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Personification Life IC IX - [Semi Open]

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Giovenith
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Founded: Feb 08, 2012
Left-wing Utopia

Postby Giovenith » Wed Dec 18, 2013 9:50 pm

Hunting, hunting the pigs? Giovenith was rather torn on the issue. She could hunt, had hunted before, but she didn't think the others meant the kind that included springing out of trees and ripping the animal to death with hands and teeth. Since learning how to use common silverware, Giovenith had largely lost the need and/or desire to do that anyway. There had been the occasion she had done so in later years, such as to feed Torii and Bran when they were dracolings, or back in her brief days living with the Vafflehelm cats when she was too fogged out of her mind to think of ways to get food like a normal person.

"It sounds kind of dangerous," she admitted, looking down at her hands and wringing them. "... And I'd kind of feel bad for the piggy, too." Thinking that they would probably laugh at her a bit for this, she crossed her arms and glanced to the side in retreat. It was in such fashion these days, it seemed, to label Giovenith's brand of mercy as petty, idealistic, or even weak. They could call her all that and more if they wished, it wouldn't goad her into any different. "I know that seems silly, but I would. Just seeing it scared, merely wanting a chance to live... I won't stop or think lesser of any of you, though." She blushed and tucked her chin down a bit at what assumed must have been the perceived saccharine corniness of her own words.
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Cerillium
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New York Times Democracy

Postby Cerillium » Wed Dec 18, 2013 9:53 pm

Germanic Templars wrote:Barox turned around to look at Wren. Upon sight he turned a bit flushed on the face. "Umm.. Er,... How about..." He was stammering a bit. He looked over at the hanger then back at Wren. "How about.. Dismantling the hanger.. Yea."

---

J'aluk remained hidden, waiting for what might happen next between the group.

Wren looked behind her to ascertain what had Barox behaving so oddly. The thought of taking apart the compound must have him on edge because there wasn't anything there. She pulled an attachment kit from her hip, removed the delicate claw and replaced it with what appeared to be a small welding torch; the claw was dropped into a satchel strapped to her thigh.

"Let's hope I don't catch my pants on fire this time," she giggled. "Every now and then I forget to pay attention to the fleshy bits. It's really not an excuse to add a new part, I swear."

She went to the hangar and began to carefully remove the siding.




"It'll be great," Marcus encouraged Yuna and Torii. We can dig a pit and let it slow roast all day while we get the clubhouse in order. Then we'll have something to brag about at dinner time." The thought of freshly cooked pig delighted him. It was one more step towards asserting independence. They could borrow some rifles from his father or maybe sharpen sticks into spears.

He lifted an eyebrow. "Giovenith, you don't have to hunt. My mother doesn't like the thought of hunting anything. She says it makes her heart hurt because she feels the animal's sadness. Nothing wrong with that. She'll eat meat from the market but won't touch the deer my father brings home."
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Torsiedelle
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Torsiedelle » Wed Dec 18, 2013 10:11 pm

"Hmm...well, huntin' does sound pretty cool.", Torii said. "But...Gio, if you feel uncomfortable with it, then I might could hang back with you. Besides, that would mean we can get more done."

Of course, Torii had other reasons to stay back with Gio, if she wanted to, even though hunting with Marcus and Yuna seemed really fun. She wanted to go into the jungle some more....
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Cerillium
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New York Times Democracy

Postby Cerillium » Wed Dec 18, 2013 10:12 pm

Cerillium wrote:Collab w/GT & Swith

Incense smoke hung in a low cloud about the ceiling, obscuring the light fixtures and casting the room in murky haze. The men gathered within were a dismal lot. A mixture of young and old, they clustered themselves towards the walls and corners to avoid the wrathful scrutiny of the Avatar upon his throne.

The chair had been heavily damaged in the prior encounter with Charumati but stood proudly at the far end of the hall. Atosh had restored the haunt. The floor once again gleamed without any stain from filth or gore. The pillars still bore chips from Charumati’s skull but were gleaming once again. The chains that once held Cornelius still dangled from the ceiling. It was an adequate secondary base. It was almost beautiful.

Atosh’s gaze roamed the room but it brought him no joy. His will was bent upon other things. Loathe as he was to leave the Ruins and thus miss out on seeing his sister’s suffering, it was better to relocate here; let the fools deal with Bane. Charumati would assist them, of course. Poor grieving widow. Poor unfortunate little wastrel. My, but her heart must surely be distraught?

Atosh sneered. It wasn’t distraught enough. She wasn’t suffering enough. Thus had he once again summoned the strange creature who had vowed to assist his cause. His ears detected footsteps passing through the outer chamber.

His lips curled into wicked delight and he looked towards the man who had single-handedly handed Charumati’s heart to her on a gilded platter. He had done what Klaus couldn’t; Atosh held no regrets for slaughtering Klaus for his failures. Yet Atosh wasn’t satisfied yet. This man, who had crossed the threshold and stood before him as a champion, was the ticket.

He wore a black brim hat and an eye patch over the left eye. A bandana covered his mouth and was tucked neatly into the man’s shirt. A shadow from his hat covered over his face while the black, ragged trench coat he wore covered him enough to look as if he were levitating off the ground. Upon reaching a close distance of ten meters from Atosh and his throne, he stopped.

He pulled down the bandana from over his mouth before placing his right fist over his heart, giving a slight bow in the process. In his usual deep, groaning voice he said, “So, Atosh, what has you bring me, Arelius Dante, to your most high...presence?”

“Ah, Arelius,” Atosh’s eyes narrowed in delight. “Apparently my dear sister is still seeking Thriller’s soul. She’ll eventually track it down. I want to put it someplace safe. But that’s not why I summoned you.”

“Oh trust me I knew this well before your arrival.. Lets say I have a source...From the inside.” Arelius grinned as his yellowed, sharp teeth showed. He then went on to say, “So I can guess you want me to find a way to: A: bring her here, B: Bring her kids here, C: Kill her kids, D: Kill Thrille... Or maybe all the above? That is just me, but you are the summoner...Lets hear what you have to say...Atosh.”

“I couldn’t care less about Thriller. Kill him now if it pleases you. I don’t foresee his return.” Atosh leaned back. “I want the daughter dead. The boy is part of destiny. Killing him will change too many things in too many unpleasant ways.”

“So in other words... You want me to go kill the girl and leave the boy?” He asked as he raised his only normal eyebrow. “Details please. I maybe able to carry out plans past then what is expected, but I can only do so well as to what I am told.”

“Far distant future, my friend.” Atosh’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “His existence satisfies my bloodlust. The girl is superfluous.”

“Right...Well then, I have a feeling that this kill and run will be more complicated than it sounds… As in, there will be issues I might have to face... Any you wish to tell? You know, about the kids, the area...What...What gives this mission to me?”


“There is nothing to tell,” a feminine voice said from her position in the doorway. The cloaked figure took a step into the room. “Absolutely nothing. You, whoever you are, have until the count of three to leave or I’ll scatter your atoms across the Warp.”

Her head tipped upward although her face remained in shadow. “Hello Atoshmatu. We have business, you and I.”


Leviathan turned and looked at the woman standing there. He then lifted up his eye patch; a little grin came upon his face as his licked his sharp teeth. He clasped his hands together and replied, “Why most certainly, I shall remove myself from this... Hall...This once... Yes.. If I am ever needed again, Atosh... I’ll be busy getting out this task with the help of some fellow...colleagues, back home.”

With that, he pulled his patch over his deformed eye and his bandana over his mouth before placing his hat on. As he stepped back into the darkness and gave his parting words, “By the way, I know I told you my name, but please, call me... Leviathan.” He then vanished.

Atosh eased back into his throne and pursed his lips at the new arrival. "And now tell me whatever business you think you have with me. I have none with you."

Collab Part II

“Directly, no,” she replied sternly. “Indirectly, yes. We have unfinished business. I’ve come for Thriller’s soul.”

She crossed the floor, ignoring the cultists clawing about the corners. Her eyes discerned daemons in the darkness. It was the proverbial lions’ den but she was no Daniel.

Atosh barked laughter. “Really, now? Have you come? One of Charumati’s puppets! Perhaps her face still stings from the last time, Messenger?”

The figure stopped before him and tipped her head back further. He was scary. Everything about him reflected sinister power. Naturally, he had every right to boast. Atosh was the former avatar of War. Every violent act in the universe fueled him and his framework was anger, hate and rage. He wasn’t omnipotent or omniscient, however.

“I’ve come for Thriller’s soul,” she repeated levelly. She clasped her hands loosely in front of her and adopted a sense of humble patience.

Atosh growled. “Who are you that you think you could just saunter in here as if you belonged? Who are you to stand before me? Worthless cunt, I’m a god.”

“I am everything that you are not, and all that Charumati was afraid to contain.” Naomi lowered her hood.



The former avatar was speechless. Naomi. Nafuckingomi. He could easily strike her down yet there was a certain honor to be upheld; killing the weak and timid was dishonorable.

Fuck honor. He’d struck out from his Being long ago. Naomi’s death would cause Swith further suffering. But why had she sent the vessel? What purpose? Did that silly cunt actually anticipate adherence to former ethics?

“You are nothing,” he sneered. “You were nothing to begin with and to nothing you’ll return. Fluff in an organic shell. A child pretending to be a woman. Nothing. Bran killed you before. Fucking Bran. There’s no Eva here to help you, Naomi.”

“Omimati,” she gently corrected him.

Atosh mocked her with laughter. “You gave yourself that title. I won’t recognize it.”

He rose from his throne and extended a hand into which appeared a cruel blade.
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There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears, and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination.

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Giovenith
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Left-wing Utopia

Postby Giovenith » Wed Dec 18, 2013 10:14 pm

"Thank you for understanding guys," thanked Giovenith with clear, genuine gratitude and a smile, relaxing more upon hearing their support for her.

She was glad to know that her friends wouldn't be the type to try too hard to seem cool, or 'badass.' That was how some of the children around her neighborhood had been, and they constantly got in trouble for throwing rocks and leaving their toys on other people's property (Her oldest brother had already gained something of a notorious reputation among those children by spitefully taking and keeping any valuable that landed on the family's balcony porch after giving the former owners harsh words and curt shakes of his fist. They had an entire closet filled with the miscellaneous crap that had been built up since the 1980's. There was a neighborhood saying now, "Once your stuff lands on the Jerid porch, it doesn't exist anymore"). No, no, these were good friends, friends whose toys nobody would have to steal to make a point.
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The BranRiech
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Ex-Nation

Postby The BranRiech » Thu Dec 19, 2013 3:45 pm

"I don't need to hunt either, since my only experience in the subject ended with me being the hunted, and having to run for my life . . ." Yuna shrugged. She was telling the truth, but refused to tell in what context this was, being in the training of her as a Cultist. "My brother's more of a hunting type anyways, he's got a gun, so I could help with the decoration, whatever needs doing actually."

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Swith Witherward
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Swith Witherward » Thu Dec 19, 2013 3:49 pm

Cerillium wrote:
Collab Part II

“Directly, no,” she replied sternly. “Indirectly, yes. We have unfinished business. I’ve come for Thriller’s soul.”

She crossed the floor, ignoring the cultists clawing about the corners. Her eyes discerned daemons in the darkness. It was the proverbial lions’ den but she was no Daniel.

Atosh barked laughter. “Really, now? Have you come? One of Charumati’s puppets! Perhaps her face still stings from the last time, Messenger?”

The figure stopped before him and tipped her head back further. He was scary. Everything about him reflected sinister power. Naturally, he had every right to boast. Atosh was the former avatar of War. Every violent act in the universe fueled him and his framework was anger, hate and rage. He wasn’t omnipotent or omniscient, however.

“I’ve come for Thriller’s soul,” she repeated levelly. She clasped her hands loosely in front of her and adopted a sense of humble patience.

Atosh growled. “Who are you that you think you could just saunter in here as if you belonged? Who are you to stand before me? Worthless cunt, I’m a god.”

“I am everything that you are not, and all that Charumati was afraid to contain.” Naomi lowered her hood.



The former avatar was speechless. Naomi. Nafuckingomi. He could easily strike her down yet there was a certain honor to be upheld; killing the weak and timid was dishonorable.

Fuck honor. He’d struck out from his Being long ago. Naomi’s death would cause Swith further suffering. But why had she sent the vessel? What purpose? Did that silly cunt actually anticipate adherence to former ethics?

“You are nothing,” he sneered. “You were nothing to begin with and to nothing you’ll return. Fluff in an organic shell. A child pretending to be a woman. Nothing. Bran killed you before. Fucking Bran. There’s no Eva here to help you, Naomi.”

“Omimati,” she gently corrected him.

Atosh mocked her with laughter. “You gave yourself that title. I won’t recognize it.”

He rose from his throne and extended a hand into which appeared a cruel blade.

Collab Part III (Don't worry, we're keeping the battle doc for your amusement. We'll clean it up and post it at the very end so you can laugh.)

Naomi’s expression didn’t change as he advanced although the robes concealed her tightened muscles.. In a contest of physical strength, she would automatically lose. She hadn’t even brought a sword. Naomi was naive but not foolish… she knew she’d only end up slicing her own leg off with a blade.

“Atoshmatu, I’m not here to fight you,” she replied, “and I’m not here to establish any title for myself or for any glory. I’ve come for Thriller’s soul. Nothing more, nothing less.”

He didn’t hear her words; she could die like countless others. The sword slashed towards her and struck - nothing. The clean sound of air whistling over the blade echoed in the throne room.

Naomi stepped from behind him, a few severed strands of hair riding the turbulence left in her wake. Her demeanor hadn’t changed and she bowed her head in humble acceptance of his determination to eradicate her.

The former avatar of War stared at his blade and the empty space before him before wheeling around to face her. He’d sensed nothing; there were no traces of magic or enchantment. She’d moved. Impossibly fast. Impossibly.

“You can’t dodge me forever, silly bitch,” Atosh’s lips twisted into a cruel smile. “You’ll eventually tire.”

“I’ve come for Thriller’s soul,” she whispered.

“Stop demanding that!” His grip on the blade tightened and then it danced in the light, slashing towards her with determined speed.

Naomi bit her lip as the honed edge sliced through her cloak and into her bicep. She willed herself to not cry out. The fingers on her left hand quickly opened and closed, and then she drew her arm up to clasp her cloak closed, seemingly tucking herself in tighter. The muscles worked, so the damage was minor although exceptionally painful to her. She simply needed to pay more attention, to move faster, to not allow him another chance to strike.

“Atosh, listen to me. You don’t have to do this,” her voice remained patient, as if negotiating with a child over the end of playtime.
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Swith Witherward
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Postby Swith Witherward » Thu Dec 19, 2013 4:42 pm

Myra yawned and stretched. "Well, we won't get any hunting or cleaning done if we're too tired to do it."

The teenager smiled at her friends and then carefully picked her way across the dark beach and towards her hut. She trotted up the stairs, turned and waved to the group. "And I'll do breakfast!" she called out to them.

---

Meanwhile, on the rocky outcrop near the cliffs, Will sat and watched clouds in the distance. He communed with the other cultists, listening intently at times or offering his input. The former aviator saw signs that unsettled him. His mind crossed the barrier between factions and touched Hans' own, relaying the things that unsettled him, and then...

"Yuna? I see you down there by the fire," said a voice in Yuna's head. "Hello... I am your conscious! Stop crushing on the Torsiedelle chick! Naw, just kidding. Look to the high rocks to your left, luv. Way to your left... and don't talk out loud, for fuck's sake. Just think it, and I'll hear it."

Will's body remained motionless but he waved his arm.
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The BranRiech
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Ex-Nation

Postby The BranRiech » Thu Dec 19, 2013 4:55 pm

My conscious? Yuna thought oddly, not remembering herself swearing in her mind, but then again, she assumed it wasn't her conscious though. She followed the instructions and looked over.

To the left?

Ah! Who was that standing up there? Was it Will? Yeah, probably. He seemed like that sort of fellow. Yes, I see you up there, silly conscious. What?

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Giovenith
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Left-wing Utopia

Postby Giovenith » Thu Dec 19, 2013 5:26 pm

"Sounds great, Myra! Buh-byyyyye!" Giovenith called and waved cheerfully to her friend, before doing a little spin and smiling at the others. "We should all get going too, then. See you in the morning! We're going to have lots of fun together, I know it!"

With that, Giovenith picked herself up, brushed off the sand, and made her way to her own cabin. It felt nice to finally step inside the comfortably lit, quaint little miniature home that she had missed here and there for about a year now. It was also comforting to know the place wouldn't be empty, even if it wasn't entirely the most picturesque of roommates. Pippa-Michelle was happy enough to see her, greeting her creator with hugs and dry kisses before departing back to the closet she had claimed. Willow, on the other hand, was seated at the kitchen table completely surrounded by... her books? A heavy smell of coffee brew laced the air.

"Willy-Willow?" greeted Giovenith questioningly, approaching the table. She turned her head to take in the readings. "What's all this about?"

Willow lowered her copy of "The Golden Bough" from his face, eyes sweeping the girl up and down briefly before turning back to the pages. "You're home. Welcome back. Was it fun?" The pony looked tired, worn-out, despite having spent his entire night here indoors. Seeing his hoof reach over to stir a spoon in a coffee mug explained away how he was still up; Giovenith conjured the stereotypical image of some freshly-disenchanted young adult immersed in an ocean of paperwork as deep and unending as their fatigue and resulting cynicism... which Willow kind of was, actually. But he was a pony. That shade of grey looked bad on something so associated with enchantment... even if he was literally grey.

"It was," admitted Giovenith, rolling the subject aside and gesturing at the books. "What are these, again?"

"Books."

"Why are you reading them?"

"Reading is good for you."

"I thought reading was Sterling's thing."

"It is. Which is exactly why I can't understand a lick of it." He dotted the end of the sentence with a light slam-shut of "The Golden Bough" and a slick smile in Giovenith's direction. The godling caught the double-meaning of the sentence.

"You're not still upset about that whole natural conversation, are you?" she sighed, collecting some of the books that had been placed to the side, clearly done with. "I was just saying what I thought."

"I know you were. I'm not upset with you," reassured Willow, lifting off some of the silent weight from his air to her with it. He closed, pushed, and nudged the rest of the books that belonged to the hyoo-mun over to her, while pointedly making sure to place his journal out of her accidental reach. "You know who I am upset with? 'Mountain Skies' coffee company. Their brews taste like bark juice that was spit in by a mule."

"Go to bed Willow, you're cranky." Giovenith carefully placed her books back in their spots in the bookshelf that was built into the wall right next to her bed. While there were three bedrooms here in the cabin, she had actually chosen to have her bed out in a space in the main living area, right next to one of the front windows. It provided a nice view of the stars. "More so than usual."

"Touché. Good-night," Willow spread his wings to head off to his room.

"Hey, wait. Could you wake me up early in the morning if I'm not up already?" asked Giovenith, turning to the pony. "I'm going to be going out with friends tomorrow, and I don't want to miss our time we planned."

"Friendship is magic," yawned Willow half-sarcastically, but he nodded in agreement. "No problem. See you in the morning then." With that, the pegasus flapped off to bed himself.

"Yes," Giovenith remarked to herself, rolling over the pony's words with a smile as she looked at the stars in the sky. They looked like someone had thrown sugar up into the sky. "Friendship is rather magical, isn't?" That pleasant thought sweetening her thoughts, Giovenith had no trouble curling up under her comforter and allowing the island night sky to lullaby her into slumber with all the promises of joy and adventure that tomorrow day would bring.
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Torsiedelle
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Torsiedelle » Thu Dec 19, 2013 5:37 pm

"Eh, what a bore."

Torii was ready for anything, but her peers needed rest....well, maybe she could use some sleep....

She was also alone with a boy. She felt s little awkward; she liked girls, but she was a little paranoid to be alone with a guy her age. How would he act?

Wasn't Marcus still here? Yes. "Well, Gio, Yuna, Myra, they're all gone now...guess it's just us, eh?", She broke the tension, curling up her legs and hugging them close. "So, what're you gonna do? I'm thinkin' of turnin' in if you do, though I'm still pretty good on time. Still, I'm 'bout ready to work on the bunker tomorrow."
Last edited by Torsiedelle on Thu Dec 19, 2013 5:39 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Swith Witherward
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Postby Swith Witherward » Thu Dec 19, 2013 5:40 pm

The BranRiech wrote:My conscious? Yuna thought oddly, not remembering herself swearing in her mind, but then again, she assumed it wasn't her conscious though. She followed the instructions and looked over.

To the left?

Ah! Who was that standing up there? Was it Will? Yeah, probably. He seemed like that sort of fellow. Yes, I see you up there, silly conscious. What?

"C'mere!" he urged her.

He stood up and made his way down the rocks and towards the beach. It wasn't that great of a distance from Yuna, being just a little beyond the platform constructed for the Torsiedelle drop off.

Will wasn't sure if the Pensi... Pernay... Pesney... oh, whatever the fuck they're called, he grumbled to himself, not that she could hear it... he wasn't sure if she'd be of much help, but she was in a cultist uniform, which allowed him to communicate with her. You just don't wander around with one of those on without being a little touched in the head. as it was, she was a good point of contact. He wasn't sure if the others would listen to him, and Minerva had left the cottage and gone to Bielefeld.

He cast another glance out to sea where a long and low ribbon of clouds hung on the horizon. Only he knew it wasn't hanging there. It was moving, and very quickly. It might even make landfall by late morning.


Marcus... because his handler won't be on until later tonight... shrugged at the cute girl next to him. "I suppose I'll head in," he said to Torii. "I have a few chores I need to get done before I sleep, and then I want to get a head start on getting the pig. Tell you what... I'll come knocking in the morning. I'll grab a good rifle and some ammo for you and bring it with me."
Last edited by Swith Witherward on Thu Dec 19, 2013 6:13 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Swith Witherward
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Swith Witherward » Thu Dec 19, 2013 5:58 pm

OOC: moving characters.

Ogoti had enjoyed a quiet evening with Dora. She was charming, as always, and he relished their time together. Despite her double entendre, he was in no rush to push her into bed. Instead, he walked her to her hut and bid her a goodnight with a gentle kiss and a promise of coffee in the morning, if she were up for it.

He returned to the Chaos compound and stepped into the small pocket dimension where Eva and the twins were. Swith's paranoia was making things exceedingly difficult, but he allowed her to go through with it. She wasn't there, however, nor was Naomi. Cer had left a note explaining that he'd returned to Bielefeld to participate in planning the attack on the Ruins. Ogoti found himself to be the only adult.

Hans, too, had taken his leave from Chrys. It was far less romantic than anything Ogoti had done. He begged her to keep an eye on Sophie and then vanished into the shadows. Cultist business... you came when summoned.

Chrys took the child with her. It was understandably awkward for her to be in charge of something so small, but Sophie had remained asleep in her arms. She joined Luce in bidding goodnight to the others, and then the Conservators retreated to their own beds.

This wasn't MB's first time around the block. His ears twitched as he watched the horizon. He urged Cuisine to close up for the night and to put the good stuff back in a crate, but didn't explain much else. The bunny vanished and emerged moments later on Will's head.

Will, unlike Hans, didn't have a sense of humor and gently relocated him to the ground as he waited for Yuna to approach.

War's cultists The Natives helped Cuisine close up and then returned to their primitive village.
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Germanic Templars
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Founded: Jul 01, 2011
Capitalist Paradise

Postby Germanic Templars » Thu Dec 19, 2013 6:31 pm

Cerillium wrote:
Germanic Templars wrote:Barox turned around to look at Wren. Upon sight he turned a bit flushed on the face. "Umm.. Er,... How about..." He was stammering a bit. He looked over at the hanger then back at Wren. "How about.. Dismantling the hanger.. Yea."

---

J'aluk remained hidden, waiting for what might happen next between the group.

Wren looked behind her to ascertain what had Barox behaving so oddly. The thought of taking apart the compound must have him on edge because there wasn't anything there. She pulled an attachment kit from her hip, removed the delicate claw and replaced it with what appeared to be a small welding torch; the claw was dropped into a satchel strapped to her thigh.

"Let's hope I don't catch my pants on fire this time," she giggled. "Every now and then I forget to pay attention to the fleshy bits. It's really not an excuse to add a new part, I swear."

She went to the hangar and began to carefully remove the siding.


Barox let out a small laugh with Wren's comment, though it was more of a nervous laugh, but not the kind of nervous laugh where it sounded as if he were scared or anything, just the kinda nervous laugh when things get awkward or such.

In the end, Barox found himself climbing on top of the hangar as he started with the metal on top.

"Hey Barox!" A tech priest called out.

"Yea, what is it?" He replied, not keeping his eyes off his work.

"You know it would be faster if we took out the support beams first and then part of the wall to let the building crumble."

"Yes but that would ruin the metal."

"Doesn't matter, all of this crap is going to be smelted anyways." The tech priest pointed out.

At this point, Barox nodded his head a bit in agreement and stopped welding. He then climbed down and walked into the building. As he went in though, he stared a bit at Wren before finding himself bumping into a barrel and falling in it head first.

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Torsiedelle
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Founded: Dec 03, 2010
Democratic Socialists

Postby Torsiedelle » Thu Dec 19, 2013 6:32 pm

"Ah, M'kay.", Torii mumbled. "Well, I guess I'll see ya tomorrow then."

"Well, that wasn't very....what's the word. I'm tired anyway...I'm goin'' to bed."

With a huff, Torii stood up and waved goodbye to the strange boy, then jogged over to her hut to retire for the night.

It was dark, and she was the only one home. No parents, no sister....

"THANK GOD."

At least she could get to sleep before they showed up! Besides that, Torii could use some personal time. She took a shower, made herself something else to eat, and hopped into bed to write one last diary entry for the day.

Christmas Time, 2013


So today, we arrived on the island. Early on, I didn't have much to do, but the Raptor folk had a special dinner, and it was nice. They also said that I could make a good helper, which is awesome, because I actually think it would be cool to work for them. They're cool people.

We had a bonfire, and I actually got to meet a lot of people my age! We're all one big club, now. Me, Giov, Yuna, Myra, and Marcus. We're going to use Lidev's old bunker.

Miss Minerva and Swith helped bring me my daddy. I'm very grateful for that. However, my sister apparently wanted mom here, too. Fucking bullshit.

We're gonna have so much fun tommorow. I can't wait, and hanging out with a bunch of cute girls? Hell yea, especially Yuna (what can I say, the white and black), and Giovenith. Kinda sucks, though, I have no chance. It sucks for me; now I know how boys must feel some times.


She still felt really awkward just writing stuff like that down, but it really helped. Besides, it was pretty cool to look back and see what she had written before.

With all that done with, Torii put her diary away, flipped on the radio, and turned in.
Last edited by Torsiedelle on Thu Dec 19, 2013 6:41 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Swith Witherward
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Founded: Feb 11, 2012
Democratic Socialists

Postby Swith Witherward » Fri Dec 20, 2013 4:56 am

Will, with MB in tow, caught up to Yuna.

"Listen," he said, "It looks like bad weather is rolling in. I don't want to cause a panic, but things could get rather dark here. Swith's gone to take care of business, Naomi's flat out missing, Ogoti doesn't usually lift a finger when it comes to the weather, and Klaus has Bielefeld things to worry about. We've got most of our cultists in Bielefeld with just a skeleton crew here, and some of War's people, although they're limited in power... they agreed to it when offered the chance to get away from the stress for a while. So, luv, it's just you and me and a handful of men."

He leaned against a rock and stared at her. "That uniform is comprised of the fabric of the universe. Might surprise you to know that. As long as you have it on, we can get messages to you. Take it off and you're flat stuck out of the loop. We need you to serve as a liaison of sorts. No one really knows the cultists here, and they trust Swith and Minerva, but I doubt they'd trust me or Hans. Look here."

The cultist squatted down and began to draw in the sand with his finger.

"Right, this is sort of what the island looks like. Not to scale, mind. We're here, where this big X is. And the huts are up there a bit, and beyond them is that lagoon where Bran hangs out. Here's the Templar compound and the Chaos compound. Now, the typhoon is coming in straight at us. It might miss us, or it might roll right over this tiny island. You know, it's only a mile and a half wide? The storm cell is wider. Now on the other side of the volcano are those high cliffs you all saw on the way in. There's a series of small caves there, and one in particular that will hold everyone. Forget about the volcano itself... the raptors seriously fucked it up with all sorts of traps, and they're raptor made traps, and that means certain death simply because of what they're made of. If things get bad, you'll need to lead them to the cave, Yuna. Or, if you want, lead them to the cave now just in case it does hit. Either way, you'll all want to be in that cave if it makes landfall. I'd suggest setting out once daylight hits. Take only what you can carry, because between here and those caves is nothing but jungle. It'll be rough going."

He rocked back on his haunches and looked at her. "Consider this part of your training. Sometimes you might not think you can do something, or you're afraid to try because you think it's too much, but it's just like making an omelet."

Will believed in her. He rose and brushed the sand from his calves. "We're too remote to get any aircraft here in time to evacuate, and anything coming this way has to go through that storm cell. Anyway, it'll be light soon. Better get some sleep. I'll walk you home."

He led her back down the beach and saw her safely inside her hut, and then returned to his spot on the rocks to watch the dark horizon with only MB to keep him company.
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Cerillium
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Founded: Oct 27, 2012
New York Times Democracy

Postby Cerillium » Fri Dec 20, 2013 7:07 am

Germanic Templars wrote:
Barox let out a small laugh with Wren's comment, though it was more of a nervous laugh, but not the kind of nervous laugh where it sounded as if he were scared or anything, just the kinda nervous laugh when things get awkward or such.

In the end, Barox found himself climbing on top of the hangar as he started with the metal on top.

"Hey Barox!" A tech priest called out.

"Yea, what is it?" He replied, not keeping his eyes off his work.

"You know it would be faster if we took out the support beams first and then part of the wall to let the building crumble."

"Yes but that would ruin the metal."

"Doesn't matter, all of this crap is going to be smelted anyways." The tech priest pointed out.

At this point, Barox nodded his head a bit in agreement and stopped welding. He then climbed down and walked into the building. As he went in though, he stared a bit at Wren before finding himself bumping into a barrel and falling in it head first.

Wren covered a giggle and helped Barox out of his plight (probably making it worse because she needed to physically wrap her arms around his legs and tug him free) and then she vanished into the darkness to assist the other tech priests. They'd gotten most of the support beans taken care of and the buildings were nearly ready to crumble by 4:30 AM.

She wiped her brow and stared at the skyline. It was supposed to be close to sunrise but the light was so watery and thin. Wren opted to finally check all the messages her father had sent through the night. Her eyebrows raised until they were nearly swallowed by her bangs and she sought out Barox.

Undoubtedly, Barox and his crew had received similar reports: tropical storm quickly escalated; Typhoon on the way; Good luck but we can't make landfall; Funeral expenses covered. The only difference was that Ceril had been thoughtful enough to include: and for fuck's sake, stay with the other residents!
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There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears, and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination.

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Cerillium
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Founded: Oct 27, 2012
New York Times Democracy

An Unfortunate Event

Postby Cerillium » Fri Dec 20, 2013 7:09 am

The northwest Pacific basin was not a happy place. Torii’s little radio had warbled long into the night as it described a tropical depression that quickly escalated into a severe tropical storm and then into a full-blown typhoon. The Japan Meteorological Agency issued warning after warning and then lamented in cold tones as reports trickled in from the Regional Specialized Meteorological Center (RSMC). The only thing standing between the wide ocean and certain happy little Asian nations was a small and supposedly uninhabited island chain far out to sea. That was exactly where Typhoon Isko was headed. The radio continued to provide progress reports, each one direr than the next, bemoaning sustained windspeeds that could reach 185 km/h (115 mph).

Sadly, Torii didn’t speak Japanese. The music was good however. Right up until reception was completely lost.

The Island of Ni, which was actually inhabited once a year, had seen many typhoons. It had survived them all and thrived. It contained no major structures other than a few odd huts and a pavilion. The original natives, had they not all been slaughtered last year, would have told the annual visitors not to worry. There were places to go where it would be safe. Sadly, the annual visitors had committed a little wanton attempted genocide last year and thus no natives remained. The foolish Aryan cultists in grass skirts and masks hardly counted as natives and most of them hadn’t seen a typhoon before.

The British cultists had and thus Will watched the weather as it approached; an aviator always knows a dangerous sky. The RSMC gave a 40% chance regarding Typhoon Isko’s path actually crossing over Ni. Will’s knees warned of a 60% chance. Minerva’s lads, who were tracking it as best they could from Bielefeld, gave 75% odds and betting was heavy indeed at the Wilting Succubus.

Will slipped from the rocks as dawn attempted to break through an impossible cloud layer. There wouldn’t be much sunshine that morning, or that afternoon. In fact, the forecast called for high winds and certain demise.

It wasn’t a British mind that woke Yuna from her slumber that morning. It was a German pounding on her door.

“Hey! Vinged Cave Frau! You better vaken sie up zee group, ja? Goink to be zome bad rain.” He doffed his funny tribal mask and vanished into a shadow. The Residents had weathered several invasions; they could take care of themselves. The ten remaining cultists belonging to Klaus (and the small remaining handful of Minerva's Lads) packed up their essentials and began to trek across the jungle towards the volcano. Their role was to keep it from erupting; Raptor traps were temperamental.
Last edited by Cerillium on Fri Dec 20, 2013 7:20 am, edited 1 time in total.
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There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears, and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination.

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The BranRiech
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Posts: 31391
Founded: Mar 24, 2011
Ex-Nation

Postby The BranRiech » Fri Dec 20, 2013 7:26 am

Waking up from her quiet slumber, Yuna realized that someone was pounding on her door, waking her up. She took Will's words to hear the other night, remembering her uniform that allowed her to communicate with her new comrades. She didn't hear this warning in her mind though, so it reverberated loudly through her ears, giving her a good enough alarm clock to get up and moving. She quickly brushed her hair and headed to the door, opening it to see who it was.

"Winged Cave Frow?" She asked, shaking her head. "Nevermind, what about the "Bad rain", and how bad is it?"

Wait . . . No one was there.

Crap.

Yuna shrugged, and almost decided to go back to bed, but decided against it. She shouted into the room where her brother was sleeping to assist her in this task, and proceeded to take to the skies, circling around, looking for anyone walking around the beach to warn, and then to identify the shacks and huts where everyone else was staying.

Drova headed over to Torsie's hut, and Yuna landed right down in front of Gio's place.

Both siblings knocked on the door.

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Germanic Templars
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Posts: 20466
Founded: Jul 01, 2011
Capitalist Paradise

Postby Germanic Templars » Fri Dec 20, 2013 8:02 am

Cerillium wrote:
Germanic Templars wrote:
Barox let out a small laugh with Wren's comment, though it was more of a nervous laugh, but not the kind of nervous laugh where it sounded as if he were scared or anything, just the kinda nervous laugh when things get awkward or such.

In the end, Barox found himself climbing on top of the hangar as he started with the metal on top.

"Hey Barox!" A tech priest called out.

"Yea, what is it?" He replied, not keeping his eyes off his work.

"You know it would be faster if we took out the support beams first and then part of the wall to let the building crumble."

"Yes but that would ruin the metal."

"Doesn't matter, all of this crap is going to be smelted anyways." The tech priest pointed out.

At this point, Barox nodded his head a bit in agreement and stopped welding. He then climbed down and walked into the building. As he went in though, he stared a bit at Wren before finding himself bumping into a barrel and falling in it head first.

Wren covered a giggle and helped Barox out of his plight (probably making it worse because she needed to physically wrap her arms around his legs and tug him free) and then she vanished into the darkness to assist the other tech priests. They'd gotten most of the support beans taken care of and the buildings were nearly ready to crumble by 4:30 AM.

She wiped her brow and stared at the skyline. It was supposed to be close to sunrise but the light was so watery and thin. Wren opted to finally check all the messages her father had sent through the night. Her eyebrows raised until they were nearly swallowed by her bangs and she sought out Barox.

Undoubtedly, Barox and his crew had received similar reports: tropical storm quickly escalated; Typhoon on the way; Good luck but we can't make landfall; Funeral expenses covered. The only difference was that Ceril had been thoughtful enough to include: and for fuck's sake, stay with the other residents!


Barox was standing back marveling at the building's demise. He then got this uncanny feeling in him that something was off. Maybe it was the lack of buildings, maybe lack of troops, or possibly there was a darkening of sky and pick up in wind.. Whatever it was, he found himself alone as everyone else took cover or take the remaining metal and clones in dropships the opposite direction of the typhoon.

In the clinic, small alarm went off. Sapphire rushed to the terminal to see the report. The short range weather tower (Which was behind the clinic at a height of 14 ft high) picked up the typhoon. Worried and panicking a bit, she ran through the clinic just outside the operation room and pound on the door.
"Doctor!" She cried "There is a typhoon inbound."

Dr. Smith was in the process of removing the chip. He paused briefly and looked at the door. "Take cover then, I'll be out when I am done. Please, take Catherine with you."

"But sir!"

"Do as I say, trust me I'll be fine, the doctor knows best."

Sapphire nodded and did as she was told. But where to? There was no secured place in the clinic.

Ooc: anything wrong with this TG me please.

  • INTP
  • All American Patriotic Constitutionalist/Classic libertarian (with fiscal conservatism)
  • Religiously Tolerant
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  • X=3.13, Y=2.41
  • Supports the Blue


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Cerillium
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Posts: 12456
Founded: Oct 27, 2012
New York Times Democracy

Postby Cerillium » Fri Dec 20, 2013 9:21 am

Swith Witherward wrote:
Collab Part III (Don't worry, we're keeping the battle doc for your amusement. We'll clean it up and post it at the very end so you can laugh.)

Naomi’s expression didn’t change as he advanced although the robes concealed her tightened muscles.. In a contest of physical strength, she would automatically lose. She hadn’t even brought a sword. Naomi was naive but not foolish… she knew she’d only end up slicing her own leg off with a blade.

“Atoshmatu, I’m not here to fight you,” she replied, “and I’m not here to establish any title for myself or for any glory. I’ve come for Thriller’s soul. Nothing more, nothing less.”

He didn’t hear her words; she could die like countless others. The sword slashed towards her and struck - nothing. The clean sound of air whistling over the blade echoed in the throne room.

Naomi stepped from behind him, a few severed strands of hair riding the turbulence left in her wake. Her demeanor hadn’t changed and she bowed her head in humble acceptance of his determination to eradicate her.

The former avatar of War stared at his blade and the empty space before him before wheeling around to face her. He’d sensed nothing; there were no traces of magic or enchantment. She’d moved. Impossibly fast. Impossibly.

“You can’t dodge me forever, silly bitch,” Atosh’s lips twisted into a cruel smile. “You’ll eventually tire.”

“I’ve come for Thriller’s soul,” she whispered.

“Stop demanding that!” His grip on the blade tightened and then it danced in the light, slashing towards her with determined speed.

Naomi bit her lip as the honed edge sliced through her cloak and into her bicep. She willed herself to not cry out. The fingers on her left hand quickly opened and closed, and then she drew her arm up to clasp her cloak closed, seemingly tucking herself in tighter. The muscles worked, so the damage was minor although exceptionally painful to her. She simply needed to pay more attention, to move faster, to not allow him another chance to strike.

“Atosh, listen to me. You don’t have to do this,” her voice remained patient, as if negotiating with a child over the end of playtime.

Part IV

Atosh glared at Naomi but his mind wasn’t completely enraged; he studied her in an attempt to discern how she’d managed to avoid death twice in a row. It was impossible. His mind refused to believe that she had somehow gained power overnight.

“Naomi, you don’t have to do this either. Go back home. Go back to your little child and live out your life. Pay this no mind. After all, it doesn’t involve you. It’s Swith’s role. She should be standing here, yet she sends you to die? For what? To demand something that she’s too weak to obtain? Naomi, she sent you here to die. Maybe she did it in the hope that you’d tired me so she could ride in triumphant? You’re like an Imperial soldier sent as fodder so as to lessen the chances of losing a more expensive Space Marine.”

Naomi tilted her head to the side and furrowed her brows. What a strange analogy. Of course she’d thought about Eva before coming. Eva needed her, naturally. But she’d come for Eva, so that the child could grow up unmolested by the constant threat that Atosh posed.

Her head righted and she shook it. “Swith didn’t send me, Atosh. I came because I needed to. For Thriller’s-”

“Soul,” Atosh sighed. “Yes, you’ve said that several times. Don’t you get tired of saying it?”

“Nope.”

Atosh shrugged and lifted his blade, allowing the flat to rest against his shoulder. He studied her further, casually, as a lazy dog would regard an annoying moth. Poor, misguided girl. “Naomi, life doesn’t always give many opportunities to learn from mistakes. Do you really want to take that risk here? Wouldn’t it be better to live?”

“Living is always preferable,” she admitted. “I suppose I will but I didn’t come to live. I came for a purpose.”

“As you like it.”

The sword streaked towards her again, launched from a resting position and, as predicted, she moved to avoid it. The slash wasn’t his goal however. At the last moment he altered his motion and swung the opposite arm around, landing a backhanded blow to Naomi’s head.

She flew to the side and lost her balance, slamming into the ground with a sickening crunch of bone. Thousands of stars erupted from nowhere and blotted out the world around her, and then the edges of her vision began to close in. There was an oceanic roar in her ears which increased in pitch until it was a ringing whine. Naomi coughed. Blood and a broken tooth splattered the ground in front of her.

She planted her tiny palms on the floor and lifted her torso up, swallowing coppery-tasting fluids mixed with a sickly bitter slime. The high-pitched noise increased to painful levels.

“See? Are we learning our lesson, Naomi?” he asked.

She barely grasped the words. His blow had rattled her brain and damaged the cochlea in her ear, rendering her deaf on one side. Her mind attempted to piece together the lack of stimulus and compensated by producing a ghost tone. The tinnitus was maddening and the concussion painful. She wretched and forced her world to come into focus again.

This is nothing. There will be much worse to come, she reminded herself. Naomi’s legs gathered under her and she pushed herself off the floor to stand in front of him again. “I’m made of star stuff and cobwebs.”

“What the fu-?”

“Exactly.” Naomi lifted her arm and gently blotted the blood trickling from her ear. “I’m something you can’t understand.”

“Now you’re just annoying the fuck out of me,” Atosh spat. “You really, really annoy people. Did you know?”
Last edited by Cerillium on Fri Jan 10, 2014 9:52 am, edited 3 times in total.
I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith
There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears, and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination.

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Giovenith
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Posts: 19670
Founded: Feb 08, 2012
Left-wing Utopia

Postby Giovenith » Fri Dec 20, 2013 9:59 am

Giovenith was the one who answered the door to Yuna's knocking, having been woken up not too long ago by Willow (a tedious, bothersome ordeal that had only been finally accomplished when the pony had decided to pour the last trickles of juice from a nearby bottle over the godling's sleeping head). Naturally Giovenith at first assumed that Yuna had come to collect her for the club, but her smile quickly ebbed when she sensed the frantic rush coming off of Yuna, as well as the rather grim sky up above. Was it going to rain, would they have to cancel?

"Hi Yuna," Giovenith greeted, without as much mirth as she would have liked. "What's going on?"
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Cerillium
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Posts: 12456
Founded: Oct 27, 2012
New York Times Democracy

Postby Cerillium » Fri Dec 20, 2013 10:27 am

Germanic Templars wrote:
Barox was standing back marveling at the building's demise. He then got this uncanny feeling in him that something was off. Maybe it was the lack of buildings, maybe lack of troops, or possibly there was a darkening of sky and pick up in wind.. Whatever it was, he found himself alone as everyone else took cover or take the remaining metal and clones in dropships the opposite direction of the typhoon.

In the clinic, small alarm went off. Sapphire rushed to the terminal to see the report. The short range weather tower (Which was behind the clinic at a height of 14 ft high) picked up the typhoon. Worried and panicking a bit, she ran through the clinic just outside the operation room and pound on the door.
"Doctor!" She cried "There is a typhoon inbound."

Dr. Smith was in the process of removing the chip. He paused briefly and looked at the door. "Take cover then, I'll be out when I am done. Please, take Catherine with you."

"But sir!"

"Do as I say, trust me I'll be fine, the doctor knows best."

Sapphire nodded and did as she was told. But where to? There was no secured place in the clinic.

Ooc: anything wrong with this TG me please.



"Barox?" Wren had slipped her robe over her shoulders and joined him, her hand on his arm. "We can't stay here. We need to get to higher ground. There are caves on the other side of the island. I'm sure the others will head there."

The compound was nearly bare except for the essentials. "All that metal would have been lost if we hadn't worked all night. None of it would have benefited your people. Now we need to grab what we can. Load it up and go. We might be able to use it to secure things once we reach the shelter. The medical supplies might be needed as well."

She hadn't heard the exchange between Smith and Sapphire and was unaware of Datus' state.
I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith
There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears, and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination.

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Germanic Templars
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 20466
Founded: Jul 01, 2011
Capitalist Paradise

Postby Germanic Templars » Fri Dec 20, 2013 11:17 am

Cerillium wrote:
Germanic Templars wrote:
Barox was standing back marveling at the building's demise. He then got this uncanny feeling in him that something was off. Maybe it was the lack of buildings, maybe lack of troops, or possibly there was a darkening of sky and pick up in wind.. Whatever it was, he found himself alone as everyone else took cover or take the remaining metal and clones in dropships the opposite direction of the typhoon.

In the clinic, small alarm went off. Sapphire rushed to the terminal to see the report. The short range weather tower (Which was behind the clinic at a height of 14 ft high) picked up the typhoon. Worried and panicking a bit, she ran through the clinic just outside the operation room and pound on the door.
"Doctor!" She cried "There is a typhoon inbound."

Dr. Smith was in the process of removing the chip. He paused briefly and looked at the door. "Take cover then, I'll be out when I am done. Please, take Catherine with you."

"But sir!"

"Do as I say, trust me I'll be fine, the doctor knows best."

Sapphire nodded and did as she was told. But where to? There was no secured place in the clinic.

Ooc: anything wrong with this TG me please.



"Barox?" Wren had slipped her robe over her shoulders and joined him, her hand on his arm. "We can't stay here. We need to get to higher ground. There are caves on the other side of the island. I'm sure the others will head there."

The compound was nearly bare except for the essentials. "All that metal would have been lost if we hadn't worked all night. None of it would have benefited your people. Now we need to grab what we can. Load it up and go. We might be able to use it to secure things once we reach the shelter. The medical supplies might be needed as well."

She hadn't heard the exchange between Smith and Sapphire and was unaware of Datus' state.


"Alright, but how? I mean, they took the only trans-" he cut himself off there and slapped his forehead. Of course, there is a vehicle factory. He reminded himself. "Listen, what we are going to do is grab two vehicles from the factory, one is an old German Opel truck, runs perfect and can carry supplies. Another is a truck equipped with a plow. I need you to get the one with the plow and try and clear a way to the caves. I'll stay back to pick up stragglers and metal."

  • INTP
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  • Religiously Tolerant
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  • X=3.13, Y=2.41
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Torsiedelle
Post Marshal
 
Posts: 18306
Founded: Dec 03, 2010
Democratic Socialists

Postby Torsiedelle » Fri Dec 20, 2013 12:56 pm

Answering the door with sore eyes and a nappy head was Torii, who only glanced at Drova before starting to speak. "Oh, yes? Yuna's Brother, what's up? Is everyone ready for our little plan or what?", She asked. Her mind was still a tad foggy from sleep, and she still had to get dressed and make some coffee, so it wasn't exactly the best time for her, but if Drova was wanting to talk, then it must all have to wait.




Over the course of last night, several things had happened. The father had found his other daughter, who had fallen sleep in her seat down the beach; so had the mother. The three had a very awkward, very heated conversation regarding themselves, and their daughter's current physical state, and, while the details be speculated at best, it's obvious that The Mother was very disappointed and angry, the father was understanding, and the three had spent the night arguing themselves to sleep somewhere else, and were now making a silent walk back to the beach....and the father now had to carry one extra bag from his wife.
Rostavykhan is my Second Nation.
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