Recent Statuses

6 mos ago
Current [at my second rodeo] This ain't my first rodeo.
10 mos ago
once you learn you can call your dad by his first name he loses all power and you can freely kill him
1 yr ago
they should change the name of the 'most recent visitors' thing on ur profile to 'perverts'
1 yr ago
My cousin used to lock me in the basement and would then sample my cries for help into nightcore tracks
4 yrs ago
If your grave doesn't say "Rest in peace" on it you are automatically drafted into the skeleton wars


Drag Has Been Hit By More Cars Than Anybody

Most Recent Posts

A frown stretched across Charon's features as he locked eyes with the physically fit yet no less scraggly looking blonde man.

Time seemed to stand still for Charon as he watched the man sit at the same table he'd been assigned to. He knew this one. Körbl. One of the ones his implant had been tested on without success. Also one of the inmates he had been kept from interacting with the most. Likely due to the fact that were the two to engage the results may well be catastrophic for the Asylum. Now that the implant had been successfully applied however, perhaps the staff wanted to test how much they could trust it to reign Charon in.

'Awful lot of faith.' Charon mused to himself. His thoughts of tactics and violence and how to debilitate everyone in his immediate vicinity were interrupted. A cheerful, somewhat annoying voice rang out amongst the conversations happening around the table. Aimed directly at him.

“Not hungry? Do you mind if I…?”

He shifted his gaze towards the young looking muzzled girl. Hands outstretched in a begging posture while she eyed the plate of slop in front of Charon. Although his stone face didn't show it, he was momentarily taken aback by this. Most of the inmates, for good reason, gave him a wide berth or tried to intimidate him to fuel their own ego.

Charon's first initial thought was to dump the contents of the plate on the floor while maintaining eye contact.

After a second of deliberation he felt that too petty, even for him. Particularly with the fact that the woman was already collared and muzzled. Like a dog.

"No. I don't." Charon answered, voice deep and coarse like sandpaper.

He slowly slid the plate towards the woman. He made sure to continue his unblinking stare of cold disdain in order to ensure she did not take it as any gesture of compassion or comradery. Were the situation to change here, he would put her down without any remorse.

He looked back over towards Körbl. For such an off-putting person his question of the table's strength seemed to inspire a lot of discussion. The type of which Charon had no interest in entertaining.

Instead he looked past Körbl. Past the strange ice manipulating man, the punk looking woman, the insecure man vying for attention, the dull looking woman who had just sat down. Actually that did almost catch Charon's attention considering she'd strong armed a metallic looking man who was several times her size. But instead Charon focused on Ameliya. Having just been shocked by one of the guards for insubordination. While she, and the punk looking woman who'd attempted to stick up for her and was similarly reprimanded, seemed to move on from the incident. Charon kept his gaze focused and his hands tensed.

He wasn't ever given much warning when the guards would use him to take down another inmate. Better to be ready, just in case.

"None of you seem to understand. I'm not locked in here with you."
"You're locked in here with me."

The man in the lab coat pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a quick sigh of annoyance.

"That was everything?" Professor Connors asked, handing the Guard back the incident report.

"Yes." The Guard responded curtly. "He said to any inmates still in the area while we were dragging him off. Wasn't yellin' it or anythin' but..."

It was a very clear threat.

The incident in question had happened in the early afternoon. John Doe, AKA "Charon", had attacked and killed another inmate. A man with superhuman reflexes known as "Ronin". It was a... Controversial incident, to say the least. To the other staff at Thornwood it was quite cut and dry and something clearly needed to be done to pacify John Doe, but to the guards it was a different matter. Ronin, though more used to a sword, had managed to carve a shiv unseen by cameras out of the end of his toothbrush. During his recess period, Ronin had taken Guard Adams hostage, threatening to cut his throat out if he was not given release. The chaos of all this had caused Charon's own guard at the time to take his eye off him for one mere second. Then, all of a sudden, the man with superhuman reflexes had a scythe made of Charon's right arm, disembowel him.

It was, directly anyway, the only time the staff at Thornwood had known of an inmate helping staff in such a manner. Of course, everyone else in the Asylum was trying to keep their inmates alive for a very specific purpose, so the incident was quite a serious matter. The guards however, some more than others, were much more sympathetic. A few had even stated to Connors that the incident not be filed down as cause for discipline since Adams would undoubtedly be dead rather than just on leave. Needless to say, Research staff weren't exactly happy at the situation. It had led to some, trying, attempts.

"Sir, why don't we try the implant?" A younger researcher walked up to Connors as the guard left his sight.

"We'd tried that several times." Connors stated through gritted teeth. They really were scraping the bottom of the barrel. "Meier, Brennan, half the population in here... It never took. Useless."

Connors was about to brush past him but the researcher stood his ground, on his pad he flipped to some images constructed of Charon's physiology. The, almost parasitic, substance that dwelled on him, granting him his immortality and abilities.

"The implant may not function on the human body itself as a host. But we ran some tests. It may just interface with the, uhm... "Gunk" on our subject." The research team had long since stopped trying to come up with a scientific name for what the hell was actually wrong with Charon.

Connors narrowed his eyes and read the test reports. With a grunt he peered over at his assistant.

"Can't hurt." He muttered.

Charon stood stone faced in his cell. Two large cement like blocks over his hands and up to his arms. Speakers surrounding the top corners of his abode, ready to blast in high ultrasonic sound if he ever turned violent. Similar high tech looking cuffs, placed around his ankles and keeping them close together at all times. All of it like window dressing.

The real precaution was the implant. Everyone knew it.

When it had first been planted, weeks and weeks of tests were conducted to make sure the damn thing actually took. Aside from a couple of points where Charon stubbornly resisted the needle like insertion into his brain from the implant. Almost straggling some of the inmates used in the testing. Other than that, it was considered a success. It was even announced through the facility's P.A. Presumably a sort of "The immortal ink man will no longer try to kill you on sight. Please return to your daily lives." That wasn't entirely accurate however. The implant could be turned off and everyone knew it. That was the real reason he was let out into the general population.

Not for socialization. Not for rehabilitation. But as a reminder. That, at any moment and without warning, staff could let him off the leash. Then the guards would be the least of the inmates problems.

Charon stood against the wall as the guards began to search him for any concealed weaponry. Like he needed it. Satisfied, they turned him around and begun leading him out towards the cafeteria. He didn't really need to eat as they'd discovered during testing. But, again, a valuable deterrent to stick out there during the most crowded time of the day.

Due to his restraints, Charon couldn't actually carry a tray. So, somewhat embarrassingly, one of the guards had to do so for him.

They placed him down at the end of one of the lunch tables and laid his feast of grey formless slop in front of him. He didn't pay his meal much mind as he scanned the rest of the table. A punkish woman, an icy gentleman, a little girl. He didn't even bother to hide his obvious sizing up of them.

Slowly, mechanically, he then turned his face back ahead. Staring off into some far away world only he inhabits as his spoon picked and moved around fruitlessly in the gruel.

'I'm not locked in here with you...'

Gold City Financial District - Park Row

It could almost be described as pretty. Were it not for Voyt knowing exactly what went on in this part of town. The whistling birds and fluttering insects against fresh cut green grass was nothing more than an illusion. A cultured façade to distract from the kilometre long towers of the Financial District, where companies decided their own rules and regulations. Never were they pleasant.

For Voyt, he'd never actually been in the Financial District much. Though he certainly had clients there. Most were the spineless sort who liked to hide behind a middleman or a dead drop. Perhaps feeling that they could keep their hands clean if they did not interact with the mercenary directly. So long as they paid, that was irrelevant to Voyt. Though, it irritated him now as he'd had to plan out his route for his target by himself. The Riders didn't have much of a presence in the District, not that they should considering it was one of the few parts of Gold City that had regular policing and fast response times. So, as long as the gunslinger kept his head down, there should be no issues.

Not that he had the same amount of faith in Violet and the rest of MIRAGE...


Voyt looked up at the building before him. Rather unimpressive, comparatively speaking. It was still more expensive than an average building anywhere else several times over.


A private transportation firm that had handled the Power Stone as it was taken from Antarctica back to the States. It had caused unrest with the group that destroyed Oh-One at the time but the deal had only been that the company would deal with the stone's transportation and ascertain that it, in and of itself, posed no more threat to the population. Of course, the majority of the group still did not trust the arrangement, but if they wanted to play ball with the government and have any hope at having certain 'past offenses' overlooked. That was one of the conditions. They got it back regardless, assuaging fears somewhat.

But Voyt knew that greed ran deep in Gold City. If the company hadn't themselves placed some form of tracking or paper trail on the stone, they almost certainly did it for the highest bidder. Unfortunately for them, Voyt was not planning to negotiate.

He pulled the cigarette from out of his mouth and flicked it onto the pavement before stubbing it out with his boot.

It was time to start hunting.

Gold City - Breicen Apartment

”I guess if I had to explain it, it feels like the world’s been spinning without me for ages now. Only feels natural to catch up as fast as I can.”

Lucas rubbed the back of his neck and looked away for a moment. Regretting even bringing it up. He, perhaps more than anyone, knew exactly what she meant. Having watched his friends get their collective asses handed to them in Brazil, while all Lucas could do was stutter and cower. By the time he'd started to hone his ki, his potential and his 'heritage', Oh-One had been long beaten. Maybe if he'd been there things would've been different.

He wanted to empathize with her, to reinforce her feelings. Provide support the way he used to be able to do, better than anyone else.

"Yeah." He said quietly.

There was a silence that hung in the air. Not long enough to be awkward but enough for it to be noticed. Reverting back to laissez faire attitude as though nothing happened, Lucas opted to fill it.

"So!" He said, stretching and cracking his back into place. "Did you guys grab breakfast yet? Cause the other weekend I found a great pancake place tha-"

As Lucas took a step forward to, essentially strongarm the Breicens into taking him to a pancake diner he'd seen but couldn't afford, a critical error was made. Without his weight to hold it in place, the closet door swung open. Revealing the ill gotten gains of Miller and Breicen with empty pizza boxes, training weights, comic books, Beelz's casaba melon. On it on it seemed to go as it all spilled out in the floor. Lucas' eye twitched as he stared down at his hard work with a broken smile.

"It's on fifth and Adams..." He muttered through gritted teeth.

Somewhere Else...

The dreams came first.

Strange dreams. Twisted and bleak. Half remembered scenes of sorrow and regret best left forgotten. Somewhere, there is the sound of liquid running gently through a pipe and cars gliding across the asphalt.

From underneath there are the sounds of someone else. A man and a woman. But, how can the void have a voice?

Their words are unclear, like the mumbled sounds of someone submerged in water. Their voices fade as flickers of memories will their way in and out of existence. Or perhaps they are nightmares. The shadow of a hulking man in armour, a lone soldier surrounded by comrades dressed like and as emotionless as he, the mourning love of a family gone forever. This is not real.

This is not real.

Hundreds upon hundreds of shadowy figures pointing a single finger directly at the accused. There is so much blood unspoken. Rivers of it. Enough to wash the oceans crimson.

Adam Vrbata looks at himself in a mirror. Sees the skin crack and fall off his face, the side of his mouth contort into a hideous grimace, the whites of his eyes turn black and gray. And he screams in despair.

'I am Cain.'

Gold City - Alleyway

Cain's eyes snap open as his hands reach up to his neck, wrapping around the handle of the blade jammed in the centre of his throat and slowly pulling the steel from out of his body.

"Jesus christ!" The man exclaimed as he stumbled backwards. His partner, a woman dressed in the same ripped and strewn together clothing as he, merely stood with her mouth agape as the man who they had stabbed rose back up to his feet in under a minute.

"I thought he wasn't a Nomad!?" The woman spat out, her fear giving way to anger. Things were going well until the Raggedy Man appeared. Her friends lay dead and thrown around the alleyway, their mark had long since fled their clutches. They had been surprised when they managed to get close enough to impale him through the neck. Initially they believed him to be a Nomad, but Gold City's boogeyman went down like an average human. At least momentarily.

"To hell with this!" The man yelled as he sprinted away. His only weapon had just been pulled out by The Raggedy Man, he was in no position to try his luck again.

For her part, the woman merely snarled. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a rusty looking switchblade. The Raggedy Man was approaching with a calm walk, she met him with a charge.

The man heard the scream of his partner as he reached the door to the building at the end of the alley. He collided into it with his shoulder, thanking whatever powers were watching him that it opened in a cloud of dust. He stumbled into the building and pushed the door shut once again with all his might. There would be no time to catch his breath as he began ascending the stairs, his eyes planted on the ground to keep his footing in the darkness of the apartment complex.

As he ascended the upper lengths he heard the sound of glass shattering beneath him and let out a yelp. Quickening his pace only to trip on the edge of the flight of stairs and plunge himself into the darkness of the hall. He coughed as the dust flew up around him and sunk itself into his skin and clothing. He found himself temporarily dazed before coming to his senses and trying to force himself back to his feet only for another crash to send him off course and stumbling back on to the floor.

"P-please..." He stammered out to the figure in the darkness, holding up one hand defensively as he crawled back deeper into the hallway. "W-we just wanted the money! Didn't... Didn't want to hurt anybody. I-I-I-..."

Fear had overtaken him as he continued trying to bargain fruitlessly with the figure in the shadows. His body met the wall and with nowhere to move he merely lay, shaking with his hand still held against the figure. A hand reached out and covered his mouth, suppressing the man's yell.

"Tell everyone what happened to your friends." Cain spoke, leaning forward and revealing his scarred face to the terrified thug. "How they were ripped apart. How they bled. Then leave this city."

The man whimpered as Cain held up his free hand, slowly shifting it from a regular appendage into a curved blade.

"Can't let you go unscathed. No one will believe you otherwise."

The man's screams echoed throughout the building as Cain drew his blade closer to his face.

Gold City - Breicen Apartment

”And, uhhh, she let me drive again.” Jasmine said sheepishly.

”Yeah, kid, I think he heard! Didn’t ya, bud?” Beelzebub gave another cackle before he gave Lucas an expectant glance.

"The Tokyo drift outside?" His concern about the closet's contents melted as he gave Beelzebub a slight smile. "Nah, must've missed it."

He folded his arms and continued to lean "casually" against the closet while his attention shifted to Jasmine.

"Why're you learnin' to drive anyway?" He asked, cocking his head to the side quizzically. "Can't you, like, fly around on a broom? Or skateboard?... Or walk?"

Normally Lucas was pretty devil may care about most things, especially since part of his training regime was to sprint to most places. But the last time he'd been in a car with Jasmine she'd nearly parked them up a tree. He loved a good challenge but Jas' driving skills was one he wasn't wholly confident he could beat.

"Uhh, glad the PT went well though." He added quickly, trying to spare his friend's feelings on her lack of vehicular ability.

"Y'sure you're all good to use the gadgets and doodads again?" He asked, a slight tinge of concern on his voice that was these days only really reserved for the Breicens and occasionally his father. Jill was stubborn and had insisted on the odd sparring session while she was recovering, the first few... Weren't pretty. But slowly but surely she got her mojo back, he still couldn't say if that meant she should be jumping off roofs on her bike shouting "Henshin!" anytime soon.

"Like they got a buncha those Justice dumba- guys. Right? Shit, if I was gettin' paid time off I'd take all I could get." The issue had shifted slightly as Lucas began daydreaming in his head about being able to get paid not to work at the fucking convenience store, instead being able to get caught up on all the pro wrestling he'd recorded on the TiVO.

Pit Stop floated towards Lucas and hovered slightly. It took a moment to realise he was not looking at Lucas, but rather past him at the closet. A look of worry flashed over Lucas as he looked at the floating potential tattletail.

"Stop, man." he hissed.
i gotta get a fuckin hobby or somethin man. interested


"Alright, alright, Junior. You must be confused, let King Shit bring ya up to speed."

The door dramatically flies off its hinges from a kick, courtesy of Lucas Miller as he begins laying waste to droves of MIRAGE troopers. Sending one flying with a back-fist before grabbing him by the legs and spinning him around to take out everyone in the room. As though appearing in some kind of ad campaign, we slow and zoom in on Lucas' face, where he turns directly to the camera and winks.

"I used to be a real loser."

Lucas, much younger and skinnier, is crawling through some sort of pipeline frantically with the World Martial Arts Tournament logo displayed on the lower left corner. The sharpened end of SYM-04's tail bursts through the pipe and barely misses Lucas' face causing him to yelp, he shifts his body back and forth at lightning speed to dodge the following strike attempts from SYM-04's tail.

"But I got... Kind of a wake up call."

Lucas, watching forlornly at the TV screen displaying Oh-One attacking the Nomads in Brazil.

"Ya can't let yourself sit on the sidelines forever, man. I saw my friends get their asses kicked, found out my dad wasn't my real dad, learned I got a real freaky bloodline.... All of it got a little too much."

Lucas, awkwardly standing in front of his father who, after hesitating, gives his son a hug and waves him off as Lucas gets into a taxi.

"I went all the way to Japan."

Lucas, bowing to Hatanaka Yoko at the Yoko dojo. The scene illuminated by the setting sun cloaking both figures in shadow.

"Kicked some ass."

Lucas, having his stance form corrected by Yoko letting out an annoyed "oy!" as she strikes the top of his head with her stick.

"Kicked. Some. Ass!"

Lucas, spitting out a mouthful of blood and charging forward like a crazed animal toward his monk opponent, gracefully sliding under his kick attempt before shooting upwards while grabbing the monk around the waist. Bringing him back down by slamming him hard onto the floor. He looks upwards with his eyes glazed over and his chest rising and falling, Yoko gives him a small nod.

"Came back home..."

Lucas, suplexing another Nomad repeatedly around the arena.

"...Refined my style..."

Lucas, throwing a devastating roundhouse kick at another opponent sending him spinning into the air.

"...Kicked some more ass..."

Lucas, letting out a primal yell as he grabs an opponent several times larger than him around the neck and lifts him up to deliver a powerbomb, creating a shockwave on the ground when he lands.

"...Kicked... A lot of ass, actually."

Lucas, flash cutting to him delivering a devastating strike on just about every major villain known to the world all while mugging for the camera.

"Cuz when it's all said 'n done. No matter what life throws at me, no matter how many times I get hit..."

Lucas, being blasted by OH-One's laser, held up by his throat by SYM-04, slammed to the floor by Yoko and knocked to the ground by nearly all his friends and enemies.

"...I always get back up."

Lucas, getting back to his knees and wiping away the blood from his mouth with a smirk.

"I'm one in a million, baby."

Lucas, being held up on the shoulders of just about everyone in the cast, all chanting his name and cheering. Jasmine Breicen reaches up from the crowd to pull Lucas into a hug, he stays facing the perceived camera with the same shit eating grin.

"The Tiger of Gold City."

Lucas winks.

Gold City - Breicen Penthouse Apartment


Lucas awakened from his slumber to the sound of a car screeching violently across the asphalt outside. This would not normally be something to rouse him up where it not for the fact he was at the top of a modestly sized apartment complex so a sound of that magnitude logically shouldn't reach him. He grumbled slightly as he felt the drool from the side of his mouth drop onto the top of his shirt, he wiped it off before rubbing his eyes and seating himself upright on the Breicen couch. Not bad by couch standards but still sleeping on a couch. He shambled over towards the window to investigate which idiot totalled their car so much he heard it all the way up here, only for his eyes to snap open in alert.

Jill and Jasmine sat in the vehicle outside, he couldn't make out their expressions from here but if you saw them once it really wasn't hard to pick either of them out in a crowd. He turned back to face the apartment and was greeted with the mess he'd made during his tenure "house sitting" while Jill was undergoing physical therapy. Dirty clothes strewn in the most random of places, leaning tower of pizza boxes, magazines, broken boards from that short time Lucas was really into breaking wood with karate chops, weights, general shit the recently awakened Lucas couldn't even categorise.


Now fully awake and with the window open, he could hear the car doors open and slam shut outside as he rushed forwards and began frantically picking up anything that did not match the tasteful decor of the Breicen accommodations. He began stacking clothes in his arms like some deranged fabric based form of Tetris. Charging forward to the kitchen where the wash basket lay in wait only to trip on an unfortunately laid skateboard and toss all of the clothes up in the air where they floated mockingly back down to their original positions on the floor.

"I hate my life!" Lucas yelled indignantly from the ground. He lay there in frustration for a few seconds before the ding of an elevator snapped him back into his senses. He darted around in panic, sweat forming on his brow as his breath hastened, looking back and forth in terror as the footsteps to the door grew closer.

And closer.

And closer...

The door knob turned as Jill and Jasmine entered their apartment, greeted with the sight of the living room in spotless condition. Albeit, some of the pillows out of place and some magazines strewn on the coffee table, but otherwise it looked like something out of a home catalogue. Lucas greeted them, leaning against the doors of the closet with a sheepish grin on his face.

"Hey-o." He said casually. "What've you two been up to?"

Gold City - Rooftops

He dropped down with the grace and poise you wouldn't expect of someone not using the same tech as the rest of MIRAGE's faceless goons. He stood out, even among his "compatriots". Preferring to let his own gear work for him as opposed to anything MIRAGE could offer, no matter how high tech.

On one hand large jobs like this irritated Voyt. Best to just let him loose, get the required information and package and get out rather than sending in several goons all with the same objective. Much higher chance of someone screwing up and compromising everyone else. But, on the other hand, Voyt was getting sick of watching Abel stand wordlessly in front of the window overlooking the city. He had many employers who liked giving longwinded speeches about their goals and ambitions, but Abel was somehow more annoying as he preferred to stoically and vaguely overlook each part of his operation. As though a part in a giant jigsaw puzzle only he had the capacity to understand. Leaving that ship at all certainly beat spending any more time with him and Violet.

Voyt removed his helmet and mask, placing it in a standard duffel bag which he dropped to the ground. He then removed his ballistic vest, poncho etc. to reveal the plain civilian garb underneath. He still looked somewhat shady and god help he run into any kind of Justice Rider and other such do-gooder who meticulously remembered every criminal's detail, but the average citizen would only know him by the mask and the western get-up. To them, he was just an angry looking out of towner.

He placed a cigarette in his mouth and walked towards the corner of the building's roof, dropping his bag to the ground with a thud. Placing a boot on the building's edge, Voyt looked out into the city with his eyes squinted. By his assessment most of the MIRAGE group, probably including Violet, would be taking either the tactless approach of shaking down anyone for information or outright asking everyone where the power stone was. Voyt knew that the group who took down Oh-One were tight knit. Not one of 'em was going to roll on where the stone was kept no matter what he did to them. But... There was always an arm to wrench, always someone whose lips were a little bit looser than others, who might have less to gain and less reason to stick their neck out for everyone else. It was time to find and pay them a little visit.

Voyt took a step back and ran forward, jumping across to the other rooftop. Towards his next target.

Hope Passage

Croix watched as the previously dignified and haughty Tisa Irune, was ran through the stomach with a spear and killed almost immediately. She'd taken one with her prior at least, though Croix imagined she did not take much comfort in that, or wouldn't have anyway. The bone clan yelled and hollered like beasts along with the frantic yells from the guardsmen and Croix's fellow travellers, all set alongside the ever familiar sounds of metal clashing against metal and flesh being torn. Croix chuckled to himself as Artur yelled commands that sounded as hollow humming to the Missionary.

Clutching his axe in both hands and gripping it tight enough to turn his knuckles white, Croix began to walk out of the tent to join the fray. He noticed some of the other travellers from the tent firing out towards the Clansmen. The elf and the wiry girl. His pace quickened as the heat of the desert bathed his skin and boiled his blood, he could make out the Golem decimating the Clansmen, as well as the red haired woman quarrelling with an opponent who dwarfed her in size. Indeed, his companions would not be routed so easily, the thought made his smile turn into a manic grin as the carnage surrounded him brightened and intensified to his senses.

Like a man possessed, Croix strode over to the Clansmen surrounding Artur, while their ranks had been broken from the arrow and crossbow fires and Artur seemed to be in slightly less immediate danger (Or no more than the rest of the group) Croix charged in as though the warrior was on the brink of death. With his massive frame and yells of ecstatic maniacal glee, Croix all but crashed into the warriors, dividing their ranks further as his blood lust confused and disoriented their ranks while his frame kicked up dust and sand.

Croix felt the arrows of the elf whizz past him as he engaged one of the Clan members, though their ferocity made them feared opponents in spite of the crudeness of their tactics and equipment, the one in front of Croix was clearly unprepared for his savagery. Wielding a cobbled together looking spear, the Bone Clan Warrior thrust forward, intending to stick the sharpened end between Croix's ribs. His intended target would not be met however as instead of strafing out of the way, Croix merely used his free hand to grab the side of the spear and pull it off to the side, taking the man off balance before removing him from his feet entirely with a kick to his heel causing him to fall on his back.

"DON-" The Clan Warrior was barely able to get out before the end of Croix's axe crashed violently onto his skull, splitting the man's head in half with a sickening crunch as the steel slammed clean through bone and flesh.

"Bloody Bone Clan all over the shop!" Croix yelled with obvious elation in his voice to no one in particular. Another warrior broke from the pack, much larger in size and prepared to square off with the Missionary.

"Give them no quarter! Rend their flesh to shreds" He roared as he charged the man, surprising him with a sudden display of strength as he pushed them both back with the handle of his axe. The action was no doubt difficult to see among the ensuing chaos, but the sound of blood splattering, flesh tearing and uproarious gravelly laughter was unmistakable.
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