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Could Be Worse. . .; Cataclysm Cocurrent Thread, Lord Jesus. . .
Topic Started: Sep 9 2013, 12:00 PM (1,000 Views)
Khepri
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[ *  *  * ]
Footprints often told a story, especially before they got washed away and ceased to be footprints. On the shore of Little Garden there was a wooden lifeboat, cracked, and broken. From the lifeboat were spiraling and funkily erratic footprints that looked in the realm of an instructional dance mat. These footprints lead to the fallen and bloodied green body that could’ve easily been confused for a corpse, or at least a dead corpse. The world was a rather strange place, and given the right conditions even a corpse could be living, so assumptions were important to not make.

Sadly, crabs were the sort to constantly make assumptions. When stuck in a bucket, crabs generally made it a point to think the worse, and drag those who would think otherwise down back into the hopeless abyss that was in fact a rather grim place, not suited for a humorous aside. Regardless, crabs made assumption and the simply unconscious corpse was in the midst of crabs making almost baseless assumptions. Carrion was carrion as crabs often thought, so why not attempt to rend off a green bit of meat? Such thinking led to a claw sniping at the corpse’s ear, which in effect led to the corpse awaking with a loud shrill cry that could only come from getting snipped in the ear by a crab or some other manner of clawed arthropod.

So needless to say, this particular corpse was Cosmo, and with that needlessly said bit of saying said, he stood up, crab still hanging from his ear. He looked up into a sun still in rise, squinting as was often done when looking up at the sun. It was early, far too early to get eaten by a damnable colony of vulture crabs. He grumbled under his breath, realizing that sleep among crabs was going to be impossible. There was wisdom in a lot of spoken words, and the wisdom that came with “crabs are just assholes” never rang more wise and true than it did when Cosmo was mad at them.

There had to be thousands upon thousands of islands between the seven seas, and somehow, Cosmo had ended up stranded on the one that didn’t have any semblance of civilisation; there were trees, standing water lousy with all sort pathogen, and most interesting of all were the dinosaurs, lots of dinosaurs. He stopped for a moment, once the realization of dinosaurs had set in. He looked back towards the the crabs, thinking that for a moment perhaps his luck would be better among them and their carrionous ways. However, Cosmo turned his back on the pile of hungry crabs, simply out of spite against them for waking him up. It had little do with the way in which they woke up, but simply with the fact that they woken him up in the first place.

The loud, outlandishly loud bellowing and generally bombastic roar of an incredibly large, carnivorous monster of some incomprehensible description was met with frustration from Cosmo rather than dread; the dinosaurs were probably the least of his worries. Cosmo had left with the Bistro will a full fondue pot worth of pure espresso, and in the minutes or hours or however long he had been on the island this supply had diminished. Rationing in a survival situation was a very difficult concept for the dead to grasp, and quite obviously, Cosmo (being dead) was no exception. The second of the greater worries than dinosaurs came in the form of a rumble underneath his heels. He had yet to grasp the gravity of tremors on a volcanic island, mostly because the shaky shaking that was inflicted on him had given him a nasty headache, which was on top of the throbbing from his current caffeine deficiency.

Out of dinosaurs and rumblings, what got Cosmo really worried was the fact that the day was still young. He had no way of getting off of the island, and ever since awaking he had realized a million different things that could possibly go wrong. He could feel it, deep down in the pit of his rotten, ulcerous gut: something cataclysmic was afoot.
Edited by Khepri, Sep 9 2013, 12:00 PM.
Leens & Khepri by Neon


Andrei Myshkin • Holy Paladin • Thief/Entertainer • Underdogs • Rank: Ensign • SD Earned: 285 • Beli: Some number • Location: Khepri

Xanthippe • Sheepherder • Weapon Specialist/Chef • Odd Jobs • Threat: 0 • SD Earned: 40 • Beli: 500,000 • Location: Silent Hill

Percival Aloysius Periwinkle • Legitmiate Businessman • Merchant/Marksman • No Crew • Bounty: 130,000,000,000 Extol • SD Earned: 148 • Beli: 21,000,000 • L: Alabasta

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A.R.
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[ *  * ]
It was both a terrible and intriguing affair: war normally was. The hum of the marching ants filled the air of the massive grass forest, each blade thicker than tree trunks and nearly blocking out the sun wherever they grew. The hungering roots of the sea of green shaped the earth that was stomped upon by the rhythm of the insects. Baburbapapap. Baburbapapap! It was nearly an orchestrated cacophony of the personified muse of war. The red soldiers unfettered by the jungle of blades and only focused on their one goal. It seemed queer to the solitary onlooker that these soldiers wouldn't employ a war tune. As he walked alongside the storming horde of double file ants, his mind wandered as to how one could properly set the spirit of war to words with a five sixth beat. While his mind watched the marchers, his mind sang the Ares. It was almost wonderful if not terribly cruel and destructive with the plentiful use of presumable expletives that were never able to exist.

The sounds of instruments that couldn't even begin to be related to a human understanding of sound suffused the symphony that was not within the forest. The jungle was prepared for war, through and through. The angels of such bloodshed showing up just to prove that fact to the only onlooker. The only instance that there seemed to be dissension within the beat was when a loud, piercing, cry of "Charge!' cut through the watcher's senses. The implausible instruments halted as the angels burst into roaring flames. The shimmering red of war bathed the forest as battle had begun. He knew he had to run, to watch. If he would not watch that would be an err, the deaths of too many soldiers with families left long behind were on the line and demanding that some brave soul watch over this scene. The carnage, the emotion, the devastation that follows the god of blood and anger. A quick climb of some leafy weed gave the sole observer a view of the great scene before him. Which reminded him, why was there a war again?

The charging ant horde had yet to crash into their enemy, their far superior enemy. A defensive wall of termites stood, some type of phalanx formation formed a deadly zone that each and every ant would have to cross. They'd be barraged by deadly sprays of acid, then forced to fight the larger termites, perhaps, on a one to one ratio. This prepared force was a bad sign to the ants, but morale seemed far too high to let superior strategy halt the charge. No ant stopped, or broke rank. They merely charged. If it was some blinding act of charity by the screaming pyres of flame that cast the entire scene in the burning red glow of anger, or just some belief that filled every single soldier that there was no other choice but war, was not known by the bystander. Just the aftermath would be. What a site to behold it and fear it was.

The rain of burning acid tore down ant after ant, no one routed. The tortuous screams of dissolving ants deafened the soldiers to the sounds of acidic sizzle as the remaining pieces of exoskeleton served as improvised shields. Where there were once hundreds of thousands of red soldiers stood only a hundred thousand terrified ants. Terrified but not yet ready to let it all go to waste. The wall of termites broke to engage the ground troops in battle. Nature seemed deliberate in its show of what to fear. The ruthlessness of both sides was beyond extreme, where one termite would get the chance an ant would be crushed in half. If such a termite hadn't decided to shoot them before they were in melee range. Though commendably, the ants used their size to tear down the colossi piece by piece. That, or viciously and with precision towards the brain. The trade offs seemed greatly in the favor of the termites, as beige grew to become the dominate color of the burnt cyan field. "Was it all amiss in the end?"

Somewhere in the ever changing tide of battle, the deepening red flaming spirits above personifying this ebb and flow, the termites had dispersed into rampant terror. Each and every beige soldier that had done oh so much to win the battle began to route. The diligent observer scanned the terrain, his vision climbing up the mountainous termite nest where he saw one red ant storm out of the castle triumphant, the queen's head in its jaw. Superior strategy won out after all. There were cheers and accompanying flashes of orange and yellow light as the joyous sound of victory swept through the watching boy's ears. The trumpeting non-trumpets and the bassy non-cellos sounded out throughout the world along with the other instruments that might never exist on a euclidean plane. He was happy, it was over. Over and tucked away within the inconsistent storybook memory he'd never taken the chance to notice.

"For the dead, one tear. The losers a second. For the victors, one cheer. To the living, life beckons."



Oh yeah!

Aru left his green seat in search of reality, as was his usual distraction. The sight of cute little lizards as dots in the distance was no worry to him. None of them were black, which he knew meant danger. Or red, which also meant danger. Danger was each and every color of the rainbow whenever danger was. Danger wasn't his concern: the strange green elephant on the beach that was surrounded by massive crabs was what grabbed his eye. A stumbling walk with steady unsteady steps brought him ever closer to the mystery inconsistency that was before him. "A warpephant?" Was his only question to the green elephant that smelled of caffeine and deteriorating flesh. Rot was unusual for such a lively elephant to smell like. The hints of blood that surrounded the trunk legs seemed to inform the lost boy of where they might just have come.

"Naughty of you Eelant."
Bwao!
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Khepri
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Reality was simply an oddity, or this reality at least. The strangest and most absurd results always seemed the most reasonable to the point where they probably couldn’t even be called strange and absurd results. Cosmo had an odd level of self-awareness, and perhaps that was his fault, aside from his general sense of self-centeredness.

There was usually a bit of context to the various things Cosmo was called: schmuck, zombie, cuckold. However, warpephant left him in what was a state of confusion. As a medical professional, however, he realized that perhaps this person was simply unwell. Being lost in the jungle could put one into a state of delirium from any combination of heat stroke, dehydration, starvation, food poisoning, parasitic brain worm, and of course a placebo effect from expecting any or all of those reasonings. As a currently starving, dehydrated, and heat stroken shambling corpse, Cosmo ready to just leave this crazed individual to die which he promptly did with nothing more than a deep sigh.

He had gotten a bit of distance, some few meters before he stopped. His heart had long since been severed from its major arteries and had since been resting in the bit of his colon, being choked by his intestines, but yet, Cosmo felt it sank further, which it probably did, since it was loose and all. Like a belly-dancer, Como gyrated his hips and torso in some attempt to wiggle his heart back up into his chest, wherein he believed it to belong. Upon his recent trip to Skysino, he was able to appreciate the intricacies of the belly-dancer’s gyration, and thought just how useful that skill set could be in the his whole cadaver maintenance.

Cosmo’s thoughts of belly-dancers and various other folks with all sort of mastery in the artful world of hip gyration brought him back to some other denizens of Skysino. He stopped dead in his tracks, giving the sky itself a glazed over and glassy look filled with all sort of discontent. He thought of that one man, with grey eyes, pasty skin, and blue hair. The man still held a grudge, after all these years, and even in undeath Cosmo’s life was in danger at the hands of that blue haired, pasty skinned, grey eyed sonofabitch. That very thought made Cosmo’s heart sink in a figurative way, which was followed by literal way, as his cased actions caused his all the progress caused by his hip gyrations to cease.

The universe was a vast place when just looking at it from even the most simplest of perspectives. Trillions upon trillions of just, bits of matter and antimatter and all that spreading out in every directions, maybe in directions that didn’t even really exist. In all that that vastness, lost in all of that vastness where about a dozen people that had the surname Periwinkle. That uncommon flowery surname, of a now mostly dead family.

And yet! Somehow, through all of that, one of them was right there. He turned around, ready to nip this in the but before it could turn into some kind of absurd and comical situation involving dinosaurs, elephants, and perhaps a natzi or two. He was ready to just stride backwards and meet the possible Periwinkle head on with all sorts of bravery and tact. However, the jerking motion which made up Cosmo’s about-face was largely made up of his head striking a tree the very moment the island was hit with another tremor.

Cosmo fell backwards, unconscious.

Oh boy.
Leens & Khepri by Neon


Andrei Myshkin • Holy Paladin • Thief/Entertainer • Underdogs • Rank: Ensign • SD Earned: 285 • Beli: Some number • Location: Khepri

Xanthippe • Sheepherder • Weapon Specialist/Chef • Odd Jobs • Threat: 0 • SD Earned: 40 • Beli: 500,000 • Location: Silent Hill

Percival Aloysius Periwinkle • Legitmiate Businessman • Merchant/Marksman • No Crew • Bounty: 130,000,000,000 Extol • SD Earned: 148 • Beli: 21,000,000 • L: Alabasta

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A.R.
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[ *  * ]
Azhit was happy he was able to find a familiar spirit, or was it? That he could make the company of, maybe even dictate the tale of the slaughter of an insect-kind. He was preparing the poetic phrasing he'd put the brave heroes' souls into just for a Homer-esque display. He cleared his throat just as mister elephant blew his horn like a trumpet. The young delusionist was both surprised and offended, what could this green mammal that couldn't even jump be trying to insinuate? "Ooooh! It makes me mad, you foul breather, that you would go so far as to been there done it! You're punishment must be lesser or none in value!" Began the nonsense filled logical train of though that distracted the Skypeian as that dastardly elephant began to walk away, and towards the distantly sighted tiny saurians. He wanted to follow the green tusked creature, but didn't immediately. He wouldn't want to signal any kind of misplaced attraction of desire now.

The purple dragon had been going too far though, he figured he just had to chase it! Making his way towards the green warp elephant through the gigantic blades of grass and occasional tiny trees proved no challenge. Even though Azhit was more certain than not that Mr. Rotter over there had been walking through the grass without issue. "Was there anything less to expect?" He said to a rather colorful ladybug as he passed by. It's response was muffled, since it was eating the giant grass and all, but he was sure it was either something along the lines of "Murder and death upon you and your family!" or "By golly gee, I'm more certain than un that you're right." With that empowering exchange the pale and light blue-haired young man had caught up to the dancing green elephant. He was watching from a distance, peering around one of the numerous blades of gigantic grass. In reality, however; he was looking around empty air as if it was in fact a wall, a queer site indeed.

"What incredible moves, what grand creativity, what flexibility, what limberness, what amputation! Surely this warpephant is unlike anything else I've ever had the vague or lack thereof pleasure of seeing. What do you think?" The sun listened to the question, but being as red as it was today it didn't want to respond. Gods, what a bitch.

The strangest possible thing happened then, the green mammal stopped dancing. For the briefest of brief measurements of time, Azhit felt so light, as if the sadness from this ceasemovement would lift him into the heights of despair. That wasn't the case, he was a calm and passive gentleman with great ability to handle any emotional or mental state he might wander into. He decided to check on his only interesting companionship by heading after the fallen fellow, along the way stubbing his toe into a palm tree. The tiny bastard of nature burned that day, relentless imagined pursuits were taken to be sure of this. The green trumpeter seemed to be breathing, or alive, but that kind of stuff is hard to tell when you don't know where an elephant's wrist is. Azhit decided to feel the things stomach for a pulse, there was at least some residual shaking that informed him of some sign of life.

"Don't worry buddy, I won't cook you up to eat while you're down. I've got plenty of grass fruit to stomach before I need to do that. Besides, extradimensional flesh always leaves me hungry after thirty minutes." He said to the unconscious pachyderm. He leaned against one of the taller grass spouts, eying the alleged corpse and his surroundings while he was waiting. He was able to notice some tiny, tiny tiny, raptors skirting around the place not too far from the pair. He wasn't worried though, his mind and gut were telling him that there was no danger. "I haven't seen one of you guys in so long, I really thought I'd been doing it all wrong. You know? There was no way for me to move around quickly or anything, or get some nice tea or biscuits. I'd wager it was a nightmare if I was a betting... What am I really? I'd think you'd know, but you just never want to say do you? I just want things to go back to the way they were. Let's do that then. You and me! Back to the beginning!"

While the grey-eyed boy busied himself with the unreal, some very real and very young and very lonely velociraptor-esque creature had made its approach towards the fallen corpse. The first test of a one-sided friendship was making itself known!
Bwao!
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Khepri
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If there’s one thing Cosmo had an innate understanding of it was the fact that dreams could quickly metastasize into horrific nightmares. In the literal sense, he knew that ambitions could get turned on their head, and some poor sod could end up in shambles as the life they wanted shatters around them. In another sense, it was not rare for the hand of your dream partner to detach and be filled to the bloody brim with terrible, needlessly phallic creatures with twitching, yonic mouths.

Upon getting struck in the head by the rather violent tree which served as an argument against a lot of the nature conservation efforts of the past few years Cosmo was met with a dream. It was the usual sort of dream he had in that it teased the possibility that everything after a certain point in his life was a horrific nightmare. Every time he started a dream by waking up, he noticed that each time it would be later point in his life than the previous point. This time when he awoke he was still living; his hair was its normal cornflower blue, and his skin wasn’t lousy with maggots. His face was buried in a waffle which was soaked through with “syrup” and now basically disintegrated. He was met with a whine of, “Cosmo, not at the breakfast table!”

He arose, broken bits of waffle dropping from his face, and a string of burning syrup leaving his twitching eye. The deadly nightshade still shook his very core and aroused a shuddering whimper. He apologized, wiping the sludge from his face so he could stumble up towards his infirmary. Every step was agony, absurdly thinning blood seeped out of him, and he dizzily circled the first few steps before finding his pace and making the climb. He blinked in and out of consciousness, and before long he was hooked up to his terrible poison pumping machine and on the way to living.

As he lay in the infirmary, he was approached by Cyan, who had added some stage blood to the mouth, ears, and nose of Cosmo’s hand puppet. All malice was pretty much swept under the bridge by this point. Cosmo was used to being poisoned, particularly by the likes of Cyan. He tried to smile, but the drip he stabbed directly into his kidneys made such a thing difficult. At least Cyan, all flustered and embarrassed over his faux pas had something to say, Don't worry buddy, I won't cook you up to eat while you're down. She was able to muster.

Cosmo’s gut sank, in a strictly metaphorical sense, because he living again, and not living the farcical life of undeath he was currently living in the non-dream part of the whole ordeal. Needlessly to say he was momentarily stunned, and when Cyan made the step forward, the puppet in her hand now actually bleeding, Cosmo was forced to yank the tubes from his sides and throat. He attempted to hop out of bed, only to slip in a puddle of his own blood and smash his head into hard infirmary floor. The unfortunate youth was finally able to regrasp reality (or the dream’s reality), up above stood Cyan, with a look of wretched and terrible dishevelment.

The cadaverous-nature that came as a direct result of Cosmo dying, and staying dead for quite an absurd amount of time was starting again. Cosmo felt his flesh rot, he felt his blood thicken, and he felt his heart tumbling around in his thorax. He gulped and looked up to Cyan, standing there, “I just want things to go back to the way they were.” She casually stated, as her visage twisted and the distance between her and Cosmo grew and grew, “Let's do that then. You and me! Back to the beginning!” She shouted, because of the distance, and not some terrible frantic rage. And then Cosmo’s teeth fell out, and he realized he had been naked the entire time.

The thumping pain that Cosmo knew all too well was the signal that was he waking up. From all sides of his skull there was that awful tightening that was only made worse by the blunt force trauma. His vision was a bit hazy when he returned to the world of the living. Whilst he was adjusting he saw that he was face to face with the obviously mad Periwinkle-lookalike. At that point he just wanted to close his eyes and go back to being naked, toothless, and hopelessly alone.

But he couldn’t close his eyes. His eyes rolled a few millimeters and looked up to see a snarling raptor of all teeth and claws and just things that could rend and tear his dead flesh until he was really dead a second time. He rolled his eyes back to the mysterious Periwinkle. He got to his feet, in a casual, and under stressed manner, all of his bones cracking, and as well as several loose shards of bone just making some noise.

He twisted his back, which got all the broken vertebrae lined up for the first time in quite awhile. He sighed and gave the other Periwinkle a glassy-eyed glare, “Is this Percy’s doing?” He questioned with the utmost seriousness. He turned his attention to the raptor, who snarled and hissed and kicked up dirt as he approached. Cosmo paid the raptor no mind, until he squatted down and looked the Raptor dead in the eyes. He raised his right pointer finger as if he was about to start lecturing the beast, and the obvious happened. In a split second, Cosmo realized his entire forearm was in the mouth of the raptor.

The raptor’s teeth cut through Cosmo’s soft, rotted flesh like butter. He stood for a moment, completely unphased, just looking the now lock-jawed raptor dead in the eyes. As if it were signaled by his heart beating, blood spurted out in a thick spray from the site of the chomp. Cosmo let out a loud shriek and shook his arm in an attempt to get the raptor to simply let go, which only made it angrier and served to exacerbate the whole issue. It was only the start of it, because soon there was another raptor chomping into his shoulder, and then another at his left thigh.

Cosmo had trouble keeping his footing, as the raptors bit and clawed at him. He shrieked, and flailed the arm which carried the first raptor. He didn’t look where he flailed said raptor, he just flailed said raptor. There were two places that this flailing could possibly hit, one was the bloody tree that Cosmo struck his head against, and the other was the Periwinkle, who seemed to be the more likely target.
Edited by Khepri, Oct 21 2013, 09:47 PM.
Leens & Khepri by Neon


Andrei Myshkin • Holy Paladin • Thief/Entertainer • Underdogs • Rank: Ensign • SD Earned: 285 • Beli: Some number • Location: Khepri

Xanthippe • Sheepherder • Weapon Specialist/Chef • Odd Jobs • Threat: 0 • SD Earned: 40 • Beli: 500,000 • Location: Silent Hill

Percival Aloysius Periwinkle • Legitmiate Businessman • Merchant/Marksman • No Crew • Bounty: 130,000,000,000 Extol • SD Earned: 148 • Beli: 21,000,000 • L: Alabasta

Others
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Gone.
[ *  * ]
In a few simple conceptualizations of speech the generation of an intriguing deterioration of any sensible mode of defending had been lost on the already distracted youth. The thoughts of rotting green elephants that spoke in circumlocutions with their seminal wordsmithing did not even tread upon his mental concentration like the wind he didn't care for at the time. His mind was absorbed in studying the brilliant refractions of light rays along the organic structure of the massive overhead weeds. One that much resembled a dandelion had been garnering his attention for that specific instance of super-cool-light interaction. In this study, that was really just a sudden desire of inspiration found within the natural (but fae) development of the fantasy within his yet-to-have-ended existence, he found himself beginning to assign personality to the distinctly colored rays of light, thinking the green one to be a hasty sort and the blue one to be peppy and the orange one to just be a general annoyance. It wasn't strange, for him at least, when the lot of them began to talk. Their conversations were fairly mundane, but the bored Aru had no reason to not indulge them.

"Allow me to regal you, eidolons of the unwithered sun. Surely you will not meet a man as well-journeyed as I! There is no mountain that I have yet peaked, and no chasm that I have not fell through. The only logical one to speak with, then, would be me. Though I'm not much of a storyteller. Instead, could any of you talk to me of the sun? Oh, that boisterous bastard who touts himself so high. I'm sure that the lovely count is, if nothing else, your father." He exclaimed to the chatting rays of light. They didn't talk back to him though, merely taking in his long-winded monologue before deciding to scream and shout about some monstrous vermin, he didn't really care enough to pay attention since he'd just remembered that the modest Azhit had promised to watch over the sleeping warping elephant he had found before. Believing himself to be a man of his word, the Skypeian boy only had to twist along his heel to face the green pachyderm.

The now bipedal, for some unquestionable reason, elephant that was also capable of interspacial repositioning was now facing off with the small sauropod that the grey-haired kid had noted from before. The relatively equal sized parties seemed to be enjoying some discourse, in his eyes at least. "What a cute couple. I'm sure this is the start of a friendship for the ages! And the stars! And the planets! And the demiplanes!" His thoughts of joyous times to expect were only reassured by the shaking of hands that the pair seemed to be having, even though elephants shouldn't have hands. There was no reason to take their abrupt pause as a sign of anything bad. Pulling out his saber without pause the youth began his charge at the dangerous creature. He knew the strange and super interesting rotting traveler was in danger from the moment he turned around. There was no time to wait in disarming the angered saurian overlord.

The dramatic tension really halted when the old cavalry saber collided with thick dinosaur skin. The blade was sent spiraling with a shower of iron blood spurting from the pieces of the blade that remained in the cavaliers grasp. "Bob! Don't do this, Bob! You've been with me for 4" He had began was interrupted, the embodiment of the sword (Bob) dying in his grasp as a punch from the evil tyrannical lizard overlord sent him sprawling. There was never enough passion in Aru's grey eyes to change history. He knew he was flawed and had a ways to go until he could overthrow the dinosauroid rulers of the Garden, but for now he could only feign his real defeat and persist against the beckoning sway of unconsciousness.

Looking over at the broken half of his sword, he though the sheathe the rest. Carefully putting the saber away for a miraculous and unexplainable reparation at some later point his eyes wandered back towards the action at hand. Noting the trumpeting green elephant that was bashing around the poor tiny lizard as if it were a gnat, Azhit really had to wonder whether it was right for his loyalties to lie in such a cruel, heartless, despondent, self-obsessed, mammalian that couldn't even jump.

"You win this time phbbbbbbbbtibupht. I'll beat you one day."
Bwao!
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Khepri
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Time might’ve been taken to point out that things weren’t going Cosmo’s way, but things never really went his way, so it oft went without saying. Although, one could argue that because things never went his way, perhaps the fact that they never went his way was his way. Either way, he was being mauled to death by feathered dinosaurs, and the only person in reach was a babbling lunatic who was now worryingly armed. But luckily for the luckless chap, the lunatic’s charge wasn’t aimed at him nor did he miss and inadvertently slice him terribly, adding injury to a staggering pile of injuries.

Once again knee deep in his own blood Cosmo stood ponderous. He had once believed that one of the luxuries of he had as a man was the assurance that blood was more likely to stay in his body for vastly prolonged spans of time. That was never a luxury that he was able to enjoy, for it seemed that every tuesday he had a new ghastly wound and he was on his way to losing another Cosmo worth of blood.

It was during these times of profuse blood loss that Cosmo’s mind wandered to ponderations concerning Life. Perhaps she had meant to make him a woman, but instead made a mistake during her paperwork, and now the tenuous forces that balance the universe were correcting her mistake. Death had told Cosmo that Life made far more mistakes than he did; Life’s mistakes weren’t easy hurdles, since they were something the living would have to deal with for as long as they were living, which may have been only a mere fraction of their consciousness, since the afterlife was endless in time whilst life was finite. Death always sighed when he brought it up, because, despite the fact that Death was the better worker, everyone hated him, yet they all loved the far less diligent Life. Of course, perhaps it was all just the start of delusions that came from profuse blood loss.

His vision started to blur and his stomach churned with the sways that arose from lightheadiness. He knew this feeling well. Through it all, he realized that the one raptor at his arm wasn’t squirming anymore. Whilst hapless nurse was unable to see through the steady sprinkler of thick blood still spraying from his arm, he at least guessed that the raptor was no longer living on the other side. With a gulp he tried to pry the raptor’s open, with no such luck. Out of desperation, he wrenched his other arm around and grabbed the tail slowly pulling the raptor off.

The state of his arm was the sort of thing that couldn’t be described, mostly because the amount of gore is well and above the rating given on the site. Essentially, what was left was hanging strings of muscle fibers and terrible rent flesh blackened with air-exposed blood. As a trained medical professional, he was stunned, as the receiver of the wound he was wholly unamused. Still, the other raptors still pained him, and now he had a flail of sorts. A raptor corpse made a fine weapon, especially when used to beat other raptors to death, which he did.

By the end of it, Cosmo was covered in blood, most of which was his, but at least 12% of it belonged to the raptors. Using blood soaked rags of his own clothes, he made a bandage which he wrapped around his terribly rent arm. As he did so he attempted to speak with the other Periwinkle, ”You…” He uttered under his breathless breath, as he striped down to his blood colored, actually bloody, albeit tattered boxers, which were now but a loincloth on him. He shivered as the world grew colder around him, “...You tried to save me.” He finally added as he tore his pants and made them into two separate bandages, one of his thigh, and the other around his shoulder.

The inauspicious, cadaverous schmuck was reminded of Rory, another ill-fated one who found himself a death at the hands of the handless Mercy. Helping Cosmo was almost as unlucky as being Cosmo, perhaps his curse was contagious. So this odd, obviously mentally disturbed Skypiean put a lot on the line by helping out, so perhaps a thanks was in order. Cosmo turned on a heel, ready to thank the boy first hand and any bit of compassion shed from him in that very instant.

Whilst his vision was blurred from the heavy blood loss he knew he couldn’t mistake what he saw. That boy was no Skypiean, that boy was a 160cm tall bag of O- blood. A bit of pinkened dribble formed in the corner of Cosmo’s mouth, not from hungered salvation, but from just straight drooling because of heavy blood loss, but it could’ve easily been mistaken for the former. Regardless, while the bloody drool had little do with hunger, there was still an insatiable hunger shaking through sullen corpse's thoughts.

He picked up a long stick and broke it over his knee, leaving a sharp spear in its wake. He let out what would have been a chortle if he had enough blood to chortle, which he didn’t, which is why he let out a breathy, manic weeze instead. He took several steps forward, his hands along the spear in an aggressive way, as that was one of the few ways you could really hold a deadly weapon, “You saved me, now you’re going to save me a second time, talking bag of blood! See, I thought you were just insane, but no, you’re just a bag of blood, and blood doesn’t have a brain…” He stated, inching closer with the spear head sparkling, “Wow! I feel lucky…” He pathetically uttered, being overwhelmed by a strange new feeling. A grin hit is usually sullen face, a grin that looked very unsettling under the dark green bags forming under his eyes, “...because right now I need a blood transfusion.” Which he followed up with yet another breathy wheeze.
Edited by Khepri, Oct 21 2013, 09:45 PM.
Leens & Khepri by Neon


Andrei Myshkin • Holy Paladin • Thief/Entertainer • Underdogs • Rank: Ensign • SD Earned: 285 • Beli: Some number • Location: Khepri

Xanthippe • Sheepherder • Weapon Specialist/Chef • Odd Jobs • Threat: 0 • SD Earned: 40 • Beli: 500,000 • Location: Silent Hill

Percival Aloysius Periwinkle • Legitmiate Businessman • Merchant/Marksman • No Crew • Bounty: 130,000,000,000 Extol • SD Earned: 148 • Beli: 21,000,000 • L: Alabasta

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[ *  * ]
Being winded by a veloci-flail wasn't the most desirable experience. Luckily, that wasn't what the misconceiving meanderer perceived at all. From his perspective he saw, without an ounce of a doubt, a scene that seemed to be more than expected in the situation. After he displayed a valiant effort to save the life of the endangered ivory princess he had managed to meat true evil itself. The dark villain with the power of power! His triangle god-piece was glowing with the overwhelming fear of might and the fist of true evil descended upon to the hero of justice and goodwill and definitely-not-time. It was a wonderful scene if not for the fact that good was winning against evil, but in reality Azhit had been murdering princess after princess so was he really the evil man that he thought he was? Asking that question would beg the modest viewer to look deeper into the material in which Aru was shown, noticing each kitten or puppen or puppyns he was coddling and saving from the rain as well as each child he horribly disfigured.

But we digress.

Aru had woken up from his winding slumber to the sight of a disfiguring elephant. "Hi-yoh!" He mumbled out while moving onto his coccyx from his spreadeagled position. Moving his head to closer examine the stranging pachyderm the world itself seemed to agree with the wiry undulations of some drug like chronicle of an idea that had yet to even notice itself. The fact that rotting and tattered flesh seemed to be tenderly stripped off of the rotted form within the shell of a false idol that had been wrongly displaced onto the horror within. It wasn't green, it was purple! The heathenous mass of color-confused pachyderm wasn't at all angering to the absolutely fuming Aru. He merely got up in time to turn his head towards a charging green warpephant. Apparently the sound of groan-mum-trumpeting was the traditional war cry that he knew it was.

"Why, what should be the fear?
I do not set my life at a pin's fee,
And for my soul, what can it do to that,
Being a thing immortal as itself?
"

He pulled out the stub of a blade he had once wielded with the only thought being his blade was too pristine to waste on a foul and uncivilized beast. "Enguarde thee beast of burden, soul of man derived from non. I bite my thumb at ye and in thine anger I shall strike!" He leaned his head back for a large, dramatic, breath while uselessly flailing around his broken saber.

"To be, or not to be, — that is the question: —
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? — To die, to sleep, —
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, — 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; —
To sleep, perchance to dream: — ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would these fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death, —
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, — puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know naught of?
Thus conscience does make cow—

Uh.. Alas, I forget the rest. Come at me!
" At that point, the blood-thirsty Cosmo would easily have been able to reach the shouting and gallivanting hooligan who knew not what he did nor said. If such was to be the case then Azhit would surely slash at him, it is a pity that he lacked a blade with which to attack with and so it was a completely useless gesture.
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He would’ve thought that any bag of blood would be flattered to be used, but no, this one seemed to take offense to the idea. Whilst Cosmo knew he wasn’t exactly a fine example of life (failure to die aside), he was still a living thing. He took offense to the fact that said blood would even consider being offended. Not being all that empathetic, he found it hard to care, so even if he could wait for the next bag of O- blood, he wouldn’t do so out of nothing more than spite.

Luckily for Cosmo, his absurdly bloated aneurysms had enough excess, partially congealed blood to keep him in the black for awhile. Enough was merely a enough however. As it stood, more of Cosmo’s blood was outside of his body than within. He paced around, spear in hand. He knew how to handle this situation, and would do so once the terrible dizziness ceased. To Cosmo, no pain was unbelievable anymore; his suspension of disbelief was near non-existent. He had experienced a wide range from paper cuts and calf cramps to shattered femurs and brain trauma via axe initiated frontal lobotomy.

He staggered around, reacting to every sway of the bag of blood. The absurd blood loss causes him to quiver and shake, the spear wobbling about. To add to the fact that his vision was blurred, he was struck a case of double vision or really quadruple vision.

Whilst he was reasonably convinced, as a medical professional, that blood was hardly sapient on its own, he conceded this once. A challenge was issued, although that hardly mattered, since Cosmo had started the fray and he didn’t need anymore incentive to stab the bag to bits. Cosmo had speeches too, “So foul and fair a day I have not seen.” He may not have written these speeches, but he definitely had them on hand. As such he made the first lunge towards the one in the center, he twisted the end of the spear once he thought he had it in, only to see no blood drawn. He pulled back the spear, ready to lunge once more.

“I am in blood
Stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o'er
Strange things I have in head, that will to hand;
Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd.”


Passion and pretension was coursing through his veins, certainly because the lack of blood left a lot of room for many things that weren’t blood. Either way, emotion brought him on the verge of something, something, a fist clench too much. Much of the spear’s shaft broke, leaving him with something that could be called a stake only fit for the likes of another brand of undead. He paused, not going in for another lunge, nor making any sort of obvious move towards what could be conceived as a strike or anything remotely similar

“Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. He began in a low tone, holding his stake up, he pondered and openly,
“I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.
Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going;
And such an instrument I was to use.
Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,
Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still,
And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,
Which was not so before. There's no such thing:
It is the bloody business which informs
Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one halfworld
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtain'd sleep.”


Whatever it meant within the context of whatever was happening, it was serious. With that, Cosmo finally went in with yet another strike, this one aimed some bit to the left, or basically where the heart would be if it wasn’t a bag of blood. There wasn’t a second where he stopped for a moment to consider the basic logistics of getting syphoned blood into his own veins, but there really wasn’t any room for that with all the crazy bubbling up to the surface.
Edited by Khepri, Nov 9 2013, 06:20 PM.
Leens & Khepri by Neon


Andrei Myshkin • Holy Paladin • Thief/Entertainer • Underdogs • Rank: Ensign • SD Earned: 285 • Beli: Some number • Location: Khepri

Xanthippe • Sheepherder • Weapon Specialist/Chef • Odd Jobs • Threat: 0 • SD Earned: 40 • Beli: 500,000 • Location: Silent Hill

Percival Aloysius Periwinkle • Legitmiate Businessman • Merchant/Marksman • No Crew • Bounty: 130,000,000,000 Extol • SD Earned: 148 • Beli: 21,000,000 • L: Alabasta

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[ *  * ]
He did not step aside. Nor did he run, cower, fear or hide. The fact that Azhit was absolutely sure that his nonexistent sword blade would defend him from a charging pachyderm with an unnatural bloodlust (of a kind seen once before) was outstanding in its stupidity. The obvious would happen next, and he was stabbed and bleeding in spurts of arterial pressure. The satisfaction of warm blood was not felt by the loser, Aru. He took it rather well considering he didn't even realize what just happened. In the exterior of the delusional boy's reality, he had fallen to the ground while his blood bubbled from the wound on his body, luckily not rupturing his heart in anyway but piercing an artery in such specific a manner that the flow was merely slightly blocked and not bursting everywhere. Assuming the blood-laden spear wasn't dramatically moved or removed Aru could probably live fine, he'd gone through similar enough situations in his wandering days of never knowing what lay ahead.

Within the eye of the beholder, he had been successful in saving his body and besting the elephant in one swell move. The honorable Azhit's blade could rend flesh with an uncanny ability, as if it was not realistic in any sense of the word. Tragedy struck when triumphant emotions rang the highest. The crippled form of the king Azhit fell not by the efforts of an enraged tribal, blood-lusting, elephant that screamed the delectable fury of war through its last, final, and previous breaths but by the sneaking and sly work of devilish archers who hid in the mountainous hills behind the battleground. The kingly figure should have know, the Desravrik mountains had been home to a clan of roguish archers since the dawning of his imperial dynasty. The fact that they had great and powerful ties to the emperor he had usurped meant there was no place for these rogues in the new kingdom, he had pushed them to a life of villainy. They wanted to live in honor, and not in the dark with the lowly thieves and scum that brewed in all societies.

That was his true folly, his trust. There was no need for the new king to be so cautious in his approach to the new scene of internal intrigue, the political strife in the post-civil war kingdom was far less troubling than in the pre-civil war empire. It wasn't a necessity to ensure he did not trample on too many powerful toes while forging the path forward, allowing the family of the former emperor to remain in his kingdom without repercussion gave them the opportunity to plot and scheme, prepare for their triumphant move to return. Even if he fell, they must have amassed a powerful enough force to overthrow his kingdom from the hands of those that brought him to power. Yes, King Azhit's legacy was most certainly safe. He hoped it was safe.

Resting in the blood red plains gave him more than enough time to think, arrow in chest and the unbearable pain it provided notwithstanding, so time felt to slow down more and more. He even saw some illusory figures, like the elephant he had bested holding the spear that wasn't in his body. It was a strange experience that he experienced, an eery feeling of formlessness as death surely grew near. The intoxicated sensation of his last few breaths wracking pain throughout his body while his eyes settled upon the rolling clouds. The void before him or the heaven they claimed may or may not appear before him as his days would draw near. He didn't want to die. The burden of form could be shed with his. He wasn't going to die. Death seemed like such and easy choice. If it wasn't just out of reach.

Aru coughed, not blood but a lot of mucus-y spit flew out. He didn't enjoy having a spear stuck through his body but he could tell that his biggest issue to worry about would probably be an infection.

"You know, if I did not owe you the thanks for adventuring me towards the gift of expedition and accidentally setting me down pain that I had yet to feel then I would think you an evil but aggrandizing beast of burden. Instead, I can only ask that you let my kingdom stay instead of pulling it into the hellish pits of perish you claim as home."
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[ *  *  * ]
He did it; he stabbed the bag of blood and now its precious lifeblood… yeah, lifeblood was pouring out into the sand, becoming largely unusable. Thinking that he had done a job well done, he brushed his hands on his loin cloth and looked down at the defeated sapient bag. He grinned a quivering grin and chortled with wheezy glee. It was very rare for Cosmo to ever succeed in anything, seeing as there was always something hindering him, like his own madness in this particular situation.

As often allowed in these sort of things, the bag gave its dying words. Cosmo took them all in, and he let them marinate in his cracked cranium. He was sure he was missing a whole lot of context, very important context that made something that didn’t make any sense whatsoever make a reasonable amount of sense. Still, the words were said and now the sapient bag was free to die horribly so that Cosmo could live. The smell of fresh and not-so rancid blood filled his sinuses, which was pooled with rancid blood, and he could feel himself returning to reality.

Of course, while reality was far more sane than his delusional fantasy, it was also significantly more terrible. He looked down at the blood bag, only to see the person that was there before. The hapless and otherwise just ill-fated prick blinked twice, realizing that he in all likelihood just killed a person. The first thought that crossed his mind was to bolt and leave the youth to become about as cadaverous as him, however he defeated that plan with a little bit of thought, and not a single ounce of compassion.

Whilst Cosmo was a nurse, an untrained and unlicensed nurse, he was also an unemphatic individual whom was bogged down by his own half-baked philosophy and simple lethargy. So when it came down to his motivations it was largely self-centered. He couldn’t handle a murder charge, prison wasn’t good for the undead, seeing as they never got the “undead yes, unperson no!” lecture. He gulped, and pondered what he could possibly do.

Pondering was cut short, he realized that there was a growling sound at the back of his neck. With not much in the way of hesitation, but yet a lot of obviously expressed disdain he casually turned around. He was met by the leering eye of what was close to a tyrannosaurus rex, only much larger, two-haeded, and just all around spiker. He turned away and looked down at the body of his incredibly estranged family member. He weighed his options, and he would have weighed them even further he was put into a position wherein he had to question his sanity, and this time it had nothing to do with Cyan’s gaslighting.

The monstrous dinosaur (or really the dinosaur of heightened monstrosity, seeing as dinosaurs were monsters to start with) moved in closer to Cosmo, razor like teeth shining like clear diamonds under a lighted display case. But before Cosmo could get devoured the monster thing seemed to relax, Veni vidi vici.” The dinosaur gallantly stated from its right head. The left continued to glare, but eventually it broke into a snide, almost mocking grin. It straightened out its back and attempted in vain to clasp its hands behind its back.

Cosmo turned back this time with haste. His jaw slowly hinged open with a lack of sound that could only be expressed by “...” in dialogue. This reaction was totally justified. Cosmo had heard that the grandline was absurd, but this was… well, after meeting Mercy, the chalk white people, dying and coming back from the grave, and the race of cooking fish people, this wasn’t all too strange. However, just because strange things happened in the world, didn’t mean that crazy things couldn’t go without being explained…
Edited by Khepri, Nov 24 2013, 02:08 PM.
Leens & Khepri by Neon


Andrei Myshkin • Holy Paladin • Thief/Entertainer • Underdogs • Rank: Ensign • SD Earned: 285 • Beli: Some number • Location: Khepri

Xanthippe • Sheepherder • Weapon Specialist/Chef • Odd Jobs • Threat: 0 • SD Earned: 40 • Beli: 500,000 • Location: Silent Hill

Percival Aloysius Periwinkle • Legitmiate Businessman • Merchant/Marksman • No Crew • Bounty: 130,000,000,000 Extol • SD Earned: 148 • Beli: 21,000,000 • L: Alabasta

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Blood. That was what Aru wasn't really thinking about even though there was a fair amount slowly leaking out of his chest hole, into his long-worn clothes and creating a puddle of the crimson stuff on his back. These stains would likely last far too long since he was never privy to "cleaning" or "hygiene" or "taking care of himself" or really any kind of normal human activity relating to self maintenance. He was quite content with the fact he had been impaled by organic material pulled from a plane of existence he longed to see by a pachydermal tribesman single-handedly responsible for bringing him onto his back because he saw not his defeat. It was fine though, what you don't know can't hurt you (they say). Aru might've still been in pain and getting closer to death but he was fine, if fine was used to lightly define a state of near-mortal wounds.

Looking up from his bed, the din-layer realized what lay before him. The voice of the clouds and the spirit of the worlds winds was demanding. Bellowing towards that pretty pathetic Harold guy was a far more impressive sight, of course being Generaz. Generaz, for those who didn't pay attention, was the speaker of the clouds and the blower of winds. A real important bloke. Din-layer knew that he was in no state to be meeting such an important man, Harold was okay to be met while ill and bleeding on a nice, soft bed but some dude like Generaz made the entire scene unsightly. He planned to get up, but knew he couldn't make any sudden moves that could offend the weird people like the cloud guys or another. Either way the delusional boy din-layer did his best to cover his etiquette faux pas.

"Perdones and many weeshes. May blesses be in thine and upon though people where ever the holiest of gales render the tides of evil and villainy asunder, for as the worlds may turn and the smoke may raise the dark that battles against the good in us all may never rest in any sleeping moment or snaking suspicion, standing strong against an onslaught of impeccable foes while utilizing wit and reason..." His introduction continued, making an impartial observer wonder whether or not he was actually damaged or if the boy was just particularly gifted in terms of lung capacity. In either measure he ended up quoting around 45 holy books, most of which didn't actually exist, and referenced the words of "Generaz" even though he had only known him to speak some aged latin phrase inherited from emperors. If the first prelude hadn't been heard then it really wasn't worth listening to, and of course Aru had skipped over the preludes he had thought up to get right to brass tacks.

After his couple of blood infused coughs and long-winded discussion had come to an end, a very one-sided conversation, he began to sit himself straight. It wasn't technically the best idea but the spear had gone in cleanly enough that all he did was readjust the position of the point through his artery. The blood loss was ultimately very consistent but continual strain in that artery made it more at risk to damage during stressful episodes. It didn't matter, the din-layer knew he couldn't lose face in the presence of such an overwhelming entity that exuded its own exempt importance. The power of clouds and the blowing of winds was important shit, Azhit knew that he couldn't really lay dins when there weren't blowing winds or clouds to gaze at while his head grew lighter and lighter. His focus was wavering, a fair course of events considering he'd probably consumed way too much to talk for minutes on end.

The fountaining brook bubbled with an untamed humbleness. The modesty of the stream itself exciting the onlookers. Among them was the young Skypeian, watching in awe as the purple leaves forded over the rocks slowly with the shifting waves of the stream. Almost spontaneously he began to take up everyone else's shout, a cheer to not be taken lightly. This blood water rapids was an incredible blood sport to be watched with blood as the blood ran blood blood.

"Flow flow flow flow flow! Leaf go!"
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The cadaverous louse of unfortunate fortitude was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He was standing between a lunatic and some shit that he couldn’t even bother attempting to explain. His gut reaction was just to shrug and leave, but considering how festered, rotten, and ulcerous his gut was, he didn’t put much stock in that simple gut reaction.

Aru just continued to babble on, and the two-headed dinosaur just stood there, breathing and sneering, “Just… Just give me five minutes.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, smearing the blood splatter on his face further into just a red-black patch of fingerprints. Looking on the bright side he realized that his severe blood loss had significantly impacted the level of pain brought on by his headaches. And the truth was, if Cosmo had had blood flowing through his brain, he would’ve been in the midst of a stroke right about now.

Finally taking his hand off of his nose, the undeserving undead strode over to Aru and lightly put one foot down on the young man’s thorax. He knelt forward a bit, shifting his other leg from the sand into a knee which rested on the soft abdomen of Aru. which might’ve put pressure on the hapless goon’s chest, “Alright, dinosaur explain why you exist.” He demanded, taking a look over his bandaged shoulder.

The two headed dinosaurs covered in secret, “Science has gone too far, I’m afraid.” The right head sagely responded with a nod. The right head cackled, “Too! Too far! Ethics, what a joke! Rahwawawa!”

Cosmo rested his heavily bandaged arm on his knee and took a moment to let that sink in. He shrugged, “Alright, that makes enough sense.” He had almost forgotten that he was in the Grandline, wherein these things were in all likelihood the norm. Taking his hand off of his knee, he wrapped it around the handle of the wooden dagger, or spearhead or whatever, which clued in that he was about to start with that was obviously an ill-advised medical maneuver, “Can you use your science gone awry to explain what’s wrong with him?” He questioned with very little sincerity in his voice.

“He’s been stabbed.” The right head responded. “Impaled more like it!” The left chimed in. “Yes… impaled.” The right corrected itself.

In a moment that would’ve been a good breather for Aru, Cosmo took his hand off of the dagger’s hilt. He twisted around, the protrusions of broken vertebrae showing with the twisting of his spine, “Yes, I know; I stabbed him.” The fiendish lout replied in a tone of frustration. He couldn’t care less about the physical state of Aru, but he really didn’t want to have to put up with more of Aru’s crazed ramblings.

The two heads of the dinosaurs looked to each other, before turning back to Cosmo to utter “Why?” In complete bewildered unison.

“He had blood in his body and I didn’t.” He bluntly responded, not showing any sign of irony, meaning that he was completely serious. If Cosmo had one positive trait, it was his ability to be honest. His honesty kept on strong when all the rules in the world told him that being honest in that particular scenario was heinously ill-advised. He turned back to Aru, wrapping his hand with all its wounds and exposed bones around the hilt of the wooden dagger.

He leaned forward, so his milky grey eyes would stare directly into the normal grey eyes of Aru. Cosmo probably couldn’t have been called a medical professional, despite the fact that he often referred to himself as one. He was nurse, an unlicensed and untrained nurse whose entire basis was a nurse was learned from some light reading. With that said, he was the only one between Aru and was possibly an untimely death, or at least that’s the way he saw it. “This is going to hurt, an absurd amount... but rest easy, because it could be worse...” He boldly asserted.

He pivoted his weight to push down on his abdomen with his knee, whilst he yanked up with his wait in some sort of pivot, whilst he firmly grasped the splintered dagger. The end goal was to increase pressure in the torso, to push, while he violently pulled.
Edited by Khepri, Nov 30 2013, 12:36 PM.
Leens & Khepri by Neon


Andrei Myshkin • Holy Paladin • Thief/Entertainer • Underdogs • Rank: Ensign • SD Earned: 285 • Beli: Some number • Location: Khepri

Xanthippe • Sheepherder • Weapon Specialist/Chef • Odd Jobs • Threat: 0 • SD Earned: 40 • Beli: 500,000 • Location: Silent Hill

Percival Aloysius Periwinkle • Legitmiate Businessman • Merchant/Marksman • No Crew • Bounty: 130,000,000,000 Extol • SD Earned: 148 • Beli: 21,000,000 • L: Alabasta

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Seeing things through red, though that darling scarlet would be one with which his eyes would soon be in want of, was a rather relaxing thing despite common mythos relative to how red influences ones emotions. In this particular scenario, the Skypeian boy was a lovely and well-behaved fellow (not to say he wasn't normally) who was both respectable and heartily presentable. Dealing with the intricacies of talking to and dealing with the abstract realizations of electromagnetic frequencies was ever easier because everything seemed to enjoy its own red shift courtesy of doppler-driven effects. A simple conversation on the eradication of the specific frequencies far too slow to ever be of any value did not bring up the words "Nyamen", "Nyitler", or "Nyauschwitz." It was a wonderful development of societal contributions to horribly meaningful and self-destructive topics without the usual amount of dangerous slang and slanderous language that defiled the ears of superior beings.

The pain was incredible, of which Azhit was certain thanks to the unbearable feeling of his body being pulled apart on a lateral plane involving the most amount of nerves imaginable (all of them) being stretched to destruction. He wanted to scream, he obviously did since he had a mouth and could. It went something along the lines of...

"Lord of Creation and Herald of Death I demand recompense for this disaster you have set me through! In life I thought naught of the gift of pain until this moment when it was defined in its most primal nature to me! How could any sane being, reeling from your actions, know not to blame thee with the consequences! Burning murder, mother of earth and all the horror I feel, dash you and whoever shall spread thine name with pleasure to feel a drop of the monstrous destruction that has befallen I thanks to thee. For in my death, for surely the Herald rises, I will fight against the loveless beings that were given the power to create."

If "something along the lines of..." meant the chronic release of air from one's windpipe to create a bloodcurdling yell until one's throat gave from the strain. Sure, the delusionist was overreacting somewhat but his actions were not nonsense. Any sane, respectable, linguist would be able to properly interpret his yell and then compose a rousing response to bring him back to the reason loving men of an age of religion long thought to have been buried in progress.

The wind that had previously been used to communicate with the dispersing, ephemeral recreations of euphoric patterns of light was lost. Along with the focus necessary to bring back pieces of the electromagnetic spectrum into reality, or surreality. He was wheezing for breath while the oxygen he craved flowed from his chest in the form of a sickly cherry syrup. As the hemoglobin began to break into an iron oxide Aru merely wheezed, asking for help in the nonexistent phantasms of colors and invisible lights before he no longer could.
Bwao!
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Khepri
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The warm spatter of blood warmed up the now cold and partially congealed blood splatter already covering his face. The geyser of blood shooting out of the young, incredibly young man with an entire life ahead of him (kind of) was telling of success; the geyser showed that the spearhead was no longer lodged in his body. In fact, now that the youth was even speaking coherently, concisely, and just in general making perfect sense, Cosmo was confident that he had solved a lot of the psychological issues as well. For once, Cosmo felt a little bit of pride in himself. He had a lot of issues, more issues than he could count, and he could count really high, he just didn’t have the time to do so.

With in a motion that could only be described by the oxymoron “haggard poise”, he removed the bandage from his rent arm allowing the spurt of blood to shoot straight into his half spit and open artery. As quickly as it shot in, he wrapped the bandage, closing the wound shut. He sat there a moment, all placid and tranquil, not exactly caring as blood continued to shoot out of the wound he created in Aru’s thorax. He let out a relaxed sigh with his face become slightly less emaciated than it usually was. Blood was in his system, and the buzzarding young adult was ready to get on his feet again.

Cosmo, about to abandon Aru there on the beach to die, once again remembered that he had siphoned blood from a living, breathing individual who probably had hopes and dreams outside of being used as a humanoid blood transfusion, which didn't matter to Cosmo, but he was being watched by the marines. He quickly returned uttering a slew of curses under his breath, and above his breath, and loud enough to be heard on the other side of the island… it probably sounded something like, Slut-shaming, bastard son of a bastard from a long line of bastards, whose bastardom was so damn notable that the first bastard named “William “Bill” Bastard”’s surname was used for to describe the situation, but because his daughter was a bastard she didn’t even know she was a Bastard!.” He wasn’t so good at the cursing.

With a wrist-whipping motion he tore the pants off of Aru’s limb, bleeding, and dying body. Without much in the way of rapport he ripped said trousers into a long piece of fabric. With a lot of pressure he attempted to wrap the bandage around Aru’s thorax, over his clothes. He bound it incredibly tight, because if there was one thing Cosmo couldn’t be bothered to do, it was both clean and stitch the wound shut. Via his own branch of medical science, he figured that if he bound the wound tight enough, all the bacteria would be crushed, and the blood wouldn’t have any room to leave the body, and he was correct. Whilst Aru might’ve had some difficulty (it’d basically be damn near impossible) breathing from the whole binding, he was at least saved from anemia and bleeding to death. The long-dead, yet still living callous bleeder slapped the epicenter of the wound through the bandaging uttering a dry, sardonic parroting of, “Alright, walk it off.”

Because the of position in which he had placed himself in, Cosmo had no other choice but to shift all of his weight back onto Aru’s abdomen in order to get back up to his feet once more. The undead bastard son of a bastard (and that whole thing in repeat) bound up his arm once more, to keep the blood he stole in his veins. As a test of stability, he held his arm out in order to invite helping Aru get to his feet. He was going to need support, because he damn sure couldn’t a straight line walk after all that blood loss.

The two-headed dinosaur looked on in confusion, setting aside the first aid kit it had and just grinning out of both mouths, “I’m sure he’ll be fine.” The right head responded.

“I can do one better!” Cosmo barked with all sorts of ferocity, “I know he’ll be fine.” For once, he showed optimum. Maybe for once things were going to be okay, maybe everyone was going to get out ahead, and everything was going to be just fine. But then Cosmo thought about how he actually gone about the medical procedure and pondered, Probably.” He corrected himself in a tone that lacked any sort of passion or conviction or confidence in his medical professionalism.

“Fair enough...” The right head calmly responded. In place of the first aid kit he seemed to materialize a pair of handcuffs, reeking of the power of the sea, “I, Cesere: lieutenant of the World Government’s Marine forces hereby arrest for gross malpractice.” The right head bluntly stated, as the dinosaur shifted into a more brutal looking halfway point between two-headed dinosaur and two-headed man, which got rid of the whole short arm issue. “Bad medical practice is illegal under the “Let's Just Stop Simian Brundlefly act” of last year.” the left head found it important to explain.
Edited by Khepri, Feb 16 2014, 09:57 PM.
Leens & Khepri by Neon


Andrei Myshkin • Holy Paladin • Thief/Entertainer • Underdogs • Rank: Ensign • SD Earned: 285 • Beli: Some number • Location: Khepri

Xanthippe • Sheepherder • Weapon Specialist/Chef • Odd Jobs • Threat: 0 • SD Earned: 40 • Beli: 500,000 • Location: Silent Hill

Percival Aloysius Periwinkle • Legitmiate Businessman • Merchant/Marksman • No Crew • Bounty: 130,000,000,000 Extol • SD Earned: 148 • Beli: 21,000,000 • L: Alabasta

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