Avatar of Hellis
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    1. Hellis 12 yrs ago
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7 yrs ago
Current Hey y'all. I am about to start working on a webcomic and try to draw for a living now.
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9 yrs ago
Oh no. The World Ending library has started to smell of lemon again. Nobody likes dying to the smell of citrus
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Bio


"Always tenderize the meat first."


Most Recent Posts

There is a saying among smugglers, muscles for brains is better then brains caved in by muscle. The idea is that while being cunning is king, a man with a crowbar, a little will and a lot of muscle might just usurp you. After all, what is a king to a one man mob with a crowbar? Drono had lived this life since he was but a young, impressionable, adventurous idiot with a gift for words. And here he had muscle. Two crewmembers who's mean-looking faces, or in the quarian's case, mean visor, that made people stare down to polish and tinker with near religious zeal. All to avoid eye contact with the Quarian and the Batarian bodyguards.

Now Drono swaggered. Normal men and women merely walked with confidence and some may have thought they swaggered, but nobody could hold a candle to Drono. He swaggered like nobody else, he moved with a purpose and more importantly with the confidence of a lion. Each step was a statement: 'Come get some shitheads, and my muscle will make you into so many little pieces your dear ol' mum will have stew for dinner.' He tossed out his hands in a grand gesture a he decided to chew the scenary a bit.

"Smell that? That is the smell of a multi-billion underground industry." He said, fully prepared to talk like he already owned the place. His grandstanding was cut short as a man came half jogging, half tripping towards them. He was a bit on the fat side, and with a face that would make a bulldog proud. Those jowels would scare children of all ages and it told Drono all he needed to know. The game was afoot.

Khosin chuckled a little bit at Drono's words "You got that right boss." He said in response to what the Drell had said. He had opened his mouth to say something more when the door that lead to the room in which they were in was flung open, causing Khosin to turn around to look at the man that had entered.

"Ahhh. If it aint the man of the hour! And here I thought I would be stuck waiting all day." Drono said, in that perfectly confident, snarky and sardonic cadence of mastercriminals everywhere. Tenrom was in full blast and Drono was in his elements playing as the scoundrel.

"You. What is this ruckus about?" The man who was obviusly quartermaster asked bewildered. "Yestin sent you? I heard he was legit these days." This earned a chuckle from Drono.

"Legit? Yestin? He is so crooked you could use him for a fish hook. He is just richer now." Drono said, keeping his voice level. So his old pal decided to go into the safer sector. No doubt thinking all the ties to his criminal past was forgotten. Drono could not help himself.

"These fellows behind me are my two most trusted lieutenants. The quarian is 'Zela’Yaerah Nar Shaehala'. ” He watched the name scramble the mans brain trying to figure out how you spelled it. Then he continued. "Her names a handfull, but if you piss her off you'll likely not have any hands left to have full. If you catch my drift." Again he paused, let it sink in and continued. "And to the right of me is Dodnovran, he is a batarian kicked out for being too ruthless. So you can imagine how badly he will treat you if you get stuffy with me." he paused, reading the flickers of emotion running across the fat mans face. From fear, to anger, to puzzlement, to confidence.

Under her visor, Kasyra smiled. She liked the way Drono described her alter ego - he might be mad but he certainly had style.

"I don't scare easily. So you have two nasties with you, what of it?"

"What of it? You think I bring Murder and Slaughter around for small deals?" He said, expertly shifting sardonic, cynical threat to cynical anger at the slowness of others. The drell motioned back to where they came from. "Back there I have enough Alliance issued guns that would give any pirate a hardon." He said acidly. Leaning in, as it were, to stare the man in the eye. "Hot, in need of a buyer. Guns."

The man blinked. "Oh aye?" He said, suddenly with the program. If there was anything these people knew, it was the talk of deals and good, desperate sellers. He had taken the bait. Now it was time for quicktalking.

"Zela, Dodnovran, why don't you two make yourself useful. Take mr... I am so sorry. I never got your name?"

"Halbert to you. " The man said, clearly being talked into circle and sold his own gravestone at twice the price.

"One of you, take Halbert to see the goods. The other, with me. Lets see what else we can find."

Khosin let Drono speak to the man, introducing both him and Kasy but when the expression of, who he guessed was, the quartermaster Khosin shifted ever so slightly into a more threatening pose, staying like that -his four eyes focused on the man- until Drono finally managed to convince the man.

"I'll stay with you Tenrom, you know I don't get along with humans very well, to say the least." He finally spoke when Drono said that one of them should take Halbert to see the goods they had brought.

"Ah yes. It is more they who do not get along with you." Drono said, giving his "Minion" the benefit of the doubt as it were. The Quartermaster looked from one to the other. Not sure what to think.

"Alright boss." Was all 'Zela' said by way of reply, before motioning to the human quartermaster to follow her. The less she talked the better, as far as she was concerned. But she didn't need to talk to look menacing. She would take the quartermaster to see the guns, and, if needed, talk about them. One thing she did know was guns, and no lying was necessary there.
Maybe you guy should collab less in that case. Delay doesn't really cover it. xD
So. Uh. How long is it to season two? Becouse that collab fight seems to take like, the entire summers worth? Thats kind of.. ridicules.
As in players?
Also we are just waiting for [@Sundered Echos] input and then the collab is done :D
Notibbean? Not Carribean or Not Tibetian. TIbet Pirates are pretty hardcore from what I hear.
Drono is swaggering .So much swaggering.
Hows all my lovely players? :D
@ConstableWalrus@Hank

I took the liberty to post the Collab!
In the Sewers


"Agreed," Maulakanth said to Vendel. He hadn't gotten the measure of the Dunmer yet but the spear-wielding elf looked like he could take care of himself, which meant that Maulakanth had decided to give him the benefit of the doubt for the time being.

No, it wasn't the company that got on his nerves right now, despite the silent presence of the sneering Altmer. The shit-water they were wading through at waist-height was the current problem. It was disgusting and humiliating -- here he was, the Hand of Mauloch, crawling through the sewers like a skeever. Maulakanth snorted and muttered a curse for the umpteenth time that day. Like Valen, Maulakanth had his weapons in his hands and he idly twirled the orichalcum blades while he looked around for an exit. "Altmer," Maulakanth said, failing to remember the Vigilant's name, "can you make some light here?"

Cyrendil didn't like the fact that he'd have to go anywhere but walk the streets, as if he could not blend in, the thought was preposterous at best, insulting at the worst. Had this been years ago, he was sure he would have vomited by the smell alone, but while it was not at any stretch pleasant, he was able to keep everything down, his shield strapped high to his back, and he held his silver blade high, his other hand lifted up, and he took a glance back to the orc.

"I've got something, not much. but it will work... Tell me, has it not crossed your mind Orsimer, why all the ones they decided to send down to the sewers were elves? You'd think the men don't care for us too terribly much." Cyrendil said with a dry tone, and raised his hand up, a small golden outline coalesced and started to fill with a warm golden light the light illuminated some of the path in front of them, but it was no magelight spell, this took concentration to make any brighter, and none could be spared at the moment.

"I don't see why the beggar or one of the Breton men could be the ones down here, It's their own races filth. They should take a stroll in it." He said, peering sharp eyes into the fading darkness and shadows. "I wish I could say this is the worst place i've smelt. What about you two? Anything quite like this in your lines of work?"

"I get paid. I do the job. I shove the filth down their throat should they chose to make a point of it." Valen looked about them as the warm golden lifght elluminated the path and the walls around them. He pointed to a rather rusted but thick set of iron girding. A lock held the gate of it in place. The lock itseld was not as sturdy, and using his speartip as point for the lever of the spear shaft, he broke it open. "There. Let us get out of this muck."

Maulakanth laughed a little at the Altmer's remark about all the elves being sent on the sewer mission. The big orc didn't think of himself as an elf, but he had to agree that Cyrendil (the name just came back to him) was right on a technicality. "Men and elves don't get along. It's the way of the world. And no, I've never seen anything like this before," Maulakanth grumbled as he watched while the new guy opened up a gate for them. "About damn time."

Not wasting a single second, Maulakanth heaved himself out of the shit-water, through the gate and into the low, damp passage beyond. The slick floor sloped upwards, which was a good sign. Up meant out. The orc shook his head to get his braided dreadlocks out of his face and cautiously made his way forward, his blades lifted to greet anything that might jump at them out of the shadows. He'd heard stories of entire vampire clans hiding down in the sewers of human cities.

For a good while, nothing happened. The trio was able to safely make their way up to a wooden door, locked, that barred their path. Based on the neat cobblestones in the wall surrounding the door, Maulakanth guessed that it must exit out into the castle. Hopefully into the dungeons -- that's where the little lord they were supposed to rescue was supposed to be. Supposedly. Maulakanth had no patience for locks and he bashed the door open with his shoulder, swords brandished as he stepped out into a candle-lit corridor, ready to cut down any startled guardsmen.

Empty. The corridor was empty. Disappointed, Maulakanth looked around and saw more emptiness -- empty cells, devoid of prisones. Somewhere above him was the sound of battle. "What in Oblivion..." he whispered and looked over his shoulder at the Altmer and the Dunmer.

The Dunmer in question had felt a slight tremble in the ground just then. Like something above them collapsing. "Seems our friends could not wait to get started?" He asked, more to himself then anyone present. He moved slowly, taking care to clear his feet of any muck that could make him slip. He pushed past the orc to take point with his spear and shield. As much as he didn't like tot have them at his back, instincts from pitched battles and endless training of keeping formation won over suspicion. The dank stone was slippery beneath his feet as they made their way up and up again.

Soon, stares gave way to yet another door. This one splintered and a slumped body laying in the wreckage. A mighty blow had been struck across the mans face, the pulp of his brigand seeped out of a sizable hole in the skull. His instincts screamed at him to be careful as he stepped out in to the fresh air. He looked around him. The smell of charring flesh and burning thatch filled the air and made his eyes sting.

Out of the pyre that was the castle, came a half nude bosmer running at him. The wood elf was complete out of his mind with bloodlust and didn't take note of the Dunmers spear untill i twas to late. The Bosmers life came to abrupt end as his blade hit a sturdy shield and as short spear was trust hard into his thigh, likely severing his femoral artery and making sure he would never have children, live or die.

Valen kicked the howling raider to the curb and shoved his spear trough his throat with the precision of a military man who gotten corpse duty in many a won battle. "By the Deadras vilest curses. Does only death follow you lot?" He asked out loud as the group made it trough the crumbling castle towards their goal.

The courtyard was already occupied by the remains of their 'merry band' and the Dunmer simply spat. "Well this sure wasn't worth the trek trough the shit. Were is our prize?" He half spat as he jogged over a brisk pace. "There are raiders all over the fucking town. And I am stinking sober."


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