HHORAYS
Printable View
OHHHHHH SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT.:bowdown:
Hm, I get the strange feeling that you don't really want to give us explosives in the shop. Instead you want us to make our own. Maybe it's that :? face you made.
Yay. Time to kill kill kill.
Glad to see at least one Apian has some enthusiasm. :P
(@De-loused: I did consider adding the individual parts to the explosives in the shop, but decided that'd make an already complicated set up even harder. That's not to say demolition skillz won't help you big time with blowing #$%@ up. ^^; )
My character has a theme song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rNVCD...eature=related
My character has a theme song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vQPF-wgBGis
So it's settled then... The winning team will appear in a sequel and any dead people from that team will be reincarnated while the Apia-- I mean losing team will be banned from DV. Sounds good.
Yay for getting 2 PMs so far :P
FYI- My main computer's Internet got zapped by Zues, therefore you won't see me on very much. I can still get your actions and start on the new chapter when the time comes.
Apians, UNITE! o.o
Sorry. I've been really busy and not had time to read the chapter yet and properly think. I'll send tonight.
Deadline is up. If you haven't sent in actions yet you won't be in this coming chapter.
Those who will be in Chapter 2:
Kiza
Abra
DD
Sindred
Carousoul
Those who have sent them in can revise them if need be.
fuuuuuu-
Grod disappoints.
Chapter did not. Enjoyed it. Well done.
If Gestalt or Carou would be so kind as to forward my stats I would appreciate it. Could possibly wait for the next update, however. Mmm.
Ye ;__;
Well, crises avoided anyway. I'll be in in the next one fo sho'
You guys smell that?
Spoiler alert for Dominion season finale.
Log_88
Moses <PA>, Hugh Galahad <PA>, Alucard Sepet Dalv III <PA>, Alkar Triosky <AS>, Maro Vengene <AC> [Stealth Ship]
The man sprawled, one arm flailing as the other erupted in vicious spurts of thick red spray, the rattle of the sub-machine gun deafening in the tight space of the Psycian stealth ship's cockpit.
The ship was Apian, once. A sweet irony that the sword was so deftly and so bloodily turned about its former masters.
Moses choked, his voice garbled as his punctured lung began to heave up gloopy gulps of warm fluid. He was drowning in his own gore. Not cancer, then, he reflected, bitterly. Not cancer.
His body rolled, his side ripped and shredded by the rapid fire that lit up the darkened interior. With his flailing left arm, he grappled control of the ship's steering column and hauled it back.
The ship juddered. Scraped, tore itself upward. An explosion, a ripple that sends every figure on the Psycian ship crashing to the steel grating of the deck.
Every figure but one. Only one doesn't lose his composure. Maro Vengene. The god-one.
Another explosion and the ship hurtles into the void, screaming into the blackness of space. Behind it the Apian station implodes, a roaring rush of vaccuum and fire set on the silent backdrop of stars.
The wiry madman with the sub-machine gun - Alkar Triosky, the last of Maro's shattershield soldiery to survive the Psycian's wrath - fires wide, thrown against a jutting steel baulkhead as the ship jolts to and fro. The spray of bullets tear along the reinforced wall and ricochet wildly, pinging and zipping about the metal cage.
Moses yells. He slumps back, his hand falling from the navigational console. The computer's cool and effeminate voice chirps, and he closes his eyes happily.
"Course set: Psycor. Destination in forty point zero zero eight two two hours."
He did it. He got them home. Or near enough. He dies, the gory holes that are spattered across one side leaking hot, thick juices across the deck, a man satisfied.
Moses is wrong. They are not home yet. They are not safe yet, not until the god-man is destroyed to the last. Not until then are the remaining two Psycian agents safe.
But he has done his duty. And he has done it well.
There is a metallic ringing. A door whooshes open, suddenly letting in a grassy green mist that is swirling, blindingly thick, obscuring the figure that steps into the cockpit.
The door closes. As it does so, the sounds of conflict in the cargo hold can be heard. A crashing and a shouting. Gunshots. Swordplay.
Maro and one of the Psycians. The other in the cockpit. In that confined space. Alkar licks his lips, nervously. Ejects the sub-machine gun's magazine and clips another one home.
The sound of the reload is deafening to the trained ear, even as the machinery of the starcraft and the chaos of the battle roar around them.
Alucard strikes fast. Alkar reacts, but is too slow. There is a crack as a fibre-glass whip snakes through the fog, and then there is only the splatter of blood across the glass canopy.
Alucard does not wait to see if his strike hit. It did. He is certain, certain as he is of Moses' mangled corpse at his feet. Moses was a comrade. A brother in the fray. Vengeance is good.
But not complete. Maro lives. Alucard slips back, merging again into the fog. The cargo hold's door whooshes open and the gaunt figure slips back into the chaos of the god-one's battle. All the war in all the battlefields in all the sectors of all space seem dwarfed now by the madness of the duel that rages in the cargo hold of one small, Psycian craft.
The thousands, millions that gave their lives in the struggle...meaningless now.
Everything comes down to this.
Galahad's hand is resting on the butt of his revolver. Drumming gently on the stained-sandalwood grip.
He stands calm while Maro seethes, stands cool and detached as the god-thing rages. He bleeds, a long and fresh cut across his face. His eyes do not blink. His expression is unflinching.
He looks lonely, stood facing the god-thing in all his anger, but he seems peaceful, too. Calmest in such moments of tension, of action and reaction, of the long wait and sudden gunplay...
Motion. Galahad draws the six-shooter and fans the hammer back, six shots in lightning succession and then he is rolling, reloading as he moves.
Maro streams past, flames and ice and sparks blazing in his wake, the god-thing incensed.
There are six bloody holes burning across his chest. He roars, savage and bestial where such civilized ants had dared defy him.
There is a shimmering of silvery hair, and Alucard is poised, knelt on an upper walkway above the raging god.
His whip cracks, and the god-man is sent stumbling to the deck, shaking the ship as he falls.
"Youi steal men's souls!" Alucard shouts, over the wailing of the engines and the ship judders, violently. "You steal men's souls and you make them your slaves!"
Maro laughs, an ugly laugh that is muffled by broken teeth and swelling gums. He spits, a scarlet plume that lands with a squelch on the steel grating of the floor.
"Perhaps the same could be said of all religions, Alucard!"
The god-thing rises, bleeding and spitting gore about the fetid hold. He rises and stands on his haunches, roaring with deep, belly laughs.
"You cannot kill a god, Psycians!" His arms bulge, suddenly. Muscles tie themselves in tight knots about his flesh, growing as though from nothing. "You may have thwarted my plans for domination of your puny mortal planet, but you shall not meddle in my affairs again! Witness my true form!"
Galahad grunts, rising steadily. He rests the coarse side of his palm softly over the greased hammer of his gun.
"Less talk."
Then he fires. Six shots.
Maro Vengene eru-
...all I got.
That was brilliant Sindred! :shock:
It was not by my hand that I am once again given flesh!!Quote:
"Youi steal men's souls!" Alucard shouts, over the wailing of the engines and the ship judders, violently. "You steal men's souls and you make them your slaves!"
Maro laughs, an ugly laugh that is muffled by broken teeth and swelling gums. He spits, a scarlet plume that lands with a squelch on the steel grating of the floor.
"Perhaps the same could be said of all religions, Alucard!"
Haven't spent much time with Chapter 2, but Dominion isn't dead. Expect it later in the weekend. Would give excuse but it doesn't matter. :P
Epic as fuck.