Tempted to make Jason do something about Pierre not helping out...
Do it, you know yo want to...give in to your anger.
aladdin_sane Member
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Back after an extended hiatus.
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10 yrs ago
Come on let's bunker down.
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Do it, you know yo want to...give in to your anger.
A'aight, who's waitin on who to post?! XD Many times I find that longer delays happen because someone is waiting on someone else to post who's waiting on them to post in turn and end up with a self perpetuating RP killer. >3>
Idk, I thought everyone was waiting on me, but apparently not as I finished my posts.
Pierre Athene
Pierre rolled his eyes at Diane's incessant prattling; teamwork, cooperation, equality...bah, what nonsense. He took immense pride that his rather privileged childhood allowed him to develop the necessary skills to take life itself by the reins; these fools could never comprehend that people are just a means to an end...the broken ambitions of many inferior people lined his path to greatness. The world was not only filled with raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens, and other such infantile notions.
He lit another unfiltered Gitane cigarette and took a few puffs to calm his hunger pains; afterwards he let it hang loosely from the right side of his mouth. It seemed like the reasonably attractive teacher gave the flare gun to the bearded hippie who was trying act all machismo and the like brandishing a revolver. Pierre released a snicker, was this some kind of joke; well, it was admittedly funnier then the so-called comedian. Speaking of McKenzie she was blathering on about finally having a job or something; he was being sarcastic earlier was she really this stupid? There was a special place in hell for people like her, but Pierre digressed. Springboarding off of Darla's sarcastic comment Pierre addressed this bearded fool.
"Hold your horses Clint Eastwood you'll poke your eye out with that thing. I mean no harm kemosabe because as my lovely assistant suggested I would not waste my ammunition on any of you cretins. Oh, I see your one of those hippy-dippy, power to the people antiestablishment types."
He mockingly flashed the peace sign before continuing.
"Ha, that is rich; grow up and come to the realization that you are a misguided idealist spouting pie-in-the-sky nonsense. If I had a dollar for every time some idiot in a Guy Fawkes mask attempted to force their Socialist ideology on me; would be..."
The arrival of the so-called "Zombie Children" interrupted Pierre's monologuing. For a second he almost believed this nonsense about the walking dead, but this was obviously the work of some kind of plague. Poor people were vectors of disease because it was their lot in life to live in filth; however, that was beside the point as he would rather not lower himself to defend these idiots. As he began his slow slinking retreat backwards he readied his weapon and kept it aimed on the diseased children, Pierre would only fire his military grade machine gun if he himself was under direct threat and at the moment that was thankfully not the case. These meat shields would either fight off those sickly brats or they would die covering his escape.
Pierre rolled his eyes at Diane's incessant prattling; teamwork, cooperation, equality...bah, what nonsense. He took immense pride that his rather privileged childhood allowed him to develop the necessary skills to take life itself by the reins; these fools could never comprehend that people are just a means to an end...the broken ambitions of many inferior people lined his path to greatness. The world was not only filled with raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens, and other such infantile notions.
He lit another unfiltered Gitane cigarette and took a few puffs to calm his hunger pains; afterwards he let it hang loosely from the right side of his mouth. It seemed like the reasonably attractive teacher gave the flare gun to the bearded hippie who was trying act all machismo and the like brandishing a revolver. Pierre released a snicker, was this some kind of joke; well, it was admittedly funnier then the so-called comedian. Speaking of McKenzie she was blathering on about finally having a job or something; he was being sarcastic earlier was she really this stupid? There was a special place in hell for people like her, but Pierre digressed. Springboarding off of Darla's sarcastic comment Pierre addressed this bearded fool.
"Hold your horses Clint Eastwood you'll poke your eye out with that thing. I mean no harm kemosabe because as my lovely assistant suggested I would not waste my ammunition on any of you cretins. Oh, I see your one of those hippy-dippy, power to the people antiestablishment types."
He mockingly flashed the peace sign before continuing.
"Ha, that is rich; grow up and come to the realization that you are a misguided idealist spouting pie-in-the-sky nonsense. If I had a dollar for every time some idiot in a Guy Fawkes mask attempted to force their Socialist ideology on me; would be..."
The arrival of the so-called "Zombie Children" interrupted Pierre's monologuing. For a second he almost believed this nonsense about the walking dead, but this was obviously the work of some kind of plague. Poor people were vectors of disease because it was their lot in life to live in filth; however, that was beside the point as he would rather not lower himself to defend these idiots. As he began his slow slinking retreat backwards he readied his weapon and kept it aimed on the diseased children, Pierre would only fire his military grade machine gun if he himself was under direct threat and at the moment that was thankfully not the case. These meat shields would either fight off those sickly brats or they would die covering his escape.
Hector
Hector managed shake off some of the grogginess that blanketed his mind once he was on his feet once again. He took the stranger up one his offer and the went about constructing a makeshift sling for his now broken arm; the process was not too timely as there was plenty of raw materials that could be combined to craft a half-decent sling...it wasn't perfect, but he supposed it would have to do for the immediate future. Hector managed to down an unopened bottle of Perrier water that was discarded in whatever catastrophe hit Yellow Stone and this relieved him of his overly parched throat, so he finally was able to coherently communicate with this well dressed stranger. Who was he kidding this guy was hot, the Lord sure sent a looker to free him from his predicament; damn, in hindsight he probably sounded like a nutter to this gorgeous representatives of manhood. He would have to rectify that situation as soon as possible and Hector cleared his throat in preparation to speak; hopefully he would not make a further fool of himself.
"Thanks for your help stranger, not many people would pull a half-raving gigantic man out from underneath a pile rubble, for this and all you did today I am forever grateful. I probably would have perished here was it not for your kindness. I must apologize about the my uh...ranting earlier as I am normally a sensible man, but being stuck in an environment of low stimulation where time is fleeting can drive anyone temporarily mad. Though while I retract all of the baseless nonsense I spurted about him Piers is indeed an asshole and I wasted numerous years in his employ; however, I am steadfast in my belief that he survived this apparent bedlam and left me here in the lodge to die Oh, how rude of me my name is Hector Williams."
At this point in the conversation the large man extended his equally large hand.
"I do not particularly remember you from Piers' little shindig which is a shame as I make it a habit to socialize with all hands...er fiscally well-endowed gentleman, the best conversations come from those whose wealth have allowed them to experienced the world and all its splendors, but I digress. It seems I have been cooped up in here for the duration of the day, so tell me have you been outside? If so how bad is it out there? Do you know of any other survivors?"
Hector felt an unusual calmness overtake his regular enrage demeanor as it felt refreshing to just talk to a living person and not some specter. If he could just scrounge up some alcohol he would be content to wait out the end of the world in this cabin...this whole end of days thing would blow over soon enough and in a few weeks it would be old hat.
Hector managed shake off some of the grogginess that blanketed his mind once he was on his feet once again. He took the stranger up one his offer and the went about constructing a makeshift sling for his now broken arm; the process was not too timely as there was plenty of raw materials that could be combined to craft a half-decent sling...it wasn't perfect, but he supposed it would have to do for the immediate future. Hector managed to down an unopened bottle of Perrier water that was discarded in whatever catastrophe hit Yellow Stone and this relieved him of his overly parched throat, so he finally was able to coherently communicate with this well dressed stranger. Who was he kidding this guy was hot, the Lord sure sent a looker to free him from his predicament; damn, in hindsight he probably sounded like a nutter to this gorgeous representatives of manhood. He would have to rectify that situation as soon as possible and Hector cleared his throat in preparation to speak; hopefully he would not make a further fool of himself.
"Thanks for your help stranger, not many people would pull a half-raving gigantic man out from underneath a pile rubble, for this and all you did today I am forever grateful. I probably would have perished here was it not for your kindness. I must apologize about the my uh...ranting earlier as I am normally a sensible man, but being stuck in an environment of low stimulation where time is fleeting can drive anyone temporarily mad. Though while I retract all of the baseless nonsense I spurted about him Piers is indeed an asshole and I wasted numerous years in his employ; however, I am steadfast in my belief that he survived this apparent bedlam and left me here in the lodge to die Oh, how rude of me my name is Hector Williams."
At this point in the conversation the large man extended his equally large hand.
"I do not particularly remember you from Piers' little shindig which is a shame as I make it a habit to socialize with all hands...er fiscally well-endowed gentleman, the best conversations come from those whose wealth have allowed them to experienced the world and all its splendors, but I digress. It seems I have been cooped up in here for the duration of the day, so tell me have you been outside? If so how bad is it out there? Do you know of any other survivors?"
Hector felt an unusual calmness overtake his regular enrage demeanor as it felt refreshing to just talk to a living person and not some specter. If he could just scrounge up some alcohol he would be content to wait out the end of the world in this cabin...this whole end of days thing would blow over soon enough and in a few weeks it would be old hat.
Alright posted something a little different...been working on that for awhile. Pierre's and Hector's posts are coming and I will post them later tonight or tomorrow.
Alright I am all caught up sorry about the delay!
Alright I am all caught up sorry about the delay!
Conference Room, Albright Visitors Center
“Man watching city fall
The clock keeps on ticking
He doesn't know why
He's just cattle for slaughter”
Della let out an audible sigh as the vintage BoomBox was once again turned on and another Killing Joke song began to play; her head pressed into her palms. It was the end of civilization was and she was stuck in a board room with Miranda’s brats and their utterly incompetent psychologist; Nana was right she should have never went to law school…Nana was always right. Della was divorced twice, had no children, and was going on fifty-five and she was not getting any younger; as a retired lawyer she should not even be here right now and if it was not for Miranda she would not be here right now. Miranda god rest her soul was not a very chaste woman and she paid the price…two illegitimate children from the same bastard nonetheless; oh, that two-timer paid great hush-money though as apparently he was now some bigshot somewhere …Della was not privy to what this man’s name was nor did she care what he did once a bastard always a bastard.
Though as Miranda’s best friend Della remembered this twenty-something year old punk-ass rich kid sniffing around for good looks and an easy-time years ago, unfortunately Miranda was the sucker who bought this asshole’s lies about a better life; however, once she got pregnant and refused to have an abortion he dumped her right quick, then approximately a year later he came back and knocked her up again. Nana once called this guy rich white-trash and she was right as per the norm. Della wondered if the scum knew his monthly deposit went towards Miranda’s vices and not his own children, but she doubted he really cared about them after all. Miranda probably got millions from this guy, but her children did not see any until her untimely death; while the medical examiner’s report read that Miranda died in her bed choking on a chicken leg, Della doubted that was the case as even though her friend weight ballooned to 300lbs at the time of her death there was no way she would eat in bed at that late hour. Della had a sinking feeling that the killer was in the room with her and she knew exactly who it was.
She ruled out Miranda’s oldest child Garth Landau as he was a mentally handicapped individual who had not spoken a word after witnessing a traumatic event involving his mother and one of her many lovers when he was only three. At 24 he could perform basic tasks such as dressing himself and the like, but Della seriously doubted the bearded mute could arrange an elaborate murder. Della also ruled out Dr. Allister Huxley the moronic psychologist and current guardian of the two children, as even though he was sleeping with Miranda and was one of her many lovers he seemed generally surprised at the contents of Miranda’s will and the existence of her mysterious patron; the creep gained nothing from her death and was generally saddened by her passing. The fool cancelled all has appointments (outside of the children’s) and went into mourning for about a month afterwards; he was an idiot alright, but he was more interested in profiling the next big serial killer than becoming one himself. The good doctor was also a very weak willed man to say the least and once passed out after seeing feral cat pounce on a chipmunk; indeed the doctor was a very scary man.
The killer was none other than Miranda’s daughter Mephi Landau, even at twenty-three the petit woman gave Della the chills; that girl was a sadist and ever since childhood she enjoyed inflicting pain on others, she was always in fights at school and Miranda was privy to many parent-teacher conferences. If gossip she was to believed she recently took up boxing, but her sheer brutality in the ring left few wanting to fight her. Even though it was no contest as her brother probably could not comprehend the situation Mephi was enraptured by the identity of her father and apparently forced as confession out of her mother as she knew exactly who he was; weeks after her mother’s death she begin emulating the man she believed to be her father, slicking her once unruly hair back and adopting the wearing of flashy tailored suits. If Dr. Huxley was to be believed her room was plastered with news clippings about her deadbeat dad. Della had many restless nights thinking about this sociopath shoving that chicken bone down her mother’s throat; matricide is a rare crime and a daughter killing her mother is even rarer.
Della was only here today in Yellow Stone as dictated in her best friend’s will, as Miranda’s lawyer she was to be present while the children met their father as stipulated in some prior agreement and to ensure they received a hefty inheritance in order to no doubt buy their silence about their true parentage; Dr. Huxley was also to be present for some reason, considering both of the adults were under his care it probably was for the best. Not that he was able to control Mephi as all he did was give her pills, that she probably hid under her tongue and spit out when he was not looking; he made for a piss-poor psychologist and a piss-poor guardian. Whomever the children’s father was he chose this location to meet them even rented out the whole visitor’s center for the occasion; the park listed it as “undergoing renovations”, but here they were waiting for the asshole to finish a so-called chartable event. Though the apocalypse interrupted all these prearranged plans; even though the rattling and shaking has subsided the devastation could be seen outside. Dead bodies lined the ground outside, contorted in odd positions by nature itself and odd rubble also could be seen…Della could make out the outline of an overturned office building in the distance.
Della looked up to find Mephi intently staring at her with her piercing blue eyes and with a wicked smile plastered on her face.
“Enjoying the music dear Della…is it too loud? Perhaps you are not a fan of the Killing Joke? They are quite good; some might say their music is to die for.” Mephi let out a snicker before rising up from her seat in order to position herself closer to Della. “Do you like the new suit…I just adore white suits as they stain so well. Very sexy. I heard you were friends with Miranda…does it make you sad that she is dead? Are you jealous that she went first? You have nothing to live for, so do you just want to end it all…throw off this mortal coil? Honestly, you make a horrible detective as you wear your emotions on your pudgy face…you think I killed your gal pal don’t you?”
“You callous bitch…even at the end you refuse to repent. Can’t you see that this is God’s tribula …”
Della was cut off as Mephi whacked the lawyer in the stomach with her bejeweled cane.
“Ugh, spare me the religious mumbo-jumbo, but if you want to be with Miranada that bad I can always arrange a one-way ticket to heaven for you. Fuck, if this is truly the end-times I could kill you right now and nobody would stop me; not that anyone did before.”
Mephi flashed another grin at the lawyer before revealing a concealed blade that was hidden in her cane. She begin slowly slashing at the lawyer making her feel every cut before slashing once again; her brother the mute did nothing to stop her in fact she surmised he perfectly understood what was going on and was as twisted as she was. Dr. Huxley attempted to intervene, but the coward refused to put himself in harm’s way and pleaded from the sidelines for her to stop and take some more medicine. After a few more slashes, Mephi became bored of torturing the old hag and slit her throat allowing her to bleed out.
“You did not have to do that Mephi you are a human not an animal, murder is never justified as civilized people do not butcher for enjoyment. You should be ashamed of yourself, you bloody ingrate.”
Dr. Huxley regretted his choice of words almost instantly as Mephi turned from admiring her handy work and started to menacingly approach him.
“Dear doctor one must not fling insults around unstable people as they might get hurt; I have killed forty-eigh...forty-nine people so far let’s not make it fifty. Whoops is that cat out of the bag…little old me was a serial killer this entire time, what were the odds? Anyways the bitch had to go…earlier she turned off my BoomBox and thusly threw off my groove; nobody messes with my cassettes got it. Back when dear old Mom was hogging all the money, I salvaged them from the Goodwill myself… nobody fucks with my music. Anyways, she was deadweight as I already know where my father is…he was at the Roosevelt Lodge hosting his charity event. So, surely we can track him down.”
“Mephi we need to come to terms with reality and face the fact that your father might be dead, killed in this impromptu disaster.” Dr. Huxley stopped talking when Mephi reached him and threw and arm over his shoulder.
“Oh, Doctor that is not the point at all, even if my father is dead verification of his existence is all I need. Where is your sense of adventure Al? There are so many people out there thinking that they are safe…that they survived the worst God could throw at them… well, they haven’t met me yet. Anyways you have always wanted to observe a pyscho in the wild here is your chance…write that book you always wanted to write champ. You already have paper and pencils here, unwitting survivors could always provide us with more if the need arises. If that ranger’s truck is still parked out front I bet it has flares in it…we could find an ideal spot and lure the hopeful to us. The look on their precious faces when they find not salvation, but only me standing there would be priceless. Garth get the BoomBox and the cassettes, we are going on an adventure!!!"
The doctor begrudgingly conceded to his new lot in life, thus his existence was spared for the moment. The mute rose from his stupor and did what he was asked of him, so the trio could make their way out of the visitor center; it came to pass that they indeed found a largely undamaged truck parked out front and started the arduous journey towards the Roosevelt Lodge. Woe to any that happen to cross their path as in these trying times these three offer not salvation, but only death.
“Man watching city fall
The clock keeps on ticking
He doesn't know why
He's just cattle for slaughter”
Della let out an audible sigh as the vintage BoomBox was once again turned on and another Killing Joke song began to play; her head pressed into her palms. It was the end of civilization was and she was stuck in a board room with Miranda’s brats and their utterly incompetent psychologist; Nana was right she should have never went to law school…Nana was always right. Della was divorced twice, had no children, and was going on fifty-five and she was not getting any younger; as a retired lawyer she should not even be here right now and if it was not for Miranda she would not be here right now. Miranda god rest her soul was not a very chaste woman and she paid the price…two illegitimate children from the same bastard nonetheless; oh, that two-timer paid great hush-money though as apparently he was now some bigshot somewhere …Della was not privy to what this man’s name was nor did she care what he did once a bastard always a bastard.
Though as Miranda’s best friend Della remembered this twenty-something year old punk-ass rich kid sniffing around for good looks and an easy-time years ago, unfortunately Miranda was the sucker who bought this asshole’s lies about a better life; however, once she got pregnant and refused to have an abortion he dumped her right quick, then approximately a year later he came back and knocked her up again. Nana once called this guy rich white-trash and she was right as per the norm. Della wondered if the scum knew his monthly deposit went towards Miranda’s vices and not his own children, but she doubted he really cared about them after all. Miranda probably got millions from this guy, but her children did not see any until her untimely death; while the medical examiner’s report read that Miranda died in her bed choking on a chicken leg, Della doubted that was the case as even though her friend weight ballooned to 300lbs at the time of her death there was no way she would eat in bed at that late hour. Della had a sinking feeling that the killer was in the room with her and she knew exactly who it was.
She ruled out Miranda’s oldest child Garth Landau as he was a mentally handicapped individual who had not spoken a word after witnessing a traumatic event involving his mother and one of her many lovers when he was only three. At 24 he could perform basic tasks such as dressing himself and the like, but Della seriously doubted the bearded mute could arrange an elaborate murder. Della also ruled out Dr. Allister Huxley the moronic psychologist and current guardian of the two children, as even though he was sleeping with Miranda and was one of her many lovers he seemed generally surprised at the contents of Miranda’s will and the existence of her mysterious patron; the creep gained nothing from her death and was generally saddened by her passing. The fool cancelled all has appointments (outside of the children’s) and went into mourning for about a month afterwards; he was an idiot alright, but he was more interested in profiling the next big serial killer than becoming one himself. The good doctor was also a very weak willed man to say the least and once passed out after seeing feral cat pounce on a chipmunk; indeed the doctor was a very scary man.
The killer was none other than Miranda’s daughter Mephi Landau, even at twenty-three the petit woman gave Della the chills; that girl was a sadist and ever since childhood she enjoyed inflicting pain on others, she was always in fights at school and Miranda was privy to many parent-teacher conferences. If gossip she was to believed she recently took up boxing, but her sheer brutality in the ring left few wanting to fight her. Even though it was no contest as her brother probably could not comprehend the situation Mephi was enraptured by the identity of her father and apparently forced as confession out of her mother as she knew exactly who he was; weeks after her mother’s death she begin emulating the man she believed to be her father, slicking her once unruly hair back and adopting the wearing of flashy tailored suits. If Dr. Huxley was to be believed her room was plastered with news clippings about her deadbeat dad. Della had many restless nights thinking about this sociopath shoving that chicken bone down her mother’s throat; matricide is a rare crime and a daughter killing her mother is even rarer.
Della was only here today in Yellow Stone as dictated in her best friend’s will, as Miranda’s lawyer she was to be present while the children met their father as stipulated in some prior agreement and to ensure they received a hefty inheritance in order to no doubt buy their silence about their true parentage; Dr. Huxley was also to be present for some reason, considering both of the adults were under his care it probably was for the best. Not that he was able to control Mephi as all he did was give her pills, that she probably hid under her tongue and spit out when he was not looking; he made for a piss-poor psychologist and a piss-poor guardian. Whomever the children’s father was he chose this location to meet them even rented out the whole visitor’s center for the occasion; the park listed it as “undergoing renovations”, but here they were waiting for the asshole to finish a so-called chartable event. Though the apocalypse interrupted all these prearranged plans; even though the rattling and shaking has subsided the devastation could be seen outside. Dead bodies lined the ground outside, contorted in odd positions by nature itself and odd rubble also could be seen…Della could make out the outline of an overturned office building in the distance.
Della looked up to find Mephi intently staring at her with her piercing blue eyes and with a wicked smile plastered on her face.
“Enjoying the music dear Della…is it too loud? Perhaps you are not a fan of the Killing Joke? They are quite good; some might say their music is to die for.” Mephi let out a snicker before rising up from her seat in order to position herself closer to Della. “Do you like the new suit…I just adore white suits as they stain so well. Very sexy. I heard you were friends with Miranda…does it make you sad that she is dead? Are you jealous that she went first? You have nothing to live for, so do you just want to end it all…throw off this mortal coil? Honestly, you make a horrible detective as you wear your emotions on your pudgy face…you think I killed your gal pal don’t you?”
“You callous bitch…even at the end you refuse to repent. Can’t you see that this is God’s tribula …”
Della was cut off as Mephi whacked the lawyer in the stomach with her bejeweled cane.
“Ugh, spare me the religious mumbo-jumbo, but if you want to be with Miranada that bad I can always arrange a one-way ticket to heaven for you. Fuck, if this is truly the end-times I could kill you right now and nobody would stop me; not that anyone did before.”
Mephi flashed another grin at the lawyer before revealing a concealed blade that was hidden in her cane. She begin slowly slashing at the lawyer making her feel every cut before slashing once again; her brother the mute did nothing to stop her in fact she surmised he perfectly understood what was going on and was as twisted as she was. Dr. Huxley attempted to intervene, but the coward refused to put himself in harm’s way and pleaded from the sidelines for her to stop and take some more medicine. After a few more slashes, Mephi became bored of torturing the old hag and slit her throat allowing her to bleed out.
“You did not have to do that Mephi you are a human not an animal, murder is never justified as civilized people do not butcher for enjoyment. You should be ashamed of yourself, you bloody ingrate.”
Dr. Huxley regretted his choice of words almost instantly as Mephi turned from admiring her handy work and started to menacingly approach him.
“Dear doctor one must not fling insults around unstable people as they might get hurt; I have killed forty-eigh...forty-nine people so far let’s not make it fifty. Whoops is that cat out of the bag…little old me was a serial killer this entire time, what were the odds? Anyways the bitch had to go…earlier she turned off my BoomBox and thusly threw off my groove; nobody messes with my cassettes got it. Back when dear old Mom was hogging all the money, I salvaged them from the Goodwill myself… nobody fucks with my music. Anyways, she was deadweight as I already know where my father is…he was at the Roosevelt Lodge hosting his charity event. So, surely we can track him down.”
“Mephi we need to come to terms with reality and face the fact that your father might be dead, killed in this impromptu disaster.” Dr. Huxley stopped talking when Mephi reached him and threw and arm over his shoulder.
“Oh, Doctor that is not the point at all, even if my father is dead verification of his existence is all I need. Where is your sense of adventure Al? There are so many people out there thinking that they are safe…that they survived the worst God could throw at them… well, they haven’t met me yet. Anyways you have always wanted to observe a pyscho in the wild here is your chance…write that book you always wanted to write champ. You already have paper and pencils here, unwitting survivors could always provide us with more if the need arises. If that ranger’s truck is still parked out front I bet it has flares in it…we could find an ideal spot and lure the hopeful to us. The look on their precious faces when they find not salvation, but only me standing there would be priceless. Garth get the BoomBox and the cassettes, we are going on an adventure!!!"
The doctor begrudgingly conceded to his new lot in life, thus his existence was spared for the moment. The mute rose from his stupor and did what he was asked of him, so the trio could make their way out of the visitor center; it came to pass that they indeed found a largely undamaged truck parked out front and started the arduous journey towards the Roosevelt Lodge. Woe to any that happen to cross their path as in these trying times these three offer not salvation, but only death.
<Snipped quote by aladdin_sane>
Does 'Hector' think Pierre abandoning him was part of his hallucination?
It 'would' be pretty hilarious to see Pierre's reaction to 'holy shit he's still alive!?' and trying to figure out a way to save enough face to keep the giant man from murdering him >3> but i'm sure he'd be smart enough to handle that.
Hector tentatively has a shaky grip on reality as is the case with being trapped for a long period of time without any social contact or the barest of sensory stimuli (not even considering the effects of the magical gas), but even when Hector regains his composure one thing he knows for certain is the fact that Pierre essentially left him to die.
Lol, at this rate I am pretty sure the rest of the group will kill Pierre before they even cross paths with Hector and Nathan as my primary character has not been very adept at making new friends; though I agree that it will be funny watching Hector and Pierre go at it. I imagine every other player character just standing back to watch Pierre get his ass kicked even though they know absolutely nothing about what occurred earlier.
Dropped a little post, sorry it is short but I literally wrote it while in my boxers. Man it is hot af in here!
@aladdin_sane
No, it is chill man. I will get started on Hector's response post-haste. I am curious are you looking to join the other group or are we trekking it on our own?
<Snipped quote by aladdin_sane>
I planned for them to progress faster while asleep, in a sense that most would wake up and be able to easily find 'something' had changed, but there's likely waking effects as well, perhaps slower so that they aren't excruciating, unless someone 'wants' that the evil bastards.
That's just 'my' plan though >3> you can all mix things up your own ways =3
Sounds like a plan to me...ha. I've got so many good ideas just waiting to be implemented.
Very exciting as the ball is beginning to roll, most of our players are in the same general vicinity and changes will be happening sooner or later.
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