Poll: The Great Escapist Civil War
- Thread starter TheRealCJ
- Start date
Fire Daemon walked to the bar, smiling.
'The Escapist Raiding Party, now that was an adventure.'
He grabbed a glass and poured himself a coke, it looked refreshing despite the sickly black colour and he tried to remember what his thoughts had been when he first drank it. He took a gulp and put it back down on the table.
'Don't worry Rex all that raiding was long in the past and even though some of us keep miniature versions of you as a grisly trophy to woo the fairer sex I like to think that that ship has sailed and we can all move on. As Escapists we have a duty, a duty to form groups with acronyms as names and go fight some trolls in an epic apocalyptic showdown that will determine the future of the entire universe, the terms and conditions clearly say so'.
Fire cocked the shotgun, a shell fell out.
'Besides, we can always use a new name. How about The Escapist Troll Response Initiative Squad. TETRIS. Like blocks falling into place so shall our enemies disappear when they form a full line, like the power of the line piece so shall our strength wipe away legions of their armies...' The two men just stared at him.
Timidly he pumped his shotgun and looked at his drink.
[sub]I like it[/sub]
'The Escapist Raiding Party, now that was an adventure.'
He grabbed a glass and poured himself a coke, it looked refreshing despite the sickly black colour and he tried to remember what his thoughts had been when he first drank it. He took a gulp and put it back down on the table.
'Don't worry Rex all that raiding was long in the past and even though some of us keep miniature versions of you as a grisly trophy to woo the fairer sex I like to think that that ship has sailed and we can all move on. As Escapists we have a duty, a duty to form groups with acronyms as names and go fight some trolls in an epic apocalyptic showdown that will determine the future of the entire universe, the terms and conditions clearly say so'.
Fire cocked the shotgun, a shell fell out.
'Besides, we can always use a new name. How about The Escapist Troll Response Initiative Squad. TETRIS. Like blocks falling into place so shall our enemies disappear when they form a full line, like the power of the line piece so shall our strength wipe away legions of their armies...' The two men just stared at him.
Timidly he pumped his shotgun and looked at his drink.
[sub]I like it[/sub]
It was as tranquil a morning as Dragons had ever seen. Birds chirped in the distance, trees swayed in the wind. He rose, rubbing his eyes, idly wondering whether he'd remembered to get some bread last night. Sleepily, he made his way downstairs in search of nourishment and caffeine.
Or at least he would have done, were it not for the fact his stairs seemed to be missing. In their place was a gaping void - emanating from this chasm was what sounded like a demented remix of 8-bit music and Xbox startup noises.
It occurred to Dragons to say something. To put a statement to the universe, succinctly summarising these unusual events.
"Erm."
Not quite as profound as he'd hoped. He tried again, "Sodinell".
Never mind.
With the ingenuity born from years of sedentary button-pushing, he turned around and headed for his bathroom, whose window led to a rather decent climbin' tree. He'd never noticed just how good a view he got from that room, where nobody would look for a view of any descri-- where had the floor gone?
Ow.
He was lying in the rubble of his ex-bathroom, another casualty of whatever the hell had happened last night. Hadn't there been something on the news about some sort of violent uprising on the part of - oh, no. Please, gods, no.
He sat bolt upright, and his fears were confirmed by what was in front of him - the nearby wall was emblazoned with some indecipherable mishmash of numbers and letters, next to a crude drawing of the exterior of the male reproductive system.
Trolls. Wonderful.
He should have seen it coming, of course. The leaflets from various hardware-manufacturer loyalists, the cold-calls from some sort of monastic order (dismissed with a heartfelt "d'ye have any idea what time it is?!"), that letter from that "ancient society" he'd attempted and failed to make sense of after about six too many, that hammer to the kneecaps he'd somehow narrowly avoided last night... it all added up. The Escapist was going to war.
With weary resignation, Dragons clambered back up to his bedroom, retrieved the letter from that ancient whatsit, donned his fedora, and grabbed a beer from the Emergency Fridge.
Time to find out what this "Ancient Eight Order" business was about.
Or at least he would have done, were it not for the fact his stairs seemed to be missing. In their place was a gaping void - emanating from this chasm was what sounded like a demented remix of 8-bit music and Xbox startup noises.
It occurred to Dragons to say something. To put a statement to the universe, succinctly summarising these unusual events.
"Erm."
Not quite as profound as he'd hoped. He tried again, "Sodinell".
Never mind.
With the ingenuity born from years of sedentary button-pushing, he turned around and headed for his bathroom, whose window led to a rather decent climbin' tree. He'd never noticed just how good a view he got from that room, where nobody would look for a view of any descri-- where had the floor gone?
Ow.
He was lying in the rubble of his ex-bathroom, another casualty of whatever the hell had happened last night. Hadn't there been something on the news about some sort of violent uprising on the part of - oh, no. Please, gods, no.
He sat bolt upright, and his fears were confirmed by what was in front of him - the nearby wall was emblazoned with some indecipherable mishmash of numbers and letters, next to a crude drawing of the exterior of the male reproductive system.
Trolls. Wonderful.
He should have seen it coming, of course. The leaflets from various hardware-manufacturer loyalists, the cold-calls from some sort of monastic order (dismissed with a heartfelt "d'ye have any idea what time it is?!"), that letter from that "ancient society" he'd attempted and failed to make sense of after about six too many, that hammer to the kneecaps he'd somehow narrowly avoided last night... it all added up. The Escapist was going to war.
With weary resignation, Dragons clambered back up to his bedroom, retrieved the letter from that ancient whatsit, donned his fedora, and grabbed a beer from the Emergency Fridge.
Time to find out what this "Ancient Eight Order" business was about.
Seeing the post watcher had woken up, Radelaide grinned at him and threw a piece of circuit board in the air, playing with it like a toy.TheRealCJ said:
"Good morning, Sunshine. Sleep well?" she asked. The guard glared at her and watched the piece of board she was playing with. Radelaide saw he was distracted by the piece and put the piece on the desk she was perched on. She lifted her foot onto the desk and readjusted her laces and began to speak, "This war is so silly. I mean, there are perfectly good men being wounded in the name of something terrible," she gestured to her man, Carter, who had a bandaged up arm. "Medic, would you mind fixing our hostage up, please? We're going to need him alive and I don't want him bleeding out. I know my aim was off a little bit, so let's make sure he's okay," she said pleasantly. While her medic patched up the guard, she asked his name.
"CJ," he grunted through gritted teeth as her medic stitched up his shoulder. "Well, CJ, I was just wondering, if I were to give you a map, could you point out any more guard posts we should be aware of? I don't want to be taken by surprised again," she again spoke with a forced, almost condescending politeness.
Rade pulled out a map from her pack and pinned it against a wall. She gracefully jumped off the desk and walked behind CJ, "Would you kindly?"
I just want you to know that, for some inexplicable reason, I read your last post with Jack Nicholson's voice playing in my head. It was one of the most epic things I've done today.
Rex scratched his head with the bottom of a glass of coke. "I don't know. I was always sort of happy to see the line peice. It meant I was about to win... Actually, no. It meant I was about to humiliate myself further by failing to form a solid line with a LINE PEICE... I suck at tetris. Anyway though ... what were we talking about?"
Rex stood up and stumbled, grasping onto Daemon's Shotgun for support. "I think I may have had ... one two many asprin." He slid solidly to the ground. The shotgun pumped.
"Either that or it was the coffee. Or maybe a bad combination. Did I mention I ran for 48 days to get here? Yeah. I'm -"
There was a long silence. Daemon and Logician looked at each other. Daemon gestured something which, though himself by no means a master of mime, nonetheless came out clearly as "So ... Did you drug him?"
The Logician checked the folds of his robes and produced another small pill bottle. After a moments hesitation he turned to Daemon, smiled innocently and said "... NOoo?"
"TEDDY!" Rex shouted from the floor! "Thats it! Teddy Roosevelt was badass! HE BUILT THE PANANANAMA CANAL BY HIMSELF!!! ... The ... Escapist Death ... Derby ... Youth ... *Snore*"
And now I go to sleep. Feel free to carry Rex somewhere important if the need arises.
"No... No... Guard posts..." Stammered CJ through clenched teeth. Medic he may be, but this muscle-bound fool was still a Clansman, so approached medicine with hammer and fist.Radelaide said:
"Really?" The young interrigator enquired, "I'm expected to believe that you're the last line of defence against attack before the Citadel?"
"No, I'm just the early warning post" Replied CJ, "I just keep the Trolls away from the farmlands".
The girl half turned, and then spoke softly "If this is an early warning post, then surely the main turret firing off a couple of dozen rounds would have alerted somebody higher up the food chain..."
"Of course, they're most likely on their way now", came the reply. "Look, I know I'm not in the right position to negotiate right now, but do you honestly think that taking on the Dynasty is a clever move? We are forever innovating, while you stagnate. Surely it would be in the Clan's interest to not make more enemies! UGH".
CJ felt the controller on the side of his head. Felt the blood run down his cheek, heard the fading voice, seemingly in the distance... "Finish him off".
"Find out what you can here. If this grunt is to be believed, reinforcements will be here shortly..."TheRealCJ said:
Radelaide trailed off. "Wait!" she demanded, raising her hand before her right hand man slammed his modified red and black controller into CJ's head again, "Perhaps we can use him. Fortify this post, make sure that the enemy can't get near this place. This is a crucial spot to stop the trolls." Radelaide whispers commands into John's ear and radio's Major Nelson, "Sir, we captured the outpost, but it's merely a troll post. But I do request reinforcements, this post has alerted the Dynasty and they'll soon send a squad to check out the rounds that our hostage fired off," she pleaded with her hand pressed to her ear. "So granted," the Major replied.
She turned and smiled, "Ahh, CJ. Now we're going to have a little chat." Radelaide put her hand on CJ's wounded shoulder and gave a small injection of morphine. "We need your help. My clan is trying to assert itself from the casual gamers that seem to be taking it over. We were hoping by showing we were a formidable foe, that the Dynasty would show a stronger bond. We have information that could lead to the destruction of the Dynasty. Are you in, or out?" Radelaide offered.
"Dynasty...? Bond...? Wha...?"Radelaide said:
The girl had injected some kind of drug into CJ's system, and he had to admit, his shoulder was feeling a lot less painful. He was starting to think clearer too. Then it hit him.
"This a a ruse?!" He asked, incredulously, "then why the hell did you shoot me?!"
"How can we show we're strong just by telling you dimwads?" The girl replied "no, we had to show you what we're capable of".
"Yeah, you sure showed us", Sneered CJ, "It took a five-man squad to take down one Troll-guard by suprise".
Taking a deep breath, she hissed "You bloody went down, didn't you?! I'm not the one tied to a bloody chair!"
The Morphine chrousing through CJ's blood caused him to loose all sense of self-preservation, and it was with detached horror that his brain heard his mouth say "Sure sweetheart, whatever keeps you happy." It turns out, you can feel pain through morphine if someone shoves a finger deep enough into your still open wound.
When CJ had finished dry retching and regained his composure, the Girl leaned down and whispered in his ear "My name, is RADELAIDE!", she screamed her name into his face, noting with satifaction the grimace that appeared on it.
"Enough of this" She sighed, pulling out a knife that had bad news written all over the stained blade "-Remember, you're still tied to a chair".
Almost instantly, the drug-induced bravado drained off of CJ's face, to be replaced with glazed over terror. "Please... Please... I'm just a guard..." It was pathetic, in a way.
"Then answer my question, you Bastard! IN. OR. OUT?!"
CJ appeared to think for a moment... "No... I can't betray my people, not ever... I can't just defect because it suits me better. I'm a PC to the bitter end..."
Jesus christ, I think I just turned this into an Apple ad directed by Tarantino
Like I said, nobody important.ace_of_something said:
Why would I? I'm already the one.Aby_Z said:
Slowly...so slowly...
Dressed in motley and rags, the ancient Dualshock 2 hanging off his left hip, a man cut a shivering path through the mountains. Looking up, Ragnorak saw a sign.
"Who in their right minds puts a giant neon sign over a secret rebel base? What the hell?"
Flexing the mouse/keyboard gauntlet (of his own design) that controlled the minigun turret attached to his back, the expatriated Playstation/PC crossbreed shook his head and walked up to the bar. The glittering, shiny bar. Opening the door, he walked in.
As he glanced around the room, he didn't recognize The Logician, his old friend now bereft of the sarcastic laptop Jerry. Walking up to the bar, he knocked on the seasoned oak hardtop. "I don't suppose I could get a couple shots of Glenlivet, could I?"
Dressed in motley and rags, the ancient Dualshock 2 hanging off his left hip, a man cut a shivering path through the mountains. Looking up, Ragnorak saw a sign.
"Who in their right minds puts a giant neon sign over a secret rebel base? What the hell?"
Flexing the mouse/keyboard gauntlet (of his own design) that controlled the minigun turret attached to his back, the expatriated Playstation/PC crossbreed shook his head and walked up to the bar. The glittering, shiny bar. Opening the door, he walked in.
As he glanced around the room, he didn't recognize The Logician, his old friend now bereft of the sarcastic laptop Jerry. Walking up to the bar, he knocked on the seasoned oak hardtop. "I don't suppose I could get a couple shots of Glenlivet, could I?"
And I belong to all sides, yet none of them. I called this earlier. Besides, you're more predictable.Aby_Z said:
I'm fully aware of that, and as such I believe us fighting together on the same side would be the only logical choice. We can't just whip out Instrumentality or a robot bigger than the Universe out our asses so we should join sides to ensure our survival.crimson5pheonix said:
But I don't need to, I'm the one and am on every side and no side. I just sit back and watch.Aby_Z said:
Berethond and his men stood at the top of a small hill a short distance out from the troll post. The higher-ups had heard heard the gunfire, and Berethond's detachment was the closest one to the scene. They moved quickly, and soon came into weapons range of the post. Berethond gave a series of complex hand-signals, and his unit fanned out. Soon Berethond found an angle where he could see the guardsman, CJ, and his attacker through a window near the top of the structure. "Those aren't trolls." Berethond said quietly to his spotter/medic. Berethond raised his signature extended keyboard/rifle, and said to his radio. "Weapons safe, I'm giving one warning shot." He fired one single shot, through the window and into the wall. Then, he stood up slightly so his position would be barely noted by the intruders.TheRealCJ said:
Then he broadcast on the guard post's PA system. He said, "Identify yourself, intruder, before you get one between the eyes for messing with my guard."