Rhys impatiently tapped his foot as Christopher talked with the girl. Being social was all well and good, but being crushed by Gigan was not likely to improve their situation. He started looking around the hallway, lit on a directory for the labyrinthine complex and began to study it.
Meanwhile, Rhys being a champion multitakser, Gorosaurus continued to batter the wall of one of the massive enclosures, finally smashing through. A grunting hiss greeted him as a long, serpentine body began to flow out of the gap. Manda, the enormous dragon, was now free. Rhys nodded to himself in satisfaction, as Gorosaurus moved on to the next enclosure.
Rhys nodded to himself, stepped over to Christopher and tapped him on the shoulder. Once he was sure he had the increasingly bizarre-looking fellow's attention, he tapped a point on the map. Emergency Lifeboats. Seemed apropos.
Diffidently, Rhys began strolling down the hallway towards the escape pod, waving for the others to join him.
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Most Recent Posts
Name: Lee Brandt/ Clarion
Age: 26
Occupation: Sprayer
Appearance: Brandt is a fair Caucasian male who is extremely lean and athletic. He is extremely tall at 6'7" and has especially long arms. Brandt wears his strawberry blonde hair in an outdated middle parting. When off the job, Brandt eschews formality and tends to prefer casual clothing. On the clock, though, he makes every effort to protect his identity, wearing gloves, long sleeves, a painter's mask, dark glasses, and a watch cap.
Gear: Spray paint, satchel, painter's mask, an antique pair of rollerblades
Personality: Quiet but intense, Brandt is extremely passionate and obsessive about certain things, to the point that he'll neglect all else to pursue them. His social life suffers, and he has difficulty getting through most conversations unless the topic interests him. When he really gets going on a project, he'll even neglect food, sleep, and hygiene.
Background: Lee's well-off parents, both successful lawyers, never quite knew what to make of him. Sure, he was bright enough, but in school only really applied himself in subjects that interested him, like art and especially history. They humored their beloved son, always getting him books on the subject. There was one period in particular that fascinated him: the 1990s. In his private opinion, human history had peaked at that point, especially in the fields of art. Voraciously, he studied the period. Brandt viewed the epics of the time, the sagas of Dawson Leery and Cory Matthews, the tale of Jurassic Park, the travails of the Simpson family. He immersed himself in the classical artists U2 and Biz Markie. With an eye for learning the skills of times long past, Brandt, through time and effort, became one of the world's foremost experts in the long-dead art of inline skating.
But it still seemed insufficient. Until one day, among the collection of a dealer in long-forgotten tomes, he discovered a series of books on graffiti and pixacao. Suddenly, it all clicked into place for the obsessed Brandt. This was true freedom, the spirit of the Nineties encapsulated, the attitude that was so laid-back that painting on someone else's property was seen as rebellious and cool rather than a violation of civic pride.
Brandt's obsession turned to the new art, and he tirelessly studied the discipline of the Sprayers. He began making risky midnight forays, tagging simple designs and making a quick getaway on his rollerblades. He had several close calls, but still managed to gain in experience. Until one night, when he was nearly cornered by the police but bailed out by a group of bona fide Sprayers. Elated to have made contact, Brandt begged for admission into the group under the name of Clarion (for San Francisco's Clarion Alley, a hotspot of graffiti in the Nineties). He pestered and wheedled until being allowed under their tutelage. While not the best painter, he is learning fast and earning a fair share. It's not about the money for him, though. Not one little bit.
Age: 26
Occupation: Sprayer
Appearance: Brandt is a fair Caucasian male who is extremely lean and athletic. He is extremely tall at 6'7" and has especially long arms. Brandt wears his strawberry blonde hair in an outdated middle parting. When off the job, Brandt eschews formality and tends to prefer casual clothing. On the clock, though, he makes every effort to protect his identity, wearing gloves, long sleeves, a painter's mask, dark glasses, and a watch cap.
Gear: Spray paint, satchel, painter's mask, an antique pair of rollerblades
Personality: Quiet but intense, Brandt is extremely passionate and obsessive about certain things, to the point that he'll neglect all else to pursue them. His social life suffers, and he has difficulty getting through most conversations unless the topic interests him. When he really gets going on a project, he'll even neglect food, sleep, and hygiene.
Background: Lee's well-off parents, both successful lawyers, never quite knew what to make of him. Sure, he was bright enough, but in school only really applied himself in subjects that interested him, like art and especially history. They humored their beloved son, always getting him books on the subject. There was one period in particular that fascinated him: the 1990s. In his private opinion, human history had peaked at that point, especially in the fields of art. Voraciously, he studied the period. Brandt viewed the epics of the time, the sagas of Dawson Leery and Cory Matthews, the tale of Jurassic Park, the travails of the Simpson family. He immersed himself in the classical artists U2 and Biz Markie. With an eye for learning the skills of times long past, Brandt, through time and effort, became one of the world's foremost experts in the long-dead art of inline skating.
But it still seemed insufficient. Until one day, among the collection of a dealer in long-forgotten tomes, he discovered a series of books on graffiti and pixacao. Suddenly, it all clicked into place for the obsessed Brandt. This was true freedom, the spirit of the Nineties encapsulated, the attitude that was so laid-back that painting on someone else's property was seen as rebellious and cool rather than a violation of civic pride.
Brandt's obsession turned to the new art, and he tirelessly studied the discipline of the Sprayers. He began making risky midnight forays, tagging simple designs and making a quick getaway on his rollerblades. He had several close calls, but still managed to gain in experience. Until one night, when he was nearly cornered by the police but bailed out by a group of bona fide Sprayers. Elated to have made contact, Brandt begged for admission into the group under the name of Clarion (for San Francisco's Clarion Alley, a hotspot of graffiti in the Nineties). He pestered and wheedled until being allowed under their tutelage. While not the best painter, he is learning fast and earning a fair share. It's not about the money for him, though. Not one little bit.
I hope it's cool if I try and release some of the undomesticated kaiju, just to even the odds a little.
Rhys, for lack of any other real plan, followed closely behind Christopher as he ran through the corridors, stopping at various doorways. He was vaguely aware of the crisis unfolding on Mars and the intrusion by the alien kaiju. Really, he and Gorosaurus were having too much fun tearing apart the containment facility. His new game was to scan the area with the sauropod's weak eyes for any individual humans trying to make a break for it, and then bring a gigantic foot down on top of them. Rhys was beginning to understand the rush assholes like Bevan Mills got from pushing people around.
His beatific expression continued unabated even as klaxons rang through the hospital. Rhys felt like he had earned some payback.
Soon, he and Gorosaurus both bored of crushing individuals humans and ambled off, away from the fighting, towards the other enclosures. Rhys reasoned that even if the infected controlled a few monsters, there was still plenty more left unspoken for. Releasing them might make for a few laughs- not to mention some payback. Rhys tried to remember which monsters were up there. Ookondoru. Titanosaurus. Manda.
Then again, did it matter? Rhys was enjoying the chaos he was causing. Why bring reason into it?
With that in mind, Gorosaurus laid into the wall of the nearest enclosure. . .
His beatific expression continued unabated even as klaxons rang through the hospital. Rhys felt like he had earned some payback.
Soon, he and Gorosaurus both bored of crushing individuals humans and ambled off, away from the fighting, towards the other enclosures. Rhys reasoned that even if the infected controlled a few monsters, there was still plenty more left unspoken for. Releasing them might make for a few laughs- not to mention some payback. Rhys tried to remember which monsters were up there. Ookondoru. Titanosaurus. Manda.
Then again, did it matter? Rhys was enjoying the chaos he was causing. Why bring reason into it?
With that in mind, Gorosaurus laid into the wall of the nearest enclosure. . .
Nate rushed into the classroom, breathing heavily. He had almost been late for class again. His walking commute had been interrupted, as per usual, by an outside element. This time it had been a cat meandering past carrying an entire unopened bag of beef jerky in its mouth. A normal person would have just shrugged at this moderately unusual sight, but Nate Thurston was the sort that had to drop everything and follow the cat to see where it was going with the treat.
It had gotten away from him, unlike cats or particularly athletic humans, Nate was unable to scale walls. And there he was, fresh tear in his jeans and only a minute or two to spare from his fourth tardy slip. Leaning over his desk to catch his breath after his sprint to school, he spied the slip of paper that had been carefully placed there. Reading it over, Nate couldn't help but take a glance at Cara over there. Quiet girl, a bit mousy, a bit shy, maybe. Nate wondered what was with her sudden interest in having a party.
He checked his watch. Still a couple minutes until final bell. With that in mind, he picked up the invite and walked over to Cara, doing his best to put up what he hoped would be interpreted as a friendly smile. "Hi, Cara," he said. "So what's this about?"
It had gotten away from him, unlike cats or particularly athletic humans, Nate was unable to scale walls. And there he was, fresh tear in his jeans and only a minute or two to spare from his fourth tardy slip. Leaning over his desk to catch his breath after his sprint to school, he spied the slip of paper that had been carefully placed there. Reading it over, Nate couldn't help but take a glance at Cara over there. Quiet girl, a bit mousy, a bit shy, maybe. Nate wondered what was with her sudden interest in having a party.
He checked his watch. Still a couple minutes until final bell. With that in mind, he picked up the invite and walked over to Cara, doing his best to put up what he hoped would be interpreted as a friendly smile. "Hi, Cara," he said. "So what's this about?"
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12 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
I'm all up ons this.
Rhys smirked and flashed a thumbs up to Christopher as he pulled on some better-fitting clothing. He arched an eyebrow as the other started talking to empty air, but was abruptly blindsided by new sensations.
Confusion. Anger. Impatience. He still saw the hallway of the hospital ship, but at the same time he was within a cavernous room, an enormous jail cell, pounding at it with his feet and fists and tail.
Tail?
And then he realized. The daydreams from earlier. They weren't visions, but rather new memories he was now privy to. Rhys was linked to something, one of the beasts on Mars. He wasn't sure which one.
He screwed up his face in concentration, focusing on the new feelings, linking them to his own. They were alike- imprisoned, disliked. He focused on the similarities, and saw that it was a two-way street, an even exchange.
It was working. He was making contact. Rhys was becoming one with Gorosaurus, split across two bodies.
He took the rage, and focused it, raining blows on one portion of the wall rather than flailing wildly. His patience was rewarded by the sight of the wall crumbling, the Martian landscape stretching before him. Antlike figures fled beneath the enormous creature as it stepped out into fresh air.
Through the eyes of Gorosaurus, Rhys could see a cluster of buildings before him, more of the people running out the doors and piling into vehicles. Pathetic.
Rhys smiled as he realized what this was. A chance to get back at everyone for the disrespect he had always been shown. Things were going to be different for Rhys Thompson, he told himself as he had Gorosaurus pile into the still-occupied buildings. He smiled as he heard the screams drowned out by the crashing of the buildings crumbling into rubble. Much, much different.
Confusion. Anger. Impatience. He still saw the hallway of the hospital ship, but at the same time he was within a cavernous room, an enormous jail cell, pounding at it with his feet and fists and tail.
Tail?
And then he realized. The daydreams from earlier. They weren't visions, but rather new memories he was now privy to. Rhys was linked to something, one of the beasts on Mars. He wasn't sure which one.
He screwed up his face in concentration, focusing on the new feelings, linking them to his own. They were alike- imprisoned, disliked. He focused on the similarities, and saw that it was a two-way street, an even exchange.
It was working. He was making contact. Rhys was becoming one with Gorosaurus, split across two bodies.
He took the rage, and focused it, raining blows on one portion of the wall rather than flailing wildly. His patience was rewarded by the sight of the wall crumbling, the Martian landscape stretching before him. Antlike figures fled beneath the enormous creature as it stepped out into fresh air.
Through the eyes of Gorosaurus, Rhys could see a cluster of buildings before him, more of the people running out the doors and piling into vehicles. Pathetic.
Rhys smiled as he realized what this was. A chance to get back at everyone for the disrespect he had always been shown. Things were going to be different for Rhys Thompson, he told himself as he had Gorosaurus pile into the still-occupied buildings. He smiled as he heard the screams drowned out by the crashing of the buildings crumbling into rubble. Much, much different.
If this was going to keep up, Rhys was going to need some larger clothes. The hospital pajamas were far too tight, his arms, thighs and chest were in danger of splitting them open with the slightest movement. He looked down at the sound of a snap to see the wristband they had given him flutter to the ground, breaking under the pressure of his thickening wrist. He had a vague idea of where clothing was kept, might as well head there.
Rhys was greeted by a scene of carnage. One of the nurses lay on the floor, covered in blood and twitching. That was secondary compared to the fellow standing over him, wings and a blood-smeared tail peeking out of tears in his clothing. Good. Someone else here had the right idea. He looked familiar. Maybe he was one of the other patients, Rhys had seen a few of them in passing.
Unable to speak, there was no way Rhys could announce himself. So he just carried on with his business. He walked past the strange insect man, giving a casual nod as if to say "Some place, huh?" and stepped into the closet. He started rooting through the clothes in search of some that would fit his newly thicker body.
Rhys was greeted by a scene of carnage. One of the nurses lay on the floor, covered in blood and twitching. That was secondary compared to the fellow standing over him, wings and a blood-smeared tail peeking out of tears in his clothing. Good. Someone else here had the right idea. He looked familiar. Maybe he was one of the other patients, Rhys had seen a few of them in passing.
Unable to speak, there was no way Rhys could announce himself. So he just carried on with his business. He walked past the strange insect man, giving a casual nod as if to say "Some place, huh?" and stepped into the closet. He started rooting through the clothes in search of some that would fit his newly thicker body.
Well, we both murdered out nurses, guess we have that much in common.
No, go ahead and do whatever you like.
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