Avatar of WilsonTurner
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    1. WilsonTurner 12 yrs ago
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10 yrs ago
Current Spontaneously moving to a new account- OfWindAndRain.
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10 yrs ago
Born too late to explore the world; born too early to explore the galaxy.
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Bio

I'll eventually get a real bio in here.

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PostED
Uncharted Space: Aftermath
Explorer Witch Situation
The three Hunters momentarily paused, stunned by the bolt of... whatever it was. They had been nearby when similar bolts had vaporized their mechanics, and were well aware of the survivability of the weapon. However, because it did not fire again, and vaporize them, they gained confidence, and advanced, cornering the floating intelligence. As they did so, a Tinker peeked through the door, rifle in hand, and fired at the Witch. Once he finished his short, 3-second burst, he ducked away, and the Hunters launched themselves at the Witch, intent on capture, or destruction, with bone-rending blades.

Nouvelle
The Valkians were... ill at ease, to put it simply. Nothing had been made to take into account for tails, and so they sat rather uncomfortably, if at all. The Hunter made himself at home, lying on his side in the plush carpet, tail absently waving back and forth against the softness. Carpet had never been thought of; they had hardwood floors and the like, certainly not clothing on the ground. The Tinkerer paced, too alight with ideas and anxiety to sit still in the foreign environment. They had closed all the windows; they found the sensation of sunwarmth while indoors unnerving, and the windows had been artfully and beautifully designed to let in as much sunlight into the rooms as possible... which aggravated the Engineer to no end. The Engineer was going about, messing with vases or furniture, seeing that while the outside may be rather nice, the interior wasn't quite so much. Simplistic, is what he thought, cheap. Their furniture was art, right down the frame and grain. Grain, of course, meaning the grain of the wood they use, or the metals.

When a servant stopped by and asked for food, the Tinkerer only asked for water, and for the local fruit, of whatever the servant's choice. Minutes later, he reappeared again with glasses, a pitcher of water, and of a bowl of fruit. The Tinkerer thanked him, and in a rather impolite, but not ill-meant way, closed the door. The idea of nobility or politeness wasn't much of a concept explored much; respect, yes, but as far as they knew, any leader was like anyone else, just harder working in the mental department. Servants were simply treated as they would treat each other.

So the Tinkerer ended up drinking the entire pitcher of water, and examined each fruit carefully. Oranges, apples, and strawberries. Taking peculiar interest in the smallest, he very gently nibbled off the end of the strawberry, immediately being hit by the sweetness. After another examination of both the strawberry and his own body to check for any reactions, he decided it was safe to eat, and carefully put the entire thing in his mouth.

He chewed, and was struck by the fact that perhaps one should not eat the leaves with it.

Four strawberries and half an apple later, a single bite mark in the orange, another person appeared at the door. The Tinkerer was filled in, and he carefully nodded, copying the food servant's gesture. Then, he motioned for his brethren to follow, and they came with.

As they were seated in their makeshift tail-friendly seats, they watched the other two races very carefully. No doubt would one of them protest at the Hunter's bone blades, and the Tinkerer had already formulated a rebuttal, should it be so. Their tails waved behind them, curling, uncurling, waving and swishing in different patterns, occasionally wrapping around another and playing some kind of weird game. Then they would unwind and continue doing whatever they wanted behind their chairs. The Tinkerer also took in the fourth table; perhaps a fourth species, unknown to them, unknown to the natives, that had yet to arrive? The Tinkerer would sate his curiosity later; curiosity killed the kriltios, after all.

The Tinkerer had originally thought that he would wait for the others to speak; that would not be so after hearing, and somehow understanding, the Queen's speech. He stood, careful to keep his tail from getting stuck in his chair, and spoke in his quiet, different-frequency voice:
"Honored... host... hostess, on behalf of my people, I greet you as a possible friend or ally. Time will also tell what the relationship between our two peoples will become. In the meantime, I thank you for the enrichment our visit here has already brought. My people do not usually eat the fruit of planets, or any planet, nor do we have this soft fabric stretched across our flooring... we appear to live so much more simply, but so much more complex at the same time. We would not like to take any drastic steps, such as to install our own enforcers or any of power, nor give you technology. We would rather speed up your progress by a steady progression; giving you advanced technology, or even what would be primitive by our standards, may upset the balance of your economy and society, and possibly destroy the stability and peace that you have."

His soft voice paused, taking another moment to think, before taking another [rather small] breath [in comparison to everyone else], and continued. "I think you are the least advanced of us all, since myself and these other two races are very obviously much more advanced than you. Currently, I've no reason to talk to either of them, because their ships in orbit around your moon here have not responded to our own attempts to communicate. We have taken insult at their ignoring of our attempts, and so we have decided to talk to you first, and only you for the time being, until their people in orbit deem it worth their time. We were here before either the winged or the ones most similar to you were here, and yet they ignore us completely. You, on the other hand, has received us as soon as comfortably possible. For this, you have our thanks." He gave an unusual smooth bow, observed from the interaction between the General, and continued once more. "My people are eager to establish some kind of agreement between us. You are the first people that has been both friendly, and of bipedal nature."

He sat down, apparently finished, and obviously unaware of the proper title of "My Lady" and such. He did not appear to stare at the others, nor study them, though he was very closely. It appeared that they had eyes like the others, and while they were much more expressive, he figured they appeared quite cold and lifeless. He prayed to the Mother that he would not screw up in some way.
Two things:
A) Should ZE WEREWOLF become Myth's friend, and plays nice and without claws, then Myth would probably end up playing with Werewolf. Armor protects, and Myth is just a big child who happens to be really agile and strong and smart and stuff. He never had the chance to really mature properly, with no one being around, so he's still a bit childish [obviously]. Imagine that; a full grown man play-fighting with a giant wolf.
B) Myth is just a full-grown child.
C) Is the Werewolfperson friendly if someone is friendly to wolf form?

D) idk
I'm here!
Abefroeman said
And wallah!!!!! POSTED!!!!!


YAAY
Rogue's SUPERPOST incoming!

Apollo26 said
Kyelin, why doesn't your sig move anymore, it doesn't make me laugh as much as it should when its still.


^^^^
THIS
First post and everyone disappears ._.
Apokalipse said
Viorica was assumed to have left to her room because of the fledglings' interruptions.


:)
We all eagerly await your post.
William followed Evelyn in a daze, eyes narrowing at the fiesty one's reaction. While he was interested in the library, and wanted very much to grab his book- crap! It's still in the dining hall!- and curl up in a chair somewhere, the blood left an... interesting affect. He barely cared, or could think, beyond the insatiable urge for more blood. He plodded along after Evelyn, feeling oddly attached, or... something, to her. Maybe it was because he felt her as a better type to follow than Vanity? He couldn't be sure; his thinking was muddled. He followed along anyways, except he kept walking when they reached the hall. He didn't stop or look around, just walked to his previous chair, plopped down, and looked around. After a moment of half-focused gazing, he reached out, leaned forward, and grabbed another bowl. He gently pulled it over to him, ensuring none of it spilled, and then very hungrily, very deeply, had more of that crimson liquid.

As he let the bowl drop, and the edge was taken off of his bloodlust, he looked around and noticed a new person. He sat there, thinking on what this may mean for a moment, before pushing it aside. His stomach rumbled, possibly from too much blood too quickly, but he ignored it. He sat back, able to not crave blood so much, and relaxed. He leaned his head back, right in the middle of the tense atmosphere, and promptly fell asleep. Well, it looked like it, someone would have to poke him to find out if he was or not.
I would just like to point out something- you are operating a foreign suit constructed by an enemy. And you just said that you took the suit from the original people, and are at odds in some way. If this suit had an AI, and came to this conclusion, the researcher should be dead. It's enemy technology, not your best friend. I'm not saying to edit it, I'm just pointing this out because it seems a little... stupid. Apologies in advance for aggravation or offense because of my strange form of OCD.
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