ONL

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski

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Location:Eden: Hallway outside Men's doors --> End of hallway, door leading to Fitness Center
Skills: Pistol, Suppression Tactics

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People were moving silently forward, all except Alexander who had kept talking. Typical. Hadn't he known better, he'd swear he could hear Sergeant Jackson tell him to shut up and keep moving. Because they had to keep moving; if they stayed at one place too long, especially without recon or scouting, they were sitting ducks, just like in the jungle. Truth to be told, it appeared that the past and present were growing more alike by the minute. Alexander only hoped that their 'success' would be more real than the one he witnessed nearly four decades earlier.

Alexander kept walking backwards down the hallway while aiming the Beretta down their rear, onto the set of doors on his left and back down the hallway as he passed them. His eyes however looked briefly around. He'd seen buildings and rooms in worse condition than this, but then again he'd been in 'Nam. He had seen some shit, and this place was still shit. It was dirty and in utter chaos, partially thanks to the group's attack on Eden. But it couldn't all just be because of them, certainly not with the torture rooms and all. Alexander couldn't help but want to clean up the mess, because it looked like this place could have been rather polished before the world fell apart. Probably had been a good defensive position too, until they came knocking with a TANK.

But the time for cleaning up the disorder of a battlefield was not now, and Alexander backed up until he had a door on his right. Alexander aimed at the door to his right, at least until Beatrice and Manny could get past the door safely. He was concerned about Beatrice's gunshot wound to her leg. While she appeared to be able to walk, who knew how long she could manage? Turning his attention away from the door for a moment, he looked at Beatrice and held out his good left hand to her. "Want a hand?" He asked her quietly, hoping the three of them were the only ones to hear it and that he wasn't shoving his foot into his mouth again.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

Will there be ogres?

Project Crossover [Video Game Crossover RP]

The Heavy

Level: 2
Day/Time: Day 3 - Morning
Location: Boo's Castle
Tag: @Majoras End@Tenma Tendo@Lugubrious
Experience: //////////////////// (14/20)
Word count: 335

What had Heavy expected was going to happen? It was silly to think that jumping onto a ghost would in any way harm it, taking into account that it was indeed incorporeal. There was only one man that could possibly complete such a feat, but said tiny plumber was not there. Heavy on the other hand was there, and he was not as bright as to think his attack through. The massive Russian fell heavy onto the floor, feeling a sense of tingling or tickling as he thought he crushed the purple ghost. But when he heard the voice of it talking back to him, Heavy turned onto his back and watched the ghost with a blank look. "This is unexpected."

That was when the pain decided to kick in again, flaring up in that purple fire at his shoulder and forcing his face into a painful grimace. "My flesh, it burns!" Heavy exclaimed through gritted teeth, then hearing a similar cry of pain from their black-haired teen, Joker Akira. That pulled him out of his own misery. Nobody hurt his comrades like that, and got away with it.

Heavy looked back up at the ghost floating near him, who hadn't yet attempted to attack him. Normally that would call for a question of "Why?", but Heavy was all "Shoot first, don't ask any questions." right then. Heavy lifted his right arm up and pointed it at the purple spectral, looking it dead-straight into its eyes. "Your luck..." Heavy began to say in his deep, thick Russian voice, his hand curling up into a fist, and finally into the familiar shape of an imaginary revolver, pointed straight into the ghost's face. "...runs out."

"POW!" his voice bellied out, once again performing his Showdown ability. As he pulled his fist back and blew out the imaginary smoke from the non-existant barrel, one could only hope that this wasn't a stupid move. Then again, Heavy wouldn't know what was smart or not, he just wanted to kill.

🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S.

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Mahendra Huq Zalil

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Location: The Museum (Washroom)
Skills: Understanding of Egyptian superstition

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Mahendra sat for what felt like an eternity on that toilet, his eyes switching between looking at the burning mark above his bellybutton and looking straight forward. The fever wasn't going away either, and the feeling of burning up from the inside was not comfortable to the Bengali. But it was the Mark that disturbed him the most. A more level-minded or scientific man might have concluded that even though this was disturbing indeed, it must have had an logical explaination; perhaps someone branding him with an iron in the middle of the night after having drugged him, which would explain the lack of pain for so long.

Mahendra's explaination was far from as simple as that; This was a sign from the very Gods themselves, be it the gods of his Indian homeland or the ancient gods of Egypt. This was magic, divine power, you name it. Was he being judged by Them for his actions in Egypt, or just his simple presence in the country? "ঈশ্বর আমার উপর রহমত আছে..."* The answers could be so many. It scared him to the core of his usually brave soul. Or perhaps it was his brave soul that kept him from actually freaking out?

Struggling through the fever and the burning pain, Mahendra pushed himself off the toilet and got his pants buckled up again, though his shirt he unbuttoned to better view the Branding. Walking up to the mirror he inspected the mark with a concerned curiosity, trying to make sense of its shape and meaning. The shape was easy enough to comprehend, but its meaning escaped his troubled mind. He didn't know what symbol it was, not a single idea of it...except...He could swear he had seen it someplace before. And the fact that he thought he knew where that 'someplace' was, concerded him even more; In the Museum. Mahendra had to go speak with Vera about this.

*Translation

"The Gods have mercy on me..."

Friend or Foe?

Post is up, though I hope I'm not taking too much control of the story so far. Please tell me if I do!

Friend or Foe?

Thaliar

If the Trickster and the Raven were the one and same person that the stories spoke about, then Rook did have a solid point. The stories had to be older than he himself was, which was far older than a normal human taken into account that Thaliar was a relatively young elf. An powerful elf none the less, but still young. "That's true, so the stories might be based on a common legend. Unless he, or she was an elf..."

-"...or he could be cursed!"

Thaliar turned his head slowly towards their prisoner who suddenly decided to speak up, and with a most peculiar statement. Leaning forward, the elf's green eyes locked onto Edwin's and stared deadly into them. "Cursed? What do you mean by that, young man?"

-"I..I've heard the story as well. The Raven...or Trickster as that Thing there said...he tried to steal the treasures buried down there, but had to flee when he was attacked by a beast!"

"And the curse?"

-"He...I don't know if it's true, but he told me that the beast spirits 'gifted' the Raven with prolonged life. But it was a curse, for the attack blinded him for life...Please don't blind me like him, it was just a story he told me to make me go away! Just a silly children's story!"

"Be quiet, prisoner." Thaliar interrupted Edwin at the end, his mind racing through the information they had just been given. And though it did sound like a children's story, Thaliar still proceeded with his question. "You said that He told you this story. Who was he?" It was a long shot, a really long shot in the dark, but desperate times and all that. They had to know.

-"Some old man in the village of...of...Greaweald! Old man with a staff, I don't know his name...Spoke to me like I was a child..."

Thaliar looked back up at his companions with a look of confusion and deep thought covering his face. This was weird, very very weird. "Do we believe the child?"

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Ragnar the Blind

The guards did indeed take note of the old man making his way out of the tavern, and one mean-looking Black Hat stepped forward to physically stop Ragnar from leaving. The man grabbed firm hold of his staff, holding it back with force as he demanded to know where Ragnar was going. And on cue one of the other villagers reassured the Black Hat that no one was rushing of, which Ragnar took as an excellent oppertunity to fall. Flat. On his face. It sounded painful to everyone in the tavern.

Too bad for them that it was the oldest trick in the book. His book.

"What has this world come to, when the protectors of the Realm are attacking old defensless men in broad daylight? No, no, I'm fine. Thank you child." Ragnar said in his familiar and calm voice, getting a little help back on his feet and given the staff back by the Black Hat. It appeared that the old man was as harmless as he looked like, with those empty eyes and the way he supported himself with the staff. But the Black Hat, named Brutus after his great-great grandfather who fought in the Hill Wars and died in the Third Battle of Blood Stream, did catch sight of Ragnar giving a brief shake of his head towards Letha as she began to cry. He didn't know what was going on, but something was certainly afoot.

Ragnar reached out his hand to feel the door, and fumbled with it before getting outside the tavern. And though it was as dark as ever for Ragnar the Blind, he certainly could feel it be more open that the crowded tavern. Now the real task began.

Age of Glory

I'll throw my hat in the ring of interest for now and keep my nose poking in this.

Friend or Foe?

@gorgenmastYay! Anticipation and stage-fright!

Friend or Foe?

Might have a post up tonight some time, just to get them old rusted cogs moving again.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski

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Location:Eden: Hallway outside Men's doors
Skills: Pistol, Suppression Tactics

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The situation did appear to be improving after the last hail of bullets flew down that hallway, giving the old veteran the time to once again take stock of the situation without falling into habit of shouting at the enemy like he was in 'Nam. That was good, though that did give him the time to feel the pain in his hands again. Alexander opened his hands to look at the burns and gashes in them, a sight always reminding him of bomb-victims, either civis or GI's, never a pleasent sight. Especially those poor bastards that got napalm'd, and he thanked God countless times that he wasn't one of them.

Alexander let the others go on ahead without him, setting his focus on their bag left on the ground. He got down on his knees and starting to search through it painfully, looking for anything to bandage his hands with. And that was when he felt something slip out of his pocket, the Pocket. His gashed left hand felt on the Pocket. Empty. Alexander shoved both his hands down in the bug-out bag, desperatly rumaging through it in search of his second most precious possession; his rosary. Clothes. No. Notebook. NO. Compass...NO! Just when he was about to do something stupid, his hands felt that familiar texture of the small wooden beads and the silver crucifix between his fingers. "...Thank you..." Alexander whispered in relief, clutching the rosary between his hurting hands and fiddling with it, before wrapping it around his wrist and getting to bandage his hands.

Thankfully it wasn't too difficult, and the bandaging would help him use his hands less painfully. He hoped so; He never wa a medic, but bandaging he thought he knew. With his hands bandaged up and slinging the bug-out bag over his shoulder, Alexander looked from the two T's advancing down the hallway and back over to Beatrice as she came walking. He didn't now her well - hell, he didn't know any of these people well by most standards, but she would have made Sergeant Jackson proud any day. And if some were going front, some had to cover the rear. Holding his new gun pointed down the hallway they came from, ready to give any Eden-asswipes flanking them a real bad day, Alexander walked slowly backwards after the group. "If they flank us, we've got to find another exit-route once that shit hits the fan. Sadly no cake-walk climbing out any windows like this, since the stairs is the only way down as far as I know."