An Outsider
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A Glorious Failure
STATUS: Ever had that moment were you've just lost a battle of wills with your dog and think to yourself, "maybe I should be the one sleeping on the floor"? I have. It's oddly liberating. 8 yrs ago
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8 yrs ago
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Ever had that moment were you've just lost a battle of wills with your dog and think to yourself, "maybe I should be the one sleeping on the floor"? I have. It's oddly liberating.
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9 yrs ago
My Lit Lecturer used Matt Fraction's Hawkeye run to display the effect of narratology in class today. It's the first thing he's spoken about all term that I've actually read.
9 yrs ago
How good is the Punisher in Netflix's Daredevil series? "Just some guys who are about to walk into a diner for the last time." That line is so manly it could make a toddler sprout a beard.
9 yrs ago
The Justice League trailer is giving me mixed emotions. On the one hand, I desperately want to get hyped. On the other, Snyder and co have burnt me too many times in the past. I'm a conflicted mess.
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9 yrs ago
What? The Lethal Weapon tv show isn't utter garbage at all, instead being an enjoyable watch. What the fuck is the world coming to?
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Bio
For all you know I'm handsome as hell. Let's keep it that way.
Most Recent Posts
I'd be interested in playing a canon character, possibly Supes.
Rane gave a sharp toothed grin at her 'no swords' rule. Hunt had given him the same one after an incident involving two training bots, three engineers and Thanondian who had lost his sense of sight. But the fact of the matter was that she was right, things tended to get 'messy' when the Sword of the Skyfather got involved.
"Whatever you say Nafi, I'm easy going like that. Though I've been known to tear tanks apart with my bare hands too, when the fancy takes me." He replied before vaulting into the ring. His nimble fingers went to the buckle on his baldric, the one that held the Sword in place. A simple clasp was all that held the weapon in place, seconds of work to undo, but Rane hesitated. He always hated to part with the blade, his gift from the Skyfather, even if it was only for a heartbeat. The universe just didn't seem right without the cold metal close to him, comforting him through his fears and guiding him through his trials. He began to get possessive, then suspicious. What if Nafi only wanted him to take the Skyfather's gift off so she could steal it herself. Or what if Mylik wanted it, who could he stop him, he was bloody invisible. I wont give it up, not without a fight! Come at me fuckers, I'll turn this room red with your blood, and when I'm done with you everyone will know that the sword is mi. . . .
The clasp clicked open and the sword fell to the ground, hitting the ring floor like an anvil. Heavier than you look though Rane, and he should know, he'd been carrying that weight for what seemed like an eternity. It was an immense burden, being the Skyfather's champion, carrying his sword and leading his hunts. Often were the times that Rane felt he was going to be swallowed up by the immensity of the fact, of being crushed under all that responsibility. It felt good just to get away from it, even if only for a little while. The Canmorian took a second to himself, to reflect on who he had become since being cursed with the sword, and mourn who he might have been if he had never received it before picking the blade and its sheathe back up and hanging it from the ring corner post.
He felt like he had gone ten rounds already, and he hadn't even thrown a punch yet. He always felt like this after relinquishing the sword, like somehow the weapon nurtured and provided for him, and when he let it go all that extra power disappeared into the wind. He felt tired, but it was a good kinda tired, like the sort you get after going for a long, relaxing run. To be honest, I feel free. Like the Skyfather's mission ain't quite so important anymore, like I can just be Rane again. No voices in my head, no bright colours plastered across the walls, nothing except me and my thoughts.
He lent up against the inside of the ring rope again, his shoulders sagging a little as he waited for Nafi to join him, just enjoying the peace..
"Whatever you say Nafi, I'm easy going like that. Though I've been known to tear tanks apart with my bare hands too, when the fancy takes me." He replied before vaulting into the ring. His nimble fingers went to the buckle on his baldric, the one that held the Sword in place. A simple clasp was all that held the weapon in place, seconds of work to undo, but Rane hesitated. He always hated to part with the blade, his gift from the Skyfather, even if it was only for a heartbeat. The universe just didn't seem right without the cold metal close to him, comforting him through his fears and guiding him through his trials. He began to get possessive, then suspicious. What if Nafi only wanted him to take the Skyfather's gift off so she could steal it herself. Or what if Mylik wanted it, who could he stop him, he was bloody invisible. I wont give it up, not without a fight! Come at me fuckers, I'll turn this room red with your blood, and when I'm done with you everyone will know that the sword is mi. . . .
The clasp clicked open and the sword fell to the ground, hitting the ring floor like an anvil. Heavier than you look though Rane, and he should know, he'd been carrying that weight for what seemed like an eternity. It was an immense burden, being the Skyfather's champion, carrying his sword and leading his hunts. Often were the times that Rane felt he was going to be swallowed up by the immensity of the fact, of being crushed under all that responsibility. It felt good just to get away from it, even if only for a little while. The Canmorian took a second to himself, to reflect on who he had become since being cursed with the sword, and mourn who he might have been if he had never received it before picking the blade and its sheathe back up and hanging it from the ring corner post.
He felt like he had gone ten rounds already, and he hadn't even thrown a punch yet. He always felt like this after relinquishing the sword, like somehow the weapon nurtured and provided for him, and when he let it go all that extra power disappeared into the wind. He felt tired, but it was a good kinda tired, like the sort you get after going for a long, relaxing run. To be honest, I feel free. Like the Skyfather's mission ain't quite so important anymore, like I can just be Rane again. No voices in my head, no bright colours plastered across the walls, nothing except me and my thoughts.
He lent up against the inside of the ring rope again, his shoulders sagging a little as he waited for Nafi to join him, just enjoying the peace..
Ah, bitch, posted my IC post here. Gordamn internet, making me look stupid!
Kyelin said
Blacksam or Hael, post dammit >.<
I was waiting for Hael to post, but it doesn't look like he's been on for a while. I'll get one up tonight.
Faen picked himself up off the ground, marvelling at Franklin's impressive physical display. And here I was about to peg you as a lost cause. The Prince dusted down the front of his jacket, glancing at the senseless thugs decked out around them. They'd be waking up sore in the morning no doubt, and full of regret for ever messing with Richards Jr.
“You know I'm not going to lie, before all this I totally had you pegged as the party ruin-er... no offense.”
Faen spun, affecting a look of injured indignation.
"You wound me Frankie! Really, think what might of happened had I not been gate crashing, you could be dead by now!" Faen was aware that he was laying it on a bit thick, but he had always had a gift for personal outrage. While they were talking one of the Doom-lites began to rouse, shaking his head groggily and pushing himself to his knees. The Lokison strolled over and casually booted the rogue in the teeth. The man fell soundlessly into a pool of his own blood, a tooth skittering across the floor. Mighta overdone that one, Faen old boy
"Hey," A voice said in his head, giving him a start until he realised it was Mira. This must be what she meant by keeping them in contact. If he had known that she was talking about telepathy then he wouldn't have been so quick to allow her in his head. "If you need help just send a message to me with your thoughts. This should keep us in touch until the action dies down."
I've rescued Franklin. . . or maybe more accurately he saved me he answered the mutant telepathically, try and connect us with the rest of the heroes still fighting. Having a telepathic link could be a valuable tactical advantage.
Faen cast an eye over the battleground. Alot of the Doom-lites were down, but there was still plenty left standing to cause trouble, and there was many bystanders being caught in the fire. Most of the other heroes were concentrating on the thugs, Spider-man and Spooky working together and handling more than their fair share together. The Prince grabbed Franklin by the shoulder and pointed at a screaming middle aged couple who were being herded into a corner by two criminals.
"Someone needs to get the guests out, and frankly I'd rather you fight those guys than me having to do it." he grinned his encouragement. Faen preferred to keep his enemies at as polite a distance as possible.
“You know I'm not going to lie, before all this I totally had you pegged as the party ruin-er... no offense.”
Faen spun, affecting a look of injured indignation.
"You wound me Frankie! Really, think what might of happened had I not been gate crashing, you could be dead by now!" Faen was aware that he was laying it on a bit thick, but he had always had a gift for personal outrage. While they were talking one of the Doom-lites began to rouse, shaking his head groggily and pushing himself to his knees. The Lokison strolled over and casually booted the rogue in the teeth. The man fell soundlessly into a pool of his own blood, a tooth skittering across the floor. Mighta overdone that one, Faen old boy
"Hey," A voice said in his head, giving him a start until he realised it was Mira. This must be what she meant by keeping them in contact. If he had known that she was talking about telepathy then he wouldn't have been so quick to allow her in his head. "If you need help just send a message to me with your thoughts. This should keep us in touch until the action dies down."
I've rescued Franklin. . . or maybe more accurately he saved me he answered the mutant telepathically, try and connect us with the rest of the heroes still fighting. Having a telepathic link could be a valuable tactical advantage.
Faen cast an eye over the battleground. Alot of the Doom-lites were down, but there was still plenty left standing to cause trouble, and there was many bystanders being caught in the fire. Most of the other heroes were concentrating on the thugs, Spider-man and Spooky working together and handling more than their fair share together. The Prince grabbed Franklin by the shoulder and pointed at a screaming middle aged couple who were being herded into a corner by two criminals.
"Someone needs to get the guests out, and frankly I'd rather you fight those guys than me having to do it." he grinned his encouragement. Faen preferred to keep his enemies at as polite a distance as possible.
"And what would that method be. . ." Faen began to ask, but before he finished the group of rogues made what he supposed was their move. The lights to the building all cut out with an ominous crack.
"Oh terrific." sighed Faen flatly, a little let down with the predictability of it. How many times had he seen this very move in the movies. Switch the lights out and let the people panic, who was the genius that has come up with this one. It didn't take long to figure out who the perpetrator was though, as the museum monitors blinked into life, bathing the crowds in a soft, warm light. The face on the monitor was anything but soft and warm though.
“Evening to each and everyone.” began Dr Doom, one of the most brilliant yet fiendish minds to ever grace, or curse, the human race. But he was dead, wasn't he? Lost long ago after taking a plunge from his castle walls after a final battle with his long time foes, The Fantastic Four. The Lokison was dimly aware that he was all out of glib comments, and that his mouth had gone dry. Fear, he realised, he was afraid. Not the most ridiculous of reactions though, not when dealing with a man who seriously called himself Dr Doom.
Even as fixated as he was on the monitors Faen couldn't help but notice several people in the crowd causing a commotion. He quickly deduced that it was the older, tried heroes being taken down by villains wearing replica Doom masks. At first the Lokison was worried by the apparent ease the scoundrels took down the old Avengers, but then came the realisation that none of them were attempting to bring him or the other young breed to their knees. What, am I not worth it you dogs! This insult will prove to be your undoing Doom! He thought angrily. Dr Doom was coming to the end of his monologue now.
"Heads up. All the older heroes have been taken down. Do what you have to do to keep us in touch." Faen whispered to Mira before magically melding away into the darkness. Seconds later the main lights blinked back into life, but he was long gone, leaving Mira to deal with three Doom-lites who were converging onto her position.
The Prince materialised back into place next to Franklin, right in the middle of the Doom group surrounding Richards, wearing his Asgardian battle armour now instead of the formal suit he had been wearing earlier.
"Ah, Crap!" cursed Faen as he realised the position he had put himself into. Thinking fast he threw up a magical bubble shield around him, Franklin and HERBIE. The Doom-lites realised that they had been defied. The leader roared his fury, running forward and smashing the bubble with his fists. His followers did what they were paid for, throwing their weight in behind. Faen's magic was rough and unrefined, and he would be hard pressed to keep the henchmen out for long, but there was little he could do while trying to maintain the bubble. His only course of action was to try and rouse the scion of the Fantastic Four.
"Franklin," he said through gritted teeth "I seen you drop when Doom came on. Trust me, I wanted to do the same. But these chucklemongers, they're not Doom. Not even close. Now stand up, you've got to teach them a lesson for ruining your party!" The Lokison was beginning to sweat, the strain from keeping the force field in place starting to show.
"Oh terrific." sighed Faen flatly, a little let down with the predictability of it. How many times had he seen this very move in the movies. Switch the lights out and let the people panic, who was the genius that has come up with this one. It didn't take long to figure out who the perpetrator was though, as the museum monitors blinked into life, bathing the crowds in a soft, warm light. The face on the monitor was anything but soft and warm though.
“Evening to each and everyone.” began Dr Doom, one of the most brilliant yet fiendish minds to ever grace, or curse, the human race. But he was dead, wasn't he? Lost long ago after taking a plunge from his castle walls after a final battle with his long time foes, The Fantastic Four. The Lokison was dimly aware that he was all out of glib comments, and that his mouth had gone dry. Fear, he realised, he was afraid. Not the most ridiculous of reactions though, not when dealing with a man who seriously called himself Dr Doom.
Even as fixated as he was on the monitors Faen couldn't help but notice several people in the crowd causing a commotion. He quickly deduced that it was the older, tried heroes being taken down by villains wearing replica Doom masks. At first the Lokison was worried by the apparent ease the scoundrels took down the old Avengers, but then came the realisation that none of them were attempting to bring him or the other young breed to their knees. What, am I not worth it you dogs! This insult will prove to be your undoing Doom! He thought angrily. Dr Doom was coming to the end of his monologue now.
"Heads up. All the older heroes have been taken down. Do what you have to do to keep us in touch." Faen whispered to Mira before magically melding away into the darkness. Seconds later the main lights blinked back into life, but he was long gone, leaving Mira to deal with three Doom-lites who were converging onto her position.
The Prince materialised back into place next to Franklin, right in the middle of the Doom group surrounding Richards, wearing his Asgardian battle armour now instead of the formal suit he had been wearing earlier.
"Ah, Crap!" cursed Faen as he realised the position he had put himself into. Thinking fast he threw up a magical bubble shield around him, Franklin and HERBIE. The Doom-lites realised that they had been defied. The leader roared his fury, running forward and smashing the bubble with his fists. His followers did what they were paid for, throwing their weight in behind. Faen's magic was rough and unrefined, and he would be hard pressed to keep the henchmen out for long, but there was little he could do while trying to maintain the bubble. His only course of action was to try and rouse the scion of the Fantastic Four.
"Franklin," he said through gritted teeth "I seen you drop when Doom came on. Trust me, I wanted to do the same. But these chucklemongers, they're not Doom. Not even close. Now stand up, you've got to teach them a lesson for ruining your party!" The Lokison was beginning to sweat, the strain from keeping the force field in place starting to show.
Fair enough, I'll get a post up in the next hour or two
So are you happy enough for me to leave the post as it is then KL?
Ok, fair enough.
And in regards to my post, I know we're planning on trashing the base here so I thought I could write some of our destructive tendencies into that. If you were wanting to go another direction with it though (I know there's plans for GG to burn the place to the ground) I can re-write, just let me know.
And in regards to my post, I know we're planning on trashing the base here so I thought I could write some of our destructive tendencies into that. If you were wanting to go another direction with it though (I know there's plans for GG to burn the place to the ground) I can re-write, just let me know.
The slugs from Deathstroke's rifle punched into Fenrir's muscled chest, with enough force to knock the beast back a step or two. Not enough to kill him, but more than enough to enrage him even more. The wolfman was more determined than ever to tear the foolish intruder's face off, to shatter his bones and shred his flesh. The cowardly mercenary fled upwards towards the lighting fixtures and drew his sword, thinking he would be safe up there, or that perhaps Fenrir would fear the blade. The wolfman could smell the enchantment on the blade from here, the whiff of magic smelling to him like burning ozone. He had dealt with such weapons before, and yet here he stood. Deathstroke would have to try harder than that.
The big metahuman readied himself to leap up to the rafters, it would be an easy task for him, when he heard the crashing that sounded like thunder. He swung his head to face the source of the noise. Boom, boom boom, BOOM!
The wall bent inwards then exploded with brick and mortar flying at all angles, Patriot at the source of the disruption. The wolfman was momentarily stunned at his pack mates apparent stupidity. Did he not realise they were underground, with thousands, perhaps millions of tonnes of rock above them. Even with Fenrir's limited understanding of architecture he knew that the flying superhero could have seriously jeopardised the structural integrity of the base and endangered all their lives. Perhaps Patriot and Fenrir would survive the possible cataclysm, but not all their pack mates were as sturdy. The feral metahuman's powerful sense of hearing could already make out the faint cracking noises coming from Patriot's path of destruction. He figure it was only a matter of time until the base's roof collapsed, burying all of them under the unrelenting weight of rock and concrete. Panic began to grip the big metahuman. They had to finish up with Deathstroke quickly then get out, or else his entire pack would pay the price.
"Patriot!" he began to roar, meaning to warn the superhuman of the threat, but was cut off by Superman's protégé firing a powerful blast of energy at Deathstroke. The nimble mercenary dodged the blast, flipping from one support to the other with the grace of an experienced acrobat. Patriot's energy exploded though, ripping through the steel of the light fixtures. The metal made a horrible screeching noise before giving way, falling towards the floor, Fenrir standing directly below.
The wolfman managed one agitated growl before the remains of the fixture collapsed with a crash on top of him, burying Fenrir under a mound of twisted, half melted metal.
The big metahuman readied himself to leap up to the rafters, it would be an easy task for him, when he heard the crashing that sounded like thunder. He swung his head to face the source of the noise. Boom, boom boom, BOOM!
The wall bent inwards then exploded with brick and mortar flying at all angles, Patriot at the source of the disruption. The wolfman was momentarily stunned at his pack mates apparent stupidity. Did he not realise they were underground, with thousands, perhaps millions of tonnes of rock above them. Even with Fenrir's limited understanding of architecture he knew that the flying superhero could have seriously jeopardised the structural integrity of the base and endangered all their lives. Perhaps Patriot and Fenrir would survive the possible cataclysm, but not all their pack mates were as sturdy. The feral metahuman's powerful sense of hearing could already make out the faint cracking noises coming from Patriot's path of destruction. He figure it was only a matter of time until the base's roof collapsed, burying all of them under the unrelenting weight of rock and concrete. Panic began to grip the big metahuman. They had to finish up with Deathstroke quickly then get out, or else his entire pack would pay the price.
"Patriot!" he began to roar, meaning to warn the superhuman of the threat, but was cut off by Superman's protégé firing a powerful blast of energy at Deathstroke. The nimble mercenary dodged the blast, flipping from one support to the other with the grace of an experienced acrobat. Patriot's energy exploded though, ripping through the steel of the light fixtures. The metal made a horrible screeching noise before giving way, falling towards the floor, Fenrir standing directly below.
The wolfman managed one agitated growl before the remains of the fixture collapsed with a crash on top of him, burying Fenrir under a mound of twisted, half melted metal.
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