson, but less creepy.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Agri, go post.

[Agritum]

Agri, go post.

I was searching your posts and puff, this pops up in front of me.

Not funny Khan, not funny.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Agri, go post.

I was searching your posts and puff, this pops up in front of me.

Not funny Khan, not funny.

Khan knows.

The machines whisper to him.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Agri, go post.

I was searching your posts and puff, this pops up in front of me.

Not funny Khan, not funny.

Not sure what you were searching my posts for, but alright.

[Agritum]

I was searching your posts and puff, this pops up in front of me.

Not funny Khan, not funny.

Not sure what you were searching my posts for, but alright.

I like to search the posts of you and other prominent posters and see if you mention me in threads I don't participate in.

Got to love narcissism.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Not sure what you were searching my posts for, but alright.

I like to search the posts of you and other prominent posters and see if you mention me in threads I don't participate in.

Got to love narcissism.

That's rather sad.