This so not going to end well...
TheWildBunnii
Member
The Obsessed Latina
STATUS: I'm feeling wicked! In the mood to play a antagonist. 8 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 8 mos ago
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 395 (0.10 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- TheWildBunnii 11 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
OfficerHeadbutt
Status
Recent Statuses
8 yrs ago
Current
I'm feeling wicked! In the mood to play a antagonist.
2
likes
10 yrs ago
Being creepy and stuff.
11 yrs ago
I need sleep... >.<
Bio
Most Recent Posts
Editing in Progress.
@Zetsuko Aww, hope to see you around.
Ooo I am in. Will work on CS.
So unfair... So many broken rules and no form of action *ahem* *cough* director@TheHangedMan *cough* xD
But nooo... The moment you try to be a good model student by breaking up a fight...expulsion gets thrown in your face. Pfffftt
But nooo... The moment you try to be a good model student by breaking up a fight...expulsion gets thrown in your face. Pfffftt
In the Mountains, near the city of Alpenrose.
The feels of suns' heat still making its appearance through the wildflowers now held the morning snow of the chilled night before. The sun had stood moments ago near blinding whoever it touch, a great form now stood in silhouette with the sun's rays sparkling around it as though on fire. The great Stag stood tall, proud and majestic.
On the back of wild Stag, an unconscious hooded figure with long, soft pink hair framed an oval face with ludicrously long eyelashes; the coldness eating at her spirit.
The sound of the Hawk "Tawodi", circling overhead, seeking for the prey to feast on. The Stag had spent the better part of dawn making his way up a steep slope of a nearby mountain. The rocks crevice casting images in shadow as the sky appeared making it one of the favorite places to hike and explore at the moment.
The enormous animal cautiously made it's way down the narrow trail, silently without so much as single twig cracking beneath its feet as though somehow magically walking on air. It shook its massive head of snow, the crown of antlers looking almost too heavy and burdensome to bear. The trail of crimson marked the gaping wound on his hind leg made by a pack of wolves. Minutes later he broke through the thick trees he'd found himself wandering around in. Beyond, a meadow filled with color beyond the minds imagination. Every color of wildflower known to exist had to be within this meadow. A kaleidoscope of brilliant hues that weaved itself like an ever-changing blanket, the wind blowing as colors formed, changed and reformed once again into differing magnificent patterns. One of the many fears for a Stag was being out in the open field, wounded.
He lifts his head to notice in the far distance, suspension smoke, the very sign he hoped for. Civilization. Soon, he will be able to seek the help he need for his ill-rider.
It was the sudden piercing howls that broke, sent revelry, fear, panic down his spine as he felt himself free-falling now rather than walking. Tumbling, spiraling out of control, landing hard. Now entering the meadow, not one, but perhaps a dozen or more fierce powerful wolves as they surrounded, then charged the two of them below.
Above him, another cry, another screech as he stood watching the magnificent Hawk above him go into a shallow dive, swooping downwards then peeling off, disappearing behind the ledges above him, reappearing moments later, once again circling, waiting for a taste.
Dakath nearly made it to his feet when once again he was rocked, his breath knocked from his lungs by the impact as yet another, the biggest of the wolves first appearing. It now sunk its mighty fangs into the flesh of his back. Swimming through the matted once beautiful wildflowers now torn, destroyed, the coppery stench of blood filling the air, no longer the fresh fragrant smells of beauty, but of death. He leaped at the first wolf that had lost interest in him and broken away now charging at the elf, lying a few meters away and for the first time, her eyes fluttered open.
A grunt escape from his throat when the rip and tear of flesh could be seen on the Stag's flanks, yet it turned not away from its victim, choosing instead to impale it upon its horns, tossing it aside, only then turning to face a new and separate challenge even though he grew weaker himself with each passing minute. One by one, he met them all until none was left, though he stood on unsteady legs, dripping with blood.
His ears twitched, picking up loud, snarling noises along with cries of terror rose in the distance. A crescendo of anger and pain adding to that which Dakath himself felt. Helpless to do anything as he pushed his nose, pawing the earth where a near-lifeless body of his mistress rest. He felt himself growing colder, his legs gave up from under him, it became more and more difficult for him to concentrate, but he willed himself to do so anyway. And with each breath becoming harder, he began to notice a change, he saw the first real intake, then exhale of breath as the elf's breast rose in a renewed fight to survive. Dakath saw the glaze of her eyes begin to dissipate, becoming clearer, even as his own began to fog.
" Dakath..." she whispered weakly, her hand reach to touch the soaked fur.
He saw her shimmer, the energy of her magic now encompassing them both as the power's light shot upwards, illuminating the sky like a flare. Snow began to fall covering the ground. The soft rich soil beneath them soon soaked.
On the back of wild Stag, an unconscious hooded figure with long, soft pink hair framed an oval face with ludicrously long eyelashes; the coldness eating at her spirit.
The sound of the Hawk "Tawodi", circling overhead, seeking for the prey to feast on. The Stag had spent the better part of dawn making his way up a steep slope of a nearby mountain. The rocks crevice casting images in shadow as the sky appeared making it one of the favorite places to hike and explore at the moment.
The enormous animal cautiously made it's way down the narrow trail, silently without so much as single twig cracking beneath its feet as though somehow magically walking on air. It shook its massive head of snow, the crown of antlers looking almost too heavy and burdensome to bear. The trail of crimson marked the gaping wound on his hind leg made by a pack of wolves. Minutes later he broke through the thick trees he'd found himself wandering around in. Beyond, a meadow filled with color beyond the minds imagination. Every color of wildflower known to exist had to be within this meadow. A kaleidoscope of brilliant hues that weaved itself like an ever-changing blanket, the wind blowing as colors formed, changed and reformed once again into differing magnificent patterns. One of the many fears for a Stag was being out in the open field, wounded.
He lifts his head to notice in the far distance, suspension smoke, the very sign he hoped for. Civilization. Soon, he will be able to seek the help he need for his ill-rider.
It was the sudden piercing howls that broke, sent revelry, fear, panic down his spine as he felt himself free-falling now rather than walking. Tumbling, spiraling out of control, landing hard. Now entering the meadow, not one, but perhaps a dozen or more fierce powerful wolves as they surrounded, then charged the two of them below.
Above him, another cry, another screech as he stood watching the magnificent Hawk above him go into a shallow dive, swooping downwards then peeling off, disappearing behind the ledges above him, reappearing moments later, once again circling, waiting for a taste.
Dakath nearly made it to his feet when once again he was rocked, his breath knocked from his lungs by the impact as yet another, the biggest of the wolves first appearing. It now sunk its mighty fangs into the flesh of his back. Swimming through the matted once beautiful wildflowers now torn, destroyed, the coppery stench of blood filling the air, no longer the fresh fragrant smells of beauty, but of death. He leaped at the first wolf that had lost interest in him and broken away now charging at the elf, lying a few meters away and for the first time, her eyes fluttered open.
A grunt escape from his throat when the rip and tear of flesh could be seen on the Stag's flanks, yet it turned not away from its victim, choosing instead to impale it upon its horns, tossing it aside, only then turning to face a new and separate challenge even though he grew weaker himself with each passing minute. One by one, he met them all until none was left, though he stood on unsteady legs, dripping with blood.
His ears twitched, picking up loud, snarling noises along with cries of terror rose in the distance. A crescendo of anger and pain adding to that which Dakath himself felt. Helpless to do anything as he pushed his nose, pawing the earth where a near-lifeless body of his mistress rest. He felt himself growing colder, his legs gave up from under him, it became more and more difficult for him to concentrate, but he willed himself to do so anyway. And with each breath becoming harder, he began to notice a change, he saw the first real intake, then exhale of breath as the elf's breast rose in a renewed fight to survive. Dakath saw the glaze of her eyes begin to dissipate, becoming clearer, even as his own began to fog.
" Dakath..." she whispered weakly, her hand reach to touch the soaked fur.
He saw her shimmer, the energy of her magic now encompassing them both as the power's light shot upwards, illuminating the sky like a flare. Snow began to fall covering the ground. The soft rich soil beneath them soon soaked.
Update
My post has been edited.
My post has been edited.
@KindledBeast@Eklispe got it.
A few minutes had past when a few of armored students in black were up and racing towards a side entrance into an abandoned building; the other dozen were on the other side.
Welcome to AP Unit Tactics.
Snipers were taking out windows, trying to keep resistance from inside as low as possible. Suddenly, there was a huge explosion that came from the back; running through the new open clearing and taking fire right away. The sound of sub-machine guns and then flash-bomb was deafening in the hallways. There were a little too much of firepower inside the building now, it was going to be difficult to hold together.
The noise level made it hard to made it hard to think straight or keep any focus.
The whole team of students in red waited to receive some sort of command from their quadrant leader while others received the full force of the attack. The red team staggering backward stubbornly, opposing every gained foot, but unable to check the unvanquishable foe.
The black team had managed to close off the red team, slowly targeting them down.
Two red armored students dash down the hall, falling away from the sound bomb and the rain of enemy's power. The good thing about protective gear is that it might stop a fatal or force of a powerful paintball; the bad thing it tends to slows one down. Advanced Placement of Unit Tactics was fun and the rush of the adrenaline would make anyone an addict expect when you were lost communications. The Black Squad had managed to jam radio transmissions, neither teams were receiving anything on either end. Both communications blocked for quite awhile, giving the Black Squad to enact their plan.
Struggling to catch her breath Catalina glared up at her teammate who was more than content to watch her hide for cover behind a doorway, flying forest of paint hit the wall close to her.
" We are so goin' to fail today's class!" her teammate shouted, her rifle close to her chest.
" Lisa, we are not. If we manage to keep this section clear...." Catalina started to say.
" That is impossible," Lisa shook her head, " We are running out of cartridges--"
Catalina did not have the time to respond when a student in black armor stepped forward, drawing his gun and reaching out toward Lisa. Before he could stretch his fingers, however, Catalina reached into her back, with a flick of her wrist the baton extended, stabbed into his wrist. The student shouted in surprise, felt a white-hot pain against his suddenly broken wrist and dropped the gun. The baton upward, followed by another hit, this time into the guy's right eye. The guy screamed as he covered his gouged-out eyeball with his one good hand.
The senior's movement might have been as simple as a dance step but for some reason the second rifleman could not block nor even avoid her either. The other five students took a collective step backward. One of them yanked out his pistol and attempted to fire it at her beautiful face.
Lisa did not even move, pulling the trigger. This time, she hit the boy's in the stomach, he cried out in pain as well and felt all his strength flee out of his legs. Catalina buried her baton at his head. The man fell to the ground, rolling about.
The two seniors removed the helmets as the operation of the building ruins dissolves to the state-of-the-art training room.
One by one of the 'stricken' students rose up from the floor, following out of the room with wide grins.
She raised an eyebrow at first, uncertain to burst the troopers bubble that each and every was 'killed' in battle but left it be. She had enough to deal with the earlier event, and now the slight curve in her grade for today's class.
The simulator is used to analyze and improve player reaction times while also collecting data on players which is able to aid and prevent injury recovery in the long-term. Each student reproduces under the teacher's supervision, of course.
With a huff, Catalina unstrapped herself from the light armor which took her vitals and scooped up her helmet, walking to the girl's locker room, joining the rest of the losing team. She placed her helmet in the open cubby and hung the chest plate over hook, under her name tag.
Catalina promptly walked out of the locker room, in little mood to stay and discuss today's tactics, the bell rang through the school for lunch.
Welcome to AP Unit Tactics.
Snipers were taking out windows, trying to keep resistance from inside as low as possible. Suddenly, there was a huge explosion that came from the back; running through the new open clearing and taking fire right away. The sound of sub-machine guns and then flash-bomb was deafening in the hallways. There were a little too much of firepower inside the building now, it was going to be difficult to hold together.
The noise level made it hard to made it hard to think straight or keep any focus.
The whole team of students in red waited to receive some sort of command from their quadrant leader while others received the full force of the attack. The red team staggering backward stubbornly, opposing every gained foot, but unable to check the unvanquishable foe.
The black team had managed to close off the red team, slowly targeting them down.
Two red armored students dash down the hall, falling away from the sound bomb and the rain of enemy's power. The good thing about protective gear is that it might stop a fatal or force of a powerful paintball; the bad thing it tends to slows one down. Advanced Placement of Unit Tactics was fun and the rush of the adrenaline would make anyone an addict expect when you were lost communications. The Black Squad had managed to jam radio transmissions, neither teams were receiving anything on either end. Both communications blocked for quite awhile, giving the Black Squad to enact their plan.
Struggling to catch her breath Catalina glared up at her teammate who was more than content to watch her hide for cover behind a doorway, flying forest of paint hit the wall close to her.
" We are so goin' to fail today's class!" her teammate shouted, her rifle close to her chest.
" Lisa, we are not. If we manage to keep this section clear...." Catalina started to say.
" That is impossible," Lisa shook her head, " We are running out of cartridges--"
Catalina did not have the time to respond when a student in black armor stepped forward, drawing his gun and reaching out toward Lisa. Before he could stretch his fingers, however, Catalina reached into her back, with a flick of her wrist the baton extended, stabbed into his wrist. The student shouted in surprise, felt a white-hot pain against his suddenly broken wrist and dropped the gun. The baton upward, followed by another hit, this time into the guy's right eye. The guy screamed as he covered his gouged-out eyeball with his one good hand.
The senior's movement might have been as simple as a dance step but for some reason the second rifleman could not block nor even avoid her either. The other five students took a collective step backward. One of them yanked out his pistol and attempted to fire it at her beautiful face.
Lisa did not even move, pulling the trigger. This time, she hit the boy's in the stomach, he cried out in pain as well and felt all his strength flee out of his legs. Catalina buried her baton at his head. The man fell to the ground, rolling about.
The two seniors removed the helmets as the operation of the building ruins dissolves to the state-of-the-art training room.
One by one of the 'stricken' students rose up from the floor, following out of the room with wide grins.
She raised an eyebrow at first, uncertain to burst the troopers bubble that each and every was 'killed' in battle but left it be. She had enough to deal with the earlier event, and now the slight curve in her grade for today's class.
The simulator is used to analyze and improve player reaction times while also collecting data on players which is able to aid and prevent injury recovery in the long-term. Each student reproduces under the teacher's supervision, of course.
With a huff, Catalina unstrapped herself from the light armor which took her vitals and scooped up her helmet, walking to the girl's locker room, joining the rest of the losing team. She placed her helmet in the open cubby and hung the chest plate over hook, under her name tag.
Catalina promptly walked out of the locker room, in little mood to stay and discuss today's tactics, the bell rang through the school for lunch.
@Snagglepuss89 Make sure season each with pepper and salt.
© 2007-2026