Recent Statuses

1 day ago
Current tekashi going to witness protection is hilarious. Surely nobody will recognize man that looks like a spilled pack of skittles with "69" tattoos all over? Yeah he has the life expectancy of a fruitfly.
1 day ago
misanthropic cucks should carry out on their desires and off themselves to reduce the amount of humanity
1 like
3 days ago
well, the image being based around anime is probably where your problem begins
5 days ago
I love how the only straight white guy in Apex Legends be some Josef Mengele type shit
6 days ago
god no real, if god real why bad thing happen?


Look at me and marvel at... I'll think of it, give me a moment.

Anyway, adding shit

My 1x1 Search:…

Russian (native speaker)
Belarusian, English and French as others
doing my best to learn other interdasting ones

Most Recent Posts

I'll try for something today, yesterday I was just playing catch-up with me other RPs.
As Horacio noticed the amount of onlookers, he momentarily felt nervous when so scrutinized, but this quickly only stiffened his resolve. If he didn't show these arse clenching bastards what for then the slow descent to heresy was all but guaranteed. A grim face came upon him swiftly as he more seriously looked upon the Diokletian fellow. He made a mental note to not partake in the fizzy wine, for who knew exactly what something so tenderly described would contain? No, there wouldn't be funny chemicals in store for Horacio today oh no!

Just a single bead of cold sweat rolled down the pudgy Priest's neck as it was mentioned that he had a weapon upon him. Just as the man would begin to leave, Horacio would speak, hoping he'd be too busy to reply and thus making his... interepretation the one that other listeners would get. "Weapon? Oh no dear governor, this business? But a ceremonial toy!" He said, pointing to the truly ceremonial, if nonetheless face splattering maul. "Worry not!" He'd emphasize.

Still, the gag was up in many ways and atleast some nobles present here would be disillusioned from the image he found it best to build in such situations. Thus, he scoffed at Victorine's suggestion. "Well, if you insist." Horacio said, waddling off uncomfortably. Between height, girth and apparel one would be able to quite tactfully say he was larger than life. Still, he felt he could do at least some measure of intentionally unintentionally overhearing conversation. Likewise, this would allow him to search for some sharp knives - preferably of the mono-molecular variety - to further augment his small arsenal.

Still, he also made sure that he always had sight on each of his Sisters at the same time. Odd business was happening here, this reception more and more felt like a diversion and with how they were splitting up to mingle and speak Horacio could not help but feel that the small troupe was falling right into the hands of some malign force that was orchestrating this business. However, Horacio didn't have enough supporting evidence or concretely framed thoughts to actually share with Victorine, so for now he could do nothing but stew in his suspicions.

Fabios Odyssean

Location: Ancient Forest(???) - Cenarius Glade

Tearing the throat out of the panther and eviscerating it's ride Fabios quickly pushed the dead off of him, once more turning to the aid of Heda. "Hold on!" He screamed running at the foes upon her. However with each step, he began to feel his age. So casually with a small shortness of breath he was reminded that red hair faded to an almost blond shade. For now, he could push past this in another charge but not for long. Yet another panther pounced him but this time he could more easily swing his falchion to take it's head off; he did not have nearly as much luck fighting its rider though. The knife eared bastard was frenzies just as the other, but still semed to have enough sense to parry. Fabios tried for a feint that was avoided, than tried for a quick stab under the elf's guard. The Paladin was surprised, and not nearly prepared to have a sword clang upon his head.

The man dropped to his knees, clutching his head with one hand and raising his blade in another as vision blurred and his breathing quickened. He looked up to the approaching elf, about to spit a curse before again a sword thrashed him on the head. Keeling over backwards, all the Knight could do was mutter a prayer in hopes whatever his failings were would be forgiven before death.

Fabios awoke, proper consciousness returning to him. He did not rest well. Dreams tormented him with images of his fatherland burning, of comrades falling, of failure.

Still, he did not open his eyes. This was certainly no after life, not one he would believe in. So, it would seem he was captured. Yet, oddly enough a few movements revealed he was not deprived of his plate armour. The Knight lay breathing for some time, trying to see if he could get a sniff of someone else present. There was someone here, but they weren't active. Quickly he sat upright, examining his surroundings. It was some glade, that much was certain and near him lay the prone body of Heda, his recent acquaintance. His weapons were also present which was odd. Perhaps they were to be interrogated and with his arms being so near to be given the impression they were spoken to as equals, as allies? This was all extremely suspicious, and thus the Paladin acted fast. He ran and grabbed his two-handed sword placing it under his left armpit. He held his falchion between his teeth and placed one pistol under the other armpit while taking to loading the other.

All while this was done he ran over to Heda, stopping the loading momentarily to slap her on either cheek. "Wake up! Now! Any bloody thing might be here its not the time for a damn nap!"
Well, I don't venture that much out of my own little circlejerk and when I do I unfortunately do not get the same people enough to get as acquainted as I would like to, however I would make note of:

@Briza my Siastra ŭ Chryscie

and @JBCool, for putting up with my silliness.

Beyond that, I think everyone on this site has redeeming qualities that will shine given the chance. Of course that sounds like a load of shit but I firmly believe it.

Fabios Odyssean

Location: Edge of Ancient Forest and Plain???

The elves and their beasts really were damn nutters. Fabios wasn't sure if this was a blessing or curse for while their bloodlust made them disorganized, it made them damn well relentless. Now however wasn't the time to think of the tactical merits of insanity, it was the time to exploit them. As he plunged his falchion into the panther he made sure to ever so faintly twist it to maximize blood loss, but its rider was quick to react and hit the Paladin's hand quite nastily. He dropped the falchion with his right hand as deformed metal dug into his flesh, bending town to grab the blade with his left.

Unfortunately he didn't have time to do anything as yet another panther jumped upon him. Things were not looking so good as the gallant attempt to rescue the Vrykul had not worked too well with the woman giving less and less resistance by the moment. However, this might just work to his advantage. They would most likely kill her once there is truly no resistance and then turn their attention unto him. As they would descend upon him he could - if luck allowed - resurrect her. A giant woman going to crack the bones of the elves from behind would be quite handy.

Still, the Knight had to give attention to what was immediately before him - a giant kitty. The claws of the thing were going at him and he had to deal with it quickly lest it realize that it had to go for his joints where it's claws could probably get between the individual rings of his chainmail and puncture his flesh. He moved quickly, with an ambitious attempt to eliminate two birds with one stone. His left arm bearing his falchion would go over the head of the panther, and attempt to press it down to his breastplate. With this he would use his right arm to try and dig the sharpened fingertips of his right hand's gloves into the thing's throat, while his left hand would pivot around the elbow trying to bury the blade into the elf riding the Saber.

Lost, forgotten.
Donny never really got a break. Born to Brazilian immigrants he did alright in school with most of his marks coming from gym, the arts and languages. He was just old enough to see the Vietnam war in its peak but didn't quite get the chance to participate in the thing army recruiters so romanticized.

He got into university and performed acceptably if quite far from excelling in his chosen degree of English. He signed up as a reservist in the military after finding some difficulty in getting a good job and eventually decided to become a proper soldier. There was peace for a while, until the Gulf-War rolled around. He served faithfully receiving a purple heart after taking several bullets. The wound healed but the mind didn't as was the case for so many soldiers out there. He was made to seek psychiatric help, which ended up being a Doctor who he fancied to put it lightly. Only with her help could he make some semblance of recovery and reintegration to proper society, but alas it would not be; on the way to work one day she was hit by a bus before his very eyes no less. Already this was for more tragedy than any one man could properly handle, and from there the degradation began. Donny didn't go outside, didn't clean himself, didn't get a job prompting him to be fired. When Afghanistan rolled around he couldn't get back into the armed forces, and that was the nail in the coffin of a good citizen.

Now Donny roams the streets, trying his best to forget without melting his brain with booze.

Physical Traits
An old man with a beard now white with age. Donny is quite tall at 6'2 but is often at least somewhat hunched, often bringing him down to a mere five feet. He tries to keep hygienic but with his lifestyle this is usually in vain, and one can see the marks of dirt and grime upon him. His clothing will usually be in various states of disrepair depending on the last time he moseyed over to a mall for something new to re-appropriate. Often his clothes will be mismatched like a beaten top hat in conjunction with basketball shoes, swimming trunks over long-johns and a plastic rain coat.

Full Name
Sebastian Donovan Barretto


White-Hispanic (Branco)

A hole's a hole, am I right or what eh?

60 years old; Date of birth 13/2/1960

Don is driven by the desire to live, not just survive. This is particularly difficult for someone with no disposable income or home but he manages. Be it showing strangers the way around town, finding some other veterans to reminisce with or some amazing discarded nudie magazines it is the little things that really matter, right? To some who have lived in the area for a while he may even be seen as a sort of local "celebrity" frequently seen making people passing by laugh and appearing in a youtube video or two giggling madly as "that creepy old guy" having jumped on the back of a teenager that thought homeless abuse is funny.

However with the passing of time it is harder and harder for him to truly do so as he finds it harder to provide for himself and the chance of his final days being spent in a proper home get slimmer by the moment with suicide being ever more enticing.

He has no job, he survives going around the streets telling stories to people that might pity him, stealing from malls, he is not above eating stray animals particularly in the winter.

It was a normal day for Donny, the poor guy going through the parking lot of Zemreaft Mall. He had found a half-eaten sandwich, promptly eliminating the 'half' before going to a water fountain for a few sips. When he went around with his coffee cup it seemed people were paying far less attention to him than usual and it seemed even the security guards were too busy to tell him to get the fuck out. Odd, really, because he hadn't washed himself in a while and was looking particularly like a hobo today.

Hours passed and his cup barely jingled as he shook it, much to the man's annoyance. It was enough for today but not tomorrow, it meant he'd have to repeat the routine unless some Saint went over to give a bunch of tens. What had people's attention so preoccupied? It was probably school today for the kids and still work time for other folk so naturally those at the mall would only be those with either something important, or nothing better to do. Yet, he had gotten used to that and had long since been accounting for it when choosing where he would make his living today.

Deciding that was enough for today he emptied his cup into a pocket and then went to figure out what the hell was going on, even his usually careless curiosity piqued. He saw a few kids on a bench all looking at one phone. He kept hearing something on the themes of "Wow!" and "Dayum!" and assumed that he had found his mark.

"Skipping school you little pricks?" The veteran demanded, getting behind them quite quietly as creepy old men like him could. They almost scattered until he placed a grimy hand on the shoulder of the two boys on the periphery.
"Don't worry, I wouldn't snitch even if I cared for your sorry little asses enough to do so. Now what the hell is everyone freaking out over?" He queried, motioning with his head to the phone. They were quiet for a little until one of them spoke up, probably the unofficial leader of the snot patrol. "Some guys got shot!" He announced excitedly, snatching the phone away and pressing play on the video. A normal little part of town that he had once even been in, so far as he could remember. Two... sickly looking people going at the cops and then they aimed and fired. The Old man shuddered with a look here and there as the sound of firearms came about, to the giggles of the teens. But the first shots didn't so much as stop the two people, which was odd. Donny survived quite a lot more shots back then but he was wearing a damn plate carrier. Ordinary people had no business walking on after eating so many bullets. He didn't really wince after they collapsed when taking a shot to the head, off the top of his head Don could only think of that girl in... Pakistan - if he remembered right - could survive something like that. Jesus.... Alright now scram, go, be the kids your parents want you to be or some shit." After the kids vacated the bench Don sat down on it for a moment, before sprawling across it comfortably. He put a hand under his shirt to feel the old bullet scars, muttering for a moment or two about what the world was coming to before drifting off to sleep.
Well, yes, but I sort of wanted elaboration of people just don't get this a zombie, stuff like that or if it was completely omitted from culture if that makes sense.
I have questions. First, do we assume that somewhat like in Walking Dead 'zombie' isn't really a big thing in culture? Second, do we just post our sample posts for now or do we make something similar to your jsut describing us going about Baltham, perhaps hearing the news and such
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