| Warm, soothing goo surrounds your body. It's so hard to move, and impossible to think. You may not realize it yet, but you have been selected for the Crew of the Vesmir. Oh, sure, you may not be capable of anything good or wholesome, and fine, you not even know what space is, but that doesn't matter to your moon-sized captor. You have been chosen, stolen from the only home you have known, and are now forced to suffer the indignities only a ship of kobolds can provide. Perhaps it's not as serious as all that. Somewhere between the crystal spheres and the endless void of space drifts a giant, living, silent ship. The Vesmir. Home. Once you log in, this annoying block of text goes away: |
| Blackcherry Malachite Weinerschnitzel; Ed. Note: Giant Slut | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 1 2009, 03:49 AM (176 Views) | |
| BMW | Apr 1 2009, 03:49 AM Post #1 |
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Name: Blackcherry Malachite Weinerschnitzel, or "BMW" for short, since it's a sweet ride. awwwww yeah. Race/Specie/Ethnicity/Bloodline/Beinghood: Zeltron from the planet Zeltros Age/DOB: 26, born at some irrelevant date but is probably a scorpio since they're horny as fuck and are fond of the drink. Gender: Female Home Planet: Zeltros Height: 5'7", 1.72 meters Weight/Shape: Average, shapely galactic sex-machine in a creamy red-pink humanoid shell. Hair/Scales/Plumage/Dangly Parts: Black wavy hair of a longish nature. Eyes or other important sensory apparati: Eyes, blue-gray, that pop out from their starkly darker surroundings. Skin: Red-pink, almost like a bloody-bubblegum color. Delicious. Other Important Features: Has an extra liver, can drink you under the table! Physical Description: Blackcherry Malachite Weinerschnitzel is the product of generations of stunning, statuesque, top-heavy, wasp-waisted ass-kicking Zeltronian humanoids, but of course, the gene pool thins out after a while. BMW definitely has her T&A dept. covered (and knows how to use em), but is less of an athletic type, as many of her species-comrades are, but doesn't give a damn. Can't win em all! She's about average human height at 5'7", but nice posture has never been a big component of her style. A beauty mark on the right side of her lips leaves a unique, almost classy contrast to her smooth voice with tacky, loud and crass vernacular. BMW has a typical Zeltronian accent, but can adapt and keep it to a minimum so as to not face ridicule. Personality: BMW generally reacts towards most external stimuli with rabid lust, vicious hatred or extreme neutrality. Raised on Zeltron, the hedonistic-24-hour-drive-thru-fun orgy of a planet that it is, morals are passe, inhibitions are few if they exist in the first place, and anything that walks has the potential to be a new bang, a new fight or a new drinking contest. BMW also, despite her happy-go-fucky attitude, gets discouraged when things continuously go poorly. She tends to just violently laser beam in on the goal and flail wildly until she loses interest or sees it through. Interests/Likes/Dislikes: BMW is motivated by her desire for more desires. She's generally been there, done that, done them, but the mysteries of untold peril and potential hawt dudes keep her looking out for trouble, and possible riches and candy. BMW has a penchant for wearing skimpy, shiny, outfits and dancing like a moron to weird, underground music. She absolutely hates when obstacles prevent her from her goal- but it is also a sort of fun challenge, too, if she can overcome it. She's got an odd aversion to nuns, holy folk and the po-po, for some reason, unless it's about pestering them. Abilties, Powers, Skills, Weaknesses: BMW speaks basic, can read, and is of slightly ditzy to average smarts- in the book world. Growing up on the mean streets has taught her ways of intimidation, charm, and entertainment skillz, not to mention how to pull a weapon out at any moment to obliterate an oncoming evildoer. She can whip up some muffins (roofie-free or not) in a flash to tempt even the most reluctant of rape-ees. Handling large animals comes naturally, and she's got an eye for shiny things. BMW also has some experience in demolitions and pillaging, but can't pilot or do math to save her life. A lot of the time, she misses the forest for the trees, and has been lucky so far with her intermittent idiocy. And, as all true Zeltrons, she is a sucker for all things irresponsible, fun and sexy, which can, obvy, go either well or horribly, horribly wrong. Home: Zeltros is the epitome of partay-tiems, and it's open for business 24 hours. and that business is likely a titty bar. The skies are clouded with smog from the small dune buggy-like conveyances that tourists and natives alike drive across the crumbly, overworked surface. Houses are moderately-sized tenements- not fancy but not bad. They're there for when you need to come home after a night, day and another night of running around having fun. Items: A small gun tucked down her top for quick access, an easily hidden wallet with cashola and IDs. BMW also has a variety of rohypnols, special ks, and other knock-out type drugs for when people just won't co-operate. Edited by The Vesmir, Apr 1 2009, 04:59 AM.
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| BMW | Apr 2 2009, 01:57 AM Post #2 |
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Blackcherry slumped and sighed deeply as she pressed her dehydrated and utterly exhausted palm to the hand scanner on the door to her small, dimly-lit tenement. It would have been an exquisite evening of fine appetizing and partaking of beverages if that tawdry drunken Twi'lek hadn't decided to fumble /straight/ into her gentleman caller and try to make a move. It was a poor decision on her part, and a few exchanges of colorful language here, some blood under the nails there... Regardless, Blackcherry found herself outside the cantina, without her date, without all the stolen glasses she was planning to casually swipe from the bar, without her dignity. Phazed only slightly, with pride bruised more than her body, another Wednesday night had bit the dust. Or was is Thursday morning by now? Who the hell knew. The walk home was short, the same stretch she'd walk most days from the city center. The clack of her heels on the cement was overridden with honking of buggies and the laughter of jovial tourists, exploiting her home planet for all the delight they could squeeze out of every pore, every orifice. It's almost a shame, really, how pathetic the non-Zeltrons got after going through a couple of adult beverages and a pair of hookers. Tsk tsk. They just clog up the streets now, at this time of night, all in a drunken, disgusting stupor. Upon entering the dimly lit apartment, illuminated by the city lights outdoors, filtering in through not-quite-opaque curtains, Blackcherry relished the silence. Her humble abode really was the one place she had for silence, or at the very least muted chaos. She sat down, gradually sliding further and further down off the arm of the sofa. Her couch was old, a relic from prior decades, with worn down fabric from eons of love and use. So much like her elder family members, she thought, chuckling to herself in the solitude. Quickly and begrudgingly sneaking a peek at the clock on the wall, Blackcherry closed her eyes. Edited by BMW, Apr 2 2009, 02:03 AM.
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7:15 PM Jul 11