ZOMBIE FORUMS

It's a stinking, shambling corpse grotesquely parodying life.
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PostPosted: Fri Aug 06, 2004 2:26 pm 
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Well, then, It's your house, and your rules. Just don't get in the way of me getting drunk. I think I have an appointment with God a little later.

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"However," replied the Universe, "the fact has not created in me a sense of obligation."


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PostPosted: Sat Aug 07, 2004 4:23 pm 
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Ry pulls into the driveway of the mansion at top speed pushing the customized Harley to its limits and grinning wickedly at the deafening roar of the engine as he tears past the front entrance only to test the brakes to their limits in order to stop a few yard past the doors.
He pulls off the mirror-slick black helmet, revealing equally black hair gathered into a tail that extended halfway down his back. He leered as a shapely young woman sauntered passed. As he strode toward the door, his arrogant swagger declared to everyone who cared that he really thought a lot of himself (I mean, why not? with those muscles and that huge, um, well, we'll get to that later). He slammed the door open with a dramatically exaggerated motion and bellowed "Who's guy gotta fuck around here to get a whiskey?"

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Here I was all ready to present the "moron of the year" award and you two have to go and make it a tie.

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PostPosted: Sun Aug 08, 2004 3:49 pm 
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The man stood a respectful distance behind the person currently using the shooting range, slightly impressed not only with the display of accuracy, but the display of weaponry. Only problem was, with the paramilitary clothing he couldn't really tell if it was a man or woman doing the firing.

Shrugging, he set his case down and began assembling the rifle, picking the parts he thought approriate for the range and conditions of the field. Once the rifle was assembled, the rest of the components were safely tucked back into the case and the rifle was layed upright on its bipod.

The other shooter was currently reloading his or her handgun, so the man thought an experiment was in order. Drawing his Walther from his coat pocket, he took aim and quickly emptied the high-capacity magazine into a target about thirty yards down the range, grouping shots in the head and heart region. A single bullet had missed the pattern and struck just below the throat, but the others had perfect grouping only an inch or two apart from one another. Satisfactory. He ejected the magazine and reached for another, wondering what his companions reaction would be. Was that a motorcycle running a little peaked out front?

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PostPosted: Fri Aug 13, 2004 1:06 am 
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From 20 Yards behind the man, Reverend Kelly cut loose a single, carefully aimed shot from his revolver. The larger, .45 caliber bullet struck the center of the man's pattern, making a distinct hole, easily separated from the others, right between there the silhouette's eyes would have been.

Ned ejected the empty cartridge and replaced it with another.

"Nice gun you have there. I prefer a wheelgun like this, myself, but I am old fashioned. You'll get better accuracy from it if you buy a few spare mags for it and switch them often. that lats that went neckwards looked like your mag spring was weakening. Might want to get a new spring."

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We used to play for silver, Now we play for life.
One's for sport and one's for blood
At the point of a knife, Now the die is shaken
Now the die must fall,
There ain't a winner in this game
Who don't go home with all, Not with all...


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PostPosted: Sat Aug 14, 2004 5:58 pm 
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Raising his eyebrow, the man replaced his Walther and drew a second handgun from a holster concealed in his armpit. It looked like a modified Mateba autorevolver, the words Mars Armaments .45-70 Special clearly visible below the chamber. Extending his arm, four rounds made themselves at home in the heart, throat, and either eye. After a short pause for dramatic effect, a fifth shot shattered the groin of the man-shaped silhouette.

Breaking the chamber, the man snatched the five ejecting cartridges from the air and dropped them into a pocket, pushing the sixth back into its chamber and loading five more before putting the gun back into its holster.

Adjusting his shades and adopting a wry tone, he gestured to the rifle.

"So are we going to continue the firearms pissing contest, or would you rather we had ourselves a little fun?"[/i]

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PostPosted: Sun Aug 15, 2004 4:23 am 
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Father Ned smiled and reholstered his weapon.

"You don't go into the church to compete. And one shouldn't continue a contest to a decisive conclusion. It's never satisfying without room for debate, leave it at apples and oranges. As for fun...I did come hear at invitation on sabbatical, but I don't know what diversions this place offers, other, it seems, than demons and women occupying one's assigned room in error."

As he spoke, ned produced a pipe from his pocket of the sherlock holmes type with an enourmous bowl, and having filled it generously, proceded to smoke it.

"Forgive my rudeness, the name is Reverend Ned Kelly. If you are not Catholic or partial to "Father", Ned will do just fine. Especially since I am entering a time of life in which being called "Father" sends me to checking for gray hair."

_________________
We used to play for silver, Now we play for life.
One's for sport and one's for blood
At the point of a knife, Now the die is shaken
Now the die must fall,
There ain't a winner in this game
Who don't go home with all, Not with all...


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PostPosted: Sun Aug 15, 2004 4:39 pm 
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"Alex. Just Alex for now. As for me, I do... various sorts of business, when the price is right. As for my invitation, the only reason I accepted was because I know of Kyhm by reputation and, to be honest, I was bored out of my skull. Concerning diversions... I was just about to try out my new rifle. Care to try it yourself?"

Without waiting for an answer, the man put in earplugs, over which he placed a set of shooting headphones. He gestured to a spare set in the case, hefted the rifle, and sighted it in. After a few moments, he was satisfied with the settings, inserted the magazine, chambered a round, and took aim through the scope.

The other houseguests thought they were the subject of heavy artillery fire. The report was so loud that it was a nearly physical force. The man bent to retrieve the spent cartridge and examined his handiwork. The round had left a hole the size of a saucer in the exact center of the target, which was currently smoking. A slight hint of a grin showed on his face as he turned to the reverend behind him.

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Pyro: Noun. Practicioner of the ancient and gentle arts of burning shit down and blowing shit up.

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PostPosted: Sun Aug 15, 2004 7:23 pm 
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Rana was shocked awake by the sounds of gunfire. She shook her head and looked around.

"What the hell...?"

Turning around, she moved off the trail and crept through the forest, using the undergrowth as cover, heading towards the mansion to get a better look at what was going on.


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PostPosted: Sun Aug 15, 2004 8:53 pm 
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Ry grins at the sound of the firearms nearby. He pulls a cigar out of an inside pocket of his jacket and chews thoughtfully on it for a moment before flicking a zippo out of his pocket and lighting it. Trailing clouds of noxious cigar smoke, he stomps off in search of firing range.

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Here I was all ready to present the "moron of the year" award and you two have to go and make it a tie.

Initiated by Rae for general stupidity


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PostPosted: Mon Aug 16, 2004 7:14 pm 
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Chaos paused for a moment.

They are quite good... let's shake things up a little!

Going inside herself she manipulated the laws of physics near the firing range, a nudge here, and a push there caused a series of reactions that resulted in the seemingly impossable.

***

In a moment of silence, when all of the gine were in the midst of reloading, a bright flash momentarily blinded all nearby people as one of the targets exploded into flame.

***

Chaos winced as she felt the changes rack her body. Crap that did more then I thought it would. I guess I should watch out...

She then proceded to spend the next minute rearanging her clothing to accomidate a new part of her anatomy.

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A man said to the Universe, "Sir, I exist!"
"However," replied the Universe, "the fact has not created in me a sense of obligation."


- Stephen Crane


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PostPosted: Thu Aug 19, 2004 9:48 am 
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WTF?

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PostPosted: Thu Aug 19, 2004 9:26 pm 
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WTF?

::Skjie~chan goes running toward the explosion::

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Remember, one always has what they need, nothing more, nothing less. Sometimes, we just don't know what we need.


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PostPosted: Fri Aug 20, 2004 10:54 am 
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As Skjie turn to run, Chaos grabs her and turn her back.

"Don't worry. Nothing was damaged. Except one of the target practice dummies. No need for you."

_________________
A man said to the Universe, "Sir, I exist!"
"However," replied the Universe, "the fact has not created in me a sense of obligation."


- Stephen Crane


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PostPosted: Sun Aug 22, 2004 1:22 pm 
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Slightly confused as to why one of the targets would explode into flames for no apparent reason, the man began looking around for anyone with a line of sight to the firing range. He noticed a woman that appeared entirely too calm for having just witnessed an explosion speaking to Skjie, put two and two together and got nine.

......

Screw it, let's just ask Skjie about it and be a paranoid nut later. Ooh, the pool is clothing-optional. Hello, ladies!

"Excuse me, father. I believe I have something to attend to."

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Pyro: Noun. Practicioner of the ancient and gentle arts of burning shit down and blowing shit up.

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PostPosted: Thu Aug 26, 2004 1:08 pm 
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"Excuse me, father. I believe I have something to attend to."

Chaos Descided to take this oppertunity. She walked to the door and called out to the rest of the people on the shooting range.

"If you are quite finished playing the 'Who has the biggest gun dick,' how about you come in here. I have drinks for all.

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A man said to the Universe, "Sir, I exist!"
"However," replied the Universe, "the fact has not created in me a sense of obligation."


- Stephen Crane


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PostPosted: Thu Aug 26, 2004 2:01 pm 
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"No thank you, I don't drink alcohol. At least not if there's an alternative. I think I'll retire to my room until dinner."

Gathering his rifle and gun case, the man returned to his room and locked the door.

"All right, Skjie. What are you up to? Been watching too many Fantasy Island episodes lately?"

He reached into his luggage and started reading the invitation again, trying to decipher some hidden message in the notes wording.

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Pyro: Noun. Practicioner of the ancient and gentle arts of burning shit down and blowing shit up.

DNI'd by actor_au


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PostPosted: Sat Aug 28, 2004 4:32 pm 
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Post you socialist bastards! Quit pretending you have real lives!

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Pyro: Noun. Practicioner of the ancient and gentle arts of burning shit down and blowing shit up.

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PostPosted: Tue Aug 31, 2004 10:43 pm 
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Ry approaches the nearest female and grabs her ass.

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Here I was all ready to present the "moron of the year" award and you two have to go and make it a tie.

Initiated by Rae for general stupidity


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PostPosted: Wed Sep 01, 2004 12:36 am 
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OUCH!

::Skjie bats away Ry's hand::

I'm not certain how you ask a lady out where you come from, but that's rather unpolite!

::Perterbed, Skjie straightens her clothes and goes after another rowdy guest::

HEY! YOU! COME BACK HERE!

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Remember, one always has what they need, nothing more, nothing less. Sometimes, we just don't know what we need.


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PostPosted: Wed Sep 01, 2004 12:49 pm 
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" How about 'Let's go fuck like bunnies' , do you like that better, Skjie?

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Here I was all ready to present the "moron of the year" award and you two have to go and make it a tie.

Initiated by Rae for general stupidity


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