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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
  • Occupation
    MLG Noscoper

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  1. kay scrubs i was EXTREMELY drunk when i posted that second post for the white/red/sasha scene, the good news being that as i review it while (relatively) more sober, i see nothing objectionable in my post for it i'll probably respond again within 24 hours, in the meantime, i encourage whoever is up in the main post order to proceed normally *this has been a EXTREMELY DRUNK ROBBIE ROTTEN service announcement, thank you for your attention, you may now return to your regularly scheduled RP activities*
  2. With the layer of stone between them moved aside, the trainer above had relatively few concerns. The numbered entity underneath his tutelage--"Red," as it was termed--had no apparent awareness of the struggle that took place between he and the other figure present within this space. He dropped down through the gap between floors as it re-opened, staring pointedly at Sasha as he held Red's highly conductive leash in his hand. "It is no longer your concern. Why do you persist in pursuing its release?" White asked plainly, looking towards Red in time with his first statement. Indeed, the trainer seemed to consider her little more than an object....... one that was highly responsive to his input, and had all the features of a real person, but was ultimately still just a doll dancing upon his strings. This interloper, then, intrigued him far beyond even the existential questions posed by such interactions. Who was she? What did she hope to accomplish? Did she really think that she could snatch his playmate right out from underneath him? These were all questions that White considered as he looked upon the intruding girl.
  3. Red gasped in surprise as a familiar face appeared before her, having seemingly pulled her through one floor and down to another so as to separate her from her "trainer." "Oh! Sasha! There you are--why didn't join us in--ugghh!!" Red's trainer saw the floor magically open up beneath her. In that moment, he had enough time to spare for a single action. Everything stood still within his mind as he calculated various potentialities and the likely consequences of each. The only thing held in common between all of them was the motive of the actor who did this. It fell outside of the Slaver's Enclave paradigm, with almost absolute certainty. No one who wished to operate within the Slaver's Enclave would do such a thing. Even if they did, they were still breaking the implicit rules of the system with their actions, and therefore acted as an outsider to the system. Thus, White knew what he had to do. As Red began to fall down the hole that had opened beneath her feet, her trainer lashed out with one of his blue-coated arms, a shimmering wave of silver accompanying the motion. Red fell through Sasha's hole with a length of glittering silver cord wrapped tightly around her neck, running back up to the floor through which she had initially fallen, and refusing to yield no matter how hard the stone floor might constrict it. The length of cord did not strangle her, not immediately. However, when she attempted to speak, visible sparks of electrical energy danced across its surfaces, Red's body dancing in tune to the electrocution like a doll animated on strings. It went on for a few seconds before ceasing, allowing the red-haired woman to hang limp and bask in the afterglow of what she had just experienced. "Wow!!! I can't--I--Nothing that good since--" Red's words were once again interrupted by the steady flow of an electrical current through her body. While for most slaves, this was one of the most painful experiences possible, for her, it was the opposite. The expression on her face as the raw energy coursed through her veins would have been comical to anyone not directly invested in the happenings of this place, so powerful was its effect. The bliss imposed upon Red by this current of painful energy was so powerful that it rendered her entirely incapable of speech or action, leaving her to hang limp in the silver wire's grasp, at the absolute mercy of her trainer. As was, of course, the appropriate way of things. The white-haired man's voice echoed down to Sasha from above, the room that she and Red occupied suddenly bathed in a red glow, as if some red light source were filtering through between the layer of stone that separated Sasha's floor from the one on which Red had initially walked. "That does not belong to you, nor shall it. Open the way, or else witness its destruction," a voice said from above.
  4. you're good m8
  5. again, up to you, m8 if you wanna post, go right ahead i'll be posting for my own scene momentarily whether you wait on its resolution or not is purely up to you
  6. Its a separate scene, so it doesn't really matter
  7. Yep I will respond shortly as well since me and slank have a contained scene after his post
  8. can i like just post in a day or two if he doesn't ((i'm next after him))
  9. @Wavum you around m8? i'll wait til later tonight to hear from you then skip if not
  10. @Slank44 you around m9?
  11. The red-haired woman needed no prompting when it came time for the banquet. This was probably what she'd been most looking forward to throughout all of the festival's various festivities--the opportunity to stuff herself full of rich people food until she full to the point of bursting! More basic necessities such as money, shelter, and booze were usually too high on her list to bother with delicacies like these, so naturally she jumped at the rare chance to sample them for free. Of course, "sample" was perhaps the wrong word. The woman's idea of "sampling" this platter of roasted meat was to stuff most of it into herself at a rate that was clearly inhuman, practically inhaling the stuff then letting out a very non-ladylike belch of satisfaction. The man in line behind her looked utterly bewildered by this behavior, unsure whether to be attracted to her body or repulsed by her mannerisms. She just gave him her newly-acquired gleaming smile and moved on. That was the other part of this whole affair that drew her in, the opportunity to be looked at and truly admired, or even desired in many cases. Men had always desired her in a base fashion, the common ones who simply wanted something to stuff themselves into, much the same way that she was stuffing all of these foods in herself, regardless of what they were. Now, with this new look, things were different. She didn't only draw the stares of lecherous drunks while being ignored by anyone else--now every head turned at her passing, even with her hands messy from her rather bizarre eating habits. Her full figure, beautiful face and flowing attire were magnetic in the image that they created. Now even highborn men, men of honor and pride, could not help but spare her at least a passing glance. And she noticed. More than noticed; the woman basked in this newfound attention like a radiance bath of sunlight, feeling alright with the world, at least for this one single night. There was only one thing that could make it better, and she would soon start in on that: Alcohol!
  12. what if it evolved to run off nitrogen or something like that due to being native to a reduced oxygen environment (earth's air is only 20% oxygen or something like that)
  13. yeah cut it out normies this is for RP discussion xDD
  14. "Hmmm." This small one looked no more threatening than the last, at least in terms of physical constitution. Her manner was different though. Catherine did not sense a lack of fear, but rather, a degree of confidence that had been missing from the first man. Her adoption of the same terms as Catherine--no extraneous garments, no ridiculous "training weapon"--showed that clearly. Even if the small girl had little chance of success, a valorous spirit was always worthy of respect. A degree of respect, that was. True respect still had to be earned through deeds. "Defeat me, and I shall grant you the honor of my name." Catherine took slow, deliberate steps towards her foe, arms raised slightly with hands held out and fingers spread, ready to grab at first contact. Her opponent seemed to be dancing around her to a degree, but such evasiveness would only delay the inevitable. There were no cowardly ranged weapons in play here, no foul magicks with which she might assail Catherine from afar. The warrioress was patient, and she could afford to be. One way or another, they would clash at close range. She would continue to chase the woman for as long as need be, stance held steady, steps always slow, deliberate, and careful. The small woman would waste more energy running around in circles than Catherine would with her simple yet careful continuous approach.
  15. Renin's opponent had managed to maneuver him into a corner of the rooftop, leaving the elf with nowhere else to retreat except over the building's edge. He was about to consider doing just that when something tore through the man's clockwork arm, sending tiny gears and struts spilling out of it in lieu of blood. He shouted in shock and pain as the limb went limp, giving Renin the opening he needed--in an instant, he stepped forward and smashed his bow into the man's face, the sturdy heartwood allowing it to serve effectively as a bludgeon. He was not strong enough to cause serious harm with such a strike, but its purpose was merely to disorient his enemy, which it achieved as the man stumbled back for a moment. Stepping forward again to keep pace, Renin threw a leg out between those of his enemy while pushing him sideways, towards the edge of the roof. The man tripped and went tumbling over, screaming in terror all the way down to the ground far below, where he met his end. The High Scout looked over to Eva, knowing the bullet had come from her, and nodded his appreciation. By this point the last of the clockwork armor frames had been loaded onto the gunship, and the commandos were hopping neatly back into their places in the main hold. The aircraft tilted visibly at the added weight near her tail end, but its powerful engines were enough to handle the burden. Renin dashed back to the cockpit and took up the co-pilot's seat, waving for Eva to take off. "Great work, Koboldforge!" --- The flight back to the base camp had been something of a mini-celebration for the strike team. While they would have to wait until they were back on the ground to truly celebrate (as that was where the ale was), they were already boasting of their successes to each other, comparing killcounts and spinning tales of their exploits with which to wow the other dwarves upon their return. The operation had gone about as well as could be hoped for. Renin regretted the number of bodies they'd put on the ground, but this was war. He was nearly four centuries old. He knew war, and he knew its costs. It was the best outcome that he could hope for. The survivor faction would be left in total chaos and fear after the devastating blow that they'd been dealt. While Tazarek did not have control of the region, and Renin saw little utility in attempting to occupy it, they should now be able to pass through it unmolested by any organized opposition. When they were back on the ground, he placed a hand on Eva's shoulder and looked at her seriously for a moment. "Your performance was incredible, soldier. I'm going to speak to General Firestout about a promotion for you, but it'll take time to process. Feel free to join the rest for drinks if you'd like--you've earned it. I'm going to go check on Arc-Hammer," he said, beginning to ask around camp for the inventor's whereabouts.