- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- Quite often
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Preferred Character Gender
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- Dark Fantasy, Fantasy, Zombie, slice-of-life survival, Post Apocalyptic, Cyberpunk, Sci-fi, High Fantasy, Modern, medieval
OOC
"Ah, good, good, Mr. Rinerstadt. This is very good. Thank you for your time, I have learned a lot today. The results of the tests are marvelous! I can build so much progress on this. Again, thank you so much." he said to the decaying corpse of the man he had just tested a new strain of his personally created virus on before picking up the corpse and tossing it into the furnace in the testing facility he made of the basement in his Norwegian summer home.
Quincent Erasmarr really had enjoyed that last test, watching as the test subject, the man who used to be Mr. Richard Rinderstadt (who was now a pile of ash and char), squirmed and writhed and moaned in agony as the virus shut down and obliterated his organ systems in an excruciatingly slow and painful manner.
He stepped into the disinfector and removed his protective suit, allowing the cleansing jets to thoroughly eliminate any stray specimens of the virus, and went back up to his porch, returning to the scenic view of the water from his lakeside home by the shores of Langvatnet.
It was a good day for him. He had enjoyed a delicious breakfast, watched the sunrise, developed a new strain of virus and tested it, and still had time to relax. And to top it off, no one from town had visited him. Yes, today was a good day for Pestilence.
"Ah, good, good, Mr. Rinerstadt. This is very good. Thank you for your time, I have learned a lot today. The results of the tests are marvelous! I can build so much progress on this. Again, thank you so much." he said to the decaying corpse of the man he had just tested a new strain of his personally created virus on before picking up the corpse and tossing it into the furnace in the testing facility he made of the basement in his Norwegian summer home.
Quincent Erasmarr really had enjoyed that last test, watching as the test subject, the man who used to be Mr. Richard Rinderstadt (who was now a pile of ash and char), squirmed and writhed and moaned in agony as the virus shut down and obliterated his organ systems in an excruciatingly slow and painful manner.
He stepped into the disinfector and removed his protective suit, allowing the cleansing jets to thoroughly eliminate any stray specimens of the virus, and went back up to his porch, returning to the scenic view of the water from his lakeside home by the shores of Langvatnet.
It was a good day for him. He had enjoyed a delicious breakfast, watched the sunrise, developed a new strain of virus and tested it, and still had time to relax. And to top it off, no one from town had visited him. Yes, today was a good day for Pestilence.