Better than my first night. I somehow managed to die to a Mother Slime.
You forgot the caps lock.
Mix peanuts into their food. Pray the Shardmind and necromancer were in that half of the party. Then do the night time stabby thing.
Extreme is my middle name. Twice.
Punch trees. Get wood. Make a crafting table. Use table to craft wood to make a makeshift house. Have your house constructed by the start of night. Stay in the house for your first night to guard against zombies. Wait, which game are we talking about again?
Well, more to his laptop bag. >_> EDIT: Wait, did I set him on fire? I was toying with the idea. Can't remember. Don't think I did...
O__Q O______Q O____________________Q Good sir, you appear to have misplaced your monocle.
Slit their throats in their sleep. Necromancer first, so you don't end up with revivals.
KHV-tan setting fire to Andrew???
Some parts were funny, right? I mean, the aeroplane crashing and KHV being blamed for it was hilarious! Right...?
We planned on it being a light comedy. The idea was to finish the contest on a nice, lighthearted note. Then, well... The characters had other...
>> << >>
In that case take a dump on their desk and bleat like a goat. What? It's not like they can give you worse than a fail.
I will pay someone to put Google translated Wikipedia as a reference.
"OOOOF!" Faust saw the girl's foot coming towards him seconds after he felt it connect solidly with his jaw. Like a stone thrown masterfully across a lake, he bounced across the floor seven times before coming to a halt, dripping blood. He slowly got to his feet as his vision took a moment to refocus on the threat. That earned him a clean blow to the gut, and his frame folded with the frailty of age, almost doubled over. Then he grinned, and straightened himself out, laughing heartily. "That all you got, girl? Can't even keep an old man down? Why don't you go take a peek up an angel's skirt like your fri- URG" Iona's shoe buried itself deep into his prostate. He tottered back, and looked up. He was no longer laughing. In his hand was a large shard of glass. Iona saw it. He knew she saw it. He grinned, and lunged at her. Now she was the one on the defensive, dodging the glass, getting hits in where she could. Her assault was wearing him down, and her earlier hits definitely took their toll. The old man moved more cautiously, and swung slower. On the other hand, there were his eyes. Something about them left no doubt that he fully intended to eviscerate her body and desecrate her corpse. "Such a skinny body you have. But don't worry. I'll make sure you cut you open and pack you full of candy!" He sped up, swinging faster and faster, mental faculties breaking down, madness taking hold. Blood leaked from where he gripped the shard, white threads trickling over his ghostly-white knuckles. He no longer even registered what was Iona and what wasn't. He just swung blindly, intent on murder. "SECOND WARNING!" Then his entire body was ablaze, fire running through his veins, incinerating everything in a matter of seconds. Then nothing. - - - "GO! GO! GO!" More sirens were added to the din. These ones were not sirens of shoplifters or fire alarms - no, these sirens hailed not misfortune, but salvation. red, blue and white uniforms swiftly filed out of their vehicles, preparing for the battle before them, be they fighting fire, evildoers or death itself. First came the firefighters. With an expertly-placed swings, the glass doors separating the chaos from the mall from the order of the outside world was shattered, and the wave of red poured in, elongated hoses trailing behind them. Ten, twenty, thirty, forty. Forty men burst in. The hordes of people parted for them, and they easily navigated to the blazing tree. Surrounding it, they shouted a command: "Water on!" With the force of a thousand suns, the jets shot out in unison, tearing through the fire as easily as the fire tore through the mall. Slowly but surely, the fire receeded, first trying to hide in the depths of the tree, then trying to take refuge in passing people. No matter where it tried to flea, it could not hide from the firefighters' sea serpent. Enraged, it turned its head, lashing out at any bursts of flame. It twisted around the tree, over the walls and even through people, not resting until every flame was doused and every ember turned to ash. Next came the ambulance staff, stretchers in hand. Prioritising the wounded, two of them ran to a boy lying next to the smoldering remains of the Christmas tree. "Are you okay son? Don't try to move your leg. We'll get you loaded up and out of here in no time." Others tended to the blackened, bloodied and bruised, in that order. The unfortunate victim of the exploding gas cylinder was a victim of all three, and as such was swarmed by a mob of white robes. Most people got away with their cuts bandaged, while others, such as a twitching woman found in the clothing store, were packed into the many ambulances outside the building. Whatever the conditions, the civilians were tended to, and slowly the screams and crying subsided as the medical workers did their duties. The flames fought off and the wounded tended to, the police were finally free to act. First came the chief, then the rest entered surreptitiously, and hugged the walls of the mall, trying to stay unnoticed. At first they targeted opportunistic shoplifters, single-handedly turning back a flash-mob of preteens clutching green, white and black cases. Then a higher priority caught the eye of the chief: a beating in the centre of the mall, at the base of the Christmas tree. A teenager appeared to be raining blows upon an old man as he struggled to defend himself. Signaling to the other officers, they ran forward. Then, all of a sudden, the chief stopped dead. He'd stopped, because over the sirens, he realised that in between blows, Faust was laughing. Uneasy, he signalled the others to cautiously edge closer, prepared for anything. The old man stood, and started to retaliate. The chief couldn't quite make out what was in his hand. He wasn't as hot as he used to be, and it didn't look like a knife... He hesitated for two long moments. Then he heard Faust's cry. "Such a skinny body you have. But don't worry. I'll make sure you cut you open and pack you full of candy!" He needed no other excuse. That much would be good enough for the lawyers. "Take him down!" Several officers ran forward, tasers extended, lasers pinned on the man as he swung at Iona over and over. "First warning. Drop the weapon and put your hands on your head!" Faust, quite predictably, didn't even register their existence. "SECOND WARNING!" There was no second warning. Five different tasers shots fired into the old man. He dropped instantly, convulsing on the floor. For a few agonising moments, he lay there. He twitched, then he was no more. - - - KHV-tan was not dead; she was still very much alive beneath the angel. Alas! Being swiftly crushed to death would have been a far more merciful fate than what lay in store for her. "A-ah?" KHV-tan unclenched her eyes as she realised, to her surprise, that she was alive. Her eyes barely had time to register the wall of orange before the blaze was upon her; a hundred flame-coated rats eagarly leaped from the sides of the dome. They gnawed at her appendages, at first hesistant of the wet clothes. Their nips and bites sent pain lancing through KHV's arms and legs. They ripped at her hair, tearing blue locks from her head, turning them a charcoal black. Eyes streaming from the smoke, she strained to endure the heat, searching for an exit. Despairing, she clawed at the edges, trying with all her might to escape the blaze. Pain ripped through her tendons, her fingers running raw. The pain in her legs reached a crescendo; she fell. The rats screeched in triumph at the blackened stumps, and moved upwards, flowing over the rest of her body, smothering her. They gorged themselves on her flesh and changed, becoming muscular hands. They pulled and tugged at her clothes, ripping them from her and assaulting the tender skin beneath. She screamed as the fingers dug deeper into her flesh, gouging out huge chunks. Her eyes bulged as she felt it progress from first, to second, to third degree burns. With her last vestiges of strength, she cried out weakly, "Faust! Faust! Please... help me..." Over the roar of the inferno, she heard a voice. She was certain she heard a voice. She had to have heard that voice. "Hold still, KHV-tan! I'll save you!" That sound danced around what used to be called her ears, on the side of what used to be her face, calming her. There was no pain anymore. Just the crackle of flames, and the voice of Faust. "It'll be okay. Did you really think I meant all that? Even now, this is just a prank, or a bad dream. Any moment now, I'll turn on the lights and yell 'surprise!' and there'll be a special Christmas dinner I cooked for you." What remained of KHV-tan gave her best attempt at a giggle. "I knew all along you were kidding about skipping Christmas. I just knew it." Faust stroked the side of her cheek fondly, smiling down at her in her bed. "It's not quite time for dinner just yet though, alright? It'll take a while for me to prepare. So just close your eyes, and go back to sleep. You can sleep for a long time. When you wake up, I'll have a huge feast ready, with a roast turkey and everything, just how you wanted. So please, go to sleep." "But I'm not tired!" She objected, still smiling. But as soon as he'd said it, she let out a great yawn, and snuggled deeper into her blankets. "Okay, maybe I'm just a bit tired..." "I'll stay here until you fall asleep, I promise." "Mmm..." A few silent tears dripped down the old man's cheeks as he sat on the side of her bed, the girl's minute hands gently cupped in his own, her face looking ever so peaceful as she drifted off to sleep. - - - end
http://www.omegle.com/
Looks fine to me. http://www.penisland.net/
THIS IS STUPID HOW CAN I REPLY WITHOUT GETTING ANOTHER DARE THIS DOESN'T EVEN WORK THIS GAME IS STUPID IT WORKED SO MUCH BETTER ON VOXLI Anyway. You are an average highschool girl. You're not unattractive, but for some reason guys always look over you, unaware of your existence. At first, you don't pay much mind to it, but as your friends get boyfriends/girlfriends and have less and less time for you, you began to get more and more concerned. You could say you ended up being a bit of a recluse, and instead focused on your studies and employment. You are mulling your problems over on your way back from work in the evening when you see something incredibly odd falling from the sky. It almost looks like a meteorite. You didn't pay much attention to it. When you return home to your house (for you live alone; your mother is dead and your father is always away on business trips), you discover in the backyard a crater, with an extremely good looking nude young man lying unconscious amongst wreckage. Concerned for him, for it is a cold winter night, you bring him inside your house and place him in the spare bed with some of your father's clothes. When he wakes up in the morning, he claims to be unable to remember anything. You take pity on him, and allow him to stay with you. In return, he does his utmost to be useful. He has a unbelievable knowledge, to the point where he easily betters some of your professors. Thanks to his help, you race to the top of the class in all subjects, and win scholarships in History and Astronomy. Over the course of a year you grow accustomed to living together, and eventually develop feelings for each other. Without much fuss, you two enter a relationship and begin to sleep together. He is an indulgent boyfriend, and is open about everything he does. The sole issue he refuses to budge on is his being allowed to wash in complete and utter privacy. He refuses to let you even so much as see him wash his hands, let alone bathe with him. You find this odd, but his other qualities far outweighed this single peculiarity, so you let it be, and do not press this issue. Your life quickly becomes complete; you succeed in school, you hold down a steady job, and you have an ideal boyfriend. You begin to feel a sense of superiority to your friends, as you watch them go from partner to partner, while your relationship only strengthens. You are, however, still human. You make mistakes and errors. You get scared and panic. Once, in the heat of the moment, you give in to spontaneity and forget protection. You plan to buy the morning-after, but you're called into work early the next day, and it slips your mind. You don't remember until a few weeks later, when you find your monthly cycle to be unusually late. You don't want it to be true, and are almost embarrassed that you could make such a simple mistake, so you hide your head in the sand and dodge the issue. The vomiting is just because of an illness, you tell yourself. He is not stupid though, and he catches on quickly. He coaxes out the truth you tried to deny: you are pregnant. He hugs you, and tells you it will be okay. He then gets down on one knee, and proposes. You accept. The next few months become ones out of a dream, as your future assembles itself before you, and your belly swells. This time of happiness comes to an end when you accidentally walk in on your fiancée as he's in the shower. In a voice you've never heard him use before, he screams at you from behind the shower curtain for you to get out. Scared by his outburst, you try to puzzle out what he's hiding. You try to put it out of your mind, but you cannot. One night, you grind up sleeping pills, and place them in his dinner. He retires to bed shortly after. You sneak in after him with a wet face flannel and old-fashioned lantern. Hesitant, but determined to know the truth, you kneel down beside his sleeping body and stroke his face. He doesn't respond. You lather up the cloth, and begin to delicately wipe his face, wondering what could be so bad. Almost at once, the young, supple skin where you touch begins to flake off. Your eyes widen as you clean more and more, revealing an older, saggier complexion. When you get to his scalp, his fine blond hair comes off in droves, and instead, medium-brown hair begins to form. A feelings of dread fills your baby-filled belly as you realise you recognise the face. Your worst fears are confirmed when you scrub his upper lip, causing the distinctive mustache to materialise. You hold the lantern closer, desperately hoping that there is some mistake, that you are hallucinating, that it isn't real. Your hands shake with the effort, spilling a drop of oil onto your lover's chest. At once his eyes open, their usual colour replaced by one of piercing blue. He sits up and stares at you and the face cloth in your hand. His hands come up to his face, and Adolf Hitler begins to sob. Through his tears, he tells you the truth. Ever since that first night, his memories had slowly come back to him. He explains how after World War Two, he killed his wife and faked his suicide. He tells you how he evaded the Allies and fled to space, to the dark side of the moon. There, he says, he had assembled a crack team of Nazi scientists. He speaks of how they colonised the moon, and how they progressed under the surface, destroying all traces that they were there. You learn of how they created a way to change appearances, reverse aging and even outlive death. He says that he crashed to Earth as the result of a schism in the community: half wanted to go public and attempt to make amends for actions of decades past. Members of the other faction were strongly against this, insistent that the nations on Earth would not forgive, and would invoke a third world war. The in-fighting grew, and culminated in the pro-exposers forcefully exiling him to Earth, with his artificial form as his only possession. Tears dried up, he looks away from you and says that his face will have regenerated by morning, and that he will be able to leave first thing, if you wish it. Despairing, he waits for your reply. You place your hand upon your stomach, acutely aware of your unborn child. What do you do? I will do it shortly.
Only one of those was right. It wasn't the first one. Now, was that second sentence referring to my first sentence, or to your initial sentence? WE MAY NEVER KNOW :o
If you were to receive a no-strings invitation to a tea party with Hitler, would you accept? At first: Devoted Christian guy with heart problems. Now: Devoted Christian guy with a girlfriend. Oh, and with a fondness for awful puns. ToDttB? EDIT: Makaze's above me? Gah. Dare.
