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The Stench of Reality
Topic Started: Jun 2 2008, 06:24 PM (6,039 Views)
Crash
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[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
As soon as James had taken up his position on the other side of the pew, Trish wasted no time in hefting it over in front of the chapel doors. She motioned to him when it was in position with her eyes, and together the two of them dropped the pew in place. Just to make sure it was secure, Trish moved around to the front of it and pushed it up tight against the door. When she was satisfied with the job they'd done, she swept the AK-47 back up off the pew. The weight of it was more of a comfort to her than a burden.

Before she answered James, she made sure to move closer to him and lower her voice. Right now he was the only person she trusted, and on top of that, Sean was beginning to irritate her. He didn't have to be so bloody rude. Speaking in a barely audible whisper, she addressed James. "Well, uh...I haven't slept in a couple days, so I'd like to get a bit of rest. Plus, my contacts are starting to bug me. If you're okay with that, then just take the gun and I'll sleep on the pew here for a bit." With that, Trish put the gun down between her and James and took a seat on the pew.

Opening her duffle bag, Trish removed her contact lens case and a small plastic bottle. She began by opening both sides of the case and removing the old solution, then opened the bottle she'd withdrew and deposited fresh contact solution into both of the wells. Closing the bottle and haphazardly tossing it back into her duffle bag, she proceeded to remove the lens' from both of her eyes individually, placing them in their respective wells. When she was finished she closed the case and deposited it back into her duffle bag before finishing her conversation with James.

"I'll repay the favour when I get up...thanks." She smiled sweetly at him, but then remembered what she'd forgot to mention earlier. She made sure her voice was still low and continued, "The gun has one clip in it, but Sean's got the rest of the ammo. We'll probably end up keeping him around a bit longer 'til we can work out some kind of deal. I can't think right now, though..." She trailed off, then laid back down on the pew. She stretched her legs out, the bottom of them almost touching the AK-47, which was lying on the end of the pew closest to James. "Good night," she concluded with her eyes closed, and drifted off to sleep without much trouble.
v4 Characters:

G23: Claire Lambert: Property of the Fabulous Mr. Toben

v3 Characters:

B65: Dorian Ibanescu: Coastline

Deceased:

B57 - Jeff Marontate: Cleaved
B120: Jim Middleton: Pummeled
G61: Anna Grout: Submitted
G62: Andrea Vanlandingham: Martyred
G39 Alexis Machina: Crushed
G23: Trish McCarroll: Defeated


natlei was sleeping in her bed when someone came thru her window "get away rapist" she said still half asleep and hit one of them in the head with her liucky frying pan then went back tyo bed them men the injected her with a sedative and carried her off
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Namira
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[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
It was harsh, but quite frankly, Sean didn't give a damn what Trish thought about him not helping her. He wished he had never even let her know about his ammo stash, having the gun had given her some kind of complex. Wielding the weapon, well... it had power, authority, that was the only way he could explain it.

Of course. Sean observed wryly to himself. I haven't had the pleasure of experiencing that delightful feeling.

The place seemed secure enough, so Sean supposed he could finally do what he had come to the chapel to do in the first place.

"Fina-fucking-ly," Sean muttered under his breath. It had been a long while to wait, considering all he had wanted to say was a few words, most of them profanities, it was true, but a few words nonetheless. Sean turned away from the door and stared at the alter, taking several deep breaths.

"Well um... hey God," he said quietly, shuffling his feet awkwardly, one hand wrapped around the crucifix hanging from his neck. "Guess that you got it pretty cushy up there on that cloud of yours, just watching what all your creations are getting up to," Sean paused for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. "I know that I've never been your most devout follower, and perhaps it's wrong of me to claim faith after not following in your image, that kinda thing. But..." Sean took a shuddering breath. "What the fuck dude? Seriously. What. The. Fuck. Don't you think that these kids - me and the rest of them, aren't we worthy of being saved?" Sean smiled humourlessly. "Omnipotent, benevolent and Omniscient, right? I got that drilled into my head over and over again. How the hell do you explain this then God my old chum? Omnipotent - all powerful. Benevolent - good, wanting the best for everyone, and omniscient, all knowing. You've got the power, motivation and ability to put this all right, but you fucking don't do you?" Sean's voice was increasing in volume now, but by this point he didn't care whether he was heard or not. "Yeah make your excuses, that you're busy moving in mysterious ways or some shit like that, but to be honest with you? It's either sans omnipotent, in which case you're a poseur, not omniscient, ditto, not belevolent - so you don't fucking deserve any followers, or..." Sean was getting increasingly worked up, and he finished at a maximum level yell. "You don't fucking exist in the fucking first place! Either way, God, you're a complete asshole! I don't care that I'm still alive! I'm not going to go bleeding heart and ask 'why me?'. Why Andy you twisted fuck!? Why my cousin, why fucking ANYBODY!? A God that lets somebody like Danya into the world isn't worth any more than the piece of crap he created. I don't know if you're listening and I doubt you fucking care, but no way in hell am I taking part in your sick puppetry any more! Over and out you son of a bitch!"

Sean ripped the crucifix from around his neck and hurled it through a smashed stained glass window, before walking right up to the alter and sweeping it bare, wrecking any last semblance of order in the chapel. With that, head pounding and blood once again streaming down his forehead, Sean collapsed in a heap in front of the alter.
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[ * ]
Pascal was slowly making his way through the thick foliage that was around him. It really did not hit him what he had gotten into, or rather was forced into. He had a few things on his mind and at the top of it was the weather.

“Fucking bloody weather. It’s causing me to ruin my Italian leather loafers!”. Yes, his shoes was one of his top priorities at a time like this.

“Not to mention my hair, my trousers, and me Burberry shirt!”

Luckily he had been using the riot shield that was assigned to him as a faux umbrella, but the awkwardness of it was making traveling slower than he expected. His weapons and survival pack caused him to gain balance every time going over not so stable terrain. Pascal was never accustomed to carrying such a load. (…lets face it, he’s been spoiled his entire life). This resulted in him getting wetter than he imagined.
Pascal had been wandering the island trying to keep out of the sight of anyone because he honestly had no strong ties to anyone and from the start did not trust anyone. At the same time, he did not label anyone his immediate enemy just yet. As far as he saw it, he was on neutral ground. He wanted to gather as much information on people as he could when he ran into them, because at this rate it was inevitable, and make judgments from there. This was very characteristic of Pascal. He only made decisions after only looking at the situation from all angles and after assessing the situation. This, however, was thrown out the window when an attractive guy was around. A guy Pascal found attractive almost immediately trumped his analytical mind. He knew that in a situation like this, he HAD to keep his attractions to a minimum… that is if he found any. Everyone on the island was his age, and that added the “cherry on top” of the situation as if it was not bad enough.
Pascal wanted to get out of the bad weather ASAP. He noticed on the map that he was nearing the chapel and the graveyard. As soon as he saw that, Pascal let out a sigh of relief.
“If there is ANYTHING aesthetically pleasing on this island, it must be there”, he said out loud to nobody. He walked towards what he thought was the chapel but he could not make it out just yet. The sound of Handel became louder as he approached the back of the chapel. Pascal was humming the viola part to one of the cantatas that he had performed before. Pascal assumed it was the back because he did not see any doors. The only thing he saw was the moss covered walls and the stained glass window.
“This is fucking ridiculous. I am stuck on an island with low-lifes, comic book nerds, crazies, and people who are a waste of life!”, he thought to himself. Pascal adjusted his characteristic black rimmed glasses as they had slipped down his face while in thought.
Pascal stopped at the back of the chapel and put his stuff down for a minute. He adjusted the collapsed baton that conveniently latched onto his hand woven belt. Breathing heavily for a moment, he wiped the moisture from his forehead with the cuff of his shirt. At that instant, he heard a small, but crisp shattering noise come from above. It ended almost as soon as he heard it. Bits and pieces of glass fell in front of him and he heard something land near him. Pascal investigated and noticed that it was a crucifix.
“Unless this place is haunted, somebody must have thrown this from inside”, Pascal said outloud. Pascal fought off the thought of projectile motion, friction, and at what angle the person inside may have thrown it at, but to no avail. He grabbed the crucifix and decided to investigate. He came to the conclusion he might as well do something rather than hide out, and he also wanted to get out of the rain.
Pascal went around the side and found an opening through the fence. It took him a few minutes to get through with all his gear in hand. He noticed that he was at the edge of the graveyard. There was a little path he saw that lead up to an old door that lead to the chapel. It was not as grandiose as he expected, but Pascal decided that it was probably the back entrance. Pascal opened the door as quietly as he could and entered cautiously. He noticed that there were a lot of items on shelves and boxes everywhere. He knew there had to be a way in the chapel. He found another door at the opposite end of the room and opened that cautiously as well. The door let out a small creak after being opened. Finally he had reached the inside of the chapel. Something right away caught his eye. Pascal looked near the altar, which was the natural thing to do in a chapel, and noticed a person slumped down in front of the altar. The thing that really caught his eye was the lovely looking guy down in front of the altar. Pascal gently walked over and noticed the guy had no shirt on. Pascal noticed the physically fit gentleman in front of him, but the guy had not woken up. Pascal thought he looked familiar but he was not too sure, but he thought that he might have played baseball. Although he did not grow up with the sport in England, he sure did know how they looked out of uniform.
“Thank you God”, Pascal playfully said as he put his stuff down. Pascal began to walk towards the guy, unbuttoning his top two buttons of his shirt, with the intent of introducing himself. At that moment, his expression turned from flirty, to concerned when he noticed blood coming from the guy. Pascal went up to him and bent down on one knee.

“Hey, buddy. Are you alright?”, Pascal asked while putting his hand on the guys shoulder.
B82: Pascal Stonely- The Chapel
G55: Shameeca Saphyre Mitchell- The Jungle
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Crash
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Trish had been sleeping soundly for a while now. It had been a while since she'd taken a rest, and her exhaustion had finally caught up with her. Before she'd fallen asleep, she had silently thanked whatever deity was out there for sending James to her. Without him, she would've undoubtedly lost her head and freaked out by now - not to mention, she wouldn't have been able to take a rest so comfortably. Even though he was injured and almost defenseless, his presence made her feel infinitely better.

Unfortunately for her, her rest was disrupted rather abruptly. Sean's rant, which seemed to increase exponentially in volume, eventually roused Trish from her sleep and caused her to bolt upright in a matter of seconds. Now, she was beyond irritated. Not only had Sean been a complete prick to her for the last little while, but now he'd managed to effectively ruin the first chance she'd had to sleep in days. Trish reached almost blindly into her duffle bag, fumbling around for her glasses. Even in her weariness, she was aware that her contacts weren't ready yet. After finding the case, she sloppily put her thin, red-rimmed glasses on her face, throwing the case back into her bag somewhat harshly.

"Chill the fuck out!" She half-shouted, still slightly perplexed and rendered somewhat dizzy by the fact that she'd woken up so suddenly. She turned her head to face the altar, where she'd identified that the noise was coming from, and noticed Sean just in time to see him toss his crucifix through the broken stained glass window. He'd finally managed to royally piss her off. Trish got to her feet after she'd regained her composure, but just as she was about to say something else, she noticed Sean starting to lose his balance.

Sean collapsed to the floor like a sack of bricks. "Or...that..." she muttered groggily, not entirely sure of what had just happened. Reflexively grabbing the AK-47, she made her way over to the back of the chapel, where Sean seemed to be unconscious. At first she was suspicious of him, but remembering his head wound, she brushed it off as some kind of over-exertion. At the moment, Trish had bigger and better things in mind.

She wasted almost no time in walking over to Sean's daypack, picking it up and bringing it back towards the front of the chapel where James was. She placed the AK-47 down on the pew temporarily and opened his daypack and her own, and began to transfer all of his ammunition into her own pack. Even though she was tired, she worked with surprising efficiency, and had placed the other 34 clips in her own pack in almost a minute. She'd noticed a fire poker and his rations inside his pack as well, but deciding that there was no use for them, left them there. The only problem being that now her pack was almost full.

Instinctively, Trish removed some of the extra rations she'd acquired and replaced them into Sean's pack, almost as a form of compensation. After that, she opened her duffle bag and stuffed her only other change of clothes, eyeglass case, and contact solution into her daypack, then zipped it back up, leaving her own almost-empty dufflebag (save for her art supplies) and Sean's daypack on the pew. Now she only had one bag to carry, and that would be much more efficient.

Hefting her daypack over her back and picking up the AK-47, she looked over to James. When she turned her head she noticed that another student had joined them and was now tending to Sean, but she only saw a riot shield, which she was guessing was his weapon, and paid him no mind. "We should get out of here..." She whispered harshly, starting to become slightly uncomfortable.
v4 Characters:

G23: Claire Lambert: Property of the Fabulous Mr. Toben

v3 Characters:

B65: Dorian Ibanescu: Coastline

Deceased:

B57 - Jeff Marontate: Cleaved
B120: Jim Middleton: Pummeled
G61: Anna Grout: Submitted
G62: Andrea Vanlandingham: Martyred
G39 Alexis Machina: Crushed
G23: Trish McCarroll: Defeated


natlei was sleeping in her bed when someone came thru her window "get away rapist" she said still half asleep and hit one of them in the head with her liucky frying pan then went back tyo bed them men the injected her with a sedative and carried her off
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EpOxy_eTheR
Cannon Fodder
[ * ]
Still fixated on the guy in front on him, Pascal did not initially notice the girl next to him. Of course since he was staring at this guy in front of him, it was expected of him not to turn to anyone else around him, especially if it was a girl.

After trying trying to establish contact with the bleeding guy, he decided to help him out. He didn't want to see a pretty face get all bloody. Pascal grabbed a bottle of water from his pack and poured some water on the wound, but being careful not to waste too much. Then he applied a pad to the wound as best he could and then he bandaged it up. Pascal did not know if he stopped the blooding but he did all he could.

"There you go, hopefully you'll be okay for right now" Pascal said as he was finishing up.

He then turned to the girl over near him. Something inside of him was mad that no one helped the guy, but another thing told him that it was "part of the game". A typical girl, Pascal thought to himself, a selfish woman thinking of nothing but herself. He reminded himself of the situation he was in and seeing the weapon she was wielding, he dared not say a smart-assed remark to her, no matter how much he wanted to. Instead he tried to be as calm as possible when he decided to talk to her.

"Hello, mate. My name is Pascal and by the looks of things, youre friend here is in a bit of trouble would you say not? I don't mean to intrude and do not mean any harm."

Pascal you are fucking crazy he thought to himself Why are you mingling with people, especially a chick with a huge gun.
B82: Pascal Stonely- The Chapel
G55: Shameeca Saphyre Mitchell- The Jungle
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Cyco
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Suicidal Maniac
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
James had sat back in the pew as Trish fell asleep, crossing his arms in discomfort. He'd been fairly convinced he wouldn't be able to sleep on the stiff wooden pew anyway and had subsequently made it his duty to keep an eye on their shirtless companion.

Sean began praying aloud, and at first James tried not to listen out of respect for his privacy. However, when it got to the point when the shirtless douchebag began yelling at the top of his lungs, James had to interject. Trish was trying to sleep, and personally he wasn't interested in their location being telegraphed across the island.

"Holy shit, dude, settle down!" he called, but the screaming idiot payed him no mind. Trish was stirred naturally, and James rubbed his brows with one hand in frustration. She raised her voice as well, and almost magically Sean fell in a heap on the ground. James made about to make a mental note not to mess with Trish, as her voice seemed to carry supernatural properties, but she seemed as confused as he was. Still, after a second to shake off her bewilderment she wasted no time in pilfering the unconscious boy's ammunition. James had no comment but nodded in approval.

Someone else showed up, another stranger that seemed to take interest in Sean's condition. He also assumed that Sean was their friend, to which James couldn't help snort quietly. Trish wanted to leave, and so did he, so with a resigned shrug to the bizarre English chap he began to move the pew blocking the door.
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v3 Minions
B21: Nigel Gillespie
G09: Jessa Vanallen
B20: Harry Tsai
B13: James Brown
B112: Dennis Bernard
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Crash
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"He's not my friend...and neither are you," Trish responded to the new boy quite bitterly, looking herself over. She was irritable, having just woken up, and combining that with the attitude Sean had been giving her for almost an entire day now had rendered her less than personable. She wasn't even remotely concerned with how she came off to the newcomer at this point. Getting as far away from the chapel with James was all she could really think about at this point, and once he'd finished moving the pew out of the way, she proceeded to unlock the bolts over the doors and open one of them.

Trish was sure to check her equipment one more time before they left to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. All she'd left behind was Sean's fire poker and her art supplies, but losing her dufflebag had effectively lightened her load. Her daypack was fastened securely onto her back, the bullwhip tied to her belt and the AK-47 gripped tightly in her hands. As far as she could tell, she had everything in place.

Stepping outside, Trish turned around to face the boy and Sean's motionless body. She gave the chapel one final glance over before motioning to James to follow her and pivoting once more. After taking a few steps away from the chapel she stopped suddenly and called over her shoulder. "His boyfriend just died, so you might want to back off." She didn't feel like the boy had really done anything to warrant that kind of warning, but perhaps out of her irritation towards Sean she was compelled to give him one. Not stopping for another second to think it over anymore, Trish walked off into the jungle, the rain lightly caressing her face.

(Trish McCarroll continued in At a Loss)
v4 Characters:

G23: Claire Lambert: Property of the Fabulous Mr. Toben

v3 Characters:

B65: Dorian Ibanescu: Coastline

Deceased:

B57 - Jeff Marontate: Cleaved
B120: Jim Middleton: Pummeled
G61: Anna Grout: Submitted
G62: Andrea Vanlandingham: Martyred
G39 Alexis Machina: Crushed
G23: Trish McCarroll: Defeated


natlei was sleeping in her bed when someone came thru her window "get away rapist" she said still half asleep and hit one of them in the head with her liucky frying pan then went back tyo bed them men the injected her with a sedative and carried her off
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Namira
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Null sheen.
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((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.
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SotF: Mini - SCdoes a-rolling! - PV3 Prologue ongoing!
Draw Thread! - Pathfinder! - Writing Thread!

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Super Llama
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STILL THE BEST 1973
[ *  *  *  * ]
{{continued from Laeil the Warrior}}

Slowly and cautiously, Laeil made her way through the brush, shielding herself from the storm with a jacket a couple sizes too big for her. Though she was determined to find someplace inhabited earlier, even if it meant braving the storm, she was now starting to wonder if it was such a good idea. Not wanting to ruin her map in the weather (not sure if when she'd get a chance at getting another copy), she travelled by dead reckoning, an image of the map stuck in her head as best as she could.

Eventually, she broke through the foliage, looking up at a building. The unique shape of the building told her that this was definitely the chapel she was planning on heading towards. "Finally..." She said to herself, not expecting the trek to take as long as it did. She stood there for a moment, savoring the irony of a house of God in a godless place like this, before she began to circle the building, scoping out the situation, paying attention for any signs of life before she went in.

What will you do if there are people in there.

"What else?" Laeil said to that rouge voice in her head. "I'll kill them. That's the whole point, isn't it? Everyone will suffer."

Parts of her mind still tried to bring her to her senses. They tried every angle: trying to remind her that not everyone was responsible for her suffering, that she'd just cause suffering for other people who didn't deserve it, that if she went on like this she'd just get herself killed, but she just silenced them all.

"Shut up and let me have my fun."

Having finally found rear entrance, she inched towards it, nudging the door open just enough so that she could peek inside. She frowned as she failed to see anything and slowly opened the door further, wincing as the hinges gave a creaky protest. Dammit... She froze up for a moment, listening for any sign that whoever might be inside heard, hoping that the sounds of the storm masked her presence. Finally she continued further through the storeroom, slowly setting her duffel bag and jacket down on the floor and nudging the next door open just a touch Alright... She peeked in again, noticing two boys right away, one with a riot shield and what looked like a baton, and one seemingly unarmed. Or I just can't see his weapon from this angle... She reminded herself.

She waited there for the moment, working out what she should do next.
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Enough expository banter! Now we fight like men! And ladies! And ladies who dress like men! For Gilgamesh...it is MORPHIN' TIME!

V5 hopefuls:
Hiro Fukuyama: "N-n-no, I-I'm not scared."
Lucy Rosenberg: "If you're looking for friends, I don't think I can help you with that."
Angus McDonald: "To hell with you! If anyone here deserves to live, it's me!"


The Dead


banthesun
 
She wanted those horrible metal balls to stop banging against her legs

ZombiexCreame
 
But would Celeste even want help from a guy that whips out his pistol without a second thought?
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EpOxy_eTheR
Cannon Fodder
[ * ]
Pascal noticed that the guy in front of him started to open his eyes. His name was starting to come to him. He remembered the guy's last name because of his baseball uniform...O'Cann. It also helped to remember that Irish last name because Pascal had some cousins that lived in Ireland. Pascal thought the guy's name was Sean because when they announced that when the team was starting as the home team.

"Hey, hey. You finally came to mate" Pascal said to Sean when he opened his eyes. Out of habit, Pascal put his arm around Sean just to make a reassuring gesture.

"I hoped you were not a goner there. That guy and girl, apparantly aren't your friends...I thought they were. They bounced a few minutes before you woke up". Pascal could feel Seans toned body underneath his arm.

At that moment Pascal reached into his pocket and pulled out the crucifix that apparantly Sean threw. Even though the latch was broken, Pascal put himself in front of Sean and tied it back on. "Wouldn't want you losing that. It looks good on you" Pascal said with a friendly smile. He tried not to get too close because he remembered what the girl said about Seans boyfriend.

creeeeeek

Pascal heard something open from the room that he entered the chapel in. At that moment, Pascal knew someone else was probably trying to enter in the chapel. He tried to help Sean up as best he could, making him lean on the altar. He grabbed his riot shield, but didn't grab the baton because he didn't want to start a confrontation. He noticed a girl in front of them.

"How about you say we get a move on?" Pascal asked Sean, awaiting an answer.
B82: Pascal Stonely- The Chapel
G55: Shameeca Saphyre Mitchell- The Jungle
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Namira
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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?
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SotF: Mini - SCdoes a-rolling! - PV3 Prologue ongoing!
Draw Thread! - Pathfinder! - Writing Thread!

Adequate summary of my personality
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Cyco
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Suicidal Maniac
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James left too, my bitches.

((Continued in At a Loss))
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v3 Minions
B21: Nigel Gillespie
G09: Jessa Vanallen
B20: Harry Tsai
B13: James Brown
B112: Dennis Bernard
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EpOxy_eTheR
Cannon Fodder
[ * ]
Pascal noticed that Sean was a little unconfortable around him, and even though another girl had entered the chapel, he decided to take care of this first.

"Hey mate, I just wanted to apologize for making you uneasy...eh.. it was not my intention," Pascal told him.

He noticed that Sean was rummaging through his daypack, and looked concerned.

"Missing something?" Pascal asked. "well, I dont know what happened before here, but what do you think we should do?".

He then turned to the girl and said "hello. Who might you be and should we be worried"?
B82: Pascal Stonely- The Chapel
G55: Shameeca Saphyre Mitchell- The Jungle
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Super Llama
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STILL THE BEST 1973
[ *  *  *  * ]
Laeil gave a slight scowl as one of the boys called out to her Shit...So much for the element of surprise.

"I could ask the same of you." She finally said, trying to by some time while she thought of a plan. "You wouldn't happen to be playing, would you?"

Alright, think...what can I do? The idea came to her that if the two of them were gullible enough, she could try and convince them that she wasn't playing, and was just looking for shelter from the rain. She had already cleaned the blood off of her sword, so...

Oh, goddammit, Anthony... She looked down at her clothes, stained with blood. Not a lot, but definitely enough for her to look suspicious. If she had still been wearing the jacket, most of it would've been hidden, but unfortunately she had taken it off for better ease of movement if she had to move quickly.

Perhaps you should just rush them?

Shut up. She retorted to herself. I'm not stupid enough to try that. She wasn't confident enough yet to take on two opponents at once in a straight-out fight. And as for the one digging through his duffel bag... His name is Sean, right? As with most of the students in her school, Laeil knew little about Sean, but at least remembered his name. As she watched him go through his bag, she thought she caught something metallic among the contents. What if it's a gun... As she waited for an answer, she ran through every possibility she could think of in such a short time.
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Enough expository banter! Now we fight like men! And ladies! And ladies who dress like men! For Gilgamesh...it is MORPHIN' TIME!

V5 hopefuls:
Hiro Fukuyama: "N-n-no, I-I'm not scared."
Lucy Rosenberg: "If you're looking for friends, I don't think I can help you with that."
Angus McDonald: "To hell with you! If anyone here deserves to live, it's me!"


The Dead


banthesun
 
She wanted those horrible metal balls to stop banging against her legs

ZombiexCreame
 
But would Celeste even want help from a guy that whips out his pistol without a second thought?
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Namira
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Null sheen.
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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.
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SotF: Mini - SCdoes a-rolling! - PV3 Prologue ongoing!
Draw Thread! - Pathfinder! - Writing Thread!

Adequate summary of my personality
V6 Corner
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