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Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Asmodeus, Nov 11, 2009.
As the clock nears midnight on October 31, the door closes, only opening again in a year.
dont be a little shit mach, shut the fuck up and let me write.
"why should you hold power over..."
SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU STUPID FUCK.
LISTEN, DO YOU WANT TO EXIST, OR DO YOU WANT TO...ah fuck the 4th wall bullshit, i was never good at it anyway.
Mach crawled from rafter to rafter, the smell of....fuck. still in italics.
Right, thats better.
where was I?.....oh yeah, thats right, rafters.
The Smell of mildew and rot infested the wooden planks, but Mach disregarded the smell (scratch my head, think for a while), his eyes on the lookout for weakness, in the crawlspace above each room Mach peered down into the lives of his fellow inmates (....wonder if everyone will take that as pervy or george orwell 'big brother' style) to ensure they all abstained from weakness, making mental notes of who spoke to who (Yawn.....i should go to bed now......nah fuck it, dont compromise the post for mere sleep.)
and who did what.
in one of the rooms, a simy, slipepry snake of a man was forcing a woman against the wall, a filth stained hand clasping across her mouth to stop her screams.
Mach dropped down from above, his thick arms wraping around the rapist's head and chest, and the wiry man squeesed and twisted, one hand pulling left the other pulling right, until he heard a wet crack, and the rapist went limp.
without waiting for a reply Mach clambered up through the hole in the roof and back into the crawlspace.
(....woulda been better if that chick was still here, the psycho one...that was a good start. but alas, shit ahppens, one must move for.....fuckit. enjoy the post. SLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!)
Bless...Now how did that go?
Oh it was going to be one of those days. The floor was cold but the cot was gone and the muzzle straps were already bruising where they'd been pressed against his cheek for god only knew how long. There were no mirrors in this hell and no clocks and you never realize how disconcerting that is until you experience it yourself.
Bless your heart-
By the muffled cacophony of screaming, laughter and praying shaking the walls it sounded like Benny had managed to convince the Good Doctor (or maybe some other poor sap- the Good Doctor had seemed rather disappointed with Benny's last go of masochism) to crucify him again.
Bless your heart but...
Let's see, it usually took a good five minutes to find something appropriate to fix him to, and between five to twelve hours for someone to get sick of looking at him hanging around and another oh... hour to con someone else into taking him down. Which told Eddie fuckall about what time it was.
Bless your heart but shut your mouth-
The little red centipede (a thousand legs like post it notes detailing shit he didn't feel like remembering today) that isn't so small anymore leaves fire crawling across your skin where it touches you. Normally Eddie is all for that but the damn thing won't shut up this morning (afternoon/evening/deadofnight) and he's not up to a day of bad puns and Alice In Wonderland references. He's stiff and he's cold and the needles in his stomach are supposed to make the hunger go away but goddammit he needs a cigarette...
Bless your heart but shut your mouth some things must not...
To hell with the Good Doctor (right along with the rest of us yeah?) and his cold hands and hot needles and the attitude may be sexy as hell but more than any kind of bedside manor Eddie wants his fags back. He paid for them, twice over now, and if Hargonstein doesn't want him eating anyone else he'll damn well give back my pacifier.
Bless your heart but shut your mouth some things must not be said out loud.
His bones had broken in the night, in the dark and the cold and now his muscles screamed breaking them back into place as he rose.
"I'd rather not think about that right now."
And little loleta, left all alone-
"Go be someone else's psychosis for a while yeah?"
A gift! A gift I was- A love letter from that pretty pretty russian girl...
"Who wasn't russian, by the way, but go ahead." Sometimes he wondered what ever happened to her. And then, he forgot. Maybe Eddie could endure a day of Vogon poetry. If he could find a smoke. He stretched, his shoulder popping back into place and stared the lock on his cell into sobbing hysterics. "'S'right. Have it all out kiddo." He tossed it over his shoulder where it shattered against the wall. "The world is listening."
Bene has the goods.
"I doubt it. How longs he been up?"
Time is such a fickle thing...
The halls of Hargonstein are not for the faint of heart. Fortunately Eddie's heart had fainted years ago ("...and every time I woke up pregnant!" Thanks grandma I really needed to hear that story...), shrivaled up and eaten itself in narsissistic facination. Now there was just hunger.
Was the cafeteria left or bacon? A strangled scream pulled Eddie right. Maybe Old Rasputin had been generous to ninja him up some lunch?
Wake up Daniel… Daniel…
And he is roused from sleep by the sound of his wife’s voice. But there was no love here, in this place. There was no breakfast, carefully prepared this morning. There were no eggs; there was no toast, no coffee, black and strong, just how he liked it... No, this was a much darker, scarier place.
He stood up, off of his thin cot, and stretched before walking out of his small white-washed room, stepping carefully over a red stain by the door along the way. Had that always been there? His memory wasn’t what it used to be, to say the least, and the stain looked as though it had faded considerably. He imagined it had been there for some time.
He was outside of his room now, in the dark hallway.
He started walking, although he couldn’t rightfully remember his destination, or where even this corroded corridor led.
Daniel, what are you doing?!
He tried counting the tiles on the floor of this place, but he was walking too quickly and his eye-sight was too poor... It was too dark, here.
He was very hungry, he realized suddenly. The cafeteria, that’s where he was headed! Now in which direction was that again?! Ah, he would kill for a proper breakfast!
He stopped. No. There would be no proper breakfast in this place. There were no eggs, there was no toast, no coffee, black and strong... There was no love here.
From the corner of the cafeteria she crawled out, her patient's gown stained and ragged, her dark hair hung across her face. She moved unsteadily, the limbs buckling as they tried to bend against the joint. But in time she stood upright, jerking, convulsing.
Her head rolled back and she screamed, a visceral sound that scraped her insides and split the corners of her mouth. It echoed around the sterile white walls and rattled the bolted chairs and tables.
Then, like poreclain, she fell apart. Her skin shattered like glass, broken into a cloud of dust and vapourous chemicals, which billowed around the room. The dust swirled and formed numerous smaller shapes, while the vapour condensed into tumbling streams of coloured liquid.
On each of the cafeteria tables, little stacks of pills fell into place, while medicine pooled in plastic shot glasses.
The cafeteria was set, and the first patients began to enter.
* * * * *
"Leave her alone, man."
"Stay out of this!"
"You got her, okay. You got her. She's sorry."
"Oh no. She ain't learned nothing yet. But I'm gonna teach her. I'm gonna teach her real good."
Benedict glanced up as the rat began the vicious rape, violating the pigeon on the cross-plank of the crucifix. Another rat looked on nervously and shuffled to the end of its perch, while the poor bird simply writhed, broken wings beating as it tried to escape.
Blood dripped down onto Benedict's face, but he tried to ignore it. On the opposite side of the courtyard, he could just make out the roof of the Manson Wing, where he kept his notes. With tiny flicks of his eyebrows, Benedict wrote another line of text in the small leatherbound book lodged in the gutter-pipe. The book wobbled, twitching as its pages were inked from the inside. And then it settled again, standing up on its end and filing itself next to another three identical journals wedged between the rooftiles.
Doctor Hargonstein was up to something... and Benedict was slowly figuring it out.
Just a few more crucifixions... and he would be onto something.
"Okay, that's enough! Leave her alone!"
"You back the fuck off!"
More blood trickled over Benedict's face as the two rats tore at each other, trampling the corpse of the pigeon.
Eddie ran into-well, more stumbled across Daniel on the way to the cafe. The poor man looked as lost as Eddie tended to feel around here. There was something going on- like that noise you can't quite pin down as the fridge, and you're left hoping it's just your imagination playing tricks...
"Hey, buddy, that's the wrong way. Foods the other direction-" He amended his statement, the smell of drying blood twisting his gut in a way he really wished made him uncomfortable, but he was too hungry to care- more than a little... "People food is that way. Comon' I'll let you buy me a coffee, then we can figure out who the hell's been playing with your pills while I was out, yeah?"
Eryn smoothed her prison clothing, a simple dress too difficult for her slender fingers to rip material from. With a swish of her hair, she smiled winsomely at the guard as she left her little cell. Her bright eyes wandered the hall as she walked through it, but every day it was the same. A check list of sorts, and her mind whirred through it like a well-tuned machine, just one job in mind.
Blades, no blades, no one ever gets blades here, but especially not me. The spoons are made of that material, and always spoons, so they can't be sharpened. And besides, they make you give them back.
No fire, of course, the only fire there was happened when an arsonist at heart managed to find wood outside, what a delightful little cub scout he must have been, but somewhere he learned how to start a fire that way. She didn't know. Besides, there wasn't any wood.
No rope, no cloth, nothing for strangulation. Her clothes were special, thick, and somehow she never could manage to get a single string from it. She was curious what it was made from, but none of the guards would answer her questions anymore.
Deciding today was another hopeless, painless day, Eryn continued towards the cafeteria. Maybe she could try biting.
With this buoying thought, Eryn breezed into the cafeteria, smiling at the usual prisoners. All old friends. Friends, acquaintinces. Was there a difference to her?
Daniel shouldn't have been mad. His counting of the tiles on the floor was already made effectively impossible by his own impaired vision and the darkness of the hall, but why did his concentration have to be broken?
The arrival of this new man, his assailant, was most unexpected and unwelcome, but as far as Daniel could tell this wasn't even real. Everything was so blurry. To Daniel this man was nothing but a piercing blur, another fabrication of his troubled mind. Perhaps Daniel should have been grateful that he could still recognize what was real from what was manufactured by his illness, sometimes, but he only felt overwhelmed, and very, very alone.
Oh sweet relief. The shroud of temporary sanity was lifted. Daniel felt better, not good, he couldn't remember the last time he had felt good (but then he couldn't remember much of anything). Was the blur still talking? Yes, and it wasn't as much of a blur anymore. Daniel's vision came into focus, revealing the man in front of him. How nice, to see another face here. Did the face mention coffee? Yes, Daniel loved his coffee black and strong. He wouldn't find it here, he knew, but somehow that was alright now. "Yes, let's go... cafeteria," Daniel muttered absently when the man stopped making noise. They walked together.
So recently I've been thinking about starting my first rp, wonder if I should. Could it be to soon? O:
Eryn's hair was seized from behind, a sharp and expert movement that pulled her back across the canteen floor. The smell of damp earth and stale blood filled her nostrils, and that was all she needed to know her assailant.
"Morning, Miss Kindiade," spoke the sharp and stabbing voice of Doctor Hargonstein. In the corner of her eye, Eryn saw the director's face: austere, scowling, his hair and moustache immaculately groomed. "Just a routine inspection."
She didn't move. The last one who had was grafted into the roof of the asylum conservatory, and plants still hung from his ribs to this day.
<table><tr><td></td><td>On Eryn's other side, a nubile figure appeared, bound in leather and veiled by a gasmask. One of the nurses who followed the doctor on his rounds. Swaying in erotic delirium, she handed a scalpel to Hargonstein, who quickly began work in short and precise strokes, slicing into the hairline of Eryn's forehead.<P>"I have high hopes for you, Eryn," the Doctor said as he cut her flesh. "Your last review went well. Keep this up and we may move you to Cerberus Wing."</td><td></td></tr></table>
Cerberus Wing. Everyone wanted to get to Cerberus Wing.
The skin of Eryn's forehead flapped down over her face, and with delicate cuts Hargonstein peeled it away from around her eye sockets. Blood dripped onto the girl's lips and throat, but still she did not move.
Taking a pair of tongs, the doctor ran a cotton swap across the exposed tissue of Eryn's forehead, soaking away the blood till only the raw bone of her skull was showing. He ran his finger across it, feeling the indent of words.
The nurse passed in front of Eryn with the bloody surgical tray, and in the reflection of her gasmask Erin saw what was carved into her own skull.
'RAPHEL MAY AMECH ALBI ZAMI'
"Good," Hargonstein said in his usual clipped manner, throwing the tongs and scalpel into the surgical tray. He tore a clump from the nurse's head, fishing out a needle and threading it with the hair. With this he pulled the flap of skin back over Eryn's face and began stitching. "I'm glad you've stopped hiding things from me."
Eryn winced as her flesh was stitched back to her hairline. In a few moments it was over, and the Doctor guided Eryn to her seat at one of the sterile tables where the medicine cups were set.
"Now here, take your pills."
And there he left Eryn, moving away to inspect the other patients, the voluptuous nurse sashaying after him.
Hey @RogueRaven12 ive been think about it for a while, you make up the powers for a vampire! I didn't know your thoughts and when a power eg flying, blood control, transformation or anything else isn't to powerful. This has been bugging me for a while sorry for being useless XD
Eryn smiled numbly as the doctor walked away with his nurse in tow. She had resisted movement until he was done, but now... finished. Eryn ran her fingers numbly over her scalp, eyes slightly glazed. It was a strange feeling, and she almost hated him for it, but the pain hurt so good.
Eryn ambled slowly forward, curious as to what he kept examining in her flesh. Mellow and distant, she floated towards the cups and clasped one tightly in her hand, downing the pills in a swallow. Mmmm...
I am the Galactic Garrison. I am a symbol of Hope. May our star burn bright and bring light to those we protect.
- GG Spacer Litany.
The Galactic Garrison
The Galactic Garrison is an alliance of four planets, its symbol incorporating the emblems of its founders. The sphere of Aoqua, the Three Paths of Wisdom of the Leonids, the colors of Lady Liberty for Earth and the four, royal stars of the Court of Aelfheim. Acting as the banner for galactic politics and backed by all four, they managed to create a force able to fight the Galra Empire and its allies to a standstill. Enough at least to ensure that Galactic Garrison space is a Galra-free zone, though the closer you get to the outer rim and the War Zone, the more tenuous that grip holds.
They are the police, military and security of the worlds allied and under the protection of the Galactic Garrison and while theoretically, all voices are heard? It is Earth, Aoqua, Rakṣā of the Leonids and the Court of Aelfheim who hold the most practical power, bearing the majority of the Galactic Garrison Fleet.
Earth Space Naval Examples
Earth Troops- The Guardsmen
Serving as both a naval and ground force coalition, the forces of Earth are among the biggest mixed bag in the known universe insofar as the army is concerned. Collectively known as the Guardsmen, the general idea is rather then hold everyone to a particular standard, the Guardsmen are split into various legions, each with a specialty and tradition, and its a canny commander who will use each of them to the fullest.
World First: The standard Earth legion. New recruits are shipped to Mars, where they endure the basic training and are given aptitude tests for which branch and legion they best qualify for. World First is also notable for the majority of quality officers it churns out, for those who stick with them.
Statesman Shield: A mostly metahuman legion, consisting of those who either washed out of Watchtower and Overwatch, or decided they wished to use their powers in a different way. Highly disciplined and possessing a wide variety of powers, their numbers are relatively smaller then most, but they make up for it in sheer firepower and flexibility in the field.
Just copying what I saw from the rp discussion on discord. lol.
white: Time Squad
white: Zinnia's Daddy
white: zidane and his weed
black: The Church is closed because __"
white: Samurai Jack
black: Will __ ever get a vacation from __?
white: it's zidane and plutia!
white: grip grip
black: I resort to __ when I can't think up a character
white card: like spamming the shit outta gen chat
black: Why does blank have to blank in the Murder Group when they're bored.
Jenna's ice cold fingers locked in a bloodly curl slowly opened enough to grip the damp spoon resting near the dimsal plate of yellow and gray. Had this been someone's meal? Where had they gone? Were they sick? Would she get sick? What did they have?
'They were dying in this very chair you flatchested whore. They left stains of being raped right under your ass.'
Shaking the voice away with a jingling nod, a sudden slap blast her left side knocking her head foreward and to the side. Her lip quivering as her own hand slowly sinks back into place next to her still throbbing from the impact.
'Do that again you little fuck and Ill slap you someplace else. That little warm place between your legs.'
"Dont just stop it please, stop" Her voice floats away trappled on by all the movement in the room. All the random noise of voices mixed with laughter and screams.
'Hold still. Your being watched. Eat. Eat now you fuck!'
A muted spoon lifts to her chapped lips. Opening her mouth to the greasy yellow and white glob a lurch begins from deep within her stomach. To many hours between meals and now this immpossible internal abuse. Tears sting her eyes as the spoon touches her lips and into her body the wet, cold, eggs slide. Gagging and choking a hand clamps over her mouth as she is forced to chew. Nearly chewing on her own lip a stiffled scream shrinks back down her throat.
Washing with spoon full after sloopy spoon full a hand jams food into her mouth with savage mercy. Choking and spitting up a few lost bits Jeena pants as her left hand pats her on the cheek.
The spoon drops to the floor with a tiny chink. Shaking in her chair the room slips in and out of motion as a strange feeling starts to grow inside her. A distant warmth and creeps into every inch of her. Fighting off a sudden chill Jenna looks up.
'Dont make eye contact with him you bitch. Dont look at anyone, dont you dare. I feed you isnt that enough?'
Temping the voice her eyes fix on a man. He looks like a man or could he be just some guy? Why would that slight difference matter in a place like this? Could he be a man and still remain a guy? Would one slaughter the other? Tilting her head to one side thoughts scrambled for placement and meaning in her mind. Her eyes glassed over as the debate raged on and on. Ignoring the danger, mocking the shadow that grew at her side Jenna stared on.
Knocked to the floor with a violent slam Jenna's body hit the floor. Cutting her lip as her teeth and lips curled trying to protect themselves. Jamming her teeth into the back of her lip blood gushed forth.
"GET HER JACKET NOW GOD DAMN'IT BEFORE SHE KILLS HERSELF. WHO THE HELL LET HER OUT! YOU FUCKING BASTARDS THIS WHOLE PLACE IS GOING STRAIGHT TO HELL" An orderly shouted and waived his hands and arms around. Yelling at anyone and anything near him. Barking orders as other shattered minds fled to other parts of the room.
Her eyes never left his face as the blow came with a unforgiving jolt. 'I told you not to look at him.'
"He was worth it. He was worth it." The insults and debate kept her company as she was put into the jacket and hauled out.
D-Daniel... what have you done!?
Daniel didn't like this. He watched as the women, one of the women he had noticed earlier, was beaten down by an orderly, encased in an asylum jacket and dragged off. It all seemed to happen in a moment, here in this place where every minute seemed to last a lifetime, but what could Daniel do about it?
His memory was poor, but he remembered enough about his past in this place to know that defying authority was not a good idea. People disappeared. Usually they didn't come back, but if they did it was in a state far worse than before, and they never lasted very long. So Daniel sat, and ate, and brooded. There were moments were medication was his worst enemy, and Daniel had significant enemies in this place. The medication here could send him into either euphoria or ruin, depending on what the orderlies fancied on giving him at the time. The euphoria was caused by losing touch with the bleak reality of his situation, and the ruin was the clarity of mind he was now experiencing. Now Daniel wished exceedingly that he could stop taking his medication, and surrender himself to whatever disease his mind was plagued with. He imagined that whatever disorder had landed him in this hell (he couldn't remember what it had been, now) had multiplied and grown into other disorders during his stay.
It was ironic, he thought, that he was only becoming more insane in a place that was supposed to cure him. Daniel looked down at his tray (eating might keep his mind busy), but it wasn't on the table anymore. It lay, upside down, on the floor a few strides away. Had he thrown it there in his despair? Had anyone seen him? Was the blur still standing beside him, keeping him company?
Kicking and scream from the depths of her fractured mind Jeena is thrown into a padded cell and the door slammed shut. A tangled mess of matted hair and vacant eyes she lays on her side as her mind beats even more life out of her. Raking her of any and all thought. Her demons demand her soul as she shakes and jolts. Following not in the path of the light her thoughts slip away into the self distructive nature that landed her, here in the first place.
Blinking in darkness she can feel it consume her. Laughing as its cold embrace sucks the life from even the marrow that clings to her withering frame.