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Enarr@SepticGentleman crowbars or whatever else he has in his backpack
Ah, the Gordon Freeman school of combat. Classic.
SepticGentleman
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𝙼𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎
STATUS: I like the night liiiiife, I like to ɮ օ օ ɢ ɨ ɛ 6 yrs ago
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- SepticGentleman 11 yrs ago
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6 yrs ago
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I like the night liiiiife, I like to ɮ օ օ ɢ ɨ ɛ
6 yrs ago
𝕊 𝕢 𝕦 𝕖 𝕖 𝕖 𝕖 𝕖 𝕫 𝕖
6 yrs ago
I feel a tremble in my temple
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6 yrs ago
He’s mastered the art of Simp Mode
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6 yrs ago
Jace haunts me dreams, blesses me nightmares, ye
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Ah, the Gordon Freeman school of combat. Classic.
@Bishop thanks for the compliment bro this is the first time i have written a character like Cronus so am happy to see people enjoying him
I was wondering what he'll swap his shotgun out for when his shell supply has been depleted?
[@SepticHentleman] Well that won't matter if our guy pulls the trigger...I mean he is doing a very good job portraying how being lonely and only with robots can affect your mental health. But I admit it would be funny if he would say: "Guys, I can hear everything you're saying." ignoring the threat that he got from the masked guy.
Maybe he's just like that? Easygoing toll collector who's been threatened so many times it doesn't phase him anymore. That'd be neat.
@SepticGentleman Man, ofc he heard that masked guy, he literally threatened him to give his means of transportation over to our group...
Well more in response to Bishop's words than Cronus' I mean.
I'm half-expecting the dude asking for twenty hoops to just call out, "Guys, I can hear everything you're saying."
Baldies have a secret code of honor, after all.
Clifford did nothing but let the feminine bandit complete her task. Truth be told, his throat had been feeling dry as the sands he came from, and he wasn't exactly capable of asking for anything to fix that. At least his captors were somewhat proactive in keeping their bounty alive. The cup of water had emptied, the bandit stood up, glared at Cliff for a moment, and proceeded out of the tent.
Clifford waited for just a moment before he began darting his head every which way, looking for something, anything to get out of here with. He kept switching his vision, jostling the post he was tied to while he searched and-
Wait.
The post was loose.
Clifford put as best of a grip as he could on the thing, planting his feet in the dirt beneath him and pushing upwards. The post, indeed, rose just a bit out of the ground. Clifford couldn't tell how far it was going, but he was going to risk it anyway. Before any of the bandits bothered to come back.
He slid forward, pulling himself with his feet. His bound hands lowered, reaching the base of the post. He lifted it up as best as he could in that position, straining a bit. He dug his fingers beneath the wood, feeling the dirt it was planted in. With a few stressed and forceful movements, he pulled his hands under the post and out of the ground, and then quickly replanted it.
He was free of the post, but he had to formulate an escape plan. He slid back up to the post and raised his arms over his head, doing his best to make it look as though the dirtied rope was still wrapped around the wood.
Think. Think, think.
Clifford waited for just a moment before he began darting his head every which way, looking for something, anything to get out of here with. He kept switching his vision, jostling the post he was tied to while he searched and-
Wait.
The post was loose.
Clifford put as best of a grip as he could on the thing, planting his feet in the dirt beneath him and pushing upwards. The post, indeed, rose just a bit out of the ground. Clifford couldn't tell how far it was going, but he was going to risk it anyway. Before any of the bandits bothered to come back.
He slid forward, pulling himself with his feet. His bound hands lowered, reaching the base of the post. He lifted it up as best as he could in that position, straining a bit. He dug his fingers beneath the wood, feeling the dirt it was planted in. With a few stressed and forceful movements, he pulled his hands under the post and out of the ground, and then quickly replanted it.
He was free of the post, but he had to formulate an escape plan. He slid back up to the post and raised his arms over his head, doing his best to make it look as though the dirtied rope was still wrapped around the wood.
Think. Think, think.
"So who should we sell him to? Jolly Gutters is always buying, y'know."
"Jolly Gutters, that devious cunt! He buys everyone, dirt cheap! Uses them for those ridiculous sacrifices of his."
"Okay, fine. What about the Bastard of the Wilds? Or Madame?"
"The Bastard only wants nonhumans, idiot. Madame, though... well, this one's not pretty to look at, but- ah! Look!"
"Our bounty's waking up."
Clifford's vision slowly returned to him. Two lightly armored figures stood before him, one wrapped in a ragged cloak, the other donning a wolf's head over his own. He felt his hands bound by rope, hoisted up on a wooden post. He was seated on the ground, the thick fabrics of a tent surrounding him. The wolf-clad bandit smiled.
"Had a nice nod-off, did ya?" He asked, "Another stranger from on high waking up in one of our fields."
The cloaked one added, "Doesn't matter where you were before. You're here now, and you're gonna get used to it. Once we figure out who you're gonna go to, that is."
"Right, that!" The wolf-clad one exclaimed, approaching Clifford and hovering above him. "So go ahead and keep drowsing. We won't be keeping ya here long, after all."
Clifford could just feel the son of a bitch smiling behind that mask.
The wolf-clad bandit marched out of the tent, with the cloaked one following shortly afterward, leaving Clifford to his own devices - the post, the rope, and the tent all.
The panicking had ended. Now, he had to think.
"Jolly Gutters, that devious cunt! He buys everyone, dirt cheap! Uses them for those ridiculous sacrifices of his."
"Okay, fine. What about the Bastard of the Wilds? Or Madame?"
"The Bastard only wants nonhumans, idiot. Madame, though... well, this one's not pretty to look at, but- ah! Look!"
"Our bounty's waking up."
Clifford's vision slowly returned to him. Two lightly armored figures stood before him, one wrapped in a ragged cloak, the other donning a wolf's head over his own. He felt his hands bound by rope, hoisted up on a wooden post. He was seated on the ground, the thick fabrics of a tent surrounding him. The wolf-clad bandit smiled.
"Had a nice nod-off, did ya?" He asked, "Another stranger from on high waking up in one of our fields."
The cloaked one added, "Doesn't matter where you were before. You're here now, and you're gonna get used to it. Once we figure out who you're gonna go to, that is."
"Right, that!" The wolf-clad one exclaimed, approaching Clifford and hovering above him. "So go ahead and keep drowsing. We won't be keeping ya here long, after all."
Clifford could just feel the son of a bitch smiling behind that mask.
The wolf-clad bandit marched out of the tent, with the cloaked one following shortly afterward, leaving Clifford to his own devices - the post, the rope, and the tent all.
The panicking had ended. Now, he had to think.
Clifford was starting to feel somewhat secure now. Looking behind him, no one was in pursuit. Not those people, or that fiery visage, or the chimera. Coast looked clear, so amid the hilly plain he was running through, he stopped and leaned forward.
Panicked, half-gurgling breaths traveled in and out his face wound. Heart was pounding, arm still stung a bit from the bruise, but it was dying down well enough. Cliff stood back upright and scanned the area around him. The mountains in the distance, the forest just a short walk away, everything. It was all unfamiliar, alien to him. Back on Earth he'd been around nothing but white desert sands and clear blue skies for the longest time. He was sleeping in a tent the same as his fellow men, and then he was just...
Here.
Where was here? It wasn't in the same continent, that was for sure. Not even on the same planet with chimeras and fiery elementals wandering around.
Was he too abrupt in running from that crowd? He had an inkling they were in the same position as him, so they wouldn't know anything, but-
"I spy! With my little eye!"
Shouting. In the distance.
Clifford turned his head. Over the nearest hill, five men rode on horseback, galloping straight towards where he stood. They were wrapped in leathers and beast hides, well armed with iron and oak alike. They began whooping like jackals as they neared.
"Get him!"
Clifford turned and began running once more. But the fatigue was already getting to him. He was no match for the speed of the horses. The riders began twirling knotted ropes in the air, riding past him and lashing them at his feet. He fell forward, into the grass, and desperately attempted to regain himself.
One of the assailants practically leapt off his horse and jumped around Clifford. "Yeah! YEAH!" He called out, brandishing a wooden club and striking Clifford's leg with it. Another swift blow to the head, and he was out cold, lying on the grass. The other assailants joined in.
"Get the rope! We're taking this one to camp!"
"Look at the gob on this one... like a rotten fuckin' apple."
"He don't gotta be pretty, he just gotta be useful."
"That he does! Now get the GODDAMN ROPE."
Panicked, half-gurgling breaths traveled in and out his face wound. Heart was pounding, arm still stung a bit from the bruise, but it was dying down well enough. Cliff stood back upright and scanned the area around him. The mountains in the distance, the forest just a short walk away, everything. It was all unfamiliar, alien to him. Back on Earth he'd been around nothing but white desert sands and clear blue skies for the longest time. He was sleeping in a tent the same as his fellow men, and then he was just...
Here.
Where was here? It wasn't in the same continent, that was for sure. Not even on the same planet with chimeras and fiery elementals wandering around.
Was he too abrupt in running from that crowd? He had an inkling they were in the same position as him, so they wouldn't know anything, but-
"I spy! With my little eye!"
Shouting. In the distance.
Clifford turned his head. Over the nearest hill, five men rode on horseback, galloping straight towards where he stood. They were wrapped in leathers and beast hides, well armed with iron and oak alike. They began whooping like jackals as they neared.
"Get him!"
Clifford turned and began running once more. But the fatigue was already getting to him. He was no match for the speed of the horses. The riders began twirling knotted ropes in the air, riding past him and lashing them at his feet. He fell forward, into the grass, and desperately attempted to regain himself.
One of the assailants practically leapt off his horse and jumped around Clifford. "Yeah! YEAH!" He called out, brandishing a wooden club and striking Clifford's leg with it. Another swift blow to the head, and he was out cold, lying on the grass. The other assailants joined in.
"Get the rope! We're taking this one to camp!"
"Look at the gob on this one... like a rotten fuckin' apple."
"He don't gotta be pretty, he just gotta be useful."
"That he does! Now get the GODDAMN ROPE."
alright so everyone has different reactions. We're leaving it at that, please.
Yes, agreed.
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