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      Vote for Valucre [June]   05/16/2017

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Robbie Rotten

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About Robbie Rotten

  • Rank
    Villain Number One
  • Birthday 04/20/1969

Profile Information

  • Gender
    attack helicopter
  • Location
    lazy town
  • Interests
    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_kUgAqTTtzU
  • Occupation
    MLG Noscoper

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  1. "Well, I guess everyone has something that they're scared of. For me, it's spiders! I used to sleep in the loft of our barn when the magestorms blew out one side of our house, and man, every night I would lay awake in there trying to figure out if that was hay brushing my leg or a big, hairy, eight-legged..... freak! Sometimes, it was! You ever been bit by a farmland yellow spotted recluse? It hurts, I tell ya! That'll leave you speckled and itching for weeks! Why, I--oh, uhh, sorry. You probably don't wanna hear all that much about how much I hate spiders, huh? I just get carried away talking about those stupid things, you know? Okay! Ice cream time!" Ivas promptly hopped up and looked around for the vendor Kalmuli had mentioned, although he failed to see it anywhere. She was right, though, he definitely smell ice cream..... he just couldn't see it. Weird. Well, it had to be around here somewhere! And it was his job to find it! The boy threw his sword up into the air and then caught it, his eyes flashing briefly at the apex of the toss as he got a bird's eye view of his surroundings for a moment. Reviewing the snapshot in his head, he quickly spotted the ice cream stand, but it was all the way back on the other side of the mirror house. Oh well..... a fairly short sojourn for his mistress of the night, Ivas thought. "Be right back!" In his preoccupation, he had forgotten all about John, and failed to see the man where he stood nearby either, having chosen to go back around the mirror house on the side opposite the one that John had chosen.
  2. "Might be nice, eh? Yeah, let's hope, I guess. Nice folk don't usually live apart from everyone else, but..... fingers crossed." Dryston was glad that Llewena had taken so well to the flying--if they took another trip together, he might take her higher or show her a few basic maneuvers. For a first flight, though, he needed to feel out the sensitivities of his passenger. Just like some people were thrill junkies who loved a rush of adrenaline, there were also others who just didn't take well to such things, no matter how they were presented. He'd had people puke on him or Nisyros in the past, and occasionally worse. Luckily, most traveling folk were hardier than that, and ended up being closer to Llewena, taking it more or less in stride. Flying was one of the things Dryston truly loved in life, so he enjoyed simply sharing the experience with other people where he could. When they got into the quiet little clearing, Dryston straightened up a bit from his initial combat-ready pose and adjusted his helmet, looking around with slight confusion. "Huh. Don't look like anywhere a witch would live, but, I guess I ain't met that many witches. Let's see if anyone's home, I s'pose. Have that bow ready--we get into trouble, try to stay behind me or Nizzy, and be ready to fly out if we have to." The homes seemed arranged in order of most to least well-kept and recently-built, with the one on the left side of the arc not looking much different from any standard farmhouse around Dougton, while the one on the far right looked downright abandoned. Choosing the one on the far left, Dryston advanced cautiously to its front door and rose a gauntlet to knock, deciding to hold his lance vertically by his side so as not to present an unnecessarily threatening first impression. The knock turned out to be unnecessary, though, as a voice cut him off before he could go through with it. "Hello, dearies. That's not what you're looking for. You don't want to go in there," an old woman's voice said from the other end of the clearing. The crone sat outside the rightmost cabin in a simple wooden chair, looking at Dryston and Llewena with the slight hint of amusement. Dryston was completely sure that she hadn't been there before, and he thought immediately of how Llewena had described coming out of the tavern to see all of Dougton simply gone for a few moments. Unsure of how to respond, he turned to face the old woman (witch?) and opened his mouth, then just awkwardly closed it, utterly failing to come up with anything to say to the strange greeting. "Uhh, where do we want to go then?" he finally asked. "That depends on what you seek, dearie. What brings you to Witchmist Grove today? I hope those silly townfolk haven't paid another pair of bounty hunters to come and drive us away. I sent the last party's spleens sewn together back to them..... surely that sent enough of a message? Perhaps I'll use the livers this time....." "Nono no no nonono!! Nothing like that! No bounties, no hunting, no..... spleen-stitching!" Dryston insisted, lowering his spear in alarm, at which Nisyros also bared her teeth slightly. Unperturbed by this response, the old woman simply smiled. "Good, good. I really don't have as much stomach for such things as I once did, so I'm glad to hear it. If you aren't here to fight, then you must have come to bargain, yes? Come into Mother Anise's cabin, and we'll talk about what it is that you need. What are your names, young ones?" she asked. Dryston looked nervously at Llewena. Could they trust this person--this witch? "Err, we can't talk out here?" "Well, we could, but the others would hear us. Depending on what it is that you seek, that..... may not be wise. Come now, you've nothing to fear from me. If we old folk were truly evil, the Gaianists would have long ago come to purge this place. There's a reason why it is only a few superstitious fools who seek to oust us from our home, not any of the true powers that be." Seemed fair enough to him, but he'd wait for Llewena's input before acting decisively.
  3. "Aw, crap! Why do they always gotta be tough guys!" Instead of dodging James's advance or the table smash that followed, Varina just turned her bottle up for another pull, apparently considering the maintenance of her blood alcohol content to be more important to her self preservation than actually avoiding damage. The large wooden circle broke upon her back as she crouched down just before impact, flattening her onto the ground in a rain of splinters as the two split halves fell off on either side of her. The cursed girl laid on her stomach with her face to the floor for a moment, still clutching her two "weapons" stubbornly and groaning in pain. While a natural human of her size would probably suffer at least a few broken bones from this, if not worse, Varina pushed herself back up and returned to her unsteady feet as if it weren't any worse than a hard clap on the shoulder. "Alright, alright!" She held her arms up in front of her in something vaguely resembling a fighting stance. "If that's how it's gonna be! Here I come!" she exclaimed, stabbing her dagger towards the open space between the two sleeves of his jacket while holding her bottle in close to her own torso.
  4. ooc

    no problem m9
  5. "Hmm!! A fight, huh! Yeah, I can--wait, a fight? Fuck it, I warned ya!" Varina stepped forward and hooked her knife arm through the back frame of a chair, swinging it up and over her shoulder in a windmill motion to send it flying toward James. "Grraaahhh!! Take that! You can give up any time, ya hear! Maybe I'll even share some booze--ha, kidding, no I won't!" she said, chuckling at her own silly taunt as she took another drink from her bottle. The girl's behavior made it clear that she expected the chair toss to settle the affair immediately, as though James would either be so injured by the projectile, or more likely so intimidated by it, that he would immediately acquiesce to her demands. Varina was also engaged in multi-layered psychological warfare against her mark; actually she totally would share her booze with this guy, because he was kind of hot, but by pretending that she wouldn't, she could totally demoralize him and make him feel bad! No way he'd still want to fight after that. Right?
  6. yep
  7. It is..... not so simple. I feel emotions, but do not touch thoughts, other than those granted to me. Those who attempt deception often reveal their true intentions through those feelings, but not always, Nieve explained. Still, I must try. We must have harmony in this place, a single opposition to darkness--or else it will surely divide us. "Actually, uhh, not really," Martin replied to Kreig's statement that they had better things to be doing. "What higher calling could there be than to claim custody over an artifact of great evil and corruption? It is our duty to ward the world against the pestilence that it might sow, were it to be abused," Nieve said, walking calmly up to Kreig. "And someone has used the gauntlet, my child," she said to Selandra. "I imagine that we will meet them in the flesh once we go inside." The priestess returned her attention to the new party, holding a hand out with palm upturned with the clear expectation that he would take it. "We can proceed into the heart of darkness once you accept the gift of the gods, wolf of Ardese. If you must accompany us, then you must be one with our purpose. Joining the bond that we hold will help to guard your soul against the foul influence which emanates out from this place," Nieve explained. "Yeah, out here, it ain't too bad, but there's no telling once we go inside that temple. Just getting close to the door, I can feel it, like passing your hand over a flame, y'know?" Martin remarked. "This used to be consecrated ground, right? I bet that's still acting as a bit of a barrier to the artifact's influence, but once we go inside the walls, we'll be inside of the bubble ourselves." Nieve nodded in agreement. "I believe you are, what the Gaianists of this world might call, an 'Unnatural.' I know not why one of your kind came to rest outside one of their holy temples, as in my observation, though it is limited, they deem you unholy and seek to 'cleanse' you from this planet. Regardless, I assure you that I would love for nothing more than that you were able to return to that slumber. Therefore, we are of one purpose, if you speak with integrity." Once Kreig took Nieve's hand, her ritual markings would spread onto his forearms as they had to the others, shining briefly under his fur before fading from view. The immediate effects would not be powerful or obvious, although he would be vaguely aware of the others in the spiritual network, just as they were aware of him. All were at rest now, relatively speaking, but what one felt, the others could sense, and even tap into if the emotion was powerful enough. The pain of one person would be felt, to a degree, by all--but also the confidence, strength, and defiance that would be necessary for the task ahead. At the center of it, regulating the flow of these emotions, was Nieve herself, an impervious bulwark who stood out like a beacon on a hill within the various connections, all of which flowed to and then from her. It the priestess's central influence that lent the bonds their true power, as through them she could propagate positive memes while purging negative ones, as well as empower her allies with memes that took effect in the physical world to enhance their capabilities. When Kreig was endowed with the blessing, they would be ready to step inside, and if no one else did so in her stead, Nieve would be the first. Following closely behind her, Martin produced a large glowstick from out of nowhere and cracked it on, providing a neon-green glow to contrast with the soft white light emanating from the energy sphere floating above one of Nieve's hands. Inside it was pitch black, with their lights not penetrating nearly as far as they should, and the constant skittering and flitting of tangible shadows just outside the range of those lights. Nieve was reminded immediately of places afflicted by the Illuminati back in Dougton. Was this, perhaps, where the corrupting presence that infested Dougton had originated from? Was this gauntlet the key point of entry which they had used to follow her into this world? It was a disturbing thought, so much so that even the normally unflappable priestess shuddered at the sudden realization that she may be now within the very epicenter of her ancient enemy's power within this plane, a sensation that would ripple ominously throughout all the others in the link. Think nothing of it. Though the darkness touches me, faith redoubles in its wake, Nieve assured her allies, not wanting them to lose heart at the realization that even she was not truly immune to fear.
  8. not on valucre it doesnt you think this hydra makes any sense biologically lol
  9. Robbie Rotten Prestississimo VulcanTheDrunken MrMaturity SweetDreamur EpicRome23
  10. i believe everyone is present in this scene that was my intention at least
  11. the quest hook is that morrin's paper airplane gets blown off course and lands somewhere random, and now random bodies of water in the city suddenly turn angry as the artifact changes hands and moves around
  12. The Steamchildren led them onwards, bickering and bantering with Dryston not far behind, who alternated between throwing insults of his own or turning to whisper comments to his companions behind him, in a voice that clearly said "okay I'm whispering but I know you're only a few feet away and you can still hear me but that's kind of the point since it contributes to the passive aggressive style of mockery." The new appearance turned out to be a friendly (thank goodness, though not entirely unsurprising, few things that lived this deep naturally were human anymore) and another female at that, albeit Dryston immediately sized her up as a bit uptight for his tastes. The fact that all of them--he and the others with him, Ujimar, and Shiel--were all ultimately working for the same employer, the Radiant Dawn, may or may not have been established at some point, but it was secondary to the fact that they all had the same goal and were on the same team, at least for the time being. Dryston was looking forward to getting this job done, getting his cure, and then possibly chatting up some of the ladies in this group. They were mostly a rough lot, but those could still be fun, if you played your cards right. The mercenary observed how once again he had somehow managed to end up in a group that was mostly female, wondering whether the curse of vampirism was a karmic balance to this strange blessing he seemed to have. That hinged on not being undead anymore, though, so he had to keep his sights set on the prize. Fortunately, the prize was coming up fast. They rounded a corner and just like that, there it was..... the griffin cawed a threat at them from the other side of the passageway it guarded, a tunnel that ran the approximate length and width of a football field with a ceiling high overhead. The corner they had just turned, turned out to be a sort of gateway into this massively expanded space. Behind the griffin Dryston could see another set of double-doors shut tight, likely the way forward to the chalice. But to get there, they'd have to go through it, as it stood not more than five feet in front of those doors, clawing the ground and glaring suspiciously at the strangers who intruded upon its territory. If they were to go forward into the huge field-tunnel very far, it would charge and attack, and there were no other ways in or out besides the two sets of doors on either end. Just solid steel, old, but strong. It was likely someone had built this section specifically like an arena; Dryston realized the design was indeed deliberate, as it gave the massive monster plenty of room to maneuver and even take advantage of its ability to fly. There was no cover or other irregular terrain that could be used to defend against it. They'd have to work together to stand a chance. "Well, I believe that's our task done, my friends. I wish you luck in your battle against this beast." "Not going to help out?" Dryston asked their guide. "Nah. The deal was just we show you here--your job to beat the damn thing. We won't risk our lives needlessly," the younger brother responded. "Fair enough." The two children turned and walked back through the doors, and it looked like they were seriously going to leave, although Dryston wagered they'd be waiting just on the other side observing the fight. They'd never get a chance to do that, though, as a huge axe-blade appeared from around the same corner they'd turned a few moments ago, lopping off the head of the red-headed Steamchild just as he stepped through the door. The blue-haired sibling locked up completely, staring in silence as his brother's decapitated body gurgled blood for a moment before falling over. The thing that stepped over it was nearly as tall as the griffin, so much so that she had to stoop to get through the doors. Dryston's eyes widened and his nose twitched as he immediately sensed her blood..... a fellow vampire, and not a friendly one by the look of her. One side of the massive woman's face was blotchy and hollow, like it had been burned off with acid and only just recently begun to heal. Combined with her snarling demeanor, this created a rather terrifying effect, although going by the side of her that was more intact, she probably would've been pretty if she wasn't so big and undead and angry and horrifying. Catherine smashed her fist against the blue-haired boy's skull, caving it in and killing him instantly. He hadn't done more than twitch during the brief time period between his brother's death and his own. The vampiress leaned down and picked up the first Steamchild's corpse in one massive hand, putting the stump of its neck to her mouth and sucking greedily on it, like a child on a lollipop. Dryston felt his stomach churn as the body visibly deflated, and the woman's burnt face in turn began to fill out and clear up, every pump of her throat furthering the effect. "Oh boy. You're not gonna be friendly, are ya? Third time's not the charm today....." At the same time, he heard a deafening screech from behind him and across the field. Spurred on by the display of violence, the griffin spread its wings and soared forward, hemming the group in at both sides with a monster bearing down on them from each.
  13. mild powers isn't really strictly enforced in pure collaborative story based threads i.e. 99% of the site if you're not stepping on other people's toes then you're generally good
  14. @Prestississimo gonna skip ahead a bit if that's okay m8
  15. "What? My guards? Oh right! Yes, m-my guards! Stay right there, or I'll yell for them! Now, just lemme..... get the door, for ya....." Varina shuffled through the room, creating a bit of an awkward pause as she bumped into tables and knocked over chairs, taking out a bottle of liquor from her cloak and swigging it on the way across the space. "Okay, you can hang out and dry off....." When she finally reached the front door, she turned its latch and deadbolt into place rather than opening it, then spun around while brandishing her dagger dramatically, "wielding" the alcohol in her other. Well, in her head it probably looked dramatically. In reality her bleary eyes, raggedy curtain hair, and overall tattered appearance made her look more like a crazy hobo than a deadly prize fighter. A surprisingly cute and healthy looking hobo, if one could get past her poor personal grooming habits, but a bit of a loon nonetheless. Certainly not anyone would think likely to actually own an establishment like this, or have guards working for her. ".....But it'll cost ya whatever coin you got on ya! That's right, come on, fork it up! Just uhh, throw your valuables on the table with that sword. I'll take that too! And--don't do anything funny! Or I'll call my guards!" While she did not actually have any personal guards, Varina did have a personal companion who chose to make himself known in this moment, completely ruining the mood by meowing needfully and slinking down the stairs in search of his human. Her black cat, Tomato, walked over to the bar and hopped over to it, beginning to rummage through the various bottles and other items underneath it in search of something tasty.