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Ghost

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About Ghost

  • Rank
    Original Gangsta
  • Birthday October 3

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    By request only
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    Lol who the fuck uses MSN?
  • Yahoo
    Nah
  • Skype
    Fuck that shit.

Profile Information

  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    South East, US
  • Interests
    People ask the question... what's a Rock'n'Rolla? And I tell 'em - it's not about drums, drugs, and hospital drips, oh no. There's more there than that, my friend.

    We all like a bit of the good life - some the money, some the drugs, others the sex game, the glamour, or the fame. But a Rock'n'Rolla, oh, he's different.

    Why? Because a real Rock'n'Rolla wants the fucking lot.
  • Occupation
    Void Engineer

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  1. Ghost

    Breakin' Da Ice

    "Wat? Sometin' on mah face o' suttin?" A Pause. t did not take long before the score really sank set in. Now the damn thing had permeated the room; the two nobles staring in shocked and confused silence, the two Breaker's who at this moment did not feel particularly bad ass. To be quite honest, the whole vibe of the room and shifted and killed much of the pair of Breaker's good mood. Elias was the first to break the silence. "Ah gaddamnit El! I never shoulda left dis one ta' you's and Bish'. Oh I got it covered, leave it ta' me, Ya' saids. Oh it's all in da' note He saids. " Heidern exclaimed, echoing his partner's thoughts and affecting his best Elias and Bishop impressions for the moment, before throwing his hands up. Then turning to face the two men, he addressed them directly."Dis why you never leave tha' plannins and da' thinkin's to a skirt chaser and a two-bit gambler, eh? Tink wit der otha' dome, dey do." He said behind one wrapped hand in an affectation of privacy, as if the other Breaker couldn't hear every word he said. Hei looked around the room then, at Ron laying in cooling and expanding pool of red, at Alan and Simon, at Elias, then back at the two men. He sighed long and heavy and his shoulders sagged, his hat drooped. "Well dis' is kinda embarassin' amirite? Hehe...ha...ha...whew. Tell ya's wat's. Let's try dis' again from da' tippiest of tops, eh? We finna' come tru' dat dere door again, and stizzart dis' whole shebang over. Ya' twos, just act like ya's been expectin' us and we'll take it from dere. Ok? Ok. Oh and soz' bout' yer boyo over dere. Ya' understand right? Occupational hazard and all dat. " Flashing a pair of finger guns at the two gentlemen, he looked back at Elias with a broad grin, giggling "Dat's one way ta' break da' ice, eh?"
  2. Ghost

    unravel, threads of fate.

    ksander came in hot and heavy, zipping into close range of the God, almost too fast to follow as he erupted from the grey veil. Blazing with ill intentions, came the blow towards Heidern's skull and it seemed certain to strike true, his expression had indicated (as much as one can tell on that Cheshire face), that is until his head just suddenly disappeared. The Supremely God-like One ducked abruptly, his much less imposing stature hunched over as the fist narrowly missed its mark, and in the same motion his left arm shot forward and an open palm lightly touched the armored center mass. Now watch closely folks, this is where the magic happens: the instant it made contact, very lightly, very briefly came a soft blue light1, tracing a series of complex shapes and symbols in a ring around the edge of his palm and then faded from view. The splayed fingers then rapidly curled into a fist, and finally came the force of the blow2. Considering the distance, the point blank touch was likely to connect, and the result? A doubled over Iksander, looking awfully surprised and confused and a wild Starfall sailing like a lawn dart some sixty meters back [Sorry, Da' God don't always be able ta' control de strength, nah mean?] into the gloom of night. But there was more than meets the eye here, the sudden duality would last only a brief moment before the two became one and were now lying sixty some odd meters away. It all happened in a flash, from start to finish and from that awkward little crouch came that oily snide voice. "Gatcha boyo." And then a rock hit the ground unceremoniously and with hardly a cloud of dust, issuing a soft "thud."
  3. o much for getting away, Eobard (or Bard as he was calling himself these days) remarked to sourly to himself. Since the Floor of the Test, instead of breaking away and ditching the "Mad Bunch" as he had intended, time constraints and circumstance had dictated that he would actually have to team up with them. This arrangement had persisted even beyond the second floor, and if the burden of carrying his own gear—plus one, wasn't annoying enough...Both him and the creature he had lost to in the second floor test had been summoned to the Test Administrator's office. He was not thrilled about any of this. Passing the test had been fine, he just wanted to get the position test over with and scout some other teams who might be suitable. But no, monkey wrench after monkey wrench had befallen him and nothing was going Bard's way these days. "You hate brats...Well I hate cats, and psychotic females, and crocodiles, and hooded weirdos, and animals and people, and large crowds, and carrying shit that isn't mine, or playing taxi, or more to the point...being summoned into Administrator's offices for things I most assuredly have fuck-all to do with. So pipe down back there!"He snarled, his mood growing darker by the minute as they threaded their way through the bustling streets. Despite the thickness of the crowd or his apparent disdain for it, Bard maneuvered himself through it as if the throng of bodies was never even there. He moved through the crowd like a fish in water, effortlessly swimming through the current of people and things as if he was born to do it. And it was because of that, they found themselves outside the tall office building in mere minutes.
  4. Ghost

    [TOG] The Floor of the Test, South

    WRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR—A loud siren split the air and echoed to every corner of the field. To all the remaining survivors, whether it be one by one or in groups all looked up at the sky as the noise rippled across it. After a pause, squelching microphone feedback assaulted the weary contestants, before the announcer's voice boomed happily."MIC TEST—!""OHHHHHHKAAAAYYYY! EVERYONE STAY WHERE YOU ARE! THE FIRST TEST IS NOW OVER. THE REMAINING REGULARS, STOP WHAT YOU ARE DOING AND LISTEN CAREFULLY!! ANY REGULARS FIGHTING FROM NOW ON WILL BE ELIMINATED !!!"A pause."TO THE TWO HUNDRED REGULARS WHO PASSED THE FIRST TEST, CONGRATULATIONS ALL OF YOU!SPECIAL SHOUT OUTS TO THE REGULAR WHO ELIMINATED THREE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY REGULARS BY THEMSELVES!! I'M SORRY, IT'S A BIT OF A RUSH, BUT A SHORT SECOND TEST WILL NOW BE CONDUCTED!!!"Laughter boomed from the floating observers scattered about the sky over the prairie. "DON'T BE SO GLOOMY! THE NEXT TEST IS REALLY SIMPLE!! FIND TEAMMATES!!! OF THE TWO HUNDRED REMAINING, FORM A TEAM OF THREE—OH AND BY THE WAY, YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES TO DO SO."And it was just like that, the first test concluded. Two hundred regulars would now be forced to group up and pass together onto the next challenge. It would be difficult, but this was an important time; the Tower was cruel, and allies were an essential component to advance onward. Even Zahard did not climb himself, and the tale of the great King and his ten cohorts was legendary. These tests were an homage to that, and these fresh crop would have to forge their mettle for the trials ahead.
  5. Ghost

    [TOG] The Floor of the Test [North]

    WRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR—A loud siren split the air and echoed to every corner of the field. To all the remaining survivors, whether it be one by one or in groups all looked up at the sky as the noise rippled across it. After a pause, squelching microphone feedback assaulted the weary contestants, before the announcer's voice boomed happily."MIC TEST—!""OHHHHHHKAAAAYYYY! EVERYONE STAY WHERE YOU ARE! THE FIRST TEST IS NOW OVER. THE REMAINING REGULARS, STOP WHAT YOU ARE DOING AND LISTEN CAREFULLY!! ANY REGULARS FIGHTING FROM NOW ON WILL BE ELIMINATED !!!"A pause."TO THE TWO HUNDRED REGULARS WHO PASSED THE FIRST TEST, CONGRATULATIONS ALL OF YOU!SPECIAL SHOUT OUTS TO THE REGULAR WHO ELIMINATED THREE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY REGULARS BY THEMSELVES!! I'M SORRY, IT'S A BIT OF A RUSH, BUT A SHORT SECOND TEST WILL NOW BE CONDUCTED!!!"Laughter boomed from the floating observers scattered about the sky over the prairie. "DON'T BE SO GLOOMY! THE NEXT TEST IS REALLY SIMPLE!! FIND TEAMMATES!!! OF THE TWO HUNDRED REMAINING, FORM A TEAM OF THREE—OH AND BY THE WAY, YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES TO DO SO."And it was just like that, the first test concluded. Two hundred regulars would now be forced to group up and pass together onto the next challenge. It would be difficult, but this was an important time; the Tower was cruel, and allies were an essential component to advance onward. Even Zahard did not climb himself, and the tale of the great King and his ten cohorts was legendary. These tests were an homage to that, and these fresh crop would have to forge their mettle for the trials ahead.
  6. Ghost

    [TOG] The Floor of the Test, South

    ith his new found "protector" in tow, the much abused, not amused, and much less enthused Eobard had stumbled upon another pair of Regulars. As the grass parted, his head turned back to retort at the rucksack strapped to his back, he had to about face and take stock. There they had run across a pair of girls, one tightly embraced by the other. Considering the circumstances, it was incredibly out of place. Quickly they separated and the one with the ears—he had just noticed that wasn't actually an accessory but rather appendages approached him. Instantly his body slid from tenseness into relaxation of conditioned reflexes, ready at a moments notice to do its thing. But he sensed no ill will from her, she seemed harmless and when the...rabbit-girl touched his face, he almost reacted on instinct. But he didn't—no, in fact it was a suddenly soothing sensation, pain from wounds ebbing, fatigue easing, that washed over him, not danger. Whomever she was, she was not going to take his life after restoring him, he felt confident in that. Hell, he felt pretty good considering."Y-yeah...Thanks" He muttered in appreciation, with a curt nod. But the other girl, he suddenly noticed, was very different than the one who now treated his wounds. He saw the blood, not just its existence, but the pattern of it, its distribution and knew enough to assume its origin. There was also her eyes, and what he saw in that pair was enough to give him chills. Then he saw the bodies, not just the number of them, but also the state of them. We have a real monster here too. Great, one ahead of me and one behind me. Just my luck... He smiled then."Hehe..heh..heh..So listen, before we get off to the wrong foot here, I'd like to point out the game will be ending in about five minutes, give or take. At this point, we've all made it, so there's no real need for further violence. Truce?" And his eyes flicked from person to person, even jerking his skull towards the small body nestled at his back. He was reading his crowd and the mood. This was extremely touch-n-go here, and he had to be extra careful to play this exactly as it needed to be played. "I'm Bard, and this here is Puss-n-Boots—I mean..I didn't exactly get your name fur-ball.." He said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. Like a pro, he started off introductions. At some point they would need to split up and form groups, and the resounding sentiment he felt was that he could not wait to get away from these lunatics.
  7. Ghost

    [TOG] The Floor of the Test, South

    n the darkness, Eobard heard a child's voice indistinctly at first, echoing all around him. Hazily, he thought he recognized the voice, as the child kept speaking. "I don't need anyone! I don't care if I ain't got nothen. One day I'ma take everything. The whole tower!" The voice became indistinct again, and he heard the sound of rain. There was another voice then, this time a man's voice, and he thought he might recognize that too. "Easy boy, don't get greedy. You're lucky to have what you got. Nobodies like you shouldn't dream too big, bound to wind up disappointed." In a way it was peaceful, in the nothing, surrounded by the quiet disembodied voices that stirred on the edges of memory. "What do you desire? Is it wealth and influence? How about strength and renown? Or is it everlasting life? SPEAK! For I may have need for one such as yourself..."What do I desire....?He awoke to blue skies and a gentle breeze. His head throbbed, his face felt like mush, his chest felt—He craned his head to look, and promptly groaned at the movement. There atop his chest, accounting for the weighted sensation, was a small black form curled up, making a soft rumbling sound. As for what happened, his brain flashed back in reflection, the events unfolding sluggishly in his addled brain. Son of a...Bastard got the jump on me... He thought sourly. Later, he was walking. Slung over one shoulder hung a black rucksack, his back hunching seemingly from the weight of it. He looked terrible, blood dried around his mouth and nose. His face bruised, swollen and battered. He walked with a haggard shuffle. He coughed loudly, a terrible, retching sound and spoke to seemingly no one in particular, "I'm sorry, why do I have to carry you again?" He called out in the grass.
  8. Ghost

    [TOG] The Floor of the Test, South

    obard had just finished dusting himself off after the last near-scuffle when his ears perked. It was relatively quiet around him, the sound of the wind blowing across the grass, the distant sound combat came in as dull intermittent vibration and the occasional thumping. But he heard something, soft and subtle, moving through the grass towards him. Incredible stealth, this was probably too low to be heard by most.He stood upright, his entire being still, his attention focused on the pitter-patter of soft treading feet. He wouldn't have to wait long, his whole body felt wound up like a taught spring. The grass shifted, parting to the side, and instinctively he let out a breath and with it the tension as his body relaxed and went slack, becoming as nimble as a snake.Something was wrong with this picture.When the grass parted, what stepped out to greet him was something that this Tower had never laid eyes upon. Something so unique, so foreign, so alien he almost didn't register it at first. The grass parted and he stared and saw nothing, until he looked down, and down again. He blinked slowly, almost as if to clear the hallucination. It was still there.He was at a loss. He could only utter a single word that could encapsulate the complete and total system failure his sense of reasoning was experiencing. "What..."
  9. Ghost

    [TOG] The Floor of the Test, South

    ne hour into the test, and Eobard was relaxed. He was sitting on a large rock in a small clearing in the grass, his head just below the top, so that he was still obscured from view. For the meantime, he was alone and the brief moment of respite was a pleasant way to kill time. After all, that is all this was; an endurance test. Last long enough and you will inevitably make it to the finish line. There had been no further announcements, so there was no real way of telling how many were left. It made this a tricky situation to be in, as running into other people was also the only way of determining how many remained. Still, he had a pretty good* estimate on how much longer until the test concluded. Which had put him into a rather comfortable position at the moment. With his spot all but secured, all he had to do was wait now and shortly he'd be among the successful for what had been relatively low effort, low risk. There had been some hiccups of course, but nothing too bad. He was even still clean. Just then, the bushes rustled and his attention jerked towards the sound. Ah well, it was time to get moving. And he slid off the rock, just as the grass parted.
  10. Ghost

    [TOG] The Floor of the Test, South

    he tall grass moved as something slid among it, parting it briefly as the figure of a young man emerged briefly into an area where the grass had been knocked about. The young man looked around this area, crouching briefly as his hand reached out to touch the broken blades. Something had come through here recently. The young man stood, his neck craning as the head panned around the head-high foliage. Eobard Bixler Zavala was unremarkable in many ways. Height, build, features; all average and rather nondescript. He was pleasant to look at, but forgettable. The kind of figure that left little impression upon first glance. Except for the eyes, a brilliant and quite luminous pair of aqua-marine blue. Like twin lanterns, they burned with some inner fire, so much so it was all anyone ever noticed. Many would notice the eyes first, and forget the man behind them. A useful trait at times. He wore black pants and sneakers, capped off with a white and black hooded sweatshirt. His hair was dark, tousled and rather messy; be it by design or circumstance. Moving through this foliage was no easy task and it was rather easy to look a bit disheveled. He appeared unarmed, and carried nothing. Elsewhere, he could hear distantly the sounds of commotion—likely other Regulars clashing. Eobard had quickly grasped the point of this test and thus far had done quite well in the fifteen minutes since the test began, in not running into anyone else. His strategy was simple: Be one of the two hundred remaining prospective Regulars to pass the test, with the least amount of effort possible. Work smart, not hard he liked to say; a motto oriented around an indolent streak in the man that had never quite been stamped out. Still, avoiding seven hundred blood-thirsty heathens, ravenous to join the illustrious number was quite a tall task. Surviving, furthermore an even taller one, considering his options, he thought, looking briefly at his two bare hands. The best course was to simply keep moving, and he slid back into the tall grass, disappearing from view.
  11. Wind blew over grass tall enough to touch a man's hat, causing it to whip and sway in gentle, rolling waves. The "sky" was mostly blue, partly cloudy and one could see the floating spire of Evankhell's Hell overhead with relative ease. It was eerily quiet besides the wind until the speaker's kicked on. Numerous little cubes floated in the air, as a voice barked out at the broad landscape. "Mic test, mic test! One, Two, Three!!" A males voice, it was bright and cheery, as it boomed out into the wilderness. "Hello everyone! All the Regular's who have made it to the tower! We sincerely welcome all of you to the 2nd floor, EVANKHELL's FLOOR!!" It echoed across the vast sea of grass, the sound of the announcer's voice everywhere at once, thanks to the floating cubes which spread out to do their part. "This is also called the Floor of Tests! Here we carry out the final test to see whether you are qualfied—" The speaker paused for dramatic effect; "To go up the tower...." It almost sounded menacing. "The first test is simple, I'll explain the rules only once, so listen carefully. There are 700 regulars here. Quite a big crop this year, you are to take that number..." Suddenly that menacing tone from before, returned and with fervor, "And narrow it down to 200. By any means necessary. The test finishes when that number hits 200. Good luck, you'll need it." There was a short pause this time, before the voice roared. "BEGIN!" The test was on. Out there in that wide open yonder were seven hundred individuals from every conceivable walk of life, all with their own reasons for wanting to climb The Tower. Money, Fame, Power, Revenge, anything and everything lay in wait, at the top. And everyone was vying for it. But the tower is harsh, and their mettle will be tested in every way imaginable. Only the worthy will survive. This, was the purpose of Evankhell's floor. This was a culling.
  12. Wind blew over grass tall enough to touch a man's hat, causing it to whip and sway in gentle, rolling waves. The "sky" was mostly blue, partly cloudy and one could see the floating spire of Evankhell's Hell overhead with relative ease. It was eerily quiet besides the wind until the speaker's kicked on. Numerous little cubes floated in the air, as a voice barked out at the broad landscape. "Mic test, mic test! One, Two, Three!!" A males voice, it was bright and cheery, as it boomed out into the wilderness. "Hello everyone! All the Regular's who have made it to the tower! We sincerely welcome all of you to the 2nd floor, EVANKHELL's FLOOR!!" It echoed across the vast sea of grass, the sound of the announcer's voice everywhere at once, thanks to the floating cubes which spread out to do their part. "This is also called the Floor of Tests! Here we carry out the final test to see whether you are qualfied—" The speaker paused for dramatic effect; "To go up the tower...." It almost sounded menacing. "The first test is simple, I'll explain the rules only once, so listen carefully. There are 700 regulars here. Quite a big crop this year, you are to take that number..."Suddenly that menacing tone from before, returned and with fervor, "And narrow it down to 200. By any means necessary. The test finishes when that number hits 200. Good luck, you'll need it." There was a short pause this time, before the voice roared. "BEGIN!" The test was on. Out there in that wide open yonder were seven hundred individuals from every conceivable walk of life, all with their own reasons for wanting to climb The Tower. Money, Fame, Power, Revenge, anything and everything lay in wait, at the top. And everyone was vying for it. But the tower is harsh, and their mettle will be tested in every way imaginable. Only the worthy will survive. This, was the purpose of Evankhell's floor. This was a culling.
  13. he figure caterwauled down the desolate street. Well, not quite desolate, no in fact that's not quite accurate at all. All around him, the town lay covered in ice, frozen where it lay—including the townspeople. Each and every one of them frozen where they stood, ice sculptures captured in time. Men, women, children, even the animals, all locked in place like a picture. And the figure danced, skipping up to the figure of a woman, hooded face obscured as he embraced her, spinning around once before he turned and scuttled off. With flourishes of the hands☻, he made strides up the thoroughfare, alone up until a large shape of a man emerged from one structure to the figure's right. Tip-toe, tip-toe, tip-toe he came up, sliding to a stop about fifteen paces away. The figure was slightly turned away from massive form. Cold vapor expelled from the hood as breath died in the frigid air."♫We-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-l-l-l....This is a surprise, yes it is♪" Came a high sing-song voice that was pleasant in a skin-crawling, the devil whispering sort of way. He turned to face, and drew back the hood, revealing long jet black hair streaked with white on the sides, top pulled back into a loose knot while the rest disappeared down the back of his neck into his clothing. The face was long and narrow, features gaunt and sharp. But the eyes...there was a lot of strange and wondrous things in the blues, and sometimes those things do something to a man. These eyes...they were wild, like a sick animal's. Bright, almost luminous and with an intensity that was downright unsettling. There was a startling vitality in them, that gave his gaze an unpredictable and menacing quality. The man looked as if anything could set him off, the slightest trigger or provocation could produce violence. "♪And here I thought no one was supposed to be here mon frére. And yet you're here...the ABOMINABLE SNOWMAN! ♫" He cried, his face manic with mirth at the reference to the large man's apparent proclivity to the cold. He spread his arms wide in a gesture loosely like a shrug☻. But his voice dropped a pitch with his next words, and the message became abundantly clear. "♫Wh-i-i-i-i-ch unfortunately puts me in quite a pickle.....As I can't very well have ya' running yer gums, now can I?♪" Those eyes stared luminously at the hulking figure, a small smile on his face. It was an odd situation, where an observer might not be able to tell who was the predator and who was the prey. Meanwhile, back at the edge of the town, the rest of his group waited☻, shuffling about in the cold as their captain cavorted about in this frigid garden of death. As if on cue, a freezing wind cut through the air, ruffling their clothing and whipping through the icy buildings, kicking up flurries between the two men as they stared one another down.
  14. For three days now, a dread had been slowly creeping upon Punk Hazard. On the dawn of the third day an absolute hush had enveloped on the island, the waters still, the air crisp and cold as a light snow was falling. It was an eerie stillness that only the lifeless could produce. Like a herald, it signaled the arrival of something terrible, something quick and wicked, a force majeure of sorts. Yet the atmosphere around the island while tense, was quiet and rather peaceful. The snow crunched beneath leather tread as a man's boots hit the ground, shortly then followed by another, then many more in rapid succession. They were quiet, yet efficient in their silence as they went about disembarking from the sleek craft anchored in the shallows. It wasn't very long before even they had paused to reflect on the sudden supernatural qualities of the setting. It had been snowing since they had arrived, yet none of their jackets were dusted. They saw the flakes and specks descending in their little whirls from a gray sky above, yet they never reached them. Then of course, was that terrible, oppressive presence☺ that made one shiver and their skin crawl that emanated in waves around the leading figure. It was still impressive, no matter how many times they saw it, that it was the work of just one man. But maybe man wasn't exactly the right word anymore, there were a lot of alternative theories floating around right now. Beast, Monster, Chaos Incarnate, The Devil Himself, Terrorist, Lunatic and many others were among the most frequently used by folks none too keen on yours truly over there. And right now the popular one had stopped moving, hooded head bowed. A jacketed left arm shot out, and bare fingers snapped as a man's lilting voice cracked "Music! How about we get some music to set the mood, eh? Yeaaaah let's get some tunes going...I'm feelin' festive." The words had been quietly spoken, but might as well have been gunshots, considering the silence, and a figure from behind had leaped into action. A moment later the first notes of a violin rang out, soft and mournful, hushed at first as if too shy to play with any volume. It was music more appropriate for a funeral, than anything festive. But the leader seemed satisfied, as he tottered to the left, then to the right; hands out languidly ahead and swaying from side to side with the music♪. The violin player began to sing, a woman's voice, soft and somber as she picked settled into the groove as the others hummed along. And the figure began to dance as the procession of about five or so continued onto the island, leaving the ship and remaining crew behind. All around them, not a single snowflake landed on them or the ground, and they could watch it drop and abruptly just fade away. Their mood was anxious, while one seemed utterly carefree, nay—obnoxiously upbeat. After a brief hike they had hit the outskirts of a very snow covered city, and after some protest, the leader continued on solo, leaving the group behind with a wave of the hand as he danced— yes, danced— away. Yet the music kept playing, picking up now, the figure's movements in time as he descended further into the icy ruins of this forgotten island. BY THE PRICKLING OF MY THUMBS SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES.
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