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Better Than Gore

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About Better Than Gore

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  • Birthday 07/05/1992

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    Arizona, USA.

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  1. Of course. Something just had to go wrong right as his day was about to take a turn for the better. Such is life. Using his peripheral vision to identify what exactly Mythandriel’s shouting had been about, much to his surprise, there was actually reasonable cause to be worried. His rear foot pivoted mid-stride and forced him to double back toward the distressed Elf. His pace immediately hastened into that of a sprint, closing what distance laid between them in mere seconds, only to hurdle over the fence. Stopping just feet away from what appeared to be fire--green fire, the warmth licked at his flesh and threatened to engulf his attire. Casting a quick glance at Mythandriel, he pushed forward, accepting his fate and whatever awaited him on the other side. If he had been set alight by the ominous flames he didn’t feel it. There she lay, unconscious and surrounded by a pillar of fire. Mythandriel’s shouting was smothered by the roar of the flames. Kneeling down, he would inspect the woman to determine whether or not she was still alive, it only took a second or two to realize she was still breathing. “She’s alive!” His shouting was probably no use, it would never reach Mythandriel or Dale’s ears. Taking a moment to judge the situation, the only way out was the way he came in and Ioreth would have to be carried. “Alright, let’s get you out of here.” With that being said, he sought to scoop her up, from there he would lift and simply walk out with her… Silence. “Wake up! Zanzarog, wake up!” With a nudge, the Half-Orc was startled awake, sitting up abruptly just to glare at whoever had disturbed him. “What is so damn impo---” A horn could be heard off in the distance, echoing throughout the village, followed by the sound of panicked villagers. “An attack?” Immediately he jumped out of bed, nearly shoving his unwelcome guest to the ground, he barely had enough time to get dressed before the sound of panic turned into screaming. “I must warn the neighboring towns, evacuate immediately, gather as many women and children as possible!” With that, he exited his tent and bared witness to complete and utter chaos. Creatures mauled and slaughtered innocents, they set fire to anything and everything in their path. Within mere minutes their beloved village had been consumed by unspeakable horrors. Mounting his horse, he exchanged one last look with his comrade and he was off. Galloping through the remnants of his home, fending off creatures that had managed to cling onto his steed. Thud. An object had struck him from afar, dismounting him and sent him hurtling toward the ground. The last thing he heard was cackling and his horse neighing. Darkness. Shaking the thought from his head, they would emerge from the flames. @KittyvonCupcake @Witches Brew
  2. “Please tell me you do.” He didn’t even bother questioning why she had been carrying such an odd thing around, to begin with. Tea, perhaps? Other than this particular scenario, that was the only practical use for them to his knowledge. Elves were weird. Even if she didn’t, he would find something for them to eat, no matter the cost. His gaze would fall onto Mythandriel, intently staring until she answered her cousin, every passing second felt like an eternity. He was that excited. Like was an understatement; he loved them and no matter how long he reminisced, why he felt such a strong attachment to the creatures failed to come about. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Thimmick. Once I know my own name, I will certainly have to properly introduce myself.” He welcomed Dale’s friendly gesture with his corresponding hand, firmly gripping it only to shake and release, emphasis on firm. He still didn’t know his own strength or what he was capable of, for that matter. His Orcish traits were very prominent, his strength was easily double that of a peak performing human. “I’ve come to understand that you house only the finest horses here, is that right?” He was merely conversing with the man, buttering him up, to say the least, he’d come to realize that most people were keen to interact if treated with respect and even more so if their egos were boosted. Elk? He had heard it before; but couldn’t recall the circumstance, although he only took a moment to scour what memories he did have left. Which didn’t amount to anything, especially when his bath was the only pastime available. “You mean people keep things that aren’t horses?” Silly elves. That thought came and went as soon as his gaze fell upon exactly what they had come to see in the first place. It took every fiber of his being to not leap the fence and approach the creature. His fists clenched repeatedly and his breathing intensified. “Beautiful.” Was all he could muster. Warhorse? Why it was so timid wasn’t so much of a mystery now. That was something he could get behind though. “I can’t recall. Slow and steady wins the race. Let’s start with feeding them.” Like a kid in a candy store. “Take me to the horse with the biggest sweet tooth, kind sir!” Which probably amounted to all of them. There was yet a creature he had encountered that he couldn’t charm, Ioreth not included. Had he of originally approached her with sugar cubes it may have been an entirely different story altogether! @KittyvonCupcake @Witches Brew
  3. Ioreth’s response was highly anticipated; he knew she would have been capable of understanding his guttural dialect and even speaking it herself, whereas, it took him by surprise, he showed no regret in what he said. Ioreth seemed much more knowledgeable than her cousin, she had ventured far and wide, seen many faces, Ioreth probably knew of languages he himself didn’t even know existed. “Fair enough,” She was clever. Far too clever to fall for his charm, which was almost non-existent, his race relied on violence to attract the opposite sex. There was no need to be intelligent or even attractive, Ioreth and Mythandriel were in the presence of an Orc that forgot a majority of his culture, thankfully. He seemed to be both of those things; however, that could have been thanks to his halfblood. Mythandriel’s attempt at mimicking them went just as well as if he had tried his hand at their own. Surprisingly enough, he didn’t mock her for trying, as funny as it was. “I’ll teach you if you’re ever interested.” He, of course, was referring to Orcish, but that was probably obvious. Mythandriel agreeing to travel with them made him smile, the more the merrier! Of course, his intentions were much greater than that, but said intentions would likely have to be sidelined for the time being, regaining his memory was a priority and Ioreth was kind enough to assist him with that, despite his sad attempt at coming onto her. “Good question,” He responded to Ioreth’s inquiry, he wished he could actually recall what drew him to the animal but it was lost with the rest of his memory. “I have a feeling they played great importance in my life, other than that, I just find them absolutely beautiful. I’d really like to pet one and maybe even feed it.” Subtle. But if the opportunity presented itself, he would take full advantage of just that. No horse unpetted, no horse unfed. No horse was safe. @KittyvonCupcake @Witches Brew
  4. He had heard that dialect before; however, he couldn’t recall when or where for that matter, or even what language they were speaking. They seemed to only speak it whenever the subject was sensitive, in this case, it was probably regarding just how revealing his trousers were. He had nothing to be embarrassed about, the grin on his face made that evident. There were children running amuck though, so perhaps concealment was his best course of action. But they had split in the time it took him to bathe. “You don’t have to spare me,” He, of course, was referring to their native tongue. “Although it does make me wonder what else you can do with your tongues.” He too apparently spoke a different language; whereas, it didn’t sound nearly as elegant as their own, a language nonetheless. It was Orcish. He apparently felt much better after his bath. First, he was talking to cows and now he was shamelessly flirting with the woman that rescued him and her cousin for that matter. A hearty chuckle managed to follow his cheesy pickup line, but they couldn’t have possibly understood him, or did they? Ioreth spoke more about helping him regain his memory but all of that went out the window when she mentioned speaking to a man about a horse. Instantly his eyes lit up and his grin immensely grew in size. “You had me at horse,” Another chuckle followed and then a firm nod. “Aye, I’ll accompany you Ioreth. Will you be joining us gorge---Mythandriel?” There he goes again. Something told him she had more important things to attend to, but the hope of her tagging along outweighed said tasks. @KittyvonCupcake @Witches Brew
  5. "Lovely." A heavy sigh complimented his sarcastic tone. One didn't have to necessarily have a memory to understand that a first impression was important, and here he was... ripe. That word didn't quite do his current aroma justice, the sheer fact that Ioreth and Mythandriel were in close proximity was surprising, at least they fortunate enough not to be downwind. He carried himself differently now that he was in the presence of others. Which was difficult, as there were so many new things he wished to interact with, especially the horse. It could have probably held a better conversation than the cow. Ioreth was kind enough to oblige his request, deviating from their path wouldn't have been the nicest thing to do, so he resisted the urge. But damn was it hard. Then there were little creatures surrounding Ioreth; of course, he knew they were children, but he could hardly recall ever seeing one previously. “She’s obsessed with the one about the talking horse.” He knew it. Cows suck, horses are where the good conversations are at. "He's smelly," That was a fact, but that didn't keep him from sticking his tongue out at the little girl in response. Children were brave, that's for sure. Or at least this particular one was. All this talk of horses intrigued him, it certainly made him regret not approaching the one they saw earlier. “Many blessings. God smiles upon you and all that.” "Thank you," And with that, he b-lined straight for the bathing quarters, clothes in hand, and he made sure not to get them anywhere near his current attire. It took some time but after a while, he emerged a new man. The clothing they provided him with must've been tailored to fit a human's frame, it fit, but it quite tight. The shirt barely confined the sheer mass that was the Orc, his gray skin exposed and rippled with muscle that was aesthetically pleasing to the eyes. We won't even go into detail about the pants... they didn't leave anything to the imagination and we'll leave it at that. His raven black hair was loosely tied up into a topknot. "Now what?" He smiled. @Witches Brew @KittyvonCupcake
  6. “Guess it’s a good thing I don’t kiss and tell, eh?” He winked. Ioreth spoke of Coth and those who inhabited it; an occasional "I see," was slipped in as her explanation continued, it wasn’t until they ventured into the town itself that he started noticing the small details. “I hope so. Not knowing your own name is rather disappointing.” He added. He was used to people staring; most went their entire lives without crossing paths with an Orc, let alone a half breed, he was truly a sight to behold. “Hm?” A woman approached, Ioreth must have been expecting her, or maybe people who lived here were just that friendly. “They’re called cows, apparently. Don’t trust them, they’re scandalous creatures.” Then she introduced herself and asked him for his name. “Good question. I’ll tell you as soon as I know.” He laughed. “Before we come across any more gorgeous women, can I please change my clothes, bathe perhaps?” @KittyvonCupcake @Witches Brew
  7. "Not at all." He frowned. If he couldn't remember his own name, what made her think he knew anything about his surroundings, granted, Ioreth was just trying to help and he took notice of it. Not often did a truly thoughtful person surface; if that was her intent. Taking a moment to consider her proposal, he inevitably nodded in agreement and chimed in. "Deal." It was the least he could do, Ioreth did save him from having a pointless conversation with a creature she referred to as a cow. Not to mention his current attire was absolutely disgusting, covered in vomit, blood, and even mud. If there were more people like her in this so-called Coth, first impressions certainly mattered. "You're funny, I like you." He chuckled once more, slowing his pace so that they could exchange whatever it was Ioreth was carrying. Once in his possession, he would let it sway along his side. "Do me a favor, keep my conversation with the cow between us, aye?" His gaze found the ground, obviously embarrassed. @KittyvonCupcake
  8. "That would explain a lot!" A hearty chuckle followed. "Allow me to introduce myself, my name is..." He paused. "Moo?" --- "Patience is a virtue." --- "Moo!" --- "I apologize, somehow my name has escaped me." Apparently, that little bump had done a tad bit more damage than originally suspected, granted, it had mostly been disregarded save for the seemingly never subsiding pain. His gaze sought Ioreth and gave her a once over. "I guess you could say that." Finally acknowledging her question; he then excused himself from his newfound bovine comrade with a wave and began walking further down the path, assuming Ioreth would follow out of genuine curiosity/concern. "Where exactly are we?" Her answer would likely do him no good, but it was worth a shot. @KittyvonCupcake
  9. “W-where am I?” Waking up with no recollection of the events that occurred prior may have been a nightly ritual for some--which normally resulted in waking up in a stranger’s bed and not a forest, a throbbing headache much like the one he had was also pretty standard, but typically the pain was tolerable. Unfortunately for him, this wasn’t caused by an alcohol-induced coma, instead, the pain stemmed from a large knot on the crown of his head. Which stung when touched, but that didn't discourage him from inspecting it, inhaling sharply as his hand sought the tenderness. Then his attention was drawn to what appeared to be a pool of vomit just adjacent to his position, it also stained his attire, albeit mostly dried. Upon closer inspection a fair amount of blood had also clung to the fabric, unbeknownst to him, it was also caked onto a majority of his facial structure, more specifically under his nose. Signs of a severe concussion, although, that thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Confused, lost, injured and judging by the sounds bellowing from his stomach, hungry, he mustered enough strength to pick himself up off the ground and began trekking through the seemingly endless foliage. He was a massive man, the epitome of a barbarian at least in silhouette, with an ashened complexion. He stood at an impressive height of 6’6” and his frame bolstered a whopping 254lb, built athletically and aesthetically pleasing. His hair was shoulder length and just as black as the night sky, as were his eyes, which stared almost unblinkingly at his surroundings. His grayish pigmentation, sloping forehead, jutting jaw, prominent teeth, and towering build made his orcish heritage plain to see. His clothes also depicted his role amongst society--tattered, torn, plain and now stained with more than one bodily fluid, it was quite obvious that he hadn’t served much of a purpose wherever he hailed from. Despite his predicament he seemed to be absolutely fascinated by everything he came across, studying each fine detail of the environment up to the last blade of grass and pinecone as if it had been the first time encountering them. Or maybe he just really appreciated nature, either was up for debate. Before too long he made his way through a clearing and onto what appeared to be a trail of sorts, judging by how unsettled the soil was, it was a frequented segment of the woods. Following said path was an obvious decision and was quite rewarding once a structure came into view, civilization meant food and shelter, which certainly restored a bit of faith, however, what he stumbled upon next was far too interesting to pass up. “Greetings fellow traveler!” --- “Moo?” --- “Are there people up there?” --- “Mooooo!” --- “Uh, uhm, right. Thanks!”
  10. Ryker practically made a b-line straight for his office; hardly giving anyone the time of day, save for a casual nod of acknowledgment. His staff knew when he wasn’t in the greatest of moods, typically they kept their distance, most of them stayed away regardless. Only those close to him were comfortable enough to approach him or even exchange glances when his night was going particularly bad. This was one of those times. Upon entering his office the door was promptly slammed behind him, which likely went unnoticed due to the sheer volume of music within the establishment. Making his way over to his desk, a remote was snatched up and his own music began to play, drowning out the noise. Tossing it aside once he took a seat, he immediately went to work on the rather large pile of sheen, scraping a decent amount closer with a nearby razorblade, only to chop at it desperately and sort it into multiple thin lines. “You’re a fool.” In one swift motion, a line was consumed--his snorting utensil would be repeatedly tapped atop the desk until it was positioned in the opposite nostril, railing another and sighing with relief. “Like that’s going to make it all go away. Can’t reverse time, you dumb motherfucker.” In fact, it would do the exact opposite, his mind raced and his imagination ran wild. Replaying the situation over and over again until he stood up to pace. Speaking incoherently to himself as he walked back and forth behind his desk. Occasionally shaking his head and swinging at nothing in particular. “How can I make the best of this situation?” Trick question. Surely there was something he could do, maybe apologize? Explain himself further? Ryker laid everything out on the table already, going into further detail would probably just make her think even less of him. “God damn it.” Finishing off his last line, his razorblade would be put to use once more, scraping an even larger pile toward himself, chopping and adjusting it accordingly. @Sigil Warden
  11. Laughter? That certainly wasn't the reaction he had hoped for, or expected for that matter, needless to say, the Crime Boss was not pleased. His eyebrow fell flat and a blank emotionless stare greeted her response. "I see." Women, especially those who worked for him practically threw themselves at him on a day to day basis, any woman in their position likely would have. Ryker promised financial security and even protection. Nobody in Blairville dared cross him, hell, nobody in all of Terrenus dared. Unity was different and that was exactly why he had been attracted to her in the first place. Now what? Ryker saw this situation ending up in his favor and it went the exact opposite. There was likely nothing he could say in order to change her decision. Embarrassment wasn't a familiar feeling, Ryker exuded confidence and practically wiped his ass with hundred dollar bills, yet there he was, flabbergasted as a red blush found his pale features. His hairs at the nape of his neck stood on end as that embarrassment quickly took a turn for the worst. Anger overwhelmed him as his jaw clenched tightly, as did his fists, knuckles popped and cracked sickeningly. Giving her a firm nod, he quickly turned himself around and began to exit the room. "Feel free to stop by my office if you have any questions, enjoy the rest of your night." Escaped him just as he rounded the corner. "Everything o---" --- "Clean this shit up.. now." --- "Right away, Boss." Once out of clear sight of both Unity and his other employees, Ryker gazed down at his hands, the Parasite had begun to unravel itself. Ribboning his fists in a blackened carapace, only to retreat upon controlling his emotions. "Easy girl.. not tonight.." @Sigil Warden
  12. Ryker’s vision had adapted and became quite adequate in dim lighting throughout his time working for and managing his own establishment; granted, it wasn’t superhuman in any way shape or form, so tracking Unity’s abrupt maneuver bordered impossible. If it hadn’t been for the paint, he may not have caught her performance whatsoever, let alone able to pinpoint where she had intended on landing. Had the situation been a little less heated, he may have given her a round of applause, instead, an eyebrow raise sufficed. Which disappeared just as quickly as it had surfaced--Ryker’s attention was drawn back to the customer, who would soon be removed from his chair and thrown through the door by his tee shirt. Dusting off his hands as if he had just taken out the garbage, Unity questioned his actions. “Do you want the truth, or do you want me to lie?” Rhetorical question. Ryker wouldn’t even give her a moment to consider answering before he began to explain himself. Turning around to face the confused and likely angry reddened gaze from across the room. “Trust me when I say this, Unity. I’m normally not the jealous type and I apologize that this is the way you had to find out, but ever since you left your interview I can’t keep my mind off of you. I don’t know what it is, or what you did, but your face, voice, fuck even your smile is permanently burned into my thoughts.” There it was--whatever it was, whether he had just confessed his infatuation with the dancer or simply a crush, it was there in the open. What she would do with his confession was still up in the air. “If I have made you uncomfortable and unwilling to continue working for me, I understand. I will pay you your earnings from the rest of the week and we can part our separate ways.” Was thrown in; as far as Unity could tell, he was being sincere, despite his rash behavior and very apparent elevated mindstate. @Sigil Warden
  13. "Why?" Gorgeous women surrounded Ryker on a daily basis; not once had he grown any sort of attachment to them, let alone experienced jealousy over something as simple as one of them doing what they were paid to do, especially one that he had met once before. This was a whole new experience for him, to say the very least. All of these thoughts were cycling in the man's head as he paced back and forth in front of his desk, trying to find some sort of conclusion as to why they clouded his judgment in the first place. When nothing came to mind he resulted to the only coping mechanism that he knew... violence. Ryker was very familiar with that, after all, one didn’t climb their way through the ranks without it, violence was a key ingredient to success in his line of work. Hitting the slopes once more, Ryker exited his office and made his way through the club, shoving dancers and patrons alike out of the way. It was showtime. A goon was stationed just outside the entryway to the private rooms, whom of which took immediate notice to his oncoming and fuming boss. Part of him wanted to try and stop Ryker from entering, but that Devil on his shoulder whispered thoughts of encouraging his bosses short temper. He had to make a decision and fast, Ryker was almost there. Positioning himself in front of the entrance, a hand rose to greet his boss but slowly fell back down to his side. “Just don’t kill the guy, boss. We don’t need any more unnecessary attention.” --- “Move.” With that, the large bouncer side-stepped out of the way and permitted Ryker entry. One by one he would begin kicking in the doors to the private booths, each boot was followed by the sound of a struggle and a scream from the dancer inside. Each was taken by surprise, as the music within each room was just loud enough to mask the absolute chaos inhabiting the rooms prior. Making his way through the booths he would inevitably come across the one he had been searching for, with a swift kick access was granted, and there she was. “Give the girl your money and get the fuck out.” @Sigil Warden
  14. As Unity’s performance began, those seated around the stage began throwing and stacking money in and around the platform, the currency ranged from papered bills to that of alien and foreign coinage. Those stacking soon realized that their entertainer wasn’t as touchy-feely as those who graced the stage previously, they resulted in shoving it forward while simultaneously forking over more, cheering with excitement as her act intensified. A competition for Unity’s attention soon unfolded amongst the spectators; bribing her with more and more money in exchange for her affection. Once her dance concluded, a couple of them rushed and fought their way to where she would exit, cash in hand, hoping to steal her away for a more private endeavor. “Unity! How much for a dan---fuck off, I was here first!” It appeared her first recital was a big hit. Fatal Seduction’s patrons weren’t the only ones that thoroughly enjoyed Unity’s stage show--Ryker too took notice, certainly not in a way a member of management should have. Hypnotized by her erotic sway, a familiar bulge became very apparent down the leg of his trousers, leaning toward the bar as he intently studied her. “You need me to take care of that for you, boss?” A giggle escaped the bartender as she took notice of his arousal. “That won’t be necessary.” --- ”Awh.” She whined with disappointment. Ryker’s longing facial expression quickly twisted into one of jealousy as several men approached Unity with handfuls of cash. Pushing off of the bar, he’d pour himself another shot and down it before retreating to his office. Something told him he would need to hit the slopes once more before his interruption could commence. @Sigil Warden
  15. Knock, knock, knock. "Boss, she's here." --- "Ah, right on time." Ryker chimed in, right before railing another line. What's one more for the road, right? Taking a moment to collect himself, he tapped his desk and promptly exited his office, closing the door behind him. Moving toward the bar, he took a position behind it, assisting the bartender with the line of customers before pouring himself a shot of top-shelf whiskey. Shooting it before his gaze scanned the Club's inhabitants, not stopping until it fell upon his newest employee. Flashing a tooth filled grin, his silver clad canines noticeably gleaming as the lights of the establishment graced his smile. Unity would be observed from the bar, like most of his newly hired dancers were. This wasn't a case of special treatment, despite what Unity thought had she have noticed his onlooking. "Who's the new girl, boss?" --- "Unity," --- "She's a looker, that's for sure." --- "You don't say." Both the bartender and Ryker shared a chuckle. Ryker's smile hadn't gone anywhere since his initial sighting of the woman. Once Unity had reached the DJ, he lethargically removed his headset from the closest ear so that he could hear her request. Nodding in acknowledgment he then motioned in the bars general direction, making her aware of the fact that she was being observed. "Pressure is on, sweetheart. Break a leg." And then took the vinyl she propositioned, removing the one currently playing and starting her own. "Making her way to the stage, give it up for Unity!" Was spoke into the microphone and the crowd of degenerate men and women all whistled and clapped in anticipation. @Sigil Warden
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