@yoshua171
*Cringes as his hand burns painfully, pulls out a shopvac from hammerspace. Begins vacuuming the holy water up.*
*Cringes as his hand burns painfully, pulls out a shopvac from hammerspace. Begins vacuuming the holy water up.*
- Last Seen: 6 mos ago
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 4919 (1.08 / day)
- VMs: 2
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Username history
- LeeRoy 12 yrs ago
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Latest 10 profile visitors:
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Most recent →
Lalliman,
Rekkuza,
Captain Uni,
Ohm,
Divorarel,
Pickled Piper,
PrinceAlexus,
flat lovenote
Status
Recent Statuses
6 mos ago
Current
I published a book! jlbrightman.itch.io/ko-luhn…
2
likes
7 yrs ago
Discord crashed lads. Can't get back in.
1
like
8 yrs ago
I've opened art commissions up, anyone who wants relatively cheap art PM me here or on Discord: LeeRoy#8459
1
like
11 yrs ago
[quote=@Rilla] DID YOU JUST TRY AND CLOTHESLINE ME, YOU LITTLE SHIT [/quote]
1
like
Bio
"If you kill a man, you scorn his wife. If you kill his wife, you scorn her child. If you kill her child, you scorn his village. If you kill his village, you scorn the kingdom. If you kill the kingdom you scorn an empire. If you kill an empire, then who is left?"
Most Recent Posts
@Doc Doctor
Was this guy serious? Zande was sprinting towards him, Ansgar had livened his pace accordingly. The sellsword withdrew his sword arm and pushed it against the back of his shield. Adding extra support to it as he made his next movement.
The moment that Zande's first axe met his shield he turned himself shoulder towards the incoming arm. He stepped forward and absolutely ruined his foe's swing, he put himself inside of the arm's swing. A swing this big takes a very long time to make its way through the full swing, it gave him more than enough time to answer his blow.
Zande's elbow would strike into his shoulder, his elbow would collide with the thickly padded armor and likely hurt a bit. The thing that would hurt more would be the fact that his axe would continue forward and down despite his arm reaching a stopping point. If he didn't let go of the axe, he would likely break his own arm.
Regardless of whether or not he let go of the axe, Ansgar would continue stepping forward into Zande. An elbow tackle to match Zande's sprint, since he wouldn't need as much speed as Zande was sprinting towards him. Without armor, Zande's chest was a huge weak spot. After the axe arm struck his shoulder, he would sharply raise his elbow upward and smash it into the berserker's sternum.
Was this guy serious? Zande was sprinting towards him, Ansgar had livened his pace accordingly. The sellsword withdrew his sword arm and pushed it against the back of his shield. Adding extra support to it as he made his next movement.
The moment that Zande's first axe met his shield he turned himself shoulder towards the incoming arm. He stepped forward and absolutely ruined his foe's swing, he put himself inside of the arm's swing. A swing this big takes a very long time to make its way through the full swing, it gave him more than enough time to answer his blow.
Zande's elbow would strike into his shoulder, his elbow would collide with the thickly padded armor and likely hurt a bit. The thing that would hurt more would be the fact that his axe would continue forward and down despite his arm reaching a stopping point. If he didn't let go of the axe, he would likely break his own arm.
Regardless of whether or not he let go of the axe, Ansgar would continue stepping forward into Zande. An elbow tackle to match Zande's sprint, since he wouldn't need as much speed as Zande was sprinting towards him. Without armor, Zande's chest was a huge weak spot. After the axe arm struck his shoulder, he would sharply raise his elbow upward and smash it into the berserker's sternum.
@yoshua171
*Slugs you in your cheek.*
*Slugs you in your cheek.*
@MelonHead
I'd bet money that he created a new account so he could hide his shame.
I'd bet money that he created a new account so he could hide his shame.
@MelonHead
All the while he's actually reading this chat between you and I, but he is still not joining in. He's such a roodypoo.
All the while he's actually reading this chat between you and I, but he is still not joining in. He's such a roodypoo.
@MelonHead
Yeah, you're both from Cheekybantsland so I can see how they'd be particularly bantsy.
Yeah, you're both from Cheekybantsland so I can see how they'd be particularly bantsy.
@MelonHead
It's weird, he and I met and had little in the way of interaction.
I added him on skype and I didn't even speak to him for somewhere near a year.
One day I felt like talking with him, he and I hit it off and we've been friends ever since. Talk near every day.
I try to convince him every now and then to at least come back and chat with the folks on the guild, but it seems like a no-sell so far.
It's weird, he and I met and had little in the way of interaction.
I added him on skype and I didn't even speak to him for somewhere near a year.
One day I felt like talking with him, he and I hit it off and we've been friends ever since. Talk near every day.
I try to convince him every now and then to at least come back and chat with the folks on the guild, but it seems like a no-sell so far.
The look on his face could have told it all, Dunnaman's eyes widened and his pupils dilated into sideways slits. His mouth hung ajar and his countenance took on a spaced out appearance, as if he weren't wholly there. It was an instant reaction, waves of incredibly vague memories flooding and then vanishing. Like remembering a dream for a split second and then losing it, leaving you with questions and hints of what had happened. An image of a wife, a daughter. Whose? His wife? His daughter? Why was he seeing them?
The memory was lost on him, he forgot as other memories shoved through his brain. A war, power armored soldiers marching on a helpless planet. Memories from his perspective of mowing them down like a scythe through grain. Again, pushed from his head. Making way for other memories that he was only being given a glimpse of.
This time it brought him to a strange world of web and stone, the man who stood before him was there. Aflame with a blue light and they were clashing, others were there. A man of ice and a man in black. Soldiers and ships were in the vague distance. He fell to his knees and another memory struck him, knocking this one aside.
He was in a hospital, wounds were being treated. His skin had been blown away in spades, metal wires were being surgically removed from his body. The pain was remembered and very real, it was agonizing, but he could not scream. The body that he was in felt numb, distant, like it was not his own. Why weren't these memories staying? Why couldn't he keep them? Whose memories were these!?
Another, kissing the wife and daughter as he left home again. He looked down and saw no scars. Dunnaman's eyes welled with tears as he fell forward, his elbows instinctively caught him as he prostrated before Fury. Unmatched sorrow filled him, a regret with no name. Why did these women's faces make him feel so? Why did he regret walking out of a door that he had never seen before?
Another, he was leaving again. Kissing only the wife, the daughter was gone. He had looked down and seen the scars this time, why was the girl missing? Why did he care?
The next, on a peaceful planet not unlike this one he sat on a stump. An empty bottle of liquor was near his feet. The sound of a crash and explosion was remembered, the visage of blue was seen as his eyes jerked towards Fury once again. Why was the man here?
"Manadar Rane." They were talking, fear and sorrow had blinded his judgement. He'd made mistakes, he was afraid of Fury. He was afraid of himself. Had he let himself die? Was it not his choice?
"Poda kuwana chisa, Itaroknos. Chi ho rana soma ohk bohr ka oda mani iyah." Were these his last words? All he could remember was what came next. Fury, standing over him. A spear of that wicked blue flame held firm in his hand, thrust through his chest. And the memories stopped. That flash of light, that one word. He remembered those from when he first awakened on that cosmic machine.
They drifted away from him, leaving him with only vague recollections. Dunnaman's face returned to normal, his eyes narrowed again and his pupils widened to the thick blocks they were. Panting and sobbing, with no real understanding of why. He sat there, prostrate before Fury. Fear alight in his chest but no will to stand, no will to flee.
Dunnaman was left with answers, but those few answers he received left him with an infinity of new questions.
The memory was lost on him, he forgot as other memories shoved through his brain. A war, power armored soldiers marching on a helpless planet. Memories from his perspective of mowing them down like a scythe through grain. Again, pushed from his head. Making way for other memories that he was only being given a glimpse of.
This time it brought him to a strange world of web and stone, the man who stood before him was there. Aflame with a blue light and they were clashing, others were there. A man of ice and a man in black. Soldiers and ships were in the vague distance. He fell to his knees and another memory struck him, knocking this one aside.
He was in a hospital, wounds were being treated. His skin had been blown away in spades, metal wires were being surgically removed from his body. The pain was remembered and very real, it was agonizing, but he could not scream. The body that he was in felt numb, distant, like it was not his own. Why weren't these memories staying? Why couldn't he keep them? Whose memories were these!?
Another, kissing the wife and daughter as he left home again. He looked down and saw no scars. Dunnaman's eyes welled with tears as he fell forward, his elbows instinctively caught him as he prostrated before Fury. Unmatched sorrow filled him, a regret with no name. Why did these women's faces make him feel so? Why did he regret walking out of a door that he had never seen before?
Another, he was leaving again. Kissing only the wife, the daughter was gone. He had looked down and seen the scars this time, why was the girl missing? Why did he care?
The next, on a peaceful planet not unlike this one he sat on a stump. An empty bottle of liquor was near his feet. The sound of a crash and explosion was remembered, the visage of blue was seen as his eyes jerked towards Fury once again. Why was the man here?
"Manadar Rane." They were talking, fear and sorrow had blinded his judgement. He'd made mistakes, he was afraid of Fury. He was afraid of himself. Had he let himself die? Was it not his choice?
"Poda kuwana chisa, Itaroknos. Chi ho rana soma ohk bohr ka oda mani iyah." Were these his last words? All he could remember was what came next. Fury, standing over him. A spear of that wicked blue flame held firm in his hand, thrust through his chest. And the memories stopped. That flash of light, that one word. He remembered those from when he first awakened on that cosmic machine.
They drifted away from him, leaving him with only vague recollections. Dunnaman's face returned to normal, his eyes narrowed again and his pupils widened to the thick blocks they were. Panting and sobbing, with no real understanding of why. He sat there, prostrate before Fury. Fear alight in his chest but no will to stand, no will to flee.
Dunnaman was left with answers, but those few answers he received left him with an infinity of new questions.
@MelonHead
He's hit a slump where writing in general is just not appealing to him. I'm trying to convince him to at least do little things here and there to get him back into it.
Like recently forcing him out of his comfort zone and getting him to actually make a high tier character, stuff like that.
He's hit a slump where writing in general is just not appealing to him. I'm trying to convince him to at least do little things here and there to get him back into it.
Like recently forcing him out of his comfort zone and getting him to actually make a high tier character, stuff like that.
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