TheCheshire said
I wonder what a guys shlong looks like without skin.
I wish I didn't know the answer to that question.
But I do.
Pre-med school shows you some shit, lemme tell you.
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I wish I didn't know the answer to that question.
But I do.
Pre-med school shows you some shit, lemme tell you.
Considering that they've all been exposed to radiation for a long period of time
half of them are probably sterile anyways
half of them are probably sterile anyways
TheCheshire said
Wait, wait, wait....Condoms have expiration dates.Think about HOW expired that bad boy is. The nuclear war happened like 200-300 years ago.Lol!
Russian guy finally woos one of the females
he's like "fuck yes i can finally use this thing"
opens it up
it's just dust
Fen doesn't know
assume that Fen knows about as much about sex as those kids do
maybe less even
assume that Fen knows about as much about sex as those kids do
maybe less even
@ Exit: Isam and Fen dumped Russian guy on a hospital bed
they can still move him
it might just be easier to, you know, wheel him into another room =P
they can still move him
it might just be easier to, you know, wheel him into another room =P
Oh
well he would have been down there 10 years
because he was captured soon after the city was taken
But I thought you said somewhere that this was only two years after Dragonmaw rose to power.
But whatevs
I'll fix it
well he would have been down there 10 years
because he was captured soon after the city was taken
But I thought you said somewhere that this was only two years after Dragonmaw rose to power.
But whatevs
I'll fix it
So here's some pics of what Russian guy looks like.
Imagine this but more beat all to hell
Imagine this but more beat all to hell
Once Fen's car reached the inside of the city gates, Fen hoped out and went to get his unconscious passenger out. The man was nothing but dead weight. Isam, who had been waiting by the gates, jogged up to help him.
"What happened out there?" He questioned, "Who is this man?" He got a shoulder under one of the Russian man's arms and helped Fen half carry, half drag him to the medicine house.
"Um, I'm not sure," Fen said as he struggled under the man's weight. He was glad when they finally got him inside and dropped him down on a cot. "But he was awake when I found him, and he said some weird stuff, and then Shay got hurt, and uh-" Isam seemed to have stopped listening at that point. He had gone over to the bed that Tobias and Ravenia had gathered around.
"Will she be okay?" He asked, a grimace on his face when he saw the blood. "She's not going to turn into one of them, is she?" Isam had seen several of his own people turn, although they were usually dead before it happened. Frankly, he was tired of killing his undead friends.
Fen peaked over at them, not wanting to crowd the doctor, but not wanting their new guest to die, either.
"Um, doc, when you get the chance, this guy might need some, uh... looking at."
"What happened out there?" He questioned, "Who is this man?" He got a shoulder under one of the Russian man's arms and helped Fen half carry, half drag him to the medicine house.
"Um, I'm not sure," Fen said as he struggled under the man's weight. He was glad when they finally got him inside and dropped him down on a cot. "But he was awake when I found him, and he said some weird stuff, and then Shay got hurt, and uh-" Isam seemed to have stopped listening at that point. He had gone over to the bed that Tobias and Ravenia had gathered around.
"Will she be okay?" He asked, a grimace on his face when he saw the blood. "She's not going to turn into one of them, is she?" Isam had seen several of his own people turn, although they were usually dead before it happened. Frankly, he was tired of killing his undead friends.
Fen peaked over at them, not wanting to crowd the doctor, but not wanting their new guest to die, either.
"Um, doc, when you get the chance, this guy might need some, uh... looking at."
It was a cool night; pleasant to those on the surface. But down underneath the city's castle, in the dark and damp dungeons, it offered nothing but chill. A chill was creeped through a man's skin and got into his bones. The kind of cold that no amount of shivering and huddling could conquer. After two years, the poor man who found himself prisoner there had stopped trying.
He had once been a brave and noble knight. He had been a man with a happiness, love, friends, and family. Now he was nothing. He was barely more than the rats that scurried through the bars of his cell. As he propped himself up in the corner, the cold stone pressing against his flesh, the man could do nothing but think. Down here, his thoughts were all he had left. He thought about how he would escape, although his plans never worked. He though about revenge quite often; revisiting and replaying the scene inside his head in which Dragonmaw would die in a way only an evil man could deserve. He thought about his wife, and what she would be doing right now if she were still alive. He thought about his child, who hadn't even seen the light of day before having it's life ripped away. He remembered how Evelyn had thought so carefully about names: Madison if it was a girl, Andrew if it was a boy. But now he had stop, because he could feel tears forming in his eyes.
The man shifted onto the ground, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. After two years, he had yet to do so. The stone floor was hard and wet, caked with mud and dead insects. His armor and clothing had been stolen from him, leaving him nothing but his bare, raw skin to lay on. Every in of his dark colored flesh was covered in bruises or cuts. His body was battered and weak. He tried to keep his weight on by excising in what little space he had, but his mass had dwindled. His hair, once silky and well groomed, now matted itself in bloody knots, dirty with mud. The knight was a ghost of his former self.
He gingerly laid down on his side, using his arm as a pillow, and stared up the stairs at the dungeon door. Whenever it opened, it usually meant trouble for him. Sometimes it also meant moldy bread for dinner, but most of the time it meant trouble.
He had once been a brave and noble knight. He had been a man with a happiness, love, friends, and family. Now he was nothing. He was barely more than the rats that scurried through the bars of his cell. As he propped himself up in the corner, the cold stone pressing against his flesh, the man could do nothing but think. Down here, his thoughts were all he had left. He thought about how he would escape, although his plans never worked. He though about revenge quite often; revisiting and replaying the scene inside his head in which Dragonmaw would die in a way only an evil man could deserve. He thought about his wife, and what she would be doing right now if she were still alive. He thought about his child, who hadn't even seen the light of day before having it's life ripped away. He remembered how Evelyn had thought so carefully about names: Madison if it was a girl, Andrew if it was a boy. But now he had stop, because he could feel tears forming in his eyes.
The man shifted onto the ground, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. After two years, he had yet to do so. The stone floor was hard and wet, caked with mud and dead insects. His armor and clothing had been stolen from him, leaving him nothing but his bare, raw skin to lay on. Every in of his dark colored flesh was covered in bruises or cuts. His body was battered and weak. He tried to keep his weight on by excising in what little space he had, but his mass had dwindled. His hair, once silky and well groomed, now matted itself in bloody knots, dirty with mud. The knight was a ghost of his former self.
He gingerly laid down on his side, using his arm as a pillow, and stared up the stairs at the dungeon door. Whenever it opened, it usually meant trouble for him. Sometimes it also meant moldy bread for dinner, but most of the time it meant trouble.
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