Recent Statuses

18 days ago
Current Who needs drugs when you can just stand up really fast
4 mos ago
I think I need a new razor. Shaving feels like rubbing a slightly pointy eraser against my face five times.
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4 mos ago
It sounds like God is taking a piss on my house outside
5 mos ago
Just noticed that my total amount of reactions recieved is equal to the amount of reactions given. Perfectly balanced, as all things should be.
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5 mos ago
Nothing quite like powering through an assignment through sheer anger at having to do it


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Michael and Franklin

Level 4- (17/40) EXP / Level 3- (11/30) EXP (+2)
Location: On the Road ---> Hammerhead
Wordcount: 886

Michael was the first to pick up Needles' spirit, holding it up in his right hand. "Well, he looks friendly..." Just by looking at it, he could tell that this was the spirit of a madman. Fusing with it would be a terrible idea. Sure, part of Michael told him that fusing with a spirit would make him powerful, letting him fight without relying on his weapons. Still, the idea disturbed him, and if he had to fuse with a spirit, it sure as hell wouldn't be this one. With a single motion, Michael crushed the spirit in his hand, turning it into a weapon. Whatever weapon came from it, he would keep it in the truck until it was needed. "Well, that's that. I'll let you work on it, I need to rest." He said to Franklin, who nodded, moving to investigate the truck.

Michael began moving away when Linkle offered him a sip of the Lon Lon Milk, something that he remembered as being in the 'loot box' from the castle. He took the bottle and drank about an eight of its contents, handing it back with a nod. "Thanks..." He sighed as he felt his body healing, the milk's effects kicking in nearly immediately. Once Blazermate's Dispenser was set up, he would stand by it, letting its healing abilities fix the rest of his wounds.

Franklin stopped by the Dispenser soon after, picking up a few basic tools to help with the repairs. Seeing this, Michael walked over to test something out. "So, if this can make anything..." He reached into his suit jacket, pulling out his last full Uzi magazine. He held it in front of the machine for a few moments, and suddenly a new magazine popped out. Michael stared at it, grabbing it and comparing it with the original. "Son of a bitch, it works!" He grinned as he put the magazines back into their holders. He still had a means of finding ammo, which meant his guns wouldn't be useless in the long run. He repeated the process with one of his sniper magazines, and then repeated it again, leaving him with a decent supply of ammo for the rifle.

Franklin, meanwhile, began his work on the monster truck. He helped stitch together the broken systems on the vehicle, his knowledge of vehicles helping him identify which parts needed to be worked on. It was hard work, but with the help of Jr. and everyone else, they managed to get the truck working, and made some new modifications. As they finished up working on the truck and began to remove the symbols of its previous owner in favor of their own, Franklin took out a spray can and a stencil from the Dispenser, spraying his gang's symbol on the right side door. "Alright, all good." Franklin said, looking over their work.

"Finally. Let's catch up with the others. Hop in, people." Michael got in the driver's seat, gesturing for those without vehicles of their own to get in before turning on the truck's engine. "Woah...alright, let's hope I don't crash this thing. Jesus..." He drove off, following Kamek and Jr. to where the rest of the group had went, while Franklin followed on his bike.

It didn't take them long to catch up to the rest of the group, stopping at what looked like a truck stop of some kind. Michael could see the rest of the group's vehicles, but also a few unfamiliar people walking around. Stopping the monster truck just outside of the stop, Michael turned off the engine and got out, Franklin pulling up on his bike soon after.

"Well, guess this is the place." Michael said, looking at the place. It looked to be a fairly decent truck stop, with a gas station and some kind of restaurant nearby. Michael frowned as he saw the red eyes of the people nearby, but they didn't seem to be hostile to them. It was clear at this point that being under Galeem's influence didn't make someone immediately hostile, but it still made him uncomfortable. Franklin noticed it too, crossing his arms as he watched people go by. Michael turned to look at him. "They won't attack us immediately, but I'd be careful." Michael said, half-whispering to Franklin.

"Yeah, yeah..." Franklin continued to check out the people nearby, before pausing as he saw someone familiar. His eyes went wide as he took a closer look. "Shit, Mike, look."

"Wha- oh shit." Michael froze as he saw who Franklin was looking at. While he had wondered what happened to him, he didn't expect to see his old friend so soon. Thinking about it, it really wasn't much of a surprise- Trevor Phillips thrived off chaos, and this new world was exactly that. If Michael had to guess, he was probably having a blast out here, running around doing God knows what. "Come on." He began to walk towards him, and Franklin followed.

As they got closer, it was clear that Trevor had the red eyes that the other occupants of the stop shared. That was unfortunate, but expected- as far as they knew, their group were the only ones who weren't under Galeem's influence. "Trevor!" Michael announced, walking towards his old friend. "The fuck are you doing here, man?"

Welcome back!
Michael and Franklin

Level 4- (15/40) EXP / Level 3- (9/30) EXP
Location: On the Road
Wordcount: 535

Michael and Franklin watched as the remaining enemies were dealt with one by one. Franklin stayed back as others engaged Sweet Bot, eventually taking it and its pilot out in an epic battle. Michael mostly stayed back and waited, his wounds slowly healing due to his regeneration. He only had a single Uzi magazine left, and the sniper would be hard to use in this range. Plus, with the destruction of his scooter, there wasn't much he could do.

Soon, only the pilot of the monster truck was left standing. Franklin attempted to find an angle he could shoot at him from, but he was unsuccessful. Michael, due to his injuries, wasn't confident that he could aim his Uzi without hitting an ally, so the two were forced to watch as the rest of the group engaged him. The man apparently could steal souls, as he demonstrated with Banjo and Kazooie- although they soon had their soul returned, with force. The man then took out a soul he had collected, shattering it into a pair of swords. While he was seemingly prepared to go out in a blaze of glory, he did not get it. His attacks missed, and he was eventually crushed by the Centurion without wounding anyone. To their surprise, as he fell countless spirits burst from his chest, heading out into the sky until only his spirit remained.

With the battle over, Michael walked over to his wrecked scooter. Just looking at it, he could tell that it wasn't going to ride again. It had been essentially reduced to a scrap heap, with parts strewn across the ground. "Ah, damn it..." Walking past it, he headed to the monster truck, where Franklin was waiting on his bike. He was looking at the monster truck, but when Michael called out to him, he turned to face him.

"Shit, man, they fucked you up." Franklin noted, looking over Michael's wounds.

"I'll live." Michael gritted his teeth, the pain still there. Looking back up at the monster truck, he saw Peach taking the driver's spirit in. "What the..." The two covered their eyes as the princess was enveloped in bright light, and when they put their hands down, a changed woman emerged. She now looked more like a biker than a princess, and her voice had changed as well. She said that she felt a connection to their spirits, and that she could remove them. It made sense- if she gained the powers of the person she absorbed, she must have gained the ability the driver had that let him take people's spirits out.

"Well. That's different."

"Yeah...well, what now?" Michael turned to face Franklin. "My bike's busted."

"Well..." Franklin drove his bike to the back of the monster truck, where Bowser Jr. was preparing to repair it. Michael followed behind. "We could fix this thing up, and then you could drive it."

"If it doesn't take too long, sure. If not, I'll just ride on the back of your bike."

Franklin nodded, flipping out the kickstand and setting his bike down. He walked over to Bowser Jr. "Well, it don't look too damaged. Let's see if we can get it moving again, at least."

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Bridge of the Renatus | Location Unknown

The Zerg delegation mostly held their silence as the others spoke. More delegations slowly streamed in, Valtrix speaking to them through the ship's intercoms as they came up to the bridge. Ikani let out a chuckle as he mentioned that some of the delegations were 'unusual'. He could only be referring to them, as the other delegations seemed solely comprised of Terrans. Although to their credit, none of them had an overtly hostile reaction to their presence. It was likely due to the fact that, since they were all from different universes, the Terrans here had no history of conflict with the Zerg, and would be hopefully more open to peaceful relations. Hopefully, the same could be said for the native inhabitants of this galaxy.

The other delegations mostly agreed with what they said earlier. "Yes, it seems that there is little to gain from staying here. Is everyone in agreement that we should travel to the nearest system for answers?" Ikani asked, looking to the various delegations for a response.

Shelley, meanwhile, was considering something that one of the other delegations had said. "Excuse me." She said, looking towards the Daedalus delegation, her eye-tendril twitching slightly. "I couldn't help but said that you've seen something like this before? Could you elaborate on that? It might be able to help us understand what happened here."
Will try to post something soon.
In Hey 18 days ago Forum: Introduce Yourself
Welcome! If you have any questions, feel free to ask.
Ted grabbed the menu as it was passed over to him. Flipping it open, his eyes went wide as the vast array of food it advertised. He couldn't remember the last time he had a meal like the ones on the menu. His diet was almost entirely composed of wild game and edibles, with the only processed foods available being canned. "How did you..." But he shook his head, turning back to the menu. There didn't seem to be much point in questioning the situation, so he continued to look through the menu. The fact that they hadn't been attacked by a horde of zombies by now was a miracle, so it didn't seem much of a stretch that this strange bar also had a well-stocked kitchen.

As he continued to read through the menu, he saw that some appetizers had been placed before him, as well as a glass of water. "Oh, thank you." He took a few of the potato wedges, shoving them in his mouth. After eating nothing but smoked venison and the occasional wild mushroom for the past week, the potato wedges tasted incredible. He quickly scarfed down several, before taking a gulp of the ice water. Ice! That was another luxury that had been abandoned- unless it froze overnight, he'd be lucky to have water that was colder than lukewarm. He continued to snack on the appetizer as he scrolled through the menu, eventually settling on an old classic. "Could I have a cheeseburger? And a Coke to drink." He closed the menu, setting it down in front of him.

Despite everything, Theodore Richford was still standing. The old world was dead and gone, nothing but memories in the minds of the precious few who were still alive. The new world was a harsh and unforgiving place. Most of humanity had fallen in the first weeks, and those that survived found that they were no longer at the top of the food chain. Monsters lurked in the dark, now. The undead were the most plentiful by far, but they were also far from the most dangerous.

Ted was lucky enough to be away from civilization when the world ended. He was a hunter then, stalking deer in the Pennsylvania wilderness. At first, he didn't even know the world had ended. Away from civilization, the signs that something was wrong came gradually. Radio stations changing to repeated warnings, then silence. Abandoned vehicles on the road, seemingly broken into. The buzzing of insects grew louder, then the shuffling of feet in the night. Things, shapes moving in the darkness.

Adapting to this new world wasn't easy, but he managed. He had plenty of experience with living off the land, and he knew the area well. But above all else, he was a skilled hunter. The prey was like nothing he had faced before, and unlike the deer, they fought back. But for all their differences, all their alien features, they weren't immune to bullets. So, he hunted them.

The storm was relentless, and Ted knew he had to find shelter before exposure and exhaustion put an end to him. He wasn't sure where he was, but it seemed like he had wandered into a town, or maybe a city. The undead would likely be nearby, but he hadn't seen any sign of them so far. Still, he couldn't let himself be caught off guard. He'd have to find shelter soon- a building he could secure, or at least a place where he could set up a lean-to. Maybe if he was lucky, he would find a working car to replace the one that had broken down on him hours earlier.

But in the night, he couldn't see anything. Finally, he rounded the corner, where a street lamp stood bright against the darkness. The building next to it had its lights on, beckoning him in. Despite the strangeness of it all, something compelled him to go inside. Something about the area made him feel safer. So, he opened the door, and walked in.

As he shut the door behind him, the others in the bar would be able to get a good look at him. He appeared to be middle-aged, and his skin was pale. He was a gaunt figure, the demands of the new world having dealt a heavy toll to his body. He was incredibly skinny, and the look on his face was that of someone who hadn't slept in a long time. He wore a dark green knit hat, with some of his black hairs poking out, as well as an old Army jacket, cargo pants, and hiking boots. He had a rucksack and a rifle strapped to his back, and a shotgun in his right hand. Everything was covered by a clear plastic poncho, thrown over his other clothing to protect it from the rain.

Looking around, he immediately noticed that he wasn't alone. A bartender and someone in a hoodie, who was sitting at the bar. The impossibility of the scenario was obvious. A place like this couldn't exist, not in a city, or even a small town. But despite everything, no horde of undead appeared to smash through the windows and break down the doors. Somehow, this place existed, and he was here. Something about it told him that, despite how impossible it seemed, he had nothing to fear.

So, after giving the bartender a nod, he wiped off his boots, then walked over to the wall. He took off the poncho first, folding it up and placing it down before placing his rucksack, rifle, and shotgun next to it. Finally, he took off his hat and placed it on top of the rucksack, before walking over to the bar and sitting down, one seat away from the stranger. After a few moments, he looked up at the bartender. "Hey..." He paused for a moment, thinking of what to say. Looking over at the stranger, he noticed the menu in front of them. "Uh...could I have a menu?"
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