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- Old Guild Username: HaloAssault
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PLEASE NOTICE ME HANK-SENPAI
Most Recent Posts
Taking someone down to Chinatown is an old saying I think, though it's been in a lot of films. I've done a quick Google search and most people seem to know it from Meet the Parents, but there are examples of the saying from before then, most notably in Cab Galloway's "Minnie the Moocher", of "hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee hi, ho-dee ho-dee ho-dee ho" fame!
Catharyn said
It was in the village my mum and dad live in now; they have one every two years and it's a massive event. I know everyone there so it was fantastic. Rides, shops and all kind of festivities in the sun, then one massive disco all night. These villagers know how to have a party, even if they save up energy for two years each time. I did a kegstand for christ sake, and i promised myself and i'd only stay for half an hour.Nice post too, isn't that a reference to Little Fockers?
A kegstand at a village fair disco? Holy shit, sign me up to live there. My old village was boring as shit compared to that >_>. And hehe, you know it's a good night when you lose track of time and stay too long - time flies when you're having fun, as they say.
If it is, it was a subconscious one - what bit's a reference?
Grifflekins <3 always so creative. Do me.
Cpt Toellner said
Perhaps you should send a solitary person to kill us all then?Worked in the past for you.
inb4rilla
I know Dervs is now away, but for those who have RP'd with him before - do you think he'd be okay with the submission of multiple character sheets, even if you're only intending to play one of them, the point being that he can select between those you submit for which one he'd like you to play (assuming you're accepted)? I may well change my mind before the 28th but I have two/three different characters ideas and I'm equally willing to play any of them, so could I just put a CS together for each and submit them all for consideration?
Catharyn said
Great! I've been super busy at work, but i went to the most amazing fair last night! Oh the music! Every single song was my jam so rest assured i wasn't out of the dance area til like 3am.
Awh, sounds amazing! I'm jealous, I love dancing (even though I am so effing terrible at it!) So was the fair celebrating anything or..? I had a bit of a quiet weekend in London with my dad. Luckily the spare time has given me an opportunity to catch up on RPs, and I've just posted! Hopefully we can get the pace up again soon.
Hey Templar. :)
He flashed a grin at the woman. Flippancy in the middle of a firefight?
"If my ass looks fat enough to fit a cruiser in my pocket, I've clearly not lost as much weight as my girlfriend assures me." It was a weak attempt at humour, but with adrenaline seemingly thumping through his very marrow and the not-so-slight distraction of crossfire from a group of insurgents now taking cover behind the very same vehicle that had previously sheltered him, he wasn't going to be at the top of his game. He released a few shots from his Maglev: two men were taken to the Underworld by Hades' Furies; one more dropped with a shattered collarbone and gaping shoulder; the rest scurried for cover. Amis had seen the incredible precision of his fellow BESC agent, and couldn't compare, but he wasn't a half-bad shot himself. He realised that she was sincerely unimpressed with the response to her request for help, and his lips pressed together in a hard line. He consciously suppressed his instinct to make light. She probably wouldn't listen to a damn word he said if she didn't respect him as a fighter; it was a militaristic thinking style, one he still had trouble adapting to, but it was a common trend in most BESC officers.
A lull came in their side of the fight, the mech keeping most combatants pinned down with its seemingly inexhaustible supply of weaponry and ammunition.
"Joking aside, the plan has gone to shit." It was only as he said the words that the full gravity of the situation struck him. Fuck. Shitting fuck. "I saw our evac almost go down after colliding with a fleeing civilian ship. Me and you are a secondary priority; we were escorting GravStabs to-" He broke off and flinched as the rebels opposite him grew braver, stepping over their dead comrades to fire at them, his helmet scratched by chips of metal and concrete flying from the bullets' impact. He once again unleashed a volley of fire, pushing them back; blood flew and screams echoed, rising even above the repetitious banging of the mech's fire. They were being surrounded. "Ah, fuck explaining! In short, I'm in the same boat as you now. The Project is coming down. We need to either get away from that mech or take it down to Chinatown hard and fast, and then get out of this section of the building."
He flickered a glance at the mech, noting the smoke creeping from its armour and using its distraction to analyse it for weak points in the design. He only had a moment for a brief appraisal, but he had to admire the toughness and finesse of its architecture. It'd be tough to crack - but what better challenge is there than that?
He smiled grimly at the woman beside him, sensing that she, like he, enjoyed a good fight. "I reckon we can take that thing, though."
"If my ass looks fat enough to fit a cruiser in my pocket, I've clearly not lost as much weight as my girlfriend assures me." It was a weak attempt at humour, but with adrenaline seemingly thumping through his very marrow and the not-so-slight distraction of crossfire from a group of insurgents now taking cover behind the very same vehicle that had previously sheltered him, he wasn't going to be at the top of his game. He released a few shots from his Maglev: two men were taken to the Underworld by Hades' Furies; one more dropped with a shattered collarbone and gaping shoulder; the rest scurried for cover. Amis had seen the incredible precision of his fellow BESC agent, and couldn't compare, but he wasn't a half-bad shot himself. He realised that she was sincerely unimpressed with the response to her request for help, and his lips pressed together in a hard line. He consciously suppressed his instinct to make light. She probably wouldn't listen to a damn word he said if she didn't respect him as a fighter; it was a militaristic thinking style, one he still had trouble adapting to, but it was a common trend in most BESC officers.
A lull came in their side of the fight, the mech keeping most combatants pinned down with its seemingly inexhaustible supply of weaponry and ammunition.
"Joking aside, the plan has gone to shit." It was only as he said the words that the full gravity of the situation struck him. Fuck. Shitting fuck. "I saw our evac almost go down after colliding with a fleeing civilian ship. Me and you are a secondary priority; we were escorting GravStabs to-" He broke off and flinched as the rebels opposite him grew braver, stepping over their dead comrades to fire at them, his helmet scratched by chips of metal and concrete flying from the bullets' impact. He once again unleashed a volley of fire, pushing them back; blood flew and screams echoed, rising even above the repetitious banging of the mech's fire. They were being surrounded. "Ah, fuck explaining! In short, I'm in the same boat as you now. The Project is coming down. We need to either get away from that mech or take it down to Chinatown hard and fast, and then get out of this section of the building."
He flickered a glance at the mech, noting the smoke creeping from its armour and using its distraction to analyse it for weak points in the design. He only had a moment for a brief appraisal, but he had to admire the toughness and finesse of its architecture. It'd be tough to crack - but what better challenge is there than that?
He smiled grimly at the woman beside him, sensing that she, like he, enjoyed a good fight. "I reckon we can take that thing, though."
I finally get to know which side I'm on, yay. And it appears I'm actually competent, which is a bonus. Looking forward to the battle!
Aaaannnddd posted! Hehe, roleplaying Amis is fun. He's such an impulsive, emotionally mixed up lad.
EDIT: I promise Amis will have less angsty internal exposition every post later on; I'm just getting to grips with the character and such at the moment. :)
EDIT: I promise Amis will have less angsty internal exposition every post later on; I'm just getting to grips with the character and such at the moment. :)
And so, a deity died. A false deity, one undeserving of the indirect worship afforded to them by the world, but a deity nonetheless - the sentient being who had born the weight of the world on their shoulders, an object of holy fear for almost all those Amis had ever met. He had been felled by a bullet, a piece of metal not that unlike a coin, or a watch, or a fountain pen, any of a plethora of other mundane and everyday objects. He had bled like a man would bleed, this Guardian who had ironically been no more of a protector of humanity than Satan or Hades or the Grim Reaper.
He was no different to them, really. Supernatural, but not infallible, and certainly not invincible. Trapped by the mortal coil. Capable of admitting his imperfection. Amis' elation and guilt clashed in a terrific maelstrom of confusion, and he wondered if the Guardian laying dead before him had ever felt as vulnerably human, as terrible uncertain, as he did right now.
He would never know. The Guardian was dead, and his last words implicated Amis and the others as murderers. They had stolen the life of a mortal being based purely on their beliefs and speculations - traded something concrete and inherently precious for something as fluid and changing as belief. Amis had not truly believed they would find a Guardian, or that they would be able to kill it, not in his heart - and he realised now that, in his own way, subconsciously, he had elevated them to Godhood in his mind to the same extent as those he had derided, discretely believing them invincible. And all of a sudden, his quick, sharp mind - a mind he wished now would simply stop thinking, stop, stop - came to terms with his own twisted hypocrisy: he had taken his beliefs as fact, forced his own truths on another, and the consequences were permanent. He was no better than the supernatural being who had just bled out before him.
His teeth and fists clenched alike, depriving him of any words he may have spoken or actions he may have taken, the power of speech and action taken from him as tension laced through his body and mind. His breaths were deep, deliberately repressing his tears of unwanted sadness and wild frustration. Of overwhelming, almost self-pitying guilt - a guilt that eclipsed even his pity for the bloodied body before him.
Amis took the easy way out. As many a weak man does, rather than facing his guilt and taking responsibility, he ran - his heart beating hard with adrenaline, almost as if to literally flee, he threw aside these feelings, denied them, cast them from his mind. He hid. And as he did, not even knowing he was doing it and not knowing the emotional consequences that would arise from the repressed emotion, his lips simply pressed into a hard, thin line: an expression that conveyed only that he did not know what to feel regarding the man - God? Deity? Man? Creature? - and resigned himself to that fact. He simply reached out a hand to Elli, his hand a light but hopefully reassuring touch on her still-slightly-shaking shoulder - the bond between all of them strengthened now, forged not only by a common goal and shared persecution, but by the experience they had just shared; one of survival; one that was religious and yet not; one that simultaneously confirmed and defeated all their previous convictions in ways their young and foolish hearts could never have foreseen.
He glanced at the portal as the others spoke of it, and slowly found a new emotion kindling in him - hatred for those who had betrayed the dead Guardian. Amis appeased his own guilt with feelings and thoughts of vengeance for the dead, a recompense for the mistakes he may well have made today - the one before him may have been an exception, but his words proved that the others were just as Amis had believed. Creatures which needed to be exterminated, for the sake of the human race. He clung to that belief with desperation; yes, yes, his murder of the Guardian as an honest mistake, and he could compensate by ending the menace the man had spoken of!
Elation once again laced through his heart, a passion rekindling him. A need for vengeance. Vigour and life returned to him, and unconsciously he squeezed Elli's shoulder as he spoke, his muscles needing to move and act.
"We go in together. We find these fucking bastards, and we end them." He gave in to his immediate feelings, never one to restrict his impulses, refusing to face reality and the pain of reconstructing his entire worldview. He took a deep breath, his lungs burning pleasantly from the grey smog, breathing in whatever gift they had been given. "You heard him. We have to stop these things."
His eyes shifted to the corpse, to the spreading pool of blood almost touching Elli's outstretched legs and the others' feet. His voice dark, he spoke straight to the body. His words were a pledge, made upon the blood now touching his boots, his eyes metal-grey and soul steely as the smog - the last miracle of a false God - entered his lungs.
"We'll kill you. We'll kill you all."
He was no different to them, really. Supernatural, but not infallible, and certainly not invincible. Trapped by the mortal coil. Capable of admitting his imperfection. Amis' elation and guilt clashed in a terrific maelstrom of confusion, and he wondered if the Guardian laying dead before him had ever felt as vulnerably human, as terrible uncertain, as he did right now.
He would never know. The Guardian was dead, and his last words implicated Amis and the others as murderers. They had stolen the life of a mortal being based purely on their beliefs and speculations - traded something concrete and inherently precious for something as fluid and changing as belief. Amis had not truly believed they would find a Guardian, or that they would be able to kill it, not in his heart - and he realised now that, in his own way, subconsciously, he had elevated them to Godhood in his mind to the same extent as those he had derided, discretely believing them invincible. And all of a sudden, his quick, sharp mind - a mind he wished now would simply stop thinking, stop, stop - came to terms with his own twisted hypocrisy: he had taken his beliefs as fact, forced his own truths on another, and the consequences were permanent. He was no better than the supernatural being who had just bled out before him.
His teeth and fists clenched alike, depriving him of any words he may have spoken or actions he may have taken, the power of speech and action taken from him as tension laced through his body and mind. His breaths were deep, deliberately repressing his tears of unwanted sadness and wild frustration. Of overwhelming, almost self-pitying guilt - a guilt that eclipsed even his pity for the bloodied body before him.
Amis took the easy way out. As many a weak man does, rather than facing his guilt and taking responsibility, he ran - his heart beating hard with adrenaline, almost as if to literally flee, he threw aside these feelings, denied them, cast them from his mind. He hid. And as he did, not even knowing he was doing it and not knowing the emotional consequences that would arise from the repressed emotion, his lips simply pressed into a hard, thin line: an expression that conveyed only that he did not know what to feel regarding the man - God? Deity? Man? Creature? - and resigned himself to that fact. He simply reached out a hand to Elli, his hand a light but hopefully reassuring touch on her still-slightly-shaking shoulder - the bond between all of them strengthened now, forged not only by a common goal and shared persecution, but by the experience they had just shared; one of survival; one that was religious and yet not; one that simultaneously confirmed and defeated all their previous convictions in ways their young and foolish hearts could never have foreseen.
He glanced at the portal as the others spoke of it, and slowly found a new emotion kindling in him - hatred for those who had betrayed the dead Guardian. Amis appeased his own guilt with feelings and thoughts of vengeance for the dead, a recompense for the mistakes he may well have made today - the one before him may have been an exception, but his words proved that the others were just as Amis had believed. Creatures which needed to be exterminated, for the sake of the human race. He clung to that belief with desperation; yes, yes, his murder of the Guardian as an honest mistake, and he could compensate by ending the menace the man had spoken of!
Elation once again laced through his heart, a passion rekindling him. A need for vengeance. Vigour and life returned to him, and unconsciously he squeezed Elli's shoulder as he spoke, his muscles needing to move and act.
"We go in together. We find these fucking bastards, and we end them." He gave in to his immediate feelings, never one to restrict his impulses, refusing to face reality and the pain of reconstructing his entire worldview. He took a deep breath, his lungs burning pleasantly from the grey smog, breathing in whatever gift they had been given. "You heard him. We have to stop these things."
His eyes shifted to the corpse, to the spreading pool of blood almost touching Elli's outstretched legs and the others' feet. His voice dark, he spoke straight to the body. His words were a pledge, made upon the blood now touching his boots, his eyes metal-grey and soul steely as the smog - the last miracle of a false God - entered his lungs.
"We'll kill you. We'll kill you all."
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