Warcraft Legacy Starcraft Legacy BlizzForums
The Future?

Go Back   BlizzForums > General Forums > Chit Chat > Online Roleplaying Forum

Online Roleplaying Forum Online Roleplaying Created By and For Our Users.

Reply
 
Thread Tools Display Modes


Old 06-21-2008
 
#16
United States Reservoir
In need of a Sanitarium
Join Date: Jul 2006
Posts: 912
 Reservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightened
Default

The rumbling of the passing ship died down quickly, which was fine; it had been barely noticeable in the first place. Vince suspected that it would be landing any moment now, if they could find a space that was either good enough or big enough, whichever was ultimately cheaper.

He shifted his weight, his body rubbing out groans from the aged polyester and foam. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something that was hiding in one of the bigger cracks; taking a moment to nod his head, he spotted a pack of cigarettes, complete with a green lighter. Outside of his eyesight, the lady with red hair stepped up to the stage, the music becoming more of a throb as it built up to a climax.

He knew what the ciggs were there for, and he was tempted to pull one out and light it. He needed a job, and he wasn't about to argue about legal issues. Still, it would be terrible if he got in over his head. So, he pulled out out, placing it perpendicular to him on the table, lighter in his left hand. And sure enough, movement caught the corner of his eye.

He recognized this man; the aged, limping figure with long, white haired quietly made his way towards Vince. The man was dressed in a massive black trench coat, with his left arm shoved into the top like it was being held in a sling. The man's left foot was nonexistent; instead, one could see the blunt end of a polymer peg, which was merely the end of a modern peg-leg, complete with shock-absorbing springs and the latest in manufacturing technology. The man's face was scarred heavily on the left side, accented by a metal eye patch that was literally nailed to his face.

Vince smiled at his old friend as he approached the table, and was the first to speak - with sarcasm. "Ahab, you look well."

Ahab smiled, and spoke with his usual raspy, thin voice. "An' yer full o' shit."

The two men shared a chuckle, and Ahab sat down across from Vince, the lady continuing her dance. Not quite interested with the dancing now, Vince instead looked at his friend. "How's life been, Ahab?"

Ahab scruffily coughed, which was really a grunted laugh. "Shit, as always. Findin' work's been a twit of a hard time, ye know? But I've...found a new 'n. 'N old friend o' ours. Well..." Ahab glanced away, knowing what he was going to happen. "'O course, I don' tink yer on the right page with him, yah?"

Vince blinked for just a moment, as he caught what old Ahab was implying. His face turned sour with mild anger as he leaned forward, over the table. "Oh no, no no no no." he half whispered. "I am not falling for his shit again. You remember the last fuck-up I had to deal with because of Mister Frank Belgur? I lost my ship to THIRTY-THREE MILES of landscape, not to mention that I was in one of his private hospitals for six months!" Vince leaned back, glancing away from the table in complete confusion. "Don't tell me you've already forgotten what you lost that day, Ahab? I mean, you stayed in there for a year and a half..."

Ahab's head snapped back to face Vince, his one remaining eye blazing afire. "Didn' your mother teach yer fuckin' manners?" he spit. "I bloody well rem'mber what I lost," he said, now the one leaning over the table. "But I got my shit 'n order. Money comes first here, Vincent. Don' forget it."

"I haven't, Ahab. But I refuse to work for that sorry shit." Vince slammed the rest of the ale down his throat, catching glimpse of the dirty money being shoved into the redhead's g-string. "Belgur nearly killed me, and then 'forgot' to help me finance the salvage of what ended up being, what, 25% usable parts? I had to rebuild Old Lady Cadence from pretty well nothing, Ahab, and that shit you have for a boss gave me a reaming for losing his stolen 'pharmaceuticals'." Vince shook his head violently. "If he'd gotten HIS shit straight, then HIS shit wouldn't have become part of the goddamn landscape."

Ahab sighed. "Vincent, it's nah that simple. Belgur's gott'n pretty big here 'n Avarice. He's got 'employees', 'hired help', 'nd 'unofficial help' everywhere. They're the one's tha' tipped me off to you bein' here."

Vince stared hard at Ahab. "So what? What's he gonna try? He gonna try to kill me? Blow up Cadence II?" Vince made a facial expression of sheer stupidity. "So? He nearly did that last time, and that wasn't even trying" Vince sighed. "Guess he could at least get it right this time, eh?"

Ahab shuddered, an act which would have made lesser men sick with worry. "If it had been someone else here to meet you, you'd already been dead." He looked sternly at Vince. "I'm givin' ya two things: time, and a job. Don't want em?" Ahab coughed/chuckled again. "Then I'll be goin'."

Vince only looked past him, back to the lady on the stage, who had just picked up her robe. 'She's not that bad--'

--"Ye best be gettin' on out, too," Ahab told him, interrupting his thought. "Ye might not have minutes." And with that, Ahab stood up, and limped his way out. Vince was only sad that his former friend had fallen so far.

He looked over to a very well endowed waitress near the bar, who was lustily watching the lady exit the stage. He just watched her for several seconds, until she took a moment to gaze around the roomy building. When her eyes began to graze over him, he raised his empty mug in silent protest. She visibly frowned, but nevertheless proceeded over to him.

When she hastily snatched his mug from his hand, Vince raised one finger at her. After producing a 5C check, which the waitress pocketed neatly between her firm breasts, he simply asked her to "make it something strong." She only nodded, and waltzed off, her ass swaying back and forth. Watching her go, he marveled at how ones libido could start messing with ones head. 'It HAS been a while...' he thought to himself.

 
Reservoir has 912 Posts

"Those who always listen do not experience everything."
Quote:
Originally Posted by GhostlyGal View Post
God, people think I'm He-Man with tits.
DOOM Forever!
||Xanga||
 

Reservoir is offline


pm.gif  Send a message via AIM to Reservoir Send a message via Yahoo to Reservoir 
Reply With Quote


Old 06-21-2008
 
#17
United States UED Special Ops
BF Vet
Join Date: Jun 2006
Posts: 4,775
 UED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightened
Default

Sipping on the beer, Jenna contemplated on what to do next. She had credits to be sure, but not nearly enough on hand for the 20k star-drive, especially considering how most of her credits were used just retrofitting her ship with some certain, as they say, "illegal" weaponry and equipment. As she brooded on this fact, she hardly noticed another customer take the stool next to her and order up a fairly expensive shot of vodka, that is until he spoke up.
"Vaessen, long time no see."
Jenna immediately turned to face the person talking to her, hand inches from her pistol.
"Hah, Vic, didn't expect to see you out here. Usually you like to hang around the upscale districts." she responded warmly, relaxing her hand and taking another drink.
"Well, to be honest, I was looking for you. Come, lets go somewhere a tad more private. I have to tell you something..." Vic Patterson told her, downing his shot and standing up.
"Meh, fine, led the way." Jenna responded, finishing off her drink as well.

The two walked across the crowded street and Vic motioned to Jenna to follow him into the strip-club. Jenna nodded and they entered, pushing past some mangled old patron in the process. The place was seedy to be sure, but fortunately, it was not very crowded. Plenty of loud music and other noise though would ensure that their conversation would not be picked up by any unfriendly ears, if they stayed quite.
Walking past the mostly empty booths, Vaessen and Vic took a seat at the far end of the joint.

"Ok, you drug me into this dump, so what is so damn important that you couldn't tell me outside." Jenna said to Vic, crossing her arms in annoyance.
"Jenna," he whispered, bringing his head in closer to her.
"They have just bumped you onto the bounty list."
"What!" Jenna burst out, drawing the galances of the few custormers who were not drunk off their asses, before regaing her composure and leaning in wisper back to Vic.

"When did that happen? I haven't been active for over two months."
"Seems that they have stuck yah for the military shipping raid of last month, don't yah know. Don't know why, considering that everyone and their dog knows that no single person could have pulled that one off." Vic whispered to a now very shocked Jenna.
"How, how long has the bounty been up?" she asked, her voice shaking a bit.
"Just about eighteen hours now, been looking for you for fifteen of those hours."

"Here, managed to rip the official printout off of the Hunter Guild site." Vic said as he pulled a piece of folded paper out of his pocket and handed it to Jenna.
"Luckily the info on you is about six months old, and I see you have changed your hair and appearance a bit since then. Still, if any expert Hunters pick this contract up, which they will, I am sure, then you will be freaking dead if you don't get out of here, fast." Vic whispered, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up.

Jenna meanwhile just unfolded the paper, and stared at it. 50,000 Credits dead, 70,000 alive. That was the bounty out on her now. Someone, somewhere, wanted her dead and fast, as there was no way that the authorities would even have any information on her, much less pin the Wellington Raid on her.
"Listen, I wish I could help you, I really do, especially considering how I was the one that got yah on your feet in this biz in the first place. But my hands are tied, Hell, I've taken a big risk just in finding you and giving you this info. Can't say anymore. Here..." Patterson said, reaching into his pocket and handing Vaessen a 500 credit check.
"All I have on me. Find a way out of here. Lie low in the outer rim or something for a few months, until other bounties pop up. Then come see me at the place at Sigma-IV. Good luck, Vaessen."

And with that, Vic, Jenna's longtime friend and Hell, even mentor for a time, got up, nodded at her, then strolled out the door. Jenna however didn't even really notice. All she could do is stair at the bounty information sheet, going over it again and again.
"Shit," she finally muttered to herself. "This is not good at all..."
 
UED Special Ops has 4,775 Posts

06-27-06: The date that BF returned!!
 

UED Special Ops is offline


pm.gif   
Reply With Quote


Old 06-21-2008
 
#18
United Kingdom Rokdar Ironvain
God is upon you.
Join Date: Sep 2006
Posts: 243
 Rokdar Ironvain is dominating!Rokdar Ironvain is dominating!Rokdar Ironvain is dominating!Rokdar Ironvain is dominating!Rokdar Ironvain is dominating!Rokdar Ironvain is dominating!Rokdar Ironvain is dominating!Rokdar Ironvain is dominating!Rokdar Ironvain is dominating!Rokdar Ironvain is dominating!Rokdar Ironvain is dominating!
Default

Two men clad in body armour and holding rifles stormed into the church. The letters 'APD' were printed onto their chests and back. Godfrey raised his hands above his heads, and knelt. This was the fifth incident in the space of three months.

"Shit, Godfrey." Said one of the men, moving cautiously across the church, checking every shadow for movement. "Not again."

"They attacked me. It was self defense." Answered the preist.

"Yeah, I bet."

The two men reached the priest. One pressed him down onto the ground, and searched him, as was standard procedure. The other checked the youths for life signs.

"We got a weak pulse, I'm calling the paramedics."

"Roger."

Godfrey closed his eyes as his face was pressed against the wooden floor, and his hands were cuffed.

"We're going to have to take you down to the centre for this, preist. This is serious stuff, what the Hell happened?"

"I told you, they attacked me."

---

The vessel weaved in and out of Avarice's rush hour. Godfrey sat in silence with his eyes closed under the watchful gaze of an APD operative. He played back the scenes of his ordeal in his mind. He was certain of his innocence, even God would forgive his submission to violence. He had been here a dozen times before, he would be thrown into a cell for twenty four hours, made to write a statement, and then he would be released. Two weeks later he would need to appear before a judge, and explain his case. A week after that, he would be free and able to return to his church. It was a routine he had picked up during his time in Sector K.

"Low lives." Said the operative, checking his pistol. "You've done a good thing priest, word has it these three were wanted for everything from rape, to fraud, to arseon and murder."

Godfrey remained silent. In his eyes, he had done nothing good. He had taken life - God would take this into account and judge him for it.
 



Holding the line since 1989
 

Rokdar Ironvain is offline


pm.gif   
Reply With Quote


Old 06-21-2008
 
#19
United Kingdom Undeath
BF Member
Join Date: Jun 2008
Posts: 10
 Undeath is an unknown quantity at this point
Default

You run fowards, narrowly escaping a string of bullets as they splash onto the ground to your left. Dust and concrete kicks up with each earth-shattering impact. You don't stop to return fire - it's hopeless. Two thugs with machine pistols on an elevated position have the immediate advantage, and it would require more than your standard issue P889 7.89mm sidearm to bring them down in a toe-to-toe fire fight. No. You must use your wit to tacke this obstacle.

You reach the safety of a low lying brick wall, and duck beneath another hail of mindless anger. You breathe deeply; your chest heaves and staggers. Adrenaline fills yours veins. A bullet skims past your face and hits the concrete pavement infront of you, and you are prompted to stoop lower.

'How do you like that, you fucking goverment dog?' You hear one of your attackers cackle. You do not reply, but instead, you remain cowering.

The radio on your shoulder crackles. 'Back up enroute, ETA: 15 minutes.'

Fifteen minutes. You'll be dead in fifteen minutes. You give a guilty gaze across the street, and lay your eyes upon your downed comrade. Lifeless, he lays, a man of fifty, grey haired, pierced by bullets and left in a pool of cooling blood. You want to do something, to avenge him, but you are powerless.

Another barrage hits the wall, and you are forced even lower. You want to return fire, you want to release your anger, but you can't. You're pinned down. All the same, you know if you remain, there's a good chance your cover will be penetrated and you will be left in the same state as your comrade: dead. Upon this realisation, you finally decide to take action, to throw your life away to the wheels of Lady Luck.

You check the bullets in your sidearm. Six shots. The others were wasted. You can't afford to miss, or you'll surely be finished. But how can you return fire? You look around. The wall extends itself for thirty yards, before ending at the entrance of a concrete courtyard. The thugs are upon the hotel beyond. Your mind analyses your tactical options, but comes to a hasty, sound conclusion.

You lower yourself onto your stomach, and crawl across the pavement, hugging as close to the wall as you can. The thugs cannot see your movement, they merely continue to spray the same portion of wall. Slowly, you make your way - a million thoughts pass through your head. Life could well end this day, but you know this is why you signed up, you know this is what happens in Sector K. You want to make a difference - you can make a difference.

You reach the end of the wall. You check back on yourself - bullets continue to tear apart the wall you were previously hidden behind. Cautiously, you lean out, you spot the thugs - standing upon a second floor balcony of the hotel. They have no cover, they are in the open. Drugged up no doubt, high on arrogance and with very little to lose. Even if you die, you know your comrades will arrive and deal with them severely. Their motives and aims are beyond you.

Bringing your sidearm up, you train the telescopic sights on the nearest of the thugs. One hundred yards, yet you can see the colour of his eyes, the spots of white on his red bandanna. You steady your aim, you place a calm finger on the trigger. You squeeze. Your arm recoils briefly. The sound of the shot deafens you for a split second, and then you watch as the thug tips over the balcony, and falls onto the courtyard with a thump.

The other thug gauges your position. He withdraws into the hotel. Though fearful for your life, you persue him. Picking yourself up, you sprint over the courtyard, briefly ensuring the downed convict is dead - he is, a bullet to the head. You cautiously walk up to the entrance of the hotel. You shove open the double glass doors, and are greeted by a reception desk. No one stands behind the desk, but there is bullet holes in the wall behind, accompanied by blood spatters. As you approach, you notice a young, blonde haired girl breathing deeply on the floor, clutching her arm as it bleeds onto the tiled flooring.

"Stay here, you're safe now." You reassure her.

You move on, taking a left. There's an elevator and a staircase - you know the elevator is a fool's choice, so you take the stairs. As you climb the hotel, you can hear the panicked cries of the thug in the floors above, yelling and shooting. Passing the fifth floor, a man in his sixties flies past you. You grab him by the arm, and wave your badge to his face.

'Where is he?' You asked, straight to the point.

The old man must be a veteran - he is not shaken, but merely calm; trying to preserve his life.

'The seventh floor, room 201. He may have moved since then.'

You continue your climb. The sixth floor passes you. You focus your pistol on the next flight of stairs. The thug can still be heard.

'Get in here you bitch, I'm going to fucking pin-tail your ass!'

You shrug. Drugged up maniac. Too deluded by the persuit of rape and other unwholly sports to remember his peril. You reach the seventh floor - a door of red labled by a rustic number seven on its center. A quick kick sends it off its hinges, and you enter.

A customary check to either side of you reveals a vacant corridor. Room 199 confronts you to your immediate front. The thug roars - his words cut in from your left. You follow their origin. Room 200 passes by. A woman screams pleas of mercy. Room 201 stands before you.

The door has already been kicked in. The woman's cries of anguish increase, and you are led by sense of duty, to advance immediately. Entering the room, you step over the already cold corpse of a man in his twenties, and enter a living room. Another man lays on the floor, with a rope tight around his neck. The woman screams again - to your right. You turn, you see the bedroom door half open. You see movement.

Rushing in, you focus your aim on the thug.

'APD! Freeze!' You challenge.

The thug has his trousers down by his ankles. In his drug induced dream, he barely recognises you. The woman beneath him looks at you with a face of desperation. You don't take the time to challenge the crook twice, you are too anger-filled. A squeeze of the trigger sends him tumbling off of the bed.

The woman runs out of the room; her dress in a tumbled mass of rags. She darts past you. You take no notice, instead, you round the bed, you check your enemy. He lays on the floor, choking on his own blood.

'Fucking pig.' He splutters.

You move closer, you pick up his machine pistol, and slide it into an opposite corner of the room. Your radio crackles.

'Backup, ETA: five minutes. Hang in there Jason.'

You grab the radio and hold it close to your mouth. 'Negative. Situation under control. Hostiles down. Get the paramedics.'

 
 

Undeath is offline


pm.gif   
Reply With Quote


Old 06-21-2008
 
#20
United States Meghan
I'll google your yahoo.
Join Date: Jun 2006
Posts: 9,701
 Meghan has a much bigger e-peen than youMeghan has a much bigger e-peen than youMeghan has a much bigger e-peen than youMeghan has a much bigger e-peen than youMeghan has a much bigger e-peen than youMeghan has a much bigger e-peen than youMeghan has a much bigger e-peen than youMeghan has a much bigger e-peen than youMeghan has a much bigger e-peen than youMeghan has a much bigger e-peen than youMeghan has a much bigger e-peen than you
Default

Jocelyn wiped the sweat off of her neck and forehead, and threw the used napkin in the bin. She took a deep breath, and another shot of Vodka. Counting out her money, she smiled briefly, realizing she had enough to barter a ride off of this God forsaken planet. If she got out now, there was a good chance she wouldn't be caught and taken back to the lab.

She was lost deep in her thoughts when there was a knock at the door.

"Yes?" She said, looking up at the door, with a sigh.

"Hey girl. There is a man out here who looks like he could use a pick-me-up, if you know what I mean. Could make a good 50c off of him. Here, take this to him." The waitress handed her a double shot of bourbon and left the room.

Even though she knew she had enough money to get out, she also knew she couldn't leave the club without doing what was asked of her. The owner was known for roughing up girls who refused to give lap dances when told to. So, she turned back to the mirror, spruced up her hair, dabbed on a small splash of perfume, and headed out of the door.

As she exited, she looked at the waitress at the bar, who pointed over to the man who had just been talking to one of her regulars. Nodding, she walked over slowly, grabbing his attention, hoping to reel him in. She didn't really want to do it, but she had no choice, so she might as well give it her all.

As she reached the table, she set the drink down in front of him, and leaned over to whisper in his ear. "You looking for a private dance tonight, hon?" She waited patiently for a response.
 
Meghan has 9,701 Posts
 

Meghan is offline


pm.gif  Send a message via AIM to Meghan Send a message via MSN to Meghan  
Reply With Quote


Old 06-22-2008
 
#21
United States Traken
Viking Pillager
Join Date: Jul 2002
Posts: 6,202
 Traken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than you
Default

Lentin looked up at the sign promising "Girls, Gilrs, Girls" lit up in a horrendous neon pink, and with a sigh, pulled a hand out of his pocket to push the door open.

As was fitting with the rest of the area, the door showed its dilapidated condition, creaking noisily as it swung on its hinges. The fact that the door wasn't a self-opening sliding door was enough of an indication of the quality of the establishment.

Quickly, his eyes adjusted to the dark, the dull pulses of the music completely ignored. He walked to a booth away from the other patrons, seating himself in such a way as to keep an eye on the door and all the other people in the club.

Pulling a datapad from his pocket, he began to scan through some bounty information before a waitress with breasts that seemed larger than her head toddled over, asking for his particular choice of poison.

"Gin. Neat, please," he replied, wondering how the girl, who seemed to barely be out of school, could walk with those monstrosities.

With a smile that was designed to get her a good tip, she left the table to acquire the beverage, once again leaving Lentin to his datapad. Jenna Vaessen. Quite a hefty sum had been put up on her name, with not too much info to go on. The image of her was low quality and obviously old, but enough to get a decent grasp of her features, and enough for the datapad to chew on.

Punching in a few commands, he let the pad process the information, turning it down as the waitress returned with his drink.

At least the glass is clean, he thought as he took a sip.

The pad vibrated slightly, signaling its completion. Turning it over again, Lentin looked at the display, scrolling through the large amount of potential appearance changes that could have been made short of cosmetic surgery.

With a slight yawn, he looked up from the display, glancing around at the others in the room. Some new girl, a brunette, had taken her place on the stage, a small handful of men crowded around the railing, proffering credit bills to her. A red headed girl, obviously an employee, was currently whispering in the ear of some man sitting at a table. Probably trying to make a quick cred. Rolling his eyes, he surveyed others in the room. Several other men scattered about, some clearly interested in the show, others not, and one woman sitting alone in a booth at the other end of the room.

Lentin continued to let his gaze wander, before something struck him. Quickly, his eyes snapped back to the woman in the booth, and then down to his pad. Scrolling through the list again, he found the potential image he wanted. Staring at it hard, he quickly glanced up at the woman, and then back down again. Hmm... The features were slightly different, but the resemblance was closer than mere coincidence.

The corners of his mouth creeping up slightly, Lentin pocketed the datapad and stood, taking his drink in hand. Taking a sip, he made his way across the room to the lone booth, and leaned against the back.

"Well hi there. Might I have the honor of buying you a drink?" he asked, flashing an award winning smile.
 
Traken has 6,202 Posts

Quote:
Originally Posted by Gorbet
I don't give an oodnadatta if you can't gundagai my uluru. Feel pitjanjatjara to wolloomoolloo my wingecarribee.
 

Traken is offline


pm.gif  Send a message via AIM to Traken Send a message via MSN to Traken Send a message via Yahoo to Traken 
Reply With Quote


Old 06-22-2008
 
#22
United States Reservoir
In need of a Sanitarium
Join Date: Jul 2006
Posts: 912
 Reservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightened
Default

The waitress had only been gone for a few moments, but his mind recorded minutes of passing time. Somewhere, he thought he heard someone shout, but the club's ever-present music made it impossible to tell. It was permeating every action, every thought that pulsed in The Man Trap. Even Vince couldn't think anymore, thanks to: the idea of these next hours being his last; the idea of his former friend working for the scumbag that scarred him; the idea that he, for once in his life, had no way out...all sinking in.

When a few minutes finally passed by, he took notice of the surroundings; as in, he noticed nothing had changed. It was only five minutes later, there were still strippers...and...'Isn't that the waitress I just asked to get me something strong?' he mused, looking her over twice to make sure as she stepped up to a far-too-serious man who didn't seem to want to be here. 'Yep, no mistaking the tits on that one. Where the hell's my damn drink?'

A moment later, he caught a sight of the redhead from before. She was making her way to him, with a double shot of, well, something in her hand. What really set him off wasn't the way she looked; she was fair, to be honest, but in an ordinary setting, he would have been polite and non-personal at best. But the way she presented herself; her confident, sultry swagger, and her eyes, glimmering with a sexual, wicked violence...

His balls drew up, tingling, as his senses gorged upon her. Were his mind thinking rationally, he would have recognized the feelings in his lower regions; feelings not unlike when a teen boy truly encounters a girl for the first time. His pulse quickened as she came closer, her perfume adding a rich spice to the intoxicating visual salsa. He had forgotten the warnings of his last few hours alive, for he now felt alive. Being alone for so long had made him weak against the intoxications of a good woman.

She came up to him, leaning close enough for him to feel her heat, to see the small beads of sweat that dotted her skin like fine jewels. "You looking for a private dance tonight, hon?" she whispered, the cool air of her mouth tickling his ear, bringing goosebumps of excitement up his spine.

He turned his head slowly, his eyes caught in hers like animals in hunter's traps. "Well, I asked the waiter for 'something strong'..." He licked his drying lips. "So, she's definitely earned her tips tonight. One last, good night for me..." He trailed off, his eyes flickering away for a moment as he lett the recent memories of Ahab drop with his voice. She didn't need to know; it would only make things worse.

His eyes returned to her Venusian* gaze, and he gently pulled his black jacket into his grasp. "I hope you don't mind a couple more loaded guns, but sometimes one's natural equipment isn't very useful," he jokingly remarked, letting her see his two pistols hiding in the jacket's custom-made holsters. One was solid black, almost onyx colored, with three white letters stenciled, on the right side, in no-nonsense font: SAM. The other pistol was silver, polished to a near-mirror shine. Though identical to SAM, this one had a different, feminine name emblazoned on its left side, one written in a very ornate, flowing, black font: JUDE.

After this quick peek, he folded the jacket over his left arm, taking natural pains to make sure the pistols were not obvious bulges; not that anyone in Avarice(save for the APC) really cared. His right hand found her right hand; her left hand still carried the drink. "Take me where you wish...you may be mine tonight, but I am most certainly yours as well."

*I meant that as in the Greek God Venus, not as in someone from the planet Venus

 
Reservoir has 912 Posts

"Those who always listen do not experience everything."
Quote:
Originally Posted by GhostlyGal View Post
God, people think I'm He-Man with tits.
DOOM Forever!
||Xanga||
 

Reservoir is offline


pm.gif  Send a message via AIM to Reservoir Send a message via Yahoo to Reservoir 
Reply With Quote


Old 06-22-2008
 
#23
United States UED Special Ops
BF Vet
Join Date: Jun 2006
Posts: 4,775
 UED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightened
Default

As the strip-clubs' music pulsed, Jenna continued to stair down at the paper, her mind racing. She was just an upper-mid level criminal, at best, and yet somehow, someway, her name had found its' way onto the bounty list. This was unthinkable, impossible, and yet it was true.
Finally snapping out of her mild stupor however, Jenna folded the paper up and stuck it inside her jacket.
"Ok, with the 500 credit check... Vic, left me, I at am what? 8,900 credits now? Shit, still not enough." Vaessen thought to herself, going over the math in her head.

As Jenna continued to be lost in her own thoughts, someone suddenly said, "Well hi there. Might I have the honor of buying you a drink?" and she nearly jumped out of her seat in surprise.
"Huh, what did you say." she managed to say, trying to regain her composure.
"I said, my I buy you a drink?" the stranger said.
Thinking it over quickly, Jenna decided that she might as well play along, as perhaps she could rob him later or something to that effect.
"Uhh, sure I guess. The name is Alexia, Alexia Floras." Jenna said polity, offering a seat across from her.
"Heh, in a place like this, this guy should be an easy mark." Vaessen thought to herself, a slight smile forming on her face.
 
UED Special Ops has 4,775 Posts

06-27-06: The date that BF returned!!
 

UED Special Ops is offline


pm.gif   
Reply With Quote


Old 06-22-2008
 
#24
United Kingdom Undeath
BF Member
Join Date: Jun 2008
Posts: 10
 Undeath is an unknown quantity at this point
Default

The medic checks you over with his scanner. A blue line of light passes through your body from head to toe, giving you a slightly tingling sensation. At length, the medic sighs and puts his equipment away.

'You were the lucky one.' He says to you softly.

You nod. He's right. 'What of the other tango? Did he make it?'

The medic shakes his head, before fastening the belt on his first-aid satchel. 'You split his liver in two. The hosptials arn't too keen on treating those sorts of injuries when they belong to scum like him.'

You nod again. 'Can I go now?'

The medic bows his head and points towards the door of the ambulance. You get up off of the bed and head towards them. Another day of savage duty has passed you by. Yet another friend has fallen to the slaughter, you think to yourself, taking time to memorise the dead-cold face of your comrade. You struggle to remember his name, was it Terry? Or was it David? You shrug. It doesn't matter. You know anyone with a badge and a will to carry out justice is a good friend in a world gone crazy.

You leap from the back of the ambulance and land with your feet gentley pressing on the cracked disused road. Two armoured personnel carrier craft are still at the scene, with their blue sirons pulsing, but not making a sound. APD operatives have cordoned off the hotel, and men in white suits - the foresnic teams - are picking up shell casings. You catch a glimpse of your comrade as he is wheeled into the back of an ambulance. Twenty one years he had been on the force, he had said, twenty one years. Twenty one years of luck ended by a strike of bullets. It was a horrible end, you tell yourself, to be cut down as you attempt to intervene in what appears to be a simple mugging. It could have easily have just been you going into the back of that ambulance.

'Yo, trooper.' Someone calls with a raised voice.

You turn. A dark skinned man in a bracken trench coat is motioning you over. He draws a cigar from his mouth, puffs a cloud of smoke, and then repeats himself. 'Yo, trooper.'

You walk over to him, you know he's a high ranking police official. A detective perhaps.

'Yes sir.' You reply, forwarding him a salute.

The man stares at you. He is middle-aged, with a grey mossy beard consuming most of his face. There are scars on his wrinkled forehead. His eyes are dull and lifeless.

'This your handy work?' He asks. You nod.

'A meeting has been arranged between you and the chief fire-arms unit down at the precinct in Sector M. I think you displayed some fine talent today, son.' The man says with a smile. He draws another puff.

'Talent?' You ask, baffled. 'That was not a display of talent. It was the display of a rabid, cornered dog. I am not worthy.'

Yet the man simply bursts out laughing. You sit there in silence, feeling rather akward for sometime, until his whispy laugh comes to an end.

'Look,' He says. 'It's the difference between 30,000 a year, and 75,000 a year. You want to be rich? You want to make a difference? The fire-arms unit is the best place for it. There you can gun down as much psychos as you like, and get paid a fuck load.'

You say nothing.

The man sighs, smiling. He draws a crumpled piece of paper, with the visible words in bold font 'Recomendation'. He hands it to you, and you read it over. It's a recomended transfer form to the Avarice Police Department* Special Tactics and Fire Arms Mastry (S.T.F.A.M)* unit. The thought of earning 75,000 credits at an annual rate excites you. You think of the possibilities. The debts can be cleared, you can move out from under the power lines, and away from the drug gangs. Women would come and go at your whim.

'Very well.' You say at length, pocketing the recomendation.

The man smiles. 'Good. You are to report to the S.T.F.A.M in ten hours. Go home and get some rest, trooper.'

You nod, before walking off, turning your weary back on your superior. You think to ask for a lift back to the precinct, in Sector M, but you're not ready for sleep yet. A night of violence and heart-throbbing experiences has left you in need of a lady's company. You'll remain in Sector K for now, you'll head for the Man Trap, your favourite of venues.

Taking off your body armour, you pass it to a colleague who stands guard outside one of the APCC (Armoured personnel carrier craft), and he throws it in the back. You keep your side arm however, with its four bullets left in the magazine. You never know when such things come in handy in this sort of place. You can think of a dozen of examples.

*Avarice Police Department - Does it exist? Because that's what I've been calling it, largely due to the fact that Rokdar used the abreviation aswell. If an alternative name is in use, please let me know.
** S.T.F.A.M is more or less the police's swat teams. Again, if anyone has an alternative name to use, then let me know. Cheers.
 
 

Undeath is offline


pm.gif   
Reply With Quote


Old 06-22-2008
 
#25
United States Traken
Viking Pillager
Join Date: Jul 2002
Posts: 6,202
 Traken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than you
Default

"Uhh, sure I guess. The name is Alexia, Alexia Floras."

"Hey, thanks!" Lentin replied. "I'm Tom. Tom Ambrose. Nice to meetcha. I'm a freighter captain, so I get stuck coming through here a lot."

He was, of course, lying through his teeth, but after so many years of practice, it was rare that someone could tell the difference. Lentin slid into the booth seat opposite "Alexia," and waving one of the waitresses over, he took a sip of his drink while she ordered one.

"Alexia" was absently fiddling with a a printout of some sort, the insignia on the top he recognized immediately. Catching his gaze drifting to it, she immediately folded the sheet, her thoughts appearing to come back to the present.

"Whatcha got there?" Lentin probed.

(OOC: Sorry it's so short, but I didn't want to take too many liberties with your character, since I'm not familiar with her/your play style yet.)
 
Traken has 6,202 Posts

Quote:
Originally Posted by Gorbet
I don't give an oodnadatta if you can't gundagai my uluru. Feel pitjanjatjara to wolloomoolloo my wingecarribee.
 

Traken is offline


pm.gif  Send a message via AIM to Traken Send a message via MSN to Traken Send a message via Yahoo to Traken 
Reply With Quote


Old 06-22-2008
 
#26
United States Meghan
I'll google your yahoo.
Join Date: Jun 2006
Posts: 9,701
 Meghan has a much bigger e-peen than youMeghan has a much bigger e-peen than youMeghan has a much bigger e-peen than youMeghan has a much bigger e-peen than youMeghan has a much bigger e-peen than youMeghan has a much bigger e-peen than youMeghan has a much bigger e-peen than youMeghan has a much bigger e-peen than youMeghan has a much bigger e-peen than youMeghan has a much bigger e-peen than youMeghan has a much bigger e-peen than you
Default

She smiled slightly as she led him back to the VIP area. It wasn't much. Mostly just office looking cubicles with tacky red velvet covered benches. She drew him towards a certain booth, and pushed him down onto one of the benches.

"So tell me, cowboy, how do you like your women? Dominating, or submissive?" She asked, straddling his leg with her back pressed against his chest.

"A little of both." He replied, breathing in her smell.

She began to grind on him, making sure her knee, leg, and everything else in between rubbed against his main gun, making it a little stiffer with each rub. Swaying back and forth between sweet and harsh, she would lick his neck one second, and then slap his face the next. This guy was actually fun, she thought, as she continued to give him his moneys worth. Slowly she removed her bikini, allowing him to see it all. The dance only lasted about 15 minutes, but to her, it seemed like it would never end.

Of course, this wasn't like any of the old fashioned strip joints, and he would walk away unsatisfied in the end, but she enjoyed leaving a man with a fantasy or two.

"So, what do you do?" She asked, as she stood up and put her bikini back on, combing her hair with her fingers. She didn't realize that a lock of her natural blond curls had fallen from the wig.

(ooc: Wow. This is getting a little TOO good for me. lmao.)
 
Meghan has 9,701 Posts
 

Meghan is offline


pm.gif  Send a message via AIM to Meghan Send a message via MSN to Meghan  
Reply With Quote


Old 06-22-2008
 
#27
United States UED Special Ops
BF Vet
Join Date: Jun 2006
Posts: 4,775
 UED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightenedUED Special Ops has become enlightened
Default

OOC: Hey, no problem Traken. Some quick info about Jenna so the conversation can proceed smoothly: (So both of us can actually have more filling posts ) Jenna is smart, a smooth liar, and not one to easily fall prey to tricks and traps, lets just say. as she has been doing this for a while now. Oh, and she has blond hair and green eyes(contacts), while the bounty info had her for black hair and blue eyes, just to add some extra info.
---
"Hey, thanks!" the stranger replied. "I'm Tom. Tom Ambrose. Nice to meetcha. I'm a freighter captain, so I get stuck coming through here a lot."

As Tom sat down, Jenna began to fiddle with the printout, her mind again turning to the unfortunate reality. She quickly noticed that Tom was taking an interest in it, so she quickly folded it up and put the paper away.

"Whatcha got there?" Tom asked.
"Huh, oh that? Just a letter from my boyfriend, or I should mean ex-boyfriend now. Cheap bastard just left this for me, saying that he found someone else. Jerk." Jenna lied, adding some sadness into her voice.

"Oh, wow, sorry to hear that." Tom said, looking concerned.
"Heh, keep reeling him in Jenna." she thought.
"Yeah, he works for that, Hunter's Guild, or something I think, so I would barley see him for more then a few days a week, sometimes less. Might have been cheating on me for months now... Oh, sorry, didn't mean to keep yaking about my ex. Well, anyway, tell me about yourself, being a freighter captain must be interesting." Jenna said as the waitress came back over, and she took a sip of her drink.
 
UED Special Ops has 4,775 Posts

06-27-06: The date that BF returned!!
 

UED Special Ops is offline


pm.gif   
Reply With Quote


Old 06-22-2008
 
#28
Canada KP
Words Will Never Hurt You
Join Date: Jun 2006
Posts: 9,752
 KP might just love this place a little bit too muchKP might just love this place a little bit too muchKP might just love this place a little bit too muchKP might just love this place a little bit too muchKP might just love this place a little bit too muchKP might just love this place a little bit too muchKP might just love this place a little bit too muchKP might just love this place a little bit too muchKP might just love this place a little bit too muchKP might just love this place a little bit too muchKP might just love this place a little bit too much
Default

He sat as close to the back corner as possible without standing out as one of those perverts who sit in the dark corners of strip clubs. Laughing slightly as the bounty hunter he knew to be Lentin entered, bought a beverage and quickly accosted one of the more attractive women in the joint, and lied about his name to her. Which was fine because she wasn't telling the truth about hers either, no one in this place was being honest, with themselves or with any of the other patrons.

He could see at least three of the dancers looking around not for new johns but to watch for an unwanted visitor. He could see half a dozen undercover police officers in the place, ear pieces securely attached. Two or three of the johns were unconvincingly giving false names and backgrounds to waitresses who could care a less. And at least three people were obviously married and trying to pick up a stripper for more action later in the night. Oblivious to the fact that for most suburbanites it is far easier to sleep with your neighbor or her daughter (or both) than to sneak around with a hooker.

He was looking around for something else though, someone busy enough to allow themselves to be pickpocketed (twice) so that an ID could be stolen long enough to scan and copy and returned. He needed someone who had decent clearance and he laughed as he came to the most obvious conclusion. The same hunter who's ship he has stowed aboard, the same hunter who was now standing not 15 feet away from him shmoozing with a semi attractive female with obviously fake hair and eye color.

Walking up to the bar, He slipped his hand into the hunters side pack and withdrew the id card, ordered a double and Pepsi Ultimax all the while sliding the card through the copying device in his jacket pocket. Receiving the drink and returning the card he returned to his table smiling at his expertise. Not knowing the hunter had noticed the entire transaction taking place and made a mental note to follow up soon.
 
KP has 9,752 Posts

How To Get Around the Red Ring of Death Without Losing Your Xbox for two weeks
http://www.1227.com/
 

KP is offline


pm.gif  Send a message via AIM to KP Send a message via MSN to KP  
Reply With Quote


Old 06-22-2008
 
#29
United States Traken
Viking Pillager
Join Date: Jul 2002
Posts: 6,202
 Traken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than youTraken is clearly better than you
Default

Lentin had, of course, noticed the entire 'transaction' occur. Not that it mattered. He never carried any form of real ID on him when on the job, a precaution he had learned long ago. The thief instead would find himself with a link to an empty bank account, and a housing development that didn't exist.

While still discussing the finer points of the freight business with Alexia, he stretched slightly, craning his neck in the direction of the pick-pocket. His cyberbrain link very quickly informing him that it was the same man who had exited the area of his craft after it had landed. More than likely a stowaway. Quite impressive to have circumvented the detection systems on my ship. I may have to pay him a visit in the future.

He was now droning on about the annoyances of customs and other freight limitations when he noticed Alexia's attention start to wane. With a quick verbal flourish, he put the ball back in her court, trying to keep her off guard.

"Well, enough about me. What is it you do?"

(OOC: yeah, I know... It sucked. Sorry, I'm bloody tired, but I wanted to get something out before I retire for the night.)
 
Traken has 6,202 Posts

Quote:
Originally Posted by Gorbet
I don't give an oodnadatta if you can't gundagai my uluru. Feel pitjanjatjara to wolloomoolloo my wingecarribee.
 

Traken is offline


pm.gif  Send a message via AIM to Traken Send a message via MSN to Traken Send a message via Yahoo to Traken 
Reply With Quote


Old 06-23-2008
 
#30
United States Reservoir
In need of a Sanitarium
Join Date: Jul 2006
Posts: 912
 Reservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightenedReservoir has become enlightened
Default

"So, what do you do?", she said as she slipped her bikini back on, signaling the end of the ride. Vince was disappointed, yes, but he knew he should have expected that. The Man Trap was not a brothel, for one, but he had gotten at least some satisfaction, though the inner demon in him wanted so much more. Trying to mentally coax himself out of his horny stupor, he saw a blue pack of Morgan's Lights sitting on the table nearby. Considering that this might be his last taste of a woman, why not enjoy one last cigg?

After wiggling one out of the pack, he struck one of the crude matches, enjoying the yellow flame that was violently pulled from it's red coffin. The tip of the cigg blossomed into a full, glowing cherry, as he tugged air through it. Inhale, exhale. "Heh, the question may be worded wrong, but you don't know that," he half-said to himself. "I'm a freelancer. Most any cargo, most any job...at most any price." Inhale, exhale. "Usually solo. Less mess to clean up, less emotional problems to deal with...not to mention that most women in my kind of business are more butch than some men." He chuckled lightly to himself, and then dragged more of the cherry towards his hand; inhale, exhale.

"I've done some non-cargo stints. They're not too bad, but they don't make as much money. Besides, it's easier to slip through the IPP* with loaded cargo, than it is to slip by them after violently 'dissecting' someone's internal organs." Again; inhale, exhale. He flicked ashes into the dirty ashtray. Somewhere, in a nearby wall, a fan kicked on, probably triggered by the smoke pooling up around him.

He reached over for the double shot of bourbon. "Guess that pretty much sums it up, save for my unimportant name." There was a pause. "Vincent...Vincent Trent." He smiled. "I wonder if honesty's a bitch nowadays." He sloshed the swill to the back of his mouth, audibly swallowing the stuff. He gagged once, twice, and then burped, doubling over somewhat. "Shit, this bourbon's got a kick to it...like condensed donkey ass..." he said as the burning in his stomach settled...and then grew.

*************

Ahab had only been sitting in the limo for all of five minutes, but had assured himself that he was already dead. Sitting across from him, positioned at the approximated middle of the limo, was a man who, standing, was about 5'8" high. His skin was dark and rough from years of hard labor in the sun. His eyes were almost the exact same color, save for the bottomless, black pits he called his pupils. Unlike his past, however, he wore a very expensive, midnight-blue suit, with a matching black tie and white undershirt. His mouth and right hand cycled through the duty of carrying the lit cigar; Ahab had never seen him without one, though he had seen him without one lit.

For five minutes he had sat there, in the all-too-dimly-lit interior of the limo, listening to the purring of the magnetic coils that push-rolled the front tires. Another man sat to his right; a beefcake, one probably carrying enough bionics and genetic enhancements to take on a tank. The silence was eventually broken by the man opposite of him.

"Mister Mason...I've heard of some thing recently that intrigues me." The man's voice was light, yet creamy and smooth; things that made Ahab think of whipped cream, not of Mister Belgur.

"Aye, I'm sure ye did," Ahab curtly replied.

The cigar's cherry brightened, and dulled again. A puff of iron-blue smoke emerged from Mr. Belgur's mouth a moment later. "I've only heard rumors, Mister Mason. And from what I've heard, he's one of our...acquaintances. Surely, a man such as yourself has had the chance to meet him?"

"Mayhap," Ahab curtly replied, again. "But 'm sure ye know more than I do."

"Oh, Mister Mason! You underestimate your value," Mr. Belgur's voice's exclaimed with earnest cheer. "I value your mind. You see, hear, and pick up things that many of my associates simply do not." Another puff of the cigar produced another iron-blue cloud. Mr. Belgur gazed at him. "I would enjoy hearing such imput," he said, his voice having gone cold and sharp, like cold mustard.

Ahab knew he couldn't get out of this. The door was locked, and Belgur had brought a tough lackey with him. With nothing to do other than spit things out, he quickly told his story to Mr. Belgur, who eagerly listened, soaking all the details as if his financial success depended on it.

Ahab had finished his story, sickened by the thing he had said. Belgur only gazed on, past Ahab. Finally, after another puff of the cigar, did Belgur speak. "Mister Mason," he said glowingly, "I admire your honesty. You knew that you could die just by giving Mr. Trent a chance, but you took it anyway. Of course, I would have killed him anyway, once his debts were payed off." The cigar became a bit shorter as Belgur sucked a little more life out of it. "However, I am displeased that you chose to report back physically, rather than watch him. So while you may have been honest, you have not been smart."

Ahab's gut sickened even more. Was this gonna be the end for him?

Mr. Belgur neatly puffed his cigar again. "I must admit, however, that the two of you chose a very good meeting place. It may be cheap, but that waitress..." Belgur smirked. "Such firm tits on such a young girl. She was a good lay, even though her butt jiggled too much for my lasting tastes." His voice was cold, yet the pleasure he took in his words was unmistakable.

Knowing that his words had dug deep into Ahab, Belgur continued. "Anyway, I've left her with instructions to drug a double shot of bourbon, which will be ingested by Mr. Trent." The cigar, now half it's original length, made Belgur take a short, bittersweet break. "It won't be enough to kill him, but it will be enough to allow for you to kill him."

"Wha'!!??" Ahab stammered.

Belgur smiled, leaning over for a moment. "You didn't think I was going to let you live honestly, with a transgression such as attempting to give Mr. Trent an offer to work for me, did you? After what he did last time we met, I've taken nothing but bad business because of him." Belgur paused, leaning back comfortably in his seat. "And, as they say, 'Bad business is bad for business'." The cigar's cherry chugged ever closer. "Shatner, show him out."

The bald beefcake, who had been silent and motionless for the whole trip, suddenly sprang to life. The limo stopped, and the solitary rear door - to the left of Ahab - automatically kicked open. Ahab raised his right arm, attempting to block most of the pain from the oncoming foot, but it was no use; he was kicked two feet out of the car, landing squarely on the sidewalk. The limo silently screaming away only a moment later, the door closed before he managed to look.

When Ahab finally struggled his way to standing, he found himself two blocks from an outside vendor's joint; across the road sat an ugly, pink neon sign that screamed "GIRLS, GIRLS, GIRLS".

And inside, his heart died a little more.

*Interplanetary Police

 
Reservoir has 912 Posts

"Those who always listen do not experience everything."
Quote:
Originally Posted by GhostlyGal View Post
God, people think I'm He-Man with tits.
DOOM Forever!
||Xanga||
 

Reservoir is offline


pm.gif  Send a message via AIM to Reservoir Send a message via Yahoo to Reservoir 
Reply With Quote
Reply

Thread Tools
Display Modes

Posting Rules
You may not post new threads
You may not post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts

BB code is On
Smilies are On
[IMG] code is On
HTML code is Off
Forum Jump

Similar Threads
Thread Thread Starter Forum Replies Last Post
Breakup stories? Bullet2head Chit Chat 61 05-04-2008 02:18 PM
Survey on stories in video games Burian Chit Chat 26 01-23-2008 05:09 AM
Short stories Eros Works-In-Progress 1 12-16-2007 05:23 AM
Writing scripts, stories, game ideas, etc. Rob Chit Chat 15 11-15-2007 05:15 PM
Video Game Horror Stories JT Chit Chat 24 09-04-2007 09:19 AM


All times are GMT -4. The time now is 03:05 PM.
Designed by XG3