Avatar of Utrax
  • Last Seen: 3 yrs ago
  • Joined: 12 yrs ago
  • Posts: 745 (0.16 / day)
  • VMs: 4
  • Username history
    1. Utrax 12 yrs ago

Status

Recent Statuses

3 yrs ago
Current Bok Bok I'm An Omen Bok-KAW!
2 likes
4 yrs ago
Birb Scream In Morning As Battery Replacement Alarm Because Birb Not Real.
2 likes
5 yrs ago
Fighting Vagrants Behind Dennys Over Pancake @ 11PM Tonight As Birb.
2 likes
6 yrs ago
BE like bird. Wake in morning. SCREAM at sun. SHIT on enemy.
4 likes
6 yrs ago
Girl is like bird. DO approach calmly. DO greet kindly. DO offer cornchip.
6 likes

Bio


An absolute WILDCARD of an RPer
(apparently)
Due to sudden and multiple very lengthy hiatus periods, please assume I don't remember who you are but, I probably think your name is familiar. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
U T R A X is a being that likes to Type Words on the INTERNET.

Most Recent Posts


Marcus Bradley
Location: Bedroom // Vending Machine


With a heavy sigh, Marcus settled down at the table he'd sat at the night before. He pressed his face into his palm then closed his eyes briefly. They stung and burned, a sure sign that they had been open for too long. While he still knew he was tired, at this point in insomnia, his body had fooled his brain into thinking he was awake enough to function. Marcus looked up at the wall across the room and arched a thoughtful brow. It hadn't occurred to him until now but there didn't seem to be any windows. Idly he began opening his bag of potato chips when someone crossed his line of sight-- wait, who was that?

Squinting at the woman in the white pajamas, he shook his head, then stared into his bag of chips. From his vantage point last night, he swore he could have seen-- "Hey!" Shouted the newcomer, "Does anyone know what's going on?!" And at that point Marcus stopped listening. Rolling his eyes again, sighed heavily, then dug into his potato chips more aggressively. Just as aggressively, he tore open his Twizzlers, then shoved a piece into his mouth, combining the flavors. Marcus didn't care to answer the dude's question, he didn't care to ask that other new person where they came from, and he certainly didn't care for all this waiting around. Why was the hour taking forever to come?

Marcus only wanted to call his family at this point. He was worried about how they were getting on without him-- his absence had to have been a burden upon them. Hopefully they hadn't had a mind to hire help-- god no, he hoped they didn't. The last helper out in that part of town had burned down someone's barn out of spite. What if that happened to his family? What if they couldn't haul the harvest well enough to make bank? What if they were evicted while he was here? What if he had to stay here for years? What if-- What if-- The thoughts ping-ponged around his mind, causing him to somehow become more stressed then he already was. He needed sleep. Man, did he need sleep. More and more complaints mounted within Marcus' mind, causing him to stare across the cafeteria with a look of outright distress-- wait, was he also running a fever? Putting a hand to his head, Marcus immediately felt sweat, then let out a heavy breath. This wasn't good. Nothing was good. He just... he wanted to go home. That was all.
"Hi!"

Fuchsia looked over to the man greeting her without any signs of being startled by him. Truth be told, part of her had sensed him close by-- well, maybe not specifically him. She knew there were others and that they meant her no harm but this guy? She didn't expect anyone to look like this guy. Her brow raised as she looked the man over-- what a strange way to dress. While Fuchsia knew that people used to dress in this manner, or perhaps still did, the only opinion she could form about this man, dressed in skins and holding a spear, was that he looked as if he stepped right out of a Dungeons and Dragons campaign. She remained silent in his pause, further making the quiet awkward for them both.

"Do you know where I can find Elvarren? I'm quite confused about who or what it is and Steve is being very quiet about it."

Fuchsia waited for him to elaborate or say something more but he... just kind of stopped there. Again, an awkward silence settled between them. Taking a deep breath, Fuchsia wiped sweat from her brow, then told him, "I'm looking for Elvarren too. But. Uh. I mean, I don't know where it is-- you know there's other people here too er, like me and you, I mean-- can't you hear the whispers? Ah--" she paused "--that sounded weird? Yeah it did..." And as she trailed off, a man came from inside the cabin, and walked toward them.

‘’You guys have a lighter? I need to have a smoke really bad... I’m Yoa—, Kaesar, by the way.’’

He was straight to the point. Kaesar? Must have been one of those names. Fuchsia remained silent and non-responsive as he spoke, even breaking eye contact with Kaesar, as she stared at the ground. She listened. Kaesar spoke of the voice he heard and the name of it-- Am? And the other guy had mentioned Steve-- was that the name of the voice he heard? Were these just nicknames or were they confirmed? Truth be told, if they were the former? Fuchsia hadn't had a mind to nickname the voice in her head. It honestly seemed a bit disrespectful or strange-- she couldn't quite pin the feeling down to a word but, she wasn't going to name the voice, bottom line.

Kaesar advised her to be wary of Luci and Horus but instinct told her to form her own opinions. Her gut instincts had rarely been wrong about people, plus there was something about Kaesar that made her feel a little uncomfortable. Maybe it was how pushy he seemed to be. Then again, he warned them to head inside to avoid apparent danger, so maybe she was misjudging him? Fuchsia scratched her head and remained quiet as she followed Kaesar toward the cabin.

Be not complacent in your passivity. Question. Seek. Demand. As you are expected. Insisted the voice. Shaking her head, Fuchsia found herself content to be quiet for now, even when they entered the cabin. The time for asking questions would be later, for sure. Now however, seemed more to be a good time to get to know the others, but only based on observation. She was glad to not be alone in this but, she wasn't exactly convinced none of them could be trusted yet-- aside from Dusk, that is. People would still be people, mystical powers or not, and people could be just as terrible as they could be good, and Fuchsia would never place trust blindly... Question. Seek. Demand. Urged the voice and Fuchsia suddenly understood the meaning. Would it kill you to be less vague next time? She found herself screaming inside. Silence was her answer.

Upon entering the cabin-- "Welcome!"

Fuchsia made eye contact with the stranger, who was tinkering with a crossbow, very briefly. The rest of her words were lost as Fuchsia stared around the cabin with a heavy feeling od dread in her stomach. This was it? This was the safe place for them? It looked as if it wouldn't withstand a bad gust of wind at the most. Her lips pressed into a thin line and she kept quiet, standing there rather awkwardly, without much drive to go further into the cabin. Truth be told, she really just wanted to turn around and go back outside, but that would probably come off as rude.

Interaction with @ReusableSword@Grijs@Rtron
Marcus Bradley
Location: Bedroom // Vending Machine - Interaction: @AnnieTimeNow


"Anything good in here?"

Marcus was wholly intent on ignoring the presence of the other person until they asked that. Rather mechanically, he turned his head toward her and stared-- looked to the vending machine-- looked back to her-- squinted heavily. What kind of dumb question was that? See, Marcus hadn't met many blind people in his life, but he had this one aut with glaucoma that had trouble seeing things. Now, this Aunt wore super thick glasses to compensate for her bad vision and Marcus didn't see this person wearing glasses of any sort, so she couldn't have been blind. How was he supposed to know if anything in the machine would qualify as 'good' for her or not? How the hell-- Marcus frowned heavily then shrugged. For good measure, he rolled his eyes at her, then moved toward the machine's number pad, despite her apparent need to press her face nearly into the glass. He wanted to tell her to figure it out herself but, well, that would have prolonged the interaction between them.

He certainly didn't tell her to move out of the way, but his rather bullheaded desire to start ordering snacks implied it quite a lot. Punching a few numbers on the machine, Marcus ordered a small feast from the vending machine-- cheese-its, sour cream and onion potato chips, Twizzlers, and a packet of chips ahoy cookies. The haste with which he selected the items was fueled by his need to, you know, not be around whoever this was anymore. Inwardly he scolded himself for his grumpiness, but also blamed his lack of proper sleep for it. Then again, perhaps being grumpy was the key to killing off any further interaction with him-- hopefully forever. Marcus picked up the last of his snacks, then stared toward the bedrooms. Now that he knew he had access to a private area, why would he stay out here with the others? Then again... he stood there long enough to witness the food being prepared and felt a little-- nope. He shook his head at it, then turned to take a seat near where he'd sat the night before.

Marcus then admitted he was out of sorts-- staring about, not actually moving, it was probably weird to watch.
*Is here as well. It even says it in the forum signature.*
Marcus Bradley
Location: Bedroom // Vending Machine


Marcus wondered what the surveillance capabilities of this place were. Had they been watching him in the night? Did they see him make several trips back and fourth to the vending machine? Did they notice just how many snacks and drinks he brought back? Were they monitoring the channels on the TV he turned through? As an infomercial played, an enthusiastic man pitching the latest and greatest in vacuum packing devices, Marcus found himself smirking at the thought. If they had been paying attention they probably found him odd. For hours he'd played music and sat cross legged on the ground. Sometime after that, he found himself waking up facedown on the carpet, a bit dazed but hungry, so began the first of many trips to the vending machine. The small trashcan in Marcus' room was piled high and nearly overflowing with chip bags, cookie wrappers, and emptied Dr. Pepper bottles.

He had his hand on the doorknob, ready to venture out for another vending trip, when an alarm started going off. Jolting sharply, he stared at the door, then wondered if he had set off a sensor of some sort. Had he got too many snacks? Was there a limit? The intercom crackled and Marcus tensed up, prepared for the worst-- oh.

Oh, that was just the wake up alarm.
OH. That was the wake up alarm.

Slamming a hand heavily into his face, Marcus grunted as he listened to the announcement, then cursed his inability to sleep. Already it was morning, which meant it was too late to try and sleep again. Notably, it was the carpet which had given him the most rest although, that was probably due to the series of exercises he had done to tire himself out. What a shame this lack of sleep was, but he hoped it wouldn't impair him too badly. Hopefully. With a weary sigh, Marcus walked into the bathroom, then turned the hot water on to let it heat up for-- wait a second...

Blinking at the steam, Marcus moved his hand into the stream of water. How had it heated up so fast?! He was quite astounded-- this was nothing like his house at all. He didn't travel much so Marcus had too little experience with water that heated almost instantly. Marcus couldn't help but make a soft grunt of awe before he started undressing. Soon he took a shower, dried himself off, then stared at his dirty clothes...

Did he have to wear them again?

Squinting, Marcus stared at his dirty boxers, reached down for them, then gave them a sniff-- A few coughs escaped him. He firmly concluded that it was probably best to search the room for clothes. They had provided basically everything else so Marcus figured it was worth a shot. He walked over to a closed door, to what he assumed was the closet, then opened it. Once again Marcus found himself stunned. Within the closet were clothes that were... were they his? He then went to a nearby dresser, found more clothes that were his-- his socks-- his shoes-- wait... Picking up one of the heavy black boots, Marcus noticed how new and clean it was. These people were certainly trying hard to please, weren't they? All of these clothes looked like things he would wear, but Marcus quickly figured out they were all newly purchased. Shaking his head, Marcus devoted his time to getting dressed, easing the strangeness of the clothing situation out of his mind-- how had they known what he liked to wear?

Eventually Marcus emerged from his room clad in jeans, workbooks, and a white t-shirt. Yawning slightly, Marcus made his way down the hall and toward the cafeteria again, figuring he didn't have much time before testing began-- his shower had been a bit of a long one, after all. More garbage from the snack machine would have to do.
Marcus Bradley
Location: Cafeteria // Personal Room


As soon as the voice over the intercom suggested heading to bed, Marcus was on his feet. He freely admitted he was a bit tired so there wasn't much inward debate against what he should do. Standing up from his tray, he made eye contact with someone in a bio-hazard suit and they nodded at him-- an unspoken conversation-- so he left his tray on the table. As he began walking from the cafeteria, Marcus eyed the others briefly with a look over his shoulder. Ah-- he was the first one out, it seemed-- and looking down the hall ahead of him confirmed this. It made him briefly wonder if he would be the first to move when told to do so all the time. With a light shrug, Marcus walked down the hallway, back to where he remembered his name was on the wall.

When he entered the room, he let out a deep sigh, then locked as many locks on the door as he could. Thing was, Marcus never felt safe while alone unless he had a rifle or a baseball bat within reach. With this on his mind, he could already foresee the difficulty sleeping to come. The lady on the intercom had already laid out a wake up schedule so, he figured the rest of the time they would probably be on a schedule, which was reasonable enough for him-- this meant he could figure out how to tire himself properly before bedtime. Right now? He hadn't plowed enough, pitched enough hay, chased enough goats, or rode the tractor nearly enough to be properly tired. Then there was the fact that the room was so... processed. Pressed and scented, straightened out and brand new, all words to describe the general feel of the room and, the more Marcus looked around at the "warm welcome", the more he felt uncomfortable.

Houses and rooms didn't look or smell like this, hotels did, and in hotels you planned on leaving too soon to break everything in. Maybe that was the point of all this fanciness? It wasn't meant to welcome and keep you but, it was simply meant to welcome you to stay for a while. Shaking his head, Marcus took his shoes off at the door, then walked further into the room feeling somewhat anxious. Everything was so clean and neat that Marcus knew he'd never be able to relax in here, not truly. Even when he sat on the bed he didn't feel as if he could get comfortable. Yep. That was it. Marcus knew very well in this moment-- as if he didn't already know-- that he didn't belong here. Rubbing his face with his calloused hands, Marcus found himself wishing very hard he were simply back home. Mentally, he began making vows and promises to himself-- he was going to do anything it took to get out of this place as soon as possible.

This was not his home, they were not his friends, and he did not belong here.

Over and over the phrase repeated in his mind as he tossed and turned on the bed. Hours passed because he felt them pass. Eventually, Marcus found himself out of bed, walking around the room anxiously, trying his hardest to silence the worries writhing about in his mind-- the theories and foolishness-- but nothing seemed to help. All night he paced about, sat down, tried to sleep, rolled around, got back up-- a cycle of sleepless anxiety that didn't give hint it was going to release him. Well. At least he would have a phone call home in the morning.

The morning.
That was going to be here in less than five hours, he figured.
@KimmiNinja@Utrax@AnnieTimeNow@CyanideSweetie

Quick survey. How many of you have Discord? I didn't link Proxy or Jinxer because they already have it.


I have discord.
Marcus Bradley
Location: Cafeteria | Interacting With: his own paranoia...


It wasn't long before Marcus finished off his food. All the while, he watched the conversation the others were having, then figured that he should have sat a bit closer. From where he was, it was a little hard to hear every word but, he picked up the general gist. The main conclusion he started to draw was that most of them were probably older than him-- if there weren't lying, that is.

Most people could probably chalk their mistrust of others up to being raised a certain way, but Marcus wasn't going to slander his mother's name like that-- his mistrust was good ol' paranoia. As far as he was concerned, the less people did honest work-- carpentry, hunting, butchering, farm work-- the more they couldn't be trusted. There were a lot of snakes in the grass and people from big cities were the fattest ones. Why would any of them walk into such an extraordinary circumstance and be fully honest and truthful? He had known people to lie when the sky was sunny and the plants were blooming-- so this strange place was probably pushing people into desperation.

No one could back up their truths with evidence here and lies couldn't be figured out so easily. Here, this was probably something of a clean slate for others to work on. Taking a tense breath, Marcus pushed his tray away from himself, then set his gaze on the door leading out of the cafeteria. What was next? He'd seen a placard with his name on it down the hall-- were those assigned rooms? Admittedly, he was curious at how fancy the rooms would be, especially since the rest of this place seemed expensive and high-budget. Yawning, he also admitted to himself he was tired-- this facility was well out of his timezone... maybe.

Where exactly were they?

Marcus squinted at the thought. How come he didn't remember? Oh, that's right, he had slept the whole way here. Were he not familiar with the mysterious lull to rest that traveling had on his senses, he would have accused the people that brought him here of drugging him. He rubbed his face with his palm and cursed himself. There were probably details about getting here that he should have paid attention to... not that he expected he would need them. Part of Marcus simply wanted the details to have them. What if everything here went awry? What was his contingency plan? More importantly, what was their contingency plan? Marcus shifted his gaze to the people in bio-hazard suits that were standing behind the serving line. There must have been a plan in place for... well, what if one of them developed some kind of wold ending hell-power? What if said hell-powered person had a mind for violence? He didn't exactly remember there being a psychological screening process maybe-- he wasn't completely sure-- but the main point was, any one of these freaks, including him, could be here with ill intentions, right?

Hell. Magneto was an X-Man too.
In Panacea 9 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

In Panacea 9 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
@Utrax

Cool! Looks good to me. There is still plenty of time, though. You can always edit things as time passes, if you think of something else.


Alrighty-- I'll drop her into the character tab.
Lookin forward to this RP.
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