This Place Used to Rock (A Free For All)

Scripture · 10-23-2008, 07:31 PM

James looked up and his eyes were a horrible blue, unnatural in their sockets rimmed with scar tissue. His tie hung tattered from his neck like a faulty noose, and his suit fell to silken tatters around him. He carried a suitcase, but even it seemed unable to escape the curse of his appearance, wearing holes and exposing at its edges its framework.

“Well, look at you, you old piece of ****, look at you. Never better, eh?”

James just looked at him. The street corner they stood on – its name wiped clean ever since humanity started pulling up its roots and heading skyward – was abandoned. Litter blew in the bleak winds, ghosts seemed to lurk behind every window, every handshake, every creaking a peek into the afterlife – an afterlife no one was particularly interested in anymore.

“Still carrying that, ah, cross with you, I bet?”

“Uh…” James managed, slipping to the side and collapsing, grimacing, against the massive corner of a building. He looked up and felt small, rooted.

“As good an answer as any, I guess. It’s like a drug, you know. I know, too, but yeah, like a drug.”

James stared.

“The first hit,” he said, “is always the best.”

He looted around in a pocket of his flannel shirt, picked out a pack of cigarettes. He sparked a lighter, and the smoke rose around his head as he tore it from his mouth.

“Aaaaah, but what the **** does it matter, anyway? No one’s here to even care about you and your machine anymore – which is it, anymore, really? More you, or more machine? Looks to me like you’re both dying slowly.”

“No…not…true…both alive…both hungry…”

“Awh, getting all primal in your old age, eh? No more lively machines to feed on, right? Can’t keep that power up like you used to, am I right?”

At this James attempted a step forward, staggered back, and returned to leaning, to shaking, against the building.

“Well, what if I told you I have a surprise for you?”

“Uh…”

“Yes, yes, a surprise – there’s still vagrants in this city, my friend! They’ve all been driven mad by the funky atmosphere and the isolation – you can only hole yourself up in this damn shell of a place before it gets you, I’m sure you know.”

James almost looked to brighten at this – his features firmed, he stopped shivering against the building.

“And, oh, they all want a piece of you. I put a bounty on you, see – it would be too much of a pain to kill you myself, we have too much history together, but them, I’m sure they will have an easier time of it, or at least will keep my hands clean. One way or the other.”

James opened his mouth to say something, but at that precise moment the man who had been talking to him that whole time disappeared – indeed, his form lost its hold on reality and disintegrated, atom by atom, in front of his face, leaving that sad form of a man, carrying inside him a terrible, timeless thing, to lean against a building that stretched to the sky, visible from horizon to horizon, visible even to the satellites that hung dead and disabled in the sky, coming dangerously closer to falling with each revolution of the planet

(OoC: So you're fighting my little businessman turned invalid, and that odd individual who disappears is paying you to do it. You guys were all not chosen to journey to a new earth, so sucks to be you. Choose your story from there, but don't expect this one character to go down easy. Oh, and you may fight each other, as this is a free for all. Just checking the pulse of this place...)

I REALLY HATE POKEMON! · 10-24-2008, 05:33 PM

OoC: I am going to be using Yamcha, Kinda like an alternate dimension version of himself from the end of DBZ, with all of his attacks, but still a bandit as he was in DB.

A man with a scarred face appeared next to the depressed looking man with his sword drawn. He was wearing black boots, tan pants, a dark green vest with a white cloth belt and a red scarf. His vest had a Japanese symbol on it. His hair was long and dark and so were his eyes.

"You have to die now.," he said with a face lacking expression.

Scripture · 10-24-2008, 10:46 PM

James looked at Yamcha, standing there with his sword drawn, as so many others had stood before him. His eyes reflected emotion through a filter, as if watching a robot try to articulate anger or disinterest, and he just stared and stared and stared. Yamcha just stood there, his sword pointed perhaps toward the heart, perhaps toward the neck – and they might have stayed that way forever, as James just leaned against that building as if it was the last monument left to him in this world. Indeed, it would be easy for Yamcha to simply spear him against the concrete, pin him through the heart and take that bounty as easy as one, two, three…

I REALLY HATE POKEMON! · 10-26-2008, 08:01 PM

Yamcha was informed that his target was dangerous, that helped ease his conscience. But now he stood, about to thrust his sword into the seemingly helpless man. As he forced his sword toward the depressed looking man, he stopped just short of the target.

Not on purpose, but because his sword was broken and the tip was in his shoulder. Yamcha flew into the sky afraid, blood dripping to the ground, and fired a massive ball of energy into the man.

He sensed the enemy but his power seemed to be dropping...

Scripture · 10-26-2008, 09:37 PM

OoC: So explain to me how that chain of events is in any way logical given the lack of evidence you have on my character's capabilities. Go on, have at it.

Don't get me wrong, I'll post, but I'm just wondering here. /OoC

I REALLY HATE POKEMON! · 10-27-2008, 02:55 PM

OoC: As you may know, Yamcha is capable of destroying a planet with very minimal effort. The rules state that even a god-like character like Yamcha is to be even with any opponent.

To properly answer your question: Our writing styles are different; you focus on story-like writing and I focus on battle descriptions in the style of DBZ...I jumped your character into a DBZ style fight. I don't know how else to write so I think maybe I'll just pass up on this afterall.

Scripture · 10-27-2008, 05:14 PM

OoC: Whatever you want.

He looked through a pair of binoculars from a mile away at the short exchange between James and Yamcha, and coughed out a lungful of smoke at the same time as Yamcha fired a bright projectile at James.

“Never seen that before – when did his sword end up in his shoulder?” he mumbled to himself, choking, cigarette still caught in his lips.

He then spied the ball of energy vaporize James, and sighed. Of course, there was no sign the sphere of energy had ever existed, or James, for that matter, as the building against which he was leaning bore no telltale blast markings. Yamcha floated tentatively in the air, his own broken sword lodged in his shoulder – a wound that would cripple the entire limb and would need immediate attention if left to bleed out, he thought. He huffed and put the telescope away.

“You’re such an ******* sometimes, it’s unbelievable,” he said to James, now standing in front of the entrance to the top of the building, the man’s chosen vantage point.

James, smiling, said, “Who was that aimed at?”

“Oh,” he replied, “both of you.”

James, smoking, said, “Fair enough, fair enough. Any other hooligans you have, because all that one did…all that one did, ah, was piss me right off.” On the final two words, James’s voice distorted, as if two sets of vocal cords were coming through his mouth. A cobalt glow emanated from his throat, gleaming off his teeth, and those eyes, those pale eyes, they lit up as if seen at night, reflected in the headlights of some oncoming vehicle.

I REALLY HATE POKEMON! · 10-27-2008, 05:31 PM

OoC: To explain further what I meant by our character's short exchange is; I made it so your character made a speed of light move, snapping Yamcha's sword mid-thrust, cramming the sword tip deep into Yamcha's left shoulder, all while appearing as if he never even moved.

Upon further thought on the matter, maybe I took control of your character too much and perhaps explained too little. Sorry.

Scripture · 10-27-2008, 06:50 PM

OoC: Yeah, I tried to depict my character as incredibly weak in that first post - barely able to hold himself up, much less make a speed of light movement on par with something a DBZ character could do. Oh well.

Does anybody even come here anymore? Come on!/OoC

t3hDarkness · 10-27-2008, 07:33 PM

OOC: I was lurking in and out of character waiting to post. Stop dicking around and treat him like a rag doll already, he practically begged for that in the first post.

Tell you what, I'll throw in someone capable of light speed movement until we can figure out what James can do.

Repster · 10-27-2008, 07:34 PM

Working on it. Have my reasons for not being done as of yet, mostly involving injuries to my hands, dog's skull, other dogs ribcage and spine, migraines, being tired, lack of access to pc etc. Should have something up a little later.

Scripture · 10-27-2008, 08:32 PM

OoC: T3h - I wasn't really begging for anything. There's more than the eye can see, of course. Always.

Rep - Plenty of good excuses, Christ. /OoC

Repster · 10-27-2008, 08:49 PM

Ooc: The dogs died on impact btw. No actual suffering and such. Much better then the last one we had that died via truck... that... was not so quick.

This is overly long because I was in the mood. Skip the between the --, italics, and bold if your in a rush. They are a simple method that I felt like using to be indicative of varying voices.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Whistling came from the west. A sad tune, one that might be recognized as the Theme of Love ( FFIV ). It came from around the man that staggered forward. Not from, but around his form. His mouth, pointed pearly whites clear and visible, opened and he sang. Yet the whistling never stopped. More then one voice came forth, once again not quite from the man itself but around. The somewhat cheery song was far from the somber tune he whistled. His reeling motion never stopped, almost tripping on his own feet every now and then.

--As I went home on Monday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a horse outside the door where my old horse should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that horse outside the door where my old horse should be?--

He was an odd sight in this decrepit land. Pristine white trousers of silk far to large and voluminous for him, with matching wrapping along his left bicep and ribs. One might think bandages for an injury but they were far to clean, and silk was not material common to dressing a wound. His hair a bright red of many shades, his golden eye almost glowing with mirth it's twin long gone and covered by that same white silk.

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely sow that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've traveled a hundred miles or more
But a saddle on a sow sure I never saw before

A scar ran from above the eye patch and down it went curving below the ribs and up alone the back, across the spine, and back to the skull. Perfectly dividing him in twain. His right arm held the depiction of a serpentine creature. It spiraled down from it's tail on his should down to it's fanged mouth upon the back of his hand.

--And as I went home on Tuesday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a coat behind the door where my old coat should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that coat behind the door where my old coat should be--

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a woolen blanket that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've traveled a hundred miles or more
But buttons in a blanket sure I never saw before

He swayed forward light on his feet, taking a swig from the comically over sized bottle clutched in his left hand. Long fingered, and obviously powerful joints and wrist by the manner of said clutching of the bottle. Neither whistling tune, nor song skipped a beat.

--And as I went home on Wednesday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a pipe up on the chair where my old pipe should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that pipe up on the chair where my old pipe should be?--

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've traveled a hundred miles or more
But tobacco in a tin whistle sure I never saw before

Not far from Yamcha he stopped, lurching forward then back. His eye squinted at the taller man, the eyebrow above the cloth of his left socket rising to the contrary of it's twin. He went to take a swig and looked up into his bottle, momentarily disregarding Yamcha. Another far more importent matter held his attention. Empty, well that was no good...

--And as I went home on Thursday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw two boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns them boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be--

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
They're two lovely Geranium pots me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've traveled a hundred miles or more
But laces in Geranium pots I never saw before

Looking back tot he dark haired Yamcha, the silk adored inebriated one stroked his chin. There was something about somebody he had to do around there. What was it again?

--And as I went home on Friday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a head upon the bed where my old head should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that head upon the bed where my old head should be--

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a baby boy that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've traveled a hundred miles or more
But a baby boy with his whiskers on sure I never saw before

Ah, yes, that was it.
"Names Aidan Dreiks" he slurred out, whistling and song ending abruptly with the third sylable
" You Jimmy? Gerald? Jeff? James... Yeah James, that's the one. You him?"
He sniffed in the air, much like a wild beast looking for prey. For a moment, there seemed to be a strange lucidity to his eye, and it sent a chill down the battle hardened warriors spine. It reminded him of a injured rabid wolf back into a corner, and at the same time a quite little puppy dog with it's tale wagging gently behind it.

Scripture · 11-02-2008, 08:20 PM

Just a little bump.

The Willful Wanderer · 11-02-2008, 10:29 PM

In the sky above, the symbol for 'Pluto' shone once.

"Mmmm, tacos. Almost as good as NACOS. NACO-NACO-NACO!" The spindly-thin woman cried out, pleated miniskirt whipping about her thighs in bone-white tatters. "A-hahaha.... such a fun word. Almost as much so as SMOCK."

Even the Vanishing Man (or so she knew him, his name could very well be Mr. Smith. Wouldn't that be a riot, then? Or Hal. Hal would be more deliciously awful. After all, he couldn't let you do that, James.) looked a bit put off as she dropped to all fours. Ebon-black gloves gripped the gravel of the rooftop as she prowled forwards. Her feet bent nigh-impossibly in white boots to achieve the slink of a large cat.

"Are you blasting off again, James?"

The frayed man did not so much wheel upon her as sort of half-collapse in a circle, and then pull himself back up. Whatever odd force granted him that second voice, it appeared to have left now, the sad and broken remnants of a man- or perhaps something else.

"You know, you look remarkably like something from an Anime I once saw. What were they called?" One pale hand rose to her chin, the tall and slender woman bowing her head in contemplation. One crimson eye flared wider briefly as she spat a single word.

"Invaders."

The tall woman froze, one sallow red eye regarding him from beneath that splay of dark green hair. "Dirty! DIRTY! You think UNCLEAN THINGS!!!"

Abruptly, she pranced perkily over, snuggling up into his shape in a way that at the very least ought to have toppled the ruin of a man. "Can I have a TACO?"

"But you'd like that, wouldn't you, James? A smock. Keep you from getting so dirty....."

Something about this, she found outrageously funny, abruptly curling over herself, doubling up with whispery snickered laughter as one out of breath.

"Are you blasting off again?"

"It's good to meet you, James." Came the quiet voice.

"Yes." She intoned in agreement with herself. "You've got that right. Invaders. Yes. Are you an Invader, James? Are you Invader Jim?"

Long limbs scattered in a manner reminiscent of both a spider and a teenager as she scrambled away across the rooftop in the face of some percieved offense towards her.

Shrieking like a banshee, the woman in the black bodysuit outright floated up off from the rooftop, drifting backwards midair as if levitating. "UNCLEAN! STRANGE! HEN! ERO! ERO.... sannin?"

And then she was calmly standing upon the rooftop again, one hand loosening her white choker with its emerald pendant. "The legendary? Yes. Densetsu no sannin no.... JAMES!"

"Noooooo, no tacos for you! Tacos are precious, yessss." Green hair splayed about her shoulders messily, knots and tangles forcing the otherwise-straight strands into a gummy mess- or perhaps it was the gumminess that caused said problems?

The explosion that sent the ragged man flying had little force- just enough to launch him off the roof and over the edge- but its source was obvious: The almost-but-not-quite backwards woman with a skull-adorned and emerald-tipped staff pointed at his former location. This... funhouse mirror.

1-up Salesman · 11-05-2008, 08:25 PM

Ignorant. Foolish. Stupid.

The world is made up only of people like this.

The world is being wasted away by these fools- these idiots.

Am I the only one with a mind?

The world is made up of sin. Anger and hatred. Sorrow and . What a waste.

Evil.

And evil shall be destroyed.

This is my goal. And I shall fulfill it.

You should call me a hero. You should call me savior.
But you are just another one among the evil.

I will clean the world of evil.

He appeared them in the midst of battle, and they came to a stop.

Eslun stared at the group of brawlers. They were just what he expected. Well, the way they acted. But not exactly their appearance. A green-haired made up of just skin-and-bones jumping around screaming something about mexican food, a scruffy, dirty man with long greasy hair floating up in the air, some other strange fighters, and a...business man? Ahhh...yes.

The reason he came here. No, not for the money. The "elf" appeared next to the man, his long blond hair shaking in the wind. He looked down at him and said, "Do you wish to live?"

OOC: Sorry if this post sounds like I'm trying to be overly-serious or anything, but that's actually the fighter's personality. I'll explain later.

I REALLY HATE POKEMON! · 12-01-2008, 06:44 PM

OoC: Whoops, looks like this fight slipped my mind. Actually, seems as if we all did. I'll bump this to see if anyone else is still interested. Till then I'll just do a little post to test the waters:

Yamcha glared at the cocky looking fighter who just appeared. He yelled a warning, "I doubt you'll listen but you better leave, this area is dangerous!"

The new being didn't respond...

Repster · 12-02-2008, 10:23 PM

Aidan's left eyebrow twitched. Now, he was not the most passive of people out there, but he never picked a fight without good reason. Yamcha? Yamcha just performed of one of the actions that required his neck to be snapped. He had ignored Aidan. Not just regular ignore the crazy monk and his rantings. Aidan had introduced himself and been thoroughly dismissed, as one would the most insignificant little insect.

Tap, tap, tap, on Yamcha's shoulder did Aidan tap. He turned. What else would one do? It was a conditioned reflex to always look when someone tapped you on the shoulder. He then received a bottle to the face. The thick crude glass shattered from the blow and Yamcha took a step back, right in the perfect position for the monk leg to catch him in the back of the head.

For the split secound he had to see Aidan's form, Yamcha wondered if the redhead even had a spine. There he stood in front of him, smirk on his face, half turned coiled like a spring his leg still extend were it had reached around to strike. Then, like the spring he resembled, Aidan snapped back his original shape all that power going straight into a vicious uppercut.

Yamcha found himself three feet, and climbing, in the air with a bloody, broken jaw. The blood being unnaturally hot to such a degree that it was already starting to burn. Aidan, well his fist was completely ruined. A bloody mess with a few bone being in very wrong angle, especially the ones sticking out. A temporary annoyance at most, especially he forced it back into proper shape to hasten his regeneration. Painful? Very much so, but pain was a part of his life as much as breathing was to most.

I REALLY HATE POKEMON! · 12-02-2008, 11:16 PM

OoC: Oops, misunderstanding.

Yamcha's jaw hung with slack, blood gushing forth from his mouth, pieces of tooth coming forth now and then. On top of that, the action agrivated his sword wound.

Yamcha snuck his hand into his boot, pulling a fraction of a small, green bean; he proceeded to cram it down his throat. His bleeding slowed and his jaw reconnected itself.

"Time to die!" Yamcha hunched over, yelling. Aidan attempted to move toward Yamcha. Bad idea.

Aidan was blown away about half a mile, flying through all manner of solid structures, by an unseen force. Buildings and even the surrounding earth itself was completely disintigrated.

Yamcha stood, glowing in a deep crater. He flew in the direction his foe was sent...

Repster · 12-06-2008, 10:51 PM

Ooc: M'right, I break my fist on your jaw and you throw me through buildings. Gotcha. Cranking up Aidan to eleven. ELEVEN!

Yamcha flew forward. Something was wrong, he could not feel the crazy monk. The he heard humming. From his back. He turn mid flight to see, nothing. Yet it continued, again from behind him. He turned and the humming persisted behind him. Once more he searched.
"Not very bloody bright are you boy." and a chuckle replaced the humming.
The he felt it. Feet, on the back of his shoulders. Aidan was standing ON Yamcha at an impossible angle. Then again, considering the level of power that was unleashed by the dark haired one, it was not that much of a surprise.

Aidan flipped off as yamcha turned to strike. Fast was the only word to describe it. Aidan also did not go anywhere beyond that as his flip turn into curling up and then rotating and twisting and standing there in mid air facing Yamcha. The air around them exploded with power, and Aidan stood there unmoving as Yamcha's voice rang out. The unseen power riped apart a nearby building, and Aidan did not even flinch. The unseen force rippled around him like a river around a rock.
"Look, ya amateur. It doesn't matter how much power you throw around if you dont know how to use it. That'll only get you so far against others of your silly little kind. Seriously... I BLOW YOU AWAY! RAR! hehehe... Stupid git... Free shot. Go ahead. Let's see what you got ya pansy little two copper whore. Let's see if your worth bothering with or should I just tear you flaming head off like a chicken."

Aidan chuckle and opened his arms wide. His laughter only grew harder and louder as he waited.

10-23-2008, 07:31 PM	#1
Scripture Junior Member Join Date: Apr 2004 Gender: Posts: 434 Thanks: 8 Thanked 6 Times in 5 Posts	This Place Used to Rock (A Free For All) James looked up and his eyes were a horrible blue, unnatural in their sockets rimmed with scar tissue. His tie hung tattered from his neck like a faulty noose, and his suit fell to silken tatters around him. He carried a suitcase, but even it seemed unable to escape the curse of his appearance, wearing holes and exposing at its edges its framework. “Well, look at you, you old piece of **, look at you. Never better, eh?” James just looked at him. The street corner they stood on – its name wiped clean ever since humanity started pulling up its roots and heading skyward – was abandoned. Litter blew in the bleak winds, ghosts seemed to lurk behind every window, every handshake, every creaking a peek into the afterlife – an afterlife no one was particularly interested in anymore. “Still carrying that, ah, cross with you, I bet?” “Uh…” James managed, slipping to the side and collapsing, grimacing, against the massive corner of a building. He looked up and felt small, rooted. “As good an answer as any, I guess. It’s like a drug, you know. I know, too, but yeah, like a drug.” James stared. “The first hit,” he said, “is always the best.” He looted around in a pocket of his flannel shirt, picked out a pack of cigarettes. He sparked a lighter, and the smoke rose around his head as he tore it from his mouth. “Aaaaah, but what the ** does it matter, anyway? No one’s here to even care about you and your machine anymore – which is it, anymore, really? More you, or more machine? Looks to me like you’re both dying slowly.” “No…not…true…both alive…both hungry…” “Awh, getting all primal in your old age, eh? No more lively machines to feed on, right? Can’t keep that power up like you used to, am I right?” At this James attempted a step forward, staggered back, and returned to leaning, to shaking, against the building. “Well, what if I told you I have a surprise for you?” “Uh…” “Yes, yes, a surprise – there’s still vagrants in this city, my friend! They’ve all been driven mad by the funky atmosphere and the isolation – you can only hole yourself up in this damn shell of a place before it gets you, I’m sure you know.” James almost looked to brighten at this – his features firmed, he stopped shivering against the building. “And, oh, they all want a piece of you. I put a bounty on you, see – it would be too much of a pain to kill you myself, we have too much history together, but them, I’m sure they will have an easier time of it, or at least will keep my hands clean. One way or the other.” James opened his mouth to say something, but at that precise moment the man who had been talking to him that whole time disappeared – indeed, his form lost its hold on reality and disintegrated, atom by atom, in front of his face, leaving that sad form of a man, carrying inside him a terrible, timeless thing, to lean against a building that stretched to the sky, visible from horizon to horizon, visible even to the satellites that hung dead and disabled in the sky, coming dangerously closer to falling with each revolution of the planet (OoC: So you're fighting my little businessman turned invalid, and that odd individual who disappears is paying you to do it. You guys were all not chosen to journey to a new earth, so sucks to be you. Choose your story from there, but don't expect this one character to go down easy. Oh, and you may fight each other, as this is a free for all. Just checking the pulse of this place...)

11-02-2008, 10:29 PM	#15
The Willful Wanderer Member Join Date: Mar 2004 Location: Aisle 12, between the kumquats and the radicchio. Gender: Posts: 2,325 Thanks: 168 Thanked 137 Times in 90 Posts	Oh dear. In the sky above, the symbol for 'Pluto' shone once. "Mmmm, tacos. Almost as good as NACOS. NACO-NACO-NACO!" The spindly-thin woman cried out, pleated miniskirt whipping about her thighs in bone-white tatters. "A-hahaha.... such a fun word. Almost as much so as SMOCK." Even the Vanishing Man (or so she knew him, his name could very well be Mr. Smith. Wouldn't that be a riot, then? Or Hal. Hal would be more deliciously awful. After all, he couldn't let you do that, James.) looked a bit put off as she dropped to all fours. Ebon-black gloves gripped the gravel of the rooftop as she prowled forwards. Her feet bent nigh-impossibly in white boots to achieve the slink of a large cat. "Are you blasting off again, James?" The frayed man did not so much wheel upon her as sort of half-collapse in a circle, and then pull himself back up. Whatever odd force granted him that second voice, it appeared to have left now, the sad and broken remnants of a man- or perhaps something else. "You know, you look remarkably like something from an Anime I once saw. What were they called?" One pale hand rose to her chin, the tall and slender woman bowing her head in contemplation. One crimson eye flared wider briefly as she spat a single word. "Invaders." The tall woman froze, one sallow red eye regarding him from beneath that splay of dark green hair. "Dirty! DIRTY! You think UNCLEAN THINGS!!!" Abruptly, she pranced perkily over, snuggling up into his shape in a way that at the very least ought to have toppled the ruin of a man. "Can I have a TACO?" "But you'd like that, wouldn't you, James? A smock. Keep you from getting so dirty....." Something about this, she found outrageously funny, abruptly curling over herself, doubling up with whispery snickered laughter as one out of breath. "Are you blasting off again?" "It's good to meet you, James." Came the quiet voice. "Yes." She intoned in agreement with herself. "You've got that right. Invaders. Yes. Are you an Invader, James? Are you Invader Jim?" Long limbs scattered in a manner reminiscent of both a spider and a teenager as she scrambled away across the rooftop in the face of some percieved offense towards her. Shrieking like a banshee, the woman in the black bodysuit outright floated up off from the rooftop, drifting backwards midair as if levitating. "UNCLEAN! STRANGE! HEN! ERO! ERO.... sannin?" And then she was calmly standing upon the rooftop again, one hand loosening her white choker with its emerald pendant. "The legendary? Yes. Densetsu no sannin no.... JAMES!" "Noooooo, no tacos for you! Tacos are precious, yessss." Green hair splayed about her shoulders messily, knots and tangles forcing the otherwise-straight strands into a gummy mess- or perhaps it was the gumminess that caused said problems? The explosion that sent the ragged man flying had little force- just enough to launch him off the roof and over the edge- but its source was obvious: The almost-but-not-quite backwards woman with a skull-adorned and emerald-tipped staff pointed at his former location. This... funhouse mirror. Last edited by The Willful Wanderer; 11-03-2008 at 04:48 AM.

11-05-2008, 08:25 PM	#16
1-up Salesman Senior Member Join Date: Apr 2008 Location: Letting you guys know that I'm planning on continuing Attack of the Spammers soon. Gender: Posts: 4,095 Thanks: 2,162 Thanked 250 Times in 194 Posts Blog Entries: 9	EVIL IS BAD! Ignorant. Foolish. Stupid. The world is made up only of people like this. The world is being wasted away by these fools- these idiots. Am I the only one with a mind? The world is made up of sin. Anger and hatred. Sorrow and . What a waste. Evil. And evil shall be destroyed. This is my goal. And I shall fulfill it. You should call me a hero. You should call me savior. But you are just another one among the evil. I will clean the world of evil. He appeared them in the midst of battle, and they came to a stop. Eslun stared at the group of brawlers. They were just what he expected. Well, the way they acted. But not exactly their appearance. A green-haired made up of just skin-and-bones jumping around screaming something about mexican food, a scruffy, dirty man with long greasy hair floating up in the air, some other strange fighters, and a...business man? Ahhh...yes. The reason he came here. No, not for the money. The "elf" appeared next to the man, his long blond hair shaking in the wind. He looked down at him and said, "Do you wish to live?" OOC: Sorry if this post sounds like I'm trying to be overly-serious or anything, but that's actually the fighter's personality. I'll explain later.

12-02-2008, 11:16 PM	#19
I REALLY HATE POKEMON! Goku lives on the Sun Join Date: Jun 2000 Location: California, U.S.A Gender: Posts: 12,717 Thanks: 1,334 Thanked 275 Times in 234 Posts Blog Entries: 1	OoC: Oops, misunderstanding. Yamcha's jaw hung with slack, blood gushing forth from his mouth, pieces of tooth coming forth now and then. On top of that, the action agrivated his sword wound. Yamcha snuck his hand into his boot, pulling a fraction of a small, green bean; he proceeded to cram it down his throat. His bleeding slowed and his jaw reconnected itself. "Time to die!" Yamcha hunched over, yelling. Aidan attempted to move toward Yamcha. Bad idea. Aidan was blown away about half a mile, flying through all manner of solid structures, by an unseen force. Buildings and even the surrounding earth itself was completely disintigrated. Yamcha stood, glowing in a deep crater. He flew in the direction his foe was sent... Last edited by I REALLY HATE POKEMON!; 12-02-2008 at 11:16 PM. Reason: Automerged Doublepost

10-24-2008, 05:33 PM	#2
I REALLY HATE POKEMON! Goku lives on the Sun Join Date: Jun 2000 Location: California, U.S.A Gender: Posts: 12,717 Thanks: 1,334 Thanked 275 Times in 234 Posts Blog Entries: 1	OoC: I am going to be using Yamcha, Kinda like an alternate dimension version of himself from the end of DBZ, with all of his attacks, but still a bandit as he was in DB. A man with a scarred face appeared next to the depressed looking man with his sword drawn. He was wearing black boots, tan pants, a dark green vest with a white cloth belt and a red scarf. His vest had a Japanese symbol on it. His hair was long and dark and so were his eyes. "You have to die now.," he said with a face lacking expression.

10-24-2008, 10:46 PM	#3
Scripture Junior Member Join Date: Apr 2004 Gender: Posts: 434 Thanks: 8 Thanked 6 Times in 5 Posts	James looked at Yamcha, standing there with his sword drawn, as so many others had stood before him. His eyes reflected emotion through a filter, as if watching a robot try to articulate anger or disinterest, and he just stared and stared and stared. Yamcha just stood there, his sword pointed perhaps toward the heart, perhaps toward the neck – and they might have stayed that way forever, as James just leaned against that building as if it was the last monument left to him in this world. Indeed, it would be easy for Yamcha to simply spear him against the concrete, pin him through the heart and take that bounty as easy as one, two, three…

10-26-2008, 08:01 PM	#4
I REALLY HATE POKEMON! Goku lives on the Sun Join Date: Jun 2000 Location: California, U.S.A Gender: Posts: 12,717 Thanks: 1,334 Thanked 275 Times in 234 Posts Blog Entries: 1	Yamcha was informed that his target was dangerous, that helped ease his conscience. But now he stood, about to thrust his sword into the seemingly helpless man. As he forced his sword toward the depressed looking man, he stopped just short of the target. Not on purpose, but because his sword was broken and the tip was in his shoulder. Yamcha flew into the sky afraid, blood dripping to the ground, and fired a massive ball of energy into the man. He sensed the enemy but his power seemed to be dropping...

10-26-2008, 09:37 PM	#5
Scripture Junior Member Join Date: Apr 2004 Gender: Posts: 434 Thanks: 8 Thanked 6 Times in 5 Posts	OoC: So explain to me how that chain of events is in any way logical given the lack of evidence you have on my character's capabilities. Go on, have at it. Don't get me wrong, I'll post, but I'm just wondering here. /OoC

10-27-2008, 02:55 PM	#6
I REALLY HATE POKEMON! Goku lives on the Sun Join Date: Jun 2000 Location: California, U.S.A Gender: Posts: 12,717 Thanks: 1,334 Thanked 275 Times in 234 Posts Blog Entries: 1	OoC: As you may know, Yamcha is capable of destroying a planet with very minimal effort. The rules state that even a god-like character like Yamcha is to be even with any opponent. To properly answer your question: Our writing styles are different; you focus on story-like writing and I focus on battle descriptions in the style of DBZ...I jumped your character into a DBZ style fight. I don't know how else to write so I think maybe I'll just pass up on this afterall.

10-27-2008, 05:14 PM	#7
Scripture Junior Member Join Date: Apr 2004 Gender: Posts: 434 Thanks: 8 Thanked 6 Times in 5 Posts	OoC: Whatever you want. He looked through a pair of binoculars from a mile away at the short exchange between James and Yamcha, and coughed out a lungful of smoke at the same time as Yamcha fired a bright projectile at James. “Never seen that before – when did his sword end up in his shoulder?” he mumbled to himself, choking, cigarette still caught in his lips. He then spied the ball of energy vaporize James, and sighed. Of course, there was no sign the sphere of energy had ever existed, or James, for that matter, as the building against which he was leaning bore no telltale blast markings. Yamcha floated tentatively in the air, his own broken sword lodged in his shoulder – a wound that would cripple the entire limb and would need immediate attention if left to bleed out, he thought. He huffed and put the telescope away. “You’re such an ******* sometimes, it’s unbelievable,” he said to James, now standing in front of the entrance to the top of the building, the man’s chosen vantage point. James, smiling, said, “Who was that aimed at?” “Oh,” he replied, “both of you.” James, smoking, said, “Fair enough, fair enough. Any other hooligans you have, because all that one did…all that one did, ah, was piss me right off.” On the final two words, James’s voice distorted, as if two sets of vocal cords were coming through his mouth. A cobalt glow emanated from his throat, gleaming off his teeth, and those eyes, those pale eyes, they lit up as if seen at night, reflected in the headlights of some oncoming vehicle.

10-27-2008, 05:31 PM	#8
I REALLY HATE POKEMON! Goku lives on the Sun Join Date: Jun 2000 Location: California, U.S.A Gender: Posts: 12,717 Thanks: 1,334 Thanked 275 Times in 234 Posts Blog Entries: 1	OoC: To explain further what I meant by our character's short exchange is; I made it so your character made a speed of light move, snapping Yamcha's sword mid-thrust, cramming the sword tip deep into Yamcha's left shoulder, all while appearing as if he never even moved. Upon further thought on the matter, maybe I took control of your character too much and perhaps explained too little. Sorry.

10-27-2008, 06:50 PM	#9
Scripture Junior Member Join Date: Apr 2004 Gender: Posts: 434 Thanks: 8 Thanked 6 Times in 5 Posts	OoC: Yeah, I tried to depict my character as incredibly weak in that first post - barely able to hold himself up, much less make a speed of light movement on par with something a DBZ character could do. Oh well. Does anybody even come here anymore? Come on!/OoC

10-27-2008, 07:33 PM	#10
t3hDarkness Senior Member Join Date: Oct 2006 Location: I weep oily black tears of joy. Gender: Posts: 7,590 Thanks: 119 Thanked 418 Times in 306 Posts Blog Entries: 5	OOC: I was lurking in and out of character waiting to post. Stop dicking around and treat him like a rag doll already, he practically begged for that in the first post. Tell you what, I'll throw in someone capable of light speed movement until we can figure out what James can do.

10-27-2008, 07:34 PM	#11
Repster Gunjin Mod Join Date: Jun 2000 Location: J'tun ostie d'Acadien. Gender: Posts: 6,130 Thanks: 2 Thanked 37 Times in 25 Posts	Working on it. Have my reasons for not being done as of yet, mostly involving injuries to my hands, dog's skull, other dogs ribcage and spine, migraines, being tired, lack of access to pc etc. Should have something up a little later.

10-27-2008, 08:32 PM	#12
Scripture Junior Member Join Date: Apr 2004 Gender: Posts: 434 Thanks: 8 Thanked 6 Times in 5 Posts	OoC: T3h - I wasn't really begging for anything. There's more than the eye can see, of course. Always. Rep - Plenty of good excuses, Christ. /OoC

10-27-2008, 08:49 PM	#13
Repster Gunjin Mod Join Date: Jun 2000 Location: J'tun ostie d'Acadien. Gender: Posts: 6,130 Thanks: 2 Thanked 37 Times in 25 Posts	Ooc: The dogs died on impact btw. No actual suffering and such. Much better then the last one we had that died via truck... that... was not so quick. This is overly long because I was in the mood. Skip the between the --, italics, and bold if your in a rush. They are a simple method that I felt like using to be indicative of varying voices. -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- Whistling came from the west. A sad tune, one that might be recognized as the Theme of Love ( FFIV ). It came from around the man that staggered forward. Not from, but around his form. His mouth, pointed pearly whites clear and visible, opened and he sang. Yet the whistling never stopped. More then one voice came forth, once again not quite from the man itself but around. The somewhat cheery song was far from the somber tune he whistled. His reeling motion never stopped, almost tripping on his own feet every now and then. --As I went home on Monday night as drunk as drunk could be I saw a horse outside the door where my old horse should be Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me Who owns that horse outside the door where my old horse should be?-- He was an odd sight in this decrepit land. Pristine white trousers of silk far to large and voluminous for him, with matching wrapping along his left bicep and ribs. One might think bandages for an injury but they were far to clean, and silk was not material common to dressing a wound. His hair a bright red of many shades, his golden eye almost glowing with mirth it's twin long gone and covered by that same white silk. Ah, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool, still you can not see That's a lovely sow that me mother sent to me Well, it's many a day I've traveled a hundred miles or more But a saddle on a sow sure I never saw before A scar ran from above the eye patch and down it went curving below the ribs and up alone the back, across the spine, and back to the skull. Perfectly dividing him in twain. His right arm held the depiction of a serpentine creature. It spiraled down from it's tail on his should down to it's fanged mouth upon the back of his hand. --And as I went home on Tuesday night as drunk as drunk could be I saw a coat behind the door where my old coat should be Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me Who owns that coat behind the door where my old coat should be-- Ah, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool, still you can not see That's a woolen blanket that me mother sent to me Well, it's many a day I've traveled a hundred miles or more But buttons in a blanket sure I never saw before He swayed forward light on his feet, taking a swig from the comically over sized bottle clutched in his left hand. Long fingered, and obviously powerful joints and wrist by the manner of said clutching of the bottle. Neither whistling tune, nor song skipped a beat. --And as I went home on Wednesday night as drunk as drunk could be I saw a pipe up on the chair where my old pipe should be Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me Who owns that pipe up on the chair where my old pipe should be?-- Ah, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool, still you can not see That's a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me Well, it's many a day I've traveled a hundred miles or more But tobacco in a tin whistle sure I never saw before Not far from Yamcha he stopped, lurching forward then back. His eye squinted at the taller man, the eyebrow above the cloth of his left socket rising to the contrary of it's twin. He went to take a swig and looked up into his bottle, momentarily disregarding Yamcha. Another far more importent matter held his attention. Empty, well that was no good... --And as I went home on Thursday night as drunk as drunk could be I saw two boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me Who owns them boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be-- Ah, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool, still you can not see They're two lovely Geranium pots me mother sent to me Well, it's many a day I've traveled a hundred miles or more But laces in Geranium pots I never saw before Looking back tot he dark haired Yamcha, the silk adored inebriated one stroked his chin. There was something about somebody he had to do around there. What was it again? --And as I went home on Friday night as drunk as drunk could be I saw a head upon the bed where my old head should be Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me Who owns that head upon the bed where my old head should be-- Ah, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool, still you can not see That's a baby boy that me mother sent to me Well, it's many a day I've traveled a hundred miles or more But a baby boy with his whiskers on sure I never saw before Ah, yes, that was it. "Names Aidan Dreiks" he slurred out, whistling and song ending abruptly with the third sylable " You Jimmy? Gerald? Jeff? James... Yeah James, that's the one. You him?" He sniffed in the air, much like a wild beast looking for prey. For a moment, there seemed to be a strange lucidity to his eye, and it sent a chill down the battle hardened warriors spine. It reminded him of a injured rabid wolf back into a corner, and at the same time a quite little puppy dog with it's tale wagging gently behind it.

11-02-2008, 08:20 PM	#14
Scripture Junior Member Join Date: Apr 2004 Gender: Posts: 434 Thanks: 8 Thanked 6 Times in 5 Posts	Just a little bump.

12-01-2008, 06:44 PM	#17
I REALLY HATE POKEMON! Goku lives on the Sun Join Date: Jun 2000 Location: California, U.S.A Gender: Posts: 12,717 Thanks: 1,334 Thanked 275 Times in 234 Posts Blog Entries: 1	OoC: Whoops, looks like this fight slipped my mind. Actually, seems as if we all did. I'll bump this to see if anyone else is still interested. Till then I'll just do a little post to test the waters: Yamcha glared at the cocky looking fighter who just appeared. He yelled a warning, "I doubt you'll listen but you better leave, this area is dangerous!" The new being didn't respond...

12-02-2008, 10:23 PM	#18
Repster Gunjin Mod Join Date: Jun 2000 Location: J'tun ostie d'Acadien. Gender: Posts: 6,130 Thanks: 2 Thanked 37 Times in 25 Posts	Aidan's left eyebrow twitched. Now, he was not the most passive of people out there, but he never picked a fight without good reason. Yamcha? Yamcha just performed of one of the actions that required his neck to be snapped. He had ignored Aidan. Not just regular ignore the crazy monk and his rantings. Aidan had introduced himself and been thoroughly dismissed, as one would the most insignificant little insect. Tap, tap, tap, on Yamcha's shoulder did Aidan tap. He turned. What else would one do? It was a conditioned reflex to always look when someone tapped you on the shoulder. He then received a bottle to the face. The thick crude glass shattered from the blow and Yamcha took a step back, right in the perfect position for the monk leg to catch him in the back of the head. For the split secound he had to see Aidan's form, Yamcha wondered if the redhead even had a spine. There he stood in front of him, smirk on his face, half turned coiled like a spring his leg still extend were it had reached around to strike. Then, like the spring he resembled, Aidan snapped back his original shape all that power going straight into a vicious uppercut. Yamcha found himself three feet, and climbing, in the air with a bloody, broken jaw. The blood being unnaturally hot to such a degree that it was already starting to burn. Aidan, well his fist was completely ruined. A bloody mess with a few bone being in very wrong angle, especially the ones sticking out. A temporary annoyance at most, especially he forced it back into proper shape to hasten his regeneration. Painful? Very much so, but pain was a part of his life as much as breathing was to most.

12-06-2008, 10:51 PM	#20
Repster Gunjin Mod Join Date: Jun 2000 Location: J'tun ostie d'Acadien. Gender: Posts: 6,130 Thanks: 2 Thanked 37 Times in 25 Posts	Ooc: M'right, I break my fist on your jaw and you throw me through buildings. Gotcha. Cranking up Aidan to eleven. ELEVEN! Yamcha flew forward. Something was wrong, he could not feel the crazy monk. The he heard humming. From his back. He turn mid flight to see, nothing. Yet it continued, again from behind him. He turned and the humming persisted behind him. Once more he searched. "Not very bloody bright are you boy." and a chuckle replaced the humming. The he felt it. Feet, on the back of his shoulders. Aidan was standing ON Yamcha at an impossible angle. Then again, considering the level of power that was unleashed by the dark haired one, it was not that much of a surprise. Aidan flipped off as yamcha turned to strike. Fast was the only word to describe it. Aidan also did not go anywhere beyond that as his flip turn into curling up and then rotating and twisting and standing there in mid air facing Yamcha. The air around them exploded with power, and Aidan stood there unmoving as Yamcha's voice rang out. The unseen power riped apart a nearby building, and Aidan did not even flinch. The unseen force rippled around him like a river around a rock. "Look, ya amateur. It doesn't matter how much power you throw around if you dont know how to use it. That'll only get you so far against others of your silly little kind. Seriously... I BLOW YOU AWAY! RAR! hehehe... Stupid git... Free shot. Go ahead. Let's see what you got ya pansy little two copper whore. Let's see if your worth bothering with or should I just tear you flaming head off like a chicken." Aidan chuckle and opened his arms wide. His laughter only grew harder and louder as he waited.