Avatar of Sombrero
  • Last Seen: 9 yrs ago
  • Joined: 11 yrs ago
  • Posts: 547 (0.14 / day)
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    1. Sombrero 11 yrs ago

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Recent Statuses

10 yrs ago
Dammit, smell! Why do you always lie about the taste of things!? Bread is never as good as you say it is! And vanilla extract tastes like petrified ass! PETRIFIED ASS!
3 likes
10 yrs ago
Using a phone on RPG. PROS: You can zoom in! CONS: fucking everything else!
11 likes
10 yrs ago
Glorious Math Teacher: "You know protractors, right? The rules we have for protractors are simple: Freshmen use these, don't put them in your mouth."
6 likes
11 yrs ago
Punching out Nazis and wrestling a yeti, sitting at home with some festive Spaghetti, rigging my boots up with high-power springs... These are a few of my favorite things!
9 likes
11 yrs ago
Still trying to figure out whether the Crusades qualify as actual wars, or a steaming hot mess of clusterfarkery best accompanied by the Benny Hill theme...
3 likes

Bio

I'm here, and I'm stuck in the middle with you.

Most Recent Posts

Of course. It was a trap of a much different kind. An irrefusable offer. Arguably the best one in his entire career, but still a trap. At least the cards he held in question were on the table. He could relax.

With composure and gentlemanly daintiness uncommon for someone of such particularly brutish appearance, Ibor moved food onto his plate with practiced elegance. Cesare was either a powerful man, or a man who could create the perfect elaborate illusion of power. A man who could provide useful information.

"I am pleased with this offer, there are so little opportunities for truly great trophies in Ohio. But the best prey in the world is all together here, along with a party of fellow hunters. Truly exciting!" His voice wavered madly across the syllables of 'exciting', and his eyes wandered, as if he was already examining the corpse of whatever unfortunate soul he considered prey.

He took a break to sample a small cut of his chicken.

"But any good hunter must know his quarry. I have seen many ignorant men slaughtered by the lions they hoped to kill themselves... So ever since I hear of Coalition, I watch news. Listen to radio. Read internet. But we both know media never tells full story. Especially not full story about people it loves... Not until they are dead..." Ibor paused for a moment, relishing the word in his mind just long enough to make any particularly sensitive individuals feel a tad uncomfortable.

"So I cut to chase, then. Is there anything you know about these 'heroes' that the reporters do not?"
Badoink?
if by demonic costume you were refering to Marilynn, you are wrong. She's wearing Prada


Pff, but Dragonydas, the Devil wears prada!
EDIT EDIT: Moral Qualms defeated. Not like pre-mission-brief conversation ever derails the plot in ways the others would miss unless you're playing D&D with a particularly devious/malicious relative...

BIC:

An extravagantly dressed woman @Dragonydas entered the room. She asked a rather peculiar question about someone named Marilynn Lovegood. Her tone of voice seemed to imply that she herself was named Marilynn Lovegood, and that she was there to meet her fans. If this Cesare was trying to pull a sham, his distractions sure had bizarre and elaborate personalities... Perhaps they all really were invited here for a reason...

"I have no idea why a fan would like to be meeting in funeral home, but whatever this is is definitely meeting of some kind." Dom said.

Along the way through his first line he realized that an ego owned by this kind of person was probably better left stroked than not. After all, if they were invited for the reason he was starting to think they were, she was dangerous, like him. A useful ally, probably.

"Name and voice sound familiar... Would not happen to be Marilynn Lovegood, would you? Excellent actress."
It's possible that any highly imaginative villains would be able to recognize Big Game. He's usually hidden by his goggles and gas mask when he shows up on the news, but they're both big dudes with exposed balding headshaves. Of course, height/size is tough to judge through a TV or magazine.
Domonic casually kept his distance as a woman in black entered. In the guise of politely getting out of the way for anyone entering the building, he moved to the side, where he could keep them all in view.

"You are who?" he asked, his eyes moving across the room slowly. The grammatical structure of this peculiar query was the fault of lazy mental translation rather than real lack of English understnding, but the difference wasn't obvious. It usually never was...
"You get letter?" Domonic says, his voice dropping roughly three octaves and settling much more comfortably into his real accent.

If Cesare meant to set up a trap, he sure invited some heavily armed people... Unless Cesare was among them. Or maybe this was all a ploy to avert his suspicions. He suspected Cesare was the giant. The name, after all, evoked the image of an enormous Italian fellow in some sort of leadership position. His right hand remained on the knife in his pocket as his left lifted out harmlessly to remove his sunglasses and hang them off the neck of his shirt.

"And this is not trap?" He adds, almost disappointed... Maybe he could throw them off by making them think they threw him off...
Three dudes with guns aiming at some other dude chilling out in a pew that's six times everyone else's size.

Dom's reaction:

"Ayyyyyyyy!"


Hey, refuge in audacity, right? It's always my first resort... When you wear the right hat, no one can tell you're a synth...
<Snipped quote by Sombrero>

"Bullshit. You smell like blood and piss."


"Piss?... *sniffs shirt* Chert poberi, I really should get around to killing that office cat they leave in the evidence locker..."
Luckily, they never specified what they were bluffing about, so they just made a generally lame bluff with the kind of German accent frat boys with youtube accounts use to order fast food.
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