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The Stench of Reality
Sean actually went as far to laugh out loud after Lyn spoke to him again.

"My two closest friends and my only cousin are all dead. What makes you think I care if I die?" it wasn't that he actively wanted to be killed, but really, it didn't particularly matter either way. Of course, he didn't want Pascal to get into danger on his account either...

He would have continued speaking, but he didn't get the opportunity before they were interupted. Sean forgot that there were two entrances to the chapel - he would have to keep that in mind. A kid walked in, holding a rosary, the sight of which brought an ironic smile to his face. Sean recognised him, but couldn't quite bring his name to mind. An... something, Anthony? Probably.

"I wouldn't bother praying," Sean told the newcomer, turning his back on Lyn - Pascal was, after all, protecting him. "Either the man upstairs just isn't plain listening or he's been mortally offended by me and is turning a blind eye," Sean grinned humourlessly. He didn't care if he was being provocative or not. God, if he indeed existed, could go fuck himself. "Or, of course, he just isn't plain there at all. Still, believe what you want to believe. I won't stop you from seeking a little false hope,"

Battle of Epic Proportions
Bobby staggered back from Clive and decided that enough was enough. He had stuck around for quite enough time to be in danger. He turned away and began to sprint, putting on quite a turn of speed... before crashing to the ground as his foot snagged in something yet again.

Bobby rolled over on the ground - the mire that the soil of the field had become, and could just about make out several objects lying on the ground around him. From that, he surmised he must have tripped over a pack. Thinking of the SIG, he would dearly have liked to have gone through the thing and taken what ammo he could find, but Clive wasn't too far behind him - and he had no way of knowing whether a pursuit would be prompt.

The boxer scrambled to his feet, though not before simply grabbing the first thing he laid a hand on and simply shoving it into a pocket - he could check what it was later, but from the shape he thought he had probably got lucky. Bobby swung around, pumping a shot from the carbine in the general direction that he thought Clive was in, then running for all he was worth.

It looked as though dawn was finally breaking...

((Bobby Jacks continued elsewhere))

at Dawn
Riz managing to dodge her attack was one thing Maxie hadn't been expecting. Still, she was able to get clear easily enough - deprived of anything to hit, Maxie still had her momentum from the attempted tackle and executed a roll to get herself out of range of Riz' morningstar.

Instantly, Maxie wheeled, standing even as she did so. Although she knew she wasn't in immediate danger, Riz was ultimately only a few steps away from making it immediate. Especially if she had her back turned.

As she turned to face Riz, she also scanned the area - if Emma was in trouble, then things could get ... uglier in a hurry. Maxie's heart sank as she saw her temporary companion standing beyond Riz with her sword drawn. There was nobody in sight.

Which means. Maxie thought sadly. She tried ta kill ya girl.

"Ya trust this pyschopath in front of me!?" Maxie called out, one part furious, one part merely incredulous. "It's your head Emma. I'll probably not be there when it happens..." Maxie smirked through her anger, backing away as she did so, preparing to make a break for it. "When Riz stoves in your skull from behind, imagine I'm leanin' over ya shoulder sayin' 'I told ya so' got that?"

Maxie took a few more steps back, then turned away and tore off as fast as she could. She was under no illusions as to her own abilities. A competent fighter, maybe, but a meat hook was no fencing weapon, and two opponents was one too many. Maxie was nothing if not pragmatic and for whatever bizarre reason that Emma had decided to side with Riz, there was no sense in worrying about it. Stay, and she was fucked.

When you're outnumbered, don't play hero Maxie. 'Less ya can reliably make da fight one on one within da first few moments den cut and run.

It was odd, Maxie considered, how little her brother ever took his own advice.

((Maxie Dasai continued Thread of the Manatee))

at Dawn
Although Maxie had hoped that Riz would listen to reason, she hadn't really been counting on it - that would just be foolish. He was quite obviously deranged, and people didn't tend to recover from that kind of thing just because you asked them nicely.

Therefore it didn't come as a surprise when Riz proceded to lash out at her. Maxie had been stoking herself up internally for a confrontationm and was already poised to spring. In this kind of situation, not being ready for a fight equated to suicide.

As Riz sprung forward, Maxie did precisely the opposite of what he would have been expecting and went on the attack too. She ducked low as Riz swung at her, moving towards him even as she did so. The tire iron swept over her head and Maxie thrust her meat hook forward so that the crook of it tucked just behind Riz' ankle. She didn't stop there though, moving in an effort to drive her shoulder into Riz' stomach and hopefully cause him to snag on the meat hook and slip up.

Maxie heard a swipe behind her - the unmistakable sound of a hard blow being directed and missing. It had an odd edge to it though... almost... metallic?

God, I hope Emma isn't hurt. A darker thought butted in after the first. What if it was Emma girl? How d'ya know she didn't go after ya just as ya moved? Well, it was too late to look now.

Rantalicious but spot on. Hey, this kind of thing happens to everybody. Misinterpratation and just plain making mistakes, it doesn't cost anything to just re-read the posts of the other people that are in the thread before you reply, and it really, really helps.

Heh, don't I sound officious?

But yeah, I did kinda note that Lenny and Reg seemed to know a lot about S.A.D.D's plan, it struck me as a little off.

The Stench of Reality
Sean smirked at the blatent attempt to drive a wedge between the tentative new alliance between Pascal and himself. And that was what it had become, Sean realised after a moment or two. The Englishman was now an ally, though whether or not he would stick by him in the long term. Still, that really wasn't something to worry about right now. What was important was the girl in front of them. Sean was surprised, but in a nice way, when Pascal moved the riot shield in front of not only himself but Sean. That was going beyond self-protection, and Sean felt his respect for his ally growing.

"That could be the case," Sean told Lyn in a reasonable tone. "But can you really blame me for being suspicious? I mean, jeez, do you know how much I've lost over the past five days? I'm not in too much of a hurry to join my friends," Sean shuffled to one side, so he was partially exposed, not entirely behind the shield, but at least he could meet Laeil's eyes. "You don't strike me as a stupid person, but if you don't stop this ploy, which I have to say is very transparent, I might have to re-evaluate that," Sean took a step to the left, towards Pascal again, and put an arm around him in a comradely fashion. "Pascal came across me when I was unconcious. He could have broken my damn neck, but he didn't - he stuck by my side and even patched up my head. Is that the actions of somebody I need to be suspicious of?" Sean cocked an eyebrow in Laeil's direction, grinning as he did so - this was definitely his kind of thing, although the circumstances left a lot to be desired.

SOTF podcast?
TBH,Jul 27 2008
12:53 PM
Go to bed.


SOTF on TV Tropes
I already put some in Nightmare Fuel, they might be worthy of it :P

The Stench of Reality
Sean shrugged off the apology with a subdued:

"Don't worry about it," - it was hardly, after all, Pascal's fault that Andy had died. Snapping at him would achieve very little and probably serve to alienate another erstwhile ally. Very well aware of the girl still standing in the doorway, Sean lowered his voice to inform Pascal of the situation.

"Well, they gave me ammo but no gun for my 'weapon', Trish managed to get the gun and obviously made off with the bang bang whilst I was out. As for what to do next... let's play it by ear and take this one step at a time,"

Sean watched the girl... what was her name? Eh, it didn't really matter, could he really be expected to be able to identify absolutely everybody in his year? The important things were that A) she was armed, and B) there were bloodstains on her clothes. Sean couldn't tell without looking really closely, but she certainly didn't seem injured, and that of course, could mean only one thing.

"You wouldn't happen to be playing, would you?"

The baseballer grinned at her.

"The only game it looks like we're playing is silly buggers. You've got blood on your clothes ... lass. You don't look hurt. Insult Irish intelligence as much as you want but there's a conclusion even an Dublin boy like myself can reach," Sean didn't go for his weapon just yet. The girl was a considerable distance away yet, easily enough time for him to bring th poker to bear before she was on him.

SOTF on TV Tropes
We could just, y'know, add to it randomly I suppose, so the whole thing will be a WIP...

The Stench of Reality
Sean stiffened up when Pascal's hand touched his shoulder. Of course, most people would have taken it as merely a gesture of reassurance, but Sean had his suspicions about Pascal. He got enough attention from the girls for it to be noticable, but he never seemed to reciprocate any of the feeling shown to him. Much like, Sean observed wryly, he himself. With that kind of knowledge, or at least the hunch, Sean couldn't help but think that the touch had an ulterior motive.

He remained silent as Pascal spoke to him, quietly taking in the information. Trish had gone? That... well, that was an unexpected bonus, it freed him from her damn power tripping. However, he soon experienced a sinking feeling. Sean doubted Trish would have left without trying to secure the ammunition, and he had been unconcious for an indefinite length of time... Sean resolved to check up on that as soon as he could.

Need to stop overdoing it Sean... that's twice you've collapsed now. Fainting is not good.

Sean considered tearing off the crucifix once again even as Pascal tied it back around his neck, but thought that he would just come across as petulant. After all, the other guy wasn't to know precisely why he tossed it. It was strange though, as much as Pascal discomfited him, there was somethin oddly reasurring about his voice. Probably, Sean considered, because he was also British - his accent being a bit closer to home than the Americans which Sean attended school with.

"Thanks for patching me up," Sean told Pascal, feeling somewhat obliged to do so, and figuring he couldn't just stay quiet forever. "Just let me get my shirt and bag and we can figure out what to do," Sean stepped over to the pew and pulled his shirt back on, grimacing as he did so - it was still slightly wet. As he looked over to his bag his fears were confirmed. It had been ransacked. Sean cursed colourfully in Gaelic, glad for once his parents had insisted that he learned his 'native' tongue. Still, it seemed as if Trish had left his poker at least, so she had had the decency not to leave him completely defenceless.

Sean looked over at the door and saw somebody peeking around the edge of it. Friend or foe? From here, he just couldn't tell. He didn't recognise the face, which worried him a little, but then again, closer up and identification would be easy. On the other hand, did he really want to get close?

So, just for the sake of knowing where to look...
Yep, well, just look at Kyle's sig. Not a whole lot in V3 has been planned out, so feel free to throw things out of kilter by putting in one of your characters, I'm pretty sure we've all done it at some point in V3.

at Dawn
If Riz thought he was going to be able to fight properly with the pair of weapons then he had quite another thing coming. Sure a morningstar was a formidable weapon - weighty and difficult to block, but Riz would have been much better served using just that. The star was powerful, but ultimately, very heavy and quite unwieldy at the same time. It was clear to Maxie from where she stood that it would be difficult to both swing and direct in any normal sense, and doubly so now that Riz was insisting on using it with an offhand weapon.

"So serious?" Maxie asked with incredulousness in her voice. "Only cuz you're goin' after me with a morningstar ya brain dead moron!" the tone was gone now, replaced only with anger. "Ya think I'm leadin' Emma d'ya? Well I've got news for ya joker, there's actually people out here not tryin' t'kill everybody they see!"

Maxie brought up her meat hook, pointing it squarely at Riz, who, now that she thought about it, was rather too close for comfort.

When dey got a longer reach dan ya girl, ya gotta nullify dat. Get in up close an personal an stop dat from being an advantage.

Or perhaps, Maxie reflected, remembering her brother's advice, not close enough.

"Alright then Riz. Ya got one, and I mean one, opportunity to leave before things get painful," Maxie tensed herself, ready to spring at Riz at the slightest indication that a fight was going to break out.

Dacey 'Dawson' Ashcroft
Name: Dacey 'Dawson' Ashcroft
Gender: Female
Age: 17
Grade: 12th
School: Southridge High School
Hobbies and Interests: Dacey's main interest is a peculiar façade – she'd rather not have to deal with the issues associated with being a girl, and a pretty girl at that. As such, Dacey spends a lot of time ensuring her gender remains as ambiguous as possible. Few people who don't know her well can identify her 100% of the time. Apart from this, Dacey features prominently in Southridge's soccer team, a hobby turned talent which was picked up, once again, on the basis that nobody really expects girls to play the sport. Oh ... and don't forget studying, although if you spent five minutes with Dacey, it would be unlikely it ever slipped your mind again.

Appearance: Dacey is pretty in an androgynous kind of way. Her endeavours to remain difficult to pin down as either male or female are greatly aided by her natural appearance, although steps she has personally taken are simultaneously evident. Dacey stands a good deal above the average height for a girl, towering above most others at a massive 6ft 1”. Plenty of soccer as well as genes have served to give Dacey a lean and, here fortitude coming into play, not particularly feminine figure. Nor, it should be noted, is she anything more than modestly endowed – which allows Dacey to conceal her... assets, with rather more ease than would otherwise be the case. Dacey wears her hair very short indeed – dark brown locks barely brushing the tips of her ears. Her eyes are dark brown, but for the most part remain hidden behind reflective sunglasses.

Dacey ordinarily wears, and indeed was wearing on the day of the trip, as might be expected, fairly masculine clothes. Covering her head as standard is a bandanna (more specifically, a do-rag) in blue and red – school colours, which Dacey wears as often as she can get away with. She usually wears a loose fitting jersey in order to conceal her body, and scruffy, yet functional cargo pants. On her feet, Dacey sticks to trainers.

Biography: Dacey – or, as she prefers to be called; Dawson, takes delight in ambiguity, relishing the fact that a good number of people that don't know her well have to struggle to discern her gender. Of course, this is a rather unusual 'past time' to have.

It takes its roots from when Dacey was starting High School (not, it should be noted, at Southridge either), and also, incidentally, hitting puberty. Obviously, that age is about the time when boys start looking at girls in a different light, and vice versa, something which made Dacey distinctly uncomfortable. It wasn't that she didn't like guys, but the way they started acting in general made her uneasy. Back then, Dacey was still rather pretty, despite being younger, and that made her, in the eyes of some, the object of unwelcome affection.

This, Dacey bore for a few years, becoming increasingly more ill at ease and distressed over time by it. Some people just didn't get the point: she wasn't interested. After a particularly forceful encounter with a would-be boyfriend, Dacey finally drew the line. She had her hair cut incredibly short, started dressing in more gender-neutral clothing, and in general, took pains to appear less feminine. Of course, having attended school with her peers for a good while now, this tactic failed for the most part. Then Dacey had a turn of fortune.

Her parents had been thinking of moving for a while, and when they consulted Dacey on the matter, she jumped at the chance for a transfer. It would give her an opportunity for a fresh start, with, best of all, far fewer people knowing her identity. Before too long, the relocation was decided, and Dacey started her senior year at none other than Southridge High School as a new transfer student.

Dacey was born in Oregon, and grew up there before her and the rest of her family moved to California when she was 16. From an early age, Dacey displayed very little inclination for typical 'girly' pastimes and played both soccer and football at a casual level (although she never played for any teams in the latter). Nothing particularly remarkable stands out about Dacey's early life, apart from the aforementioned charade, although there was one area in which she stood out.


Dacey consistently achieved high grades in a number of subjects, for the most part because of intense studying on her part. Although she enjoyed athletic pursuits, Dacey put in even more effort to the mental side of schooling. This arose as a sort of avoidance tactic, a kind of umbrella excuse. If a guy asked her out and soccer wasn't on 'Oh, I'm studying,' a perfect way of getting around being forced out. Of course, the upshot to that was that Dacey then had to stay in in case the spurned date spotted her around the place. Lacking much interest in electronics or video games, Dacey just had to make the excuse a reality which, in time, both improved her grades and gave her an odd attitude to studying. Almost, in fact, an obsession.

At Southridge, Dacey has few friends outside of the soccer team (who, for the most part, have managed to idenftify her) for obvious reasons. A number of people around school have figured out her 'secret', but the whole matter remains relatively low key. Since Dacey keeps to herself a lot, it isn't too hard to maintain the air of mystery. After all, who doesn't get embarrassed when trying to find out someone's gender?

Dacey, it should be noted, does feel attraction to others, but rarely of the romantic nature. That just makes her uncomfortable. Perhaps, in time, she would have become more open to relationships, but now that SOTF has come along, time is not something Dacey has in abundance...

Advantages: Anonymity – not many people know Dacey very well, both in terms of gender and due to the fact she is, ultimately, a recent transfer student. Few people actually know her real first name. Dacey is also very fit from sports, and has a great deal of knowledge on various subjects due to her love of studying. She's also unlikely to allow feelings (at least those of a romantic nature) to get in the way of logical thinking.

Disadvantages: Dacey has no idea how to use her looks to her advantage, so being pretty falls to the wayside. Also, if people don't recognise her as female, they might not 'go easy' on her, so to speak, if they have qualms about fighting girls. Dacey has no fighting ability whatsoever, and no idea how to effectively wield weapons beyond the obvious, so she won't be too useful in a fight.

Making a character for this place is fun.
Jul 24 2008, 02:30 AM
Nothing like a board that stresses realism and normalcy as a character norm. After looking at a few profiles and seeing that people have made psychotic killers with multi-hundred kill counts, and anti-SotF activists hiding as students (wow, what a blind guess it was for him to be in THIS class.)

I was kinda scared that a lot of players would have slid to that extreme, being either moles or one-man wood chippers, but I'm largely happy to see a lot of normal students, though, a large number seem to be of the Shining Knight, as several seem to want to use diplomacy, or just won't attack women. Now, I know there are some people like that, but the sheer number is kinda surprising.

I don't really see where you're coming from here, though I might be missing the point.

I mean, okay, let's look at pre-V3 killers (off the top of my head):

1. Bobby Jacks
Not psychotic, the kill was entirely accidental.

2. Josh Goodman
Parody character, not intended to be taken seriously.

3. Adam Dodd
More on him in a bit.

See, an anti-SOTf activist isn't, I don't think, quite what you think it is. I mean, that's basically a protester that disagrees with the act and/or thinks the government should do something about it, not some sort of undercover commando.

Sure, you have Kenurton Larris (Burton/Ken) but hey, that's one character and he was an interesting concept.

Then we come to Adam Dodd. See, the idea is that after V1, he's just tyring to lead a normal life. Knowing Danya, there's a fairly high probability he picked this class purely because he knew Adam was in it, and wanted to get rid of him for good.

I for one don't see anything wrong with pacificst/more peaceful characters. Look at it this way: V1 and V2 were far more trigger happy, it's about time there was a less violent version.

As Danya says 'What's with all of this peaceful, non-violent types? Have we gone and abducted a hippie community?'

The Stench of Reality
((Moving this along, sorry this is so poor))

"Urgh..." Sean finally came to, some time after he had collapsed. He immediately noticed that his head bandages had been rebound - a pressure on the gouge across his temple. His eyes fluttered open, and then snapped to full awareness. Who the hell was this new guy?

Wait... Sean sort of recognised him. Pascal... something or other anyway. The important thing was, unless he had killed somebody over the past day, he was safe to be around. For a given value of 'safe' of course. He decided, for the time being, just to keep quiet and see what would happen.


SOTF on TV Tropes
Jul 23 2008, 04:48 AM
You know, if we do fill out THIS, it'll be the single biggest article on that site. I mean jesus, how many characters do we have so far of the four versions, 700? Plus with all us newbies swarming in, it'll get even more insane.

If that sucker is ever to be done, it'll require a great helping of fucking teamwork.

Yeah it would be crazy big, hence why I'm not too thrilled at the idea of filling it out - especially since we'd be better served to put important people nearer the top, meaning that the order would be scrambled too.

Hm... *is thinking on this*

SOTF on TV Tropes
I'd agree with TBH there - but it's good to have somebody helping, thanks Mimi.

Battle of Epic Proportions
((Solitair man, it's dark, I doubt they'd be able to make out anything more than figures, let alone identify anyone))

Bobby wasn't expecting his charging opponent to just drop onto the ground. Nevertheless, it prevented him from having to take the impact of driving his shoulder in the other's stomach so that was something, he supposed, to be grateful for. He noted with analytical detachment that Clive had been shot. That would give him a bigger edge in the fight. Callous, he knew, but Bobby wasn't about to shed any tears on that account, an injury meant nothing in a scenario where death was all too prevalent.

It threw Bobby off slightly when Clive lunged for him off the ground, and, as usual, he didn't think to just raise his gun and drill a round through his enemy's forehead. Instead, relying on instincts honed as a fighter, Bobby thrust his knee forewards at speed, bringing it onto collision course with Clive's jaw. That kind of blow wasn't a nice thing to experience, and unless he could somehow drop to the ground or completely reverse his impeteous in mid-leap, Clive was in for a world of hurt.

The other's persistence was irritating, by rights Bobby should have just knocked all of the wind out of him in one huge hit, leaving him gasping for air and giving Bobby the chance to get the hell out of dodge. He hadn't come here looking for a fight - it was more of a recon. Tripping all over the pistol had put paid to any notions of stealth, however, and now it just seemed as if the rest of the encounter was risk and damage limitation. He had to break off before the trigger happy shooter decided he looked a nice target.