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[killerhellhound]

Hey Gamerlord can I some how hop on a plane and get to Sydney in time to watch that fight with some popcorn.

[Gamerlord]

Sorry, but I already have plans to dump The Load/Morality Pet/Indefinite Escort Mission on your sorry arse.

[Harry Baldman]

Starting turn

Millie was spending the evening her usual way - perusing the Internet's vast collection of varying visual smut. Lately, though, she has been wondering why it wasn't doing anything for her anymore. Had she outgrown it? That would be a depressing milestone. Another thing she couldn't enjoy anymore in good conscience, along with most stand-up comedy and metal. She was getting perilously close to becoming mildly depressed.

Left with few options, she slumped back in her chair, closed the browser window and stared at the ceiling, hoping her imagination would provide something to distract herself with. Something to think about. Anything.

[Gamerlord]

Oh for crying out loud Baldman! I was hoping for at least one reasonable person!

[Harry Baldman]

Oh for crying out loud Baldman! I was hoping for at least one reasonable person!

((How is that not a reasonable thing to be doing in the evening at home for a socially awkward, generally frustrated person who loves privacy and has nothing better to do? It's a depressing thing, granted, but entirely reasonable.))

[Gamerlord]

*sigh*
This is going to end badly isn't it?

[killerhellhound]

Sorry, but I already have plans to dump The Load/Morality Pet/Indefinite Escort Mission on your sorry arse.

Well when we start in game I'm going to a friends to show them the wrist-blade and ask them to help with making the costume so that wont be hard to get me with shit

*sigh*
This is going to end badly isn't it?

Remember Losing is FUN

[VinnieTheDead]

Turn Zero!

Big wanders the streets like any other day, stomping around and scaring folks with relative ease. But soon, he tires of the cacophony of babies crying and mothers screaming and settles on having a nap in his pile of junk behind the Galeries de la Capitale.

[mastahcheese]

Turn 0.5

Cromwell laid back comfortably in the back of the taxi. Tomorrow was his sister's birthday, and Cromwell had spend all the money he had made this week to pay for the ride to Jersey. Normally, he hated seeing her, but this year would be different. One of the few things that Cromwell didn't fear was rats, a thing that Molly was deathly terrified of, and a thing that Cromwell was able to stuff a large number of into his magician's hat. He briefly wondered about what his mother would say of such a thing, but shooed the thought away before the memories of his dad came back. He leaned forward and strained his ears to listen to the barely audible radio. He wasn't able to hear exactly was being said, but it sounded like some sort of emergency.
"Hey, driver, what's that they're saying on the radio?"
"Some dumb shit burned down his house trying to deep-fry a damn turkey. The dumb-ass."
Cromwell chuckled slightly and leaned back. Yeah, he was almost in Jersey.

[killerhellhound]

So who are we waiting for

[darkpaladin109]

So who are we waiting for

WhitiusOpius, I think.

[killerhellhound]

Oh for crying out loud Baldman! I was hoping for at least one reasonable person!

Also mate who better to save the world then people with mental scars and damaged sanity

[WhitiusOpus]

WHUPS

Turn -0.1

Heinrik was doing his usual sunday business - negotiating with the Neo-Fascist party for more illegal armaments. he couldn't NOT have his Mk. IV grenade launcher, damnit!
"Look, you give me the weapon, and I don't fuckin' blow up your house, deal?"
They were scared. Heinrik knew they were scared, he does that to people. But when they dont give him what he wants, his head throbs. And Heinrik likes it less when his head throbs. The killing. It makes it go away. But he can't kill these people. He needs them, and besides, they're the only ones he can relate too. But if he doesnt get what he wants, he might black out again. And nobody wants that.
Get my damn Mk. IV Grenade Launcher.

[mastahcheese]

We have not a single sane person here.

Excellent.

[Gamerlord]

Spoiler: killerhellhound (click to show/hide)

Mark was working in his workshop at home having been struck by inspiration on something for next week's costume party and had just finished the first peace a working wrist blade blunt as a butter knife so he can't hurt anyone by accident but it still looked cool, he was going to win the costume contest for sure. Now he just needs to get the rest of the costume made as well.

[4 + 1 - 2 = 3]
Your attempts prove futile and you find you must cut them short as someone is knocking at the door.

Spoiler: darkpaladin109 (click to show/hide)

Roy took out his blade and plate-mail and started polishing it. He double checked he had everything ready, then continued polishing and sharpening his sword. He had to be prepared for his duel against the mafia's top enforcer and the man who killed his father, "Texas" Jackson.

((NOT giving you platemail! Be happy with kevlar body armour.))
The zanbato is sharp. The kevlar jacket, shin/arm guards and crotch protection are in perfect condition and your nerves are as highly strung as a teenage girl's backstage at a boy band concert.

Spoiler: WhitiusOpus (click to show/hide)

Heinrik was doing his usual sunday business - negotiating with the Neo-Fascist party for more illegal armaments. he couldn't NOT have his Mk. IV grenade launcher, damnit!
"Look, you give me the weapon, and I don't fuckin' blow up your house, deal?"
They were scared. Heinrik knew they were scared, he does that to people. But when they dont give him what he wants, his head throbs. And Heinrik likes it less when his head throbs. The killing. It makes it go away. But he can't kill these people. He needs them, and besides, they're the only ones he can relate too. But if he doesnt get what he wants, he might black out again. And nobody wants that.
Get my damn Mk. IV Grenade Launcher.

[6 - 2 - 2 = 2]
"It's not going to happen Verrückte! We know you're not going to be good for it so why should we deliver huh?"

Spoiler: Harry Baldman (click to show/hide)

Millie was spending the evening her usual way - perusing the Internet's vast collection of varying visual smut. Lately, though, she has been wondering why it wasn't doing anything for her anymore. Had she outgrown it? That would be a depressing milestone. Another thing she couldn't enjoy anymore in good conscience, along with most stand-up comedy and metal. She was getting perilously close to becoming mildly depressed.

Left with few options, she slumped back in her chair, closed the browser window and stared at the ceiling, hoping her imagination would provide something to distract herself with. Something to think about. Anything.

A sparkling pony dashes across your vision. but you block that out. That way surely lies madnees.

Spoiler: mastahcheese (click to show/hide)

Cromwell laid back comfortably in the back of the taxi. Tomorrow was his sister's birthday, and Cromwell had spend all the money he had made this week to pay for the ride to Jersey. Normally, he hated seeing her, but this year would be different. One of the few things that Cromwell didn't fear was rats, a thing that Molly was deathly terrified of, and a thing that Cromwell was able to stuff a large number of into his magician's hat. He briefly wondered about what his mother would say of such a thing, but shooed the thought away before the memories of his dad came back. He leaned forward and strained his ears to listen to the barely audible radio. He wasn't able to hear exactly was being said, but it sounded like some sort of emergency.
"Hey, driver, what's that they're saying on the radio?"
"Some dumb shit burned down his house trying to deep-fry a damn turkey. The dumb-ass."
Cromwell chuckled slightly and leaned back. Yeah, he was almost in Jersey.

You actually pass by the blazing domicile; for a moment you stare into the flames and you could swear they were looking back at you. A couple of crashes against the screen between driver and passenger get your attention and you realise that you've arrived.

Spoiler: VinnieTheDead (click to show/hide)

Big wanders the streets like any other day, stomping around and scaring folks with relative ease. But soon, he tires of the cacophony of babies crying and mothers screaming and settles on having a nap in his pile of junk behind the Galeries de la Capitale.

((We'll start with you I believe...))
_{"COME WITH US MUSCLEBOUND. THERE IS WORK TO BE DONE."}
Above you stands a tall cloaked figure. Within the cloak you can see flashes of light.