Recent Statuses

11 days ago
If your grave doesn't say "Rest in peace" on it you are automatically drafted into the skeleton wars
3 mos ago
Want to do DRUGS? How bout take a nice walk instead. That's all the drugs you'll ever need! gets u absolutely fucking zonked
5 mos ago
Born too late to throw Helen off the high walls of Troy, Born too early to enjoy fully automated luxury space communism. Why me


Hello I am Drag I am also proud owner of bench

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Voyt tossed down the briefcase in front of the old man and his small group of suit clad bodyguards. The Jackal winced as the case hit the sandy floor with a thud and looked up at Voyt with a frown.

“It’s padded” the gunslinger said with a shrug “Your little science project’ll be fine.”

“Be that as it may” The Jackal replied, making a genuine effort to keep up his facade of an affable businessman “There’s a good few vials missing inside this case.”

Voyt frowned slightly. “You oughta know by now that the arena’s lost. Few gang members targeted the tourney a while back and now the building itself is under attack from these machines, strange stuff.”

“Yes I’d heard that” The Jackal said with a slight nod “Regardless you are missing some of the targets I requested, but given that there’s about to be far too much media attention on Brazil than I’d like we have no choice but to wrap things up. The funds are being left where we agreed, with a penalty for not completing the contract fully.”

If Voyt was angered by this development he didn’t show it, continuing to stare at ‘The Jackal’ which was beginning to unnerve some of businessman's hired help, The Jackal himself seemed unfazed however.

“Now, Mr. Voyt if that’s our business concluded I must bid-”

“I don’t rightly get you old man.” The cowboy said suddenly, cutting the “old man” off. The Jackal seemed slightly taken aback by this before retorting with a hint of bemusement.

“Nor do I you Mr. Voyt.” He said with a condescending smirk “Are you a killer with a conscience or is that perhaps the persona you just strive to have? Maybe it’s just something to help you sleep at night? You are a mercenary my boy, a hired killer, if you believe that I am the morally bankrupt of the two of us, then what exactly does that say about those under my employ?”

“What are you planning to do with those vials of blood?” Voyt asked, ignoring The Jackal’s question.

The Jackal sighed in annoyance “For a reputable assassin who claims to ask no details you are surprisingly incapable of doing so. My contract followed your guidelines and your payment has been delivered.” The Jackal’s patience noticeably began to wane as he glared at Voyt “Our business is concluded.”

Voyt wordlessly put one hand on a revolver at his side, prompting The Jackal’s men to draw their weapons and train them on the gunslinger. The Jackal shook his head as he rested a hand on his forehead.

“This could have gone by so much quicker.” he muttered before looking up at Voyt with a frown “It’s for research purposes. I’ve been working with a few PMC’s and other aristocrats in England on developing ki artificially, through a serum or a pill, anything of that nature that keeps people coming back for more. The blood is to analyze talented ki users further, we couldn't exactly ask you to bring in a complete body, we’re trying to be discreet here as you can understand.”

Voyt paused, as if registering The Jackal’s words. “That’s insanity.” he finally said “I don’t know much about ki but I know it doesn’t work like that, you’re wasting your time.”

“Perhaps to someone without ambition, such as yourself, it may seem that way. But it’s a project with a very lucrative end goal. Progress may be slow but whether it is from your contributions or something else we will get there in the end, of that I am certain.” The Jackal said with a frown, dismissively tapping his cane against the ground.

“You’ve been given all that you requested and more. We are now through here. Good day to you Mr.-”

The Jackal’s words were interrupted as a bullet pierced itself into his stomach. The old man fell backwards and collided against the wall of the building behind him. Watching helplessly as the gunslinger, with the speed and aim of a demon, shot down each of his men, some before they even had a chance to place their fingers on the trigger. He looked up to see one of his men who’d been posted on the roof see this carnage and turn to run, the cowboy looked up and wordlessly fired his revolver at a weather vane on the far corner, the bullet ricocheted and disappeared further onto the roof before a cry of pain rung out, followed by silence and then a sudden and loud thud on the ground on the other side of the building, then nothing.

“Bloody, f-fucking mercenaries…” The Jackal managed to spit out, Voyt approaching him menacingly. Despite pressing one hand against his bloodied stomach, The Jackal mustered up enough strength to look up at his former employee.

“So… What was it then?” He asked, struggling with the words but managing to bring them out regardless “Change of h-heart? Those people you’ve k-k-killed. Died. For nothing! You haven’t accomplished anything here, all you’ve done is sign a death warrant for y-yourself, for what? Honor!?”

“You mistake my intentions old man” Voyt said, kneeling down to stare him in the eyes “I never was working for you, I was sent here by my employers to keep an eye on you and deal with you if and when it seemed you were going to be trouble down the line.” Voyt stood back up, un-holstering his gun.

“All I’m after is money.”

At this, The Jackal paused, letting it all seep in. Oddly, a small smile crept across his face, despite his condition he let out a small spiteful chuckle, coating his lips and chin in flecks of blood. He stared at Voyt with his unsettling grin.

“As was I lad.” he said “As was I.”

The two stayed still for a moment before the old man shut his eyes. Voyt lifted his revolver and fired into the old man’s head, the shot ringing out in the silence. Voyt began walking away, holstering his gun and pressing two of his fingers against his right ear.

“It’s done” he said to no one.

A reply came, sounding neither male nor female. Not quite mechanical either, Voyt could only describe it as ‘wrong’.

“Good.” It said “Did you find the target?”

“I did. Met up with him in town. Could’ve killed him then and there, but he got away.”

“Unfortunate, but he'll show himself again. He always does. If he knew anything, he'd leave Rio, after all...”

“If you say so.” Voyt said unenthusiastically.

“Your payment is where we agreed. Get back here ASAP for new orders.”

Then, with a sudden beep, the voice was gone.

Voyt placed a hand on the edge of his hat and lowered it over his eyes as he continued walking, kicking up dust as he went along. Brazil had dealt with enough chaos ever since this tournament had begun, Voyt was more or less pleased he was now going to stop adding to it. The cowboy strode towards the bright orange sun as he slowly disappeared over the horizon.
@Drag 1. I've not posted a character. 2. I don't think I've ever played with you in my life.

1. You asked to include 40K and given your past character history I kinda put two and two together
2. I am really grateful for that
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<Snipped quote by Crosswire>

Dude your character doesn't follow the rules lmao. There's a difference between being flexible and just taking it up the ass.

And seeing your earlier characters I know you wanna play a Space Marine because they are genetically engineered badass dudes within 40K's canon and other characters I've seen you make have been ridiculously op

James hated cabs.

They were convenient sure but New York cabbies were generally mistrusting and rude,James couldn't smoke in one and typically by the time he got back into Taletown everyone heard the "big news". Tales, by their nature, are a curious and often superstitious lot, most of them like to keep an ear to the ground to find out what's happening in the city. Ironically these days it seemed when the Crier was quiet and didn't ring any bells then he had everybody's attention. Even still, that wasn't the real reason James hated cabs.

He just didn't like seeing the city pass by.

The tall gray buildings and out of place colourful storefronts mixed with poverty stricken neighborhoods and shady characters really drove home the fact that James was one man and couldn't seem to make any difference. He'd been dealing with Gingie and his gang for almost a year now, they were doing illegal acts as is but humans among their ranks was almost akin to terrorism to hear the council tell it, yet they seemed quite content to look down from The Homelands and let it fester. So many people in Taletown wanted power, but none of them seemed to realize that when the inevitable spark came to light the fuse, everyone burns, the only person left gets to rule over a pile of ashes.

James began focusing on the store names as the car drew closer to Red's. He knew she hadn't done it, Red was smart but she narcissistic, she loved playing mind games. She'd leave something there to jab her thumb (metaphorically though she'd probably love to do it literally) into the eye of The Crier, she was well regarded and well respected in the community "What're you gonna do about it?" he could hear her saying.

But the victim was beyond recognition, at least to someone not attuned to looking at the finer details. The victim carried damage that fit the M.O's of several Tales at once, share the glory? That wasn't in Red's playbook. But Red, like everyone else, kept her ear to the ground. All Crier needed was to put her head clean through it until she gave him a lead to go off of. The killer was undoubtedly insane but they knew what they were doing.

'Someone knows..." James thought to himself as he continued mentally reading the store names.

'Hardware Town, Cavanaugh's Bar, Boogie-.." James frowned.

"you mind stopping here pal?" He asked, to which the driver wordlessly pulled over and held out his hand for payment. James flung a twenty onto his palm and left, walking directly across the road to the coffee shop.

Terror. She was as bad as Red, save for the fact that Terror had major delusions of grandeur as opposed to Red who just committed evil acts for the sake of it. James was pragmatic though, occasionally he'd pay for information from the condescending blonde but he suspected she figured she had more of a hold over him than she actually did. They weren't friends and Crier was a little bit more suspicious of her involvement of this, he wasn't looking to prosecute yet, especially not this early. But if Red kept her ear to the ground, Terror practically was the ground.

The Crier pulled out a cigarette from the pack in his coat pocket and lit one up as he entered, ignoring the "No Smoking" sign placed on the front window.

"Miss Sinclair." James said with the same enthusiasm he usually reserves for car crashes.

"I'd like for you and I to have a little talk."
Bleh, Carny life is killing me slowly. The froyo trailer smells like strawberry and maple flavouring still even after I spent half a day cleaning up the mess that happened.

How's everyone else doing?

I thought I was gettin gud at Tekken 7 with Hwoarang and some dude playing Akuma comes in and wrecked my shit. Life comes at you fast man
Why must I be hurt in this way
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I hate to bitch after you were a real trooper and wrote up a post after we were chatting about action games all night but there's an error or two lol.

also @Rivaan, it's your turn to post.

Bleergh my bad, I'll try change it now but I'm on my phone so it may not let me save changes (it's odd with what it can handle) if that's the case I'll edit when I get back to the homestead

Cain wasn't much for religion, actually he wasn't really much for anything, but even he spared a glance over at the golden warrior... Calieo. Cain couldn't exactly give a disbelieving look, or even really raise an eyebrow all that much but internally his curiosity, and suspicion of the arrogant woman grew even more. The hooded lady, now identified as "Rebecca" turned to shoot the rest of the group a disbelieving look of her own, Cain quickly looked back ahead, he doubted she would care but he'd rather maintain ignorance and gather some deal of information his new "partners" before throwing any of his thoughts into the open.

Eventually the group had reached a small farming village, Cain had been here a few times, given its fairly close proximity to Falke it was a good... Meeting spot for any clients Cain went to deal with. That said he hadn't been back for a little while, the last time he "ate" here was when he'd stolen stale bread from the inn and ate atop the church bell tower.

"Explanatory. This is Smaragd Valley, been here a few times. Simple folk typically, should not be an issue if not much attention is drawn to our group..."

Cain paused and looked everyone over for a moment.

"Sarcastic. Which should not be an issue, I am sure."

He looked over at Rebecca "Unsure. There is an Inn.... The Flowing Flagon if memory is correct. Unsure on taste but would not recommend, Inn food terribly easy to poison. Query, perhaps some stalls may yet be open?" The masked man knew these lands fairly well, whilst none of them trusted him to begin with he was quite sure by now they'd clued in to the fact that he was not exactly your average sellsword, that said he maintained to himself that he would only divulge potentially helpful details of the land and from his experience, but never about himself or his work. Even then Cain was not subtle, in speech anyway, better to give them some kind of impression to sate potential curiosity.
"whenever Drag is not on screen, all the other characters have to ask "Where's Drag?"

I'll get something up today, encountered a problem with my ps4 controller which has it work on the ps menu but not on games which is lovely so I'm juggling this and that rn
You know for sure I'm with you my guy
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