Post by Tekun Valos on Jan 2, 2013 21:35:00 GMT -5
[Explict Language]
Here's an old RP log I dug up. The first in a long series. If anyone takes interest, I'll post more of it ^^.
[PART 1]
Music: www.youtube.com/watch?v=udBf_u_pYVU
Slow pan. Flickers of light. Dust. Scattered Newspapers.
The slow roar of Motorcycles fills the nocturnal air, as a pack of ruthless hunters prowl through the streets. The camera pans up to follow them, revealing a billboard in the horizon, dusted, tattered, and battered beyond presentability.
"Welcome to Pleasure Hills! Zaun. Have a Safe Venture! - The Zaun Health and Safety Collaboration."
The Bikers rev, camera panning to them, across their tattooed chests, their brazen, bare muscles and rippling, swaying beards. They begin talking to one another, in husked, deep voices.
"When we gonna whack them Pocks then?"
"Gives some time, Bruder Rooney. We gots dis ere in the Bag." The Elder one continues, hoisting a shotgun behind himself.
"We gonna blast so many of those sicky--nutjobs that the walls are gonna be painted with Shimmer. And when we's done, we get hold of the West Side. Got dat?"
He throws the shotgun back to Rooney, nodding and prodding up his sunglasses...
Rooney: "And den what? We mess with the Pocks and the Hyperviolents are gonna come kicking and pounding at our doors! I don't like this man. What do you think we gonna do then, Bruder Jean?"
Jean: "I gots no ideas. But we gotta do dis for Poor Ol' Bruder Fenix. Never Forget, Bru-"
A sudden snapping noise creaks across the ground, the camera jumps, from Jean's head, his face, the side of the road, a lamp-post, a sparkling wire, and back again to Rooney, covered in a spray of blood.
Rooney: "Holy Shit!"
Rooney and the other Bikers grind to a standstill, as the head of Jean bounces and rolls across the tarmac, his bike continuing into the distance. The sound of scurrying and moving figures fills the air.
Rooney: “Ambush! Fucking Ambush!”
Chain-Gang : "Where the fu-HUAGH!!!"
A sudden slamming blade rips through one of the ganger's chest, a precisely carved, incredibly ornate sword, originating from the Eastern lands... Ionia.
Rooney: "Shit! What the fuck are the Omens doing here?!"
One of the assassins makes his way towards Rooney, as the groups explode in an inter-gang brawl. The Chain-Gangers bring out the fire-arms, blowing away any attacks against them. The Assassin ducks, rising up to stab Rooney through the chest before being blown to several pieces with a precisely aimed shotgun blast, ripping through his spine, skull, and other fleshy, dangly bits.
Rooney: "Shit! We gotta get the fuck outta here!"
Ganger: "What about Jean man? JEAN!"
Rooney: "Fuck this man! Would Jean want you to die for him? Fuck no, we tail outta here man! Scram Scram!"
The Brawl worsens, as the gangs collide, a sudden burst of light flashes across the ground, panning towards the groups.
NZPD: “THIS IS THE NEW ZAUN POLICE DEPARTMENT. DROP YOUr WEAPONS AND PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD.”
Rooney: “The fucking cops! SCRAM! NOW! I'll hold these bastards off! SEND WORD.”
Rooney brings himself off of his Motorcycle, pumping his shotgun, as he gives the nod. The other Gangers look down in silent respect and mourning, as they make as fast as they can for the hills. An Ionian looking figure, clad in Rice-field hat and robes dashes for Rooney, and is blown sky high by a simply pump and pound of the Shotgun. Rooney makes his way, unflinchingly through the brawl, blasting away any fleeing Omen members in his way, as he paces straight for the Police, reloading only twice through the process...
Rooney: “Come and take some you piece of shits! Bring a sword to a fucking gun fight and you'll get SPRAYED! Mother-” The blast of the shotgun roars above his words. “Fucking” BOOM! The shotgun clicks twice. “SPRAYED!” And roars to life with another blast.
A burst of smoke engulfs the area, as Rooney collapses down to the ground, coughing and spluttering, the Riot Police make their way dashing through the crowds and beat down any fleeing assailants.
NZPD: “You have the right to SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
One of the members brings a baton down onto Rooney's back, slamming him to the ground and cuffing him within a matter of 5 seconds.
NZPD: “Anything you do say will be used against you in the court of law, and anything you with hold will be beaten the fuck out of you! We do not FUCK around with your kind of scum!”
Rooney: "...Oh thank goodness. The Police. You saved me. Fucking Wastes. Just get those fucking Omens too. I'm too old for this shit now.”
Atop an abandoned building, King ( summoners.shurelia.com/profiles/549 ) sat, dressed in his night sky black cloak with a mask to match, watching. Another gang brawl, another routine arrest. None of these gangs were informative, useful, or entertaining. Note for the day : no netloss, no net gain.
The scene fades around, as it pans closer towards King.... A figure steps behind him.
???: “And this is why we need your help.” It's an aged voice. Zaunian. A flare of cigarette light flickers from the back, as drifts of smoke roll in. A Black Detectives Coat, white, silvery hair, stern, sharp features.
McConnery: “Ever since that warehouse went up in smoke this city has gone to shit. And I don't mean your Toilet, home made homely crap. I mean the high-grade, can't-stand-near-the-fucking-thing Filfth.”
He whips the cigarette out of his hand, stomping it on the ground with his foot, before continuing.
King burned steel, turning around to face the figure, tin piercing the dark of night, steel painting blue lines in his vision to all the metal on the figure's person, his face hidden by his mask.
"....Detective McConnery, NZPD. Largely undecorated history of service, but an old veteran on the force. Dare I ask what you know about me, and why should I be interested in helping a lawman?"
McConnery: We'd hate to get the League involved, but it looks like we got no choice. My Decoration is the Unit. The Old Unit was so damn corrupt you could grow fucking mushrooms on it. Because if you don't, we got no fucking chance.”
“Half the city is hooked up on Shimmer and the Corporations keep beating us down. The Gangs are trading about this kinda shit and its only getting worse. They've developed a new type of Shimmer. Crystal. They're getting fucking kids the age of 5 reliant on the stuff. It's depressing to see 8 year olds claw at their faces, screaming for that shit. And I'm a chain fucking smoker.”
Music: www.youtube.com/watch?v=f1JYDmo19to
King: "…Hmmm....shimmer trade tends to make brothels less useful for information, and makes the prices for my metallurgist go up. You give good intel, Detective."
McConnery: “I know there's this whole steal from the rich keep to yourself bullshit motto, but soon there'll be nothing left to steal. Right. Metal too. Whole city goes down the pan and takes half the technology with it.”
“Sheva, Tekun. You can come out now.”
Sheva Visari (http://summoners.shurelia.com/profiles/367) entered from further back, taking spot by McConnery’s side. Preserver business was few and far between, and while she didn't have a thirst for war she knew she had to stay in peak form in any way possible.
"Such corruption shall not go unpunished, even if it is Zaun. Their ways are corrupting the military heritage of my homeland." She commented to Tekun as both walked from the shadows.
King: "If you want my help, I'll need more intel then a moral speech. Ho, Tek."
McConnery whips out another cigarette, allowing Tekun and Sheva to flank him on either side, he takes a drag.
Tekun Valos walked out besides Sheva. "You got that right." When he came into view he flanked McConnery’s other side and gave a curt wave to King. "Ah. This guy… He's a good guy!" He smirked as he referred to King with a smirk.
McConnery: “I can't just out and tell you here. Besides, we have another member yet to join. He should be here at any moment and that's what they say about everyone."
Tekun Valos: "And yeah. There’s corruption here and plenty of it. Personally, I’d like to bust the skull of it open, preferably with a pipe."
Leona had the power of the sun, but Sheva had grit, muscle, and armor that would make Mordekaiser cry tears of joy. Sheva Visari as well as a 7-foot frame with no heels. Tekun was shorter than Sheva, by a full 6 inches.
McConnery: “I don't really care about them busting one another up, but I don't wanna see any innocents involved.”
Sheva Visari: "Good men often die young."
King rose to his full height. "And so we wait. I see you made a nice tall friend Tek. She's kinda clanky." Blue lines flooded King's vision as he looked at Sheva. He burned iron and pulled on one of the buckles of the straps that held her armor on, just for a chuckle but found his metal manipulation did little there.
The sound of screaching echos from below, as a clanker of metal fills up the air.
McConnery: “He's here.”
Here's an old RP log I dug up. The first in a long series. If anyone takes interest, I'll post more of it ^^.
[PART 1]
Music: www.youtube.com/watch?v=udBf_u_pYVU
Slow pan. Flickers of light. Dust. Scattered Newspapers.
The slow roar of Motorcycles fills the nocturnal air, as a pack of ruthless hunters prowl through the streets. The camera pans up to follow them, revealing a billboard in the horizon, dusted, tattered, and battered beyond presentability.
"Welcome to Pleasure Hills! Zaun. Have a Safe Venture! - The Zaun Health and Safety Collaboration."
The Bikers rev, camera panning to them, across their tattooed chests, their brazen, bare muscles and rippling, swaying beards. They begin talking to one another, in husked, deep voices.
"When we gonna whack them Pocks then?"
"Gives some time, Bruder Rooney. We gots dis ere in the Bag." The Elder one continues, hoisting a shotgun behind himself.
"We gonna blast so many of those sicky--nutjobs that the walls are gonna be painted with Shimmer. And when we's done, we get hold of the West Side. Got dat?"
He throws the shotgun back to Rooney, nodding and prodding up his sunglasses...
Rooney: "And den what? We mess with the Pocks and the Hyperviolents are gonna come kicking and pounding at our doors! I don't like this man. What do you think we gonna do then, Bruder Jean?"
Jean: "I gots no ideas. But we gotta do dis for Poor Ol' Bruder Fenix. Never Forget, Bru-"
A sudden snapping noise creaks across the ground, the camera jumps, from Jean's head, his face, the side of the road, a lamp-post, a sparkling wire, and back again to Rooney, covered in a spray of blood.
Rooney: "Holy Shit!"
Rooney and the other Bikers grind to a standstill, as the head of Jean bounces and rolls across the tarmac, his bike continuing into the distance. The sound of scurrying and moving figures fills the air.
Rooney: “Ambush! Fucking Ambush!”
Chain-Gang : "Where the fu-HUAGH!!!"
A sudden slamming blade rips through one of the ganger's chest, a precisely carved, incredibly ornate sword, originating from the Eastern lands... Ionia.
Rooney: "Shit! What the fuck are the Omens doing here?!"
One of the assassins makes his way towards Rooney, as the groups explode in an inter-gang brawl. The Chain-Gangers bring out the fire-arms, blowing away any attacks against them. The Assassin ducks, rising up to stab Rooney through the chest before being blown to several pieces with a precisely aimed shotgun blast, ripping through his spine, skull, and other fleshy, dangly bits.
Rooney: "Shit! We gotta get the fuck outta here!"
Ganger: "What about Jean man? JEAN!"
Rooney: "Fuck this man! Would Jean want you to die for him? Fuck no, we tail outta here man! Scram Scram!"
The Brawl worsens, as the gangs collide, a sudden burst of light flashes across the ground, panning towards the groups.
NZPD: “THIS IS THE NEW ZAUN POLICE DEPARTMENT. DROP YOUr WEAPONS AND PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD.”
Rooney: “The fucking cops! SCRAM! NOW! I'll hold these bastards off! SEND WORD.”
Rooney brings himself off of his Motorcycle, pumping his shotgun, as he gives the nod. The other Gangers look down in silent respect and mourning, as they make as fast as they can for the hills. An Ionian looking figure, clad in Rice-field hat and robes dashes for Rooney, and is blown sky high by a simply pump and pound of the Shotgun. Rooney makes his way, unflinchingly through the brawl, blasting away any fleeing Omen members in his way, as he paces straight for the Police, reloading only twice through the process...
Rooney: “Come and take some you piece of shits! Bring a sword to a fucking gun fight and you'll get SPRAYED! Mother-” The blast of the shotgun roars above his words. “Fucking” BOOM! The shotgun clicks twice. “SPRAYED!” And roars to life with another blast.
A burst of smoke engulfs the area, as Rooney collapses down to the ground, coughing and spluttering, the Riot Police make their way dashing through the crowds and beat down any fleeing assailants.
NZPD: “You have the right to SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
One of the members brings a baton down onto Rooney's back, slamming him to the ground and cuffing him within a matter of 5 seconds.
NZPD: “Anything you do say will be used against you in the court of law, and anything you with hold will be beaten the fuck out of you! We do not FUCK around with your kind of scum!”
Rooney: "...Oh thank goodness. The Police. You saved me. Fucking Wastes. Just get those fucking Omens too. I'm too old for this shit now.”
Atop an abandoned building, King ( summoners.shurelia.com/profiles/549 ) sat, dressed in his night sky black cloak with a mask to match, watching. Another gang brawl, another routine arrest. None of these gangs were informative, useful, or entertaining. Note for the day : no netloss, no net gain.
The scene fades around, as it pans closer towards King.... A figure steps behind him.
???: “And this is why we need your help.” It's an aged voice. Zaunian. A flare of cigarette light flickers from the back, as drifts of smoke roll in. A Black Detectives Coat, white, silvery hair, stern, sharp features.
McConnery: “Ever since that warehouse went up in smoke this city has gone to shit. And I don't mean your Toilet, home made homely crap. I mean the high-grade, can't-stand-near-the-fucking-thing Filfth.”
He whips the cigarette out of his hand, stomping it on the ground with his foot, before continuing.
King burned steel, turning around to face the figure, tin piercing the dark of night, steel painting blue lines in his vision to all the metal on the figure's person, his face hidden by his mask.
"....Detective McConnery, NZPD. Largely undecorated history of service, but an old veteran on the force. Dare I ask what you know about me, and why should I be interested in helping a lawman?"
McConnery: We'd hate to get the League involved, but it looks like we got no choice. My Decoration is the Unit. The Old Unit was so damn corrupt you could grow fucking mushrooms on it. Because if you don't, we got no fucking chance.”
“Half the city is hooked up on Shimmer and the Corporations keep beating us down. The Gangs are trading about this kinda shit and its only getting worse. They've developed a new type of Shimmer. Crystal. They're getting fucking kids the age of 5 reliant on the stuff. It's depressing to see 8 year olds claw at their faces, screaming for that shit. And I'm a chain fucking smoker.”
Music: www.youtube.com/watch?v=f1JYDmo19to
King: "…Hmmm....shimmer trade tends to make brothels less useful for information, and makes the prices for my metallurgist go up. You give good intel, Detective."
McConnery: “I know there's this whole steal from the rich keep to yourself bullshit motto, but soon there'll be nothing left to steal. Right. Metal too. Whole city goes down the pan and takes half the technology with it.”
“Sheva, Tekun. You can come out now.”
Sheva Visari (http://summoners.shurelia.com/profiles/367) entered from further back, taking spot by McConnery’s side. Preserver business was few and far between, and while she didn't have a thirst for war she knew she had to stay in peak form in any way possible.
"Such corruption shall not go unpunished, even if it is Zaun. Their ways are corrupting the military heritage of my homeland." She commented to Tekun as both walked from the shadows.
King: "If you want my help, I'll need more intel then a moral speech. Ho, Tek."
McConnery whips out another cigarette, allowing Tekun and Sheva to flank him on either side, he takes a drag.
Tekun Valos walked out besides Sheva. "You got that right." When he came into view he flanked McConnery’s other side and gave a curt wave to King. "Ah. This guy… He's a good guy!" He smirked as he referred to King with a smirk.
McConnery: “I can't just out and tell you here. Besides, we have another member yet to join. He should be here at any moment and that's what they say about everyone."
Tekun Valos: "And yeah. There’s corruption here and plenty of it. Personally, I’d like to bust the skull of it open, preferably with a pipe."
Leona had the power of the sun, but Sheva had grit, muscle, and armor that would make Mordekaiser cry tears of joy. Sheva Visari as well as a 7-foot frame with no heels. Tekun was shorter than Sheva, by a full 6 inches.
McConnery: “I don't really care about them busting one another up, but I don't wanna see any innocents involved.”
Sheva Visari: "Good men often die young."
King rose to his full height. "And so we wait. I see you made a nice tall friend Tek. She's kinda clanky." Blue lines flooded King's vision as he looked at Sheva. He burned iron and pulled on one of the buckles of the straps that held her armor on, just for a chuckle but found his metal manipulation did little there.
The sound of screaching echos from below, as a clanker of metal fills up the air.
McConnery: “He's here.”
