I draw my weapon, a cold, jet black revolver. It sings as it cuts through the air, and I allow it to spin across my index. The trigger grazes my flesh menacingly, but I do not allow it to fire just yet. In another swift movement, I ready a round, bronze plate, simplistic yet elegant, into a position that provides enough security for kill without fear of death. A smirk plays at my lips, and a take in a deep breath, letting it out slowly and feeling the sweet stench of those deceased before me flirt with my nostrils.
Then I shoot you all and you're all dead.
Stop screwing up the chat with your freaking "RPing", especially when you can't do it properly.
Tokzic, stop pretending you're the only one around here that knows how to RP.
Guns and shields with no cover, eh? Here we go.
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The smell of death was in the air. Someone...or something...had been here recently and laid waste. A cold feeling of sorrow for those that needlessly lost their lives here swept over him. But he knew that suicide was wrong...that was probably the only thing he cared to learn from his dad after he went and got himself killed in a drunk driving accident.
A rustling sound in the distance...could someone possibly still be alive? Then the sound of bullets being fired. He had found the killer. Crouching behind his shield to load his trusty Colt .45, he unstrapped the shield and held the gun in both hands as he had been taught as part of his mandatory course just to get a permit to have the damn thing.
There was only one chance. If he missed, he was also going to be just another piece of meat to the one who had taken so many other lives here. Praying to God for safety just to be on the safe side, he squeezed the trigger...
Originally posted by thesunfan
I literally spent 10 minutes in the library looking for the TWG forum on Smogon and couldn't find it what the fuck is this witchcraft IGR
Tokzic, stop pretending you're the only one around here that knows how to RP.
Guns and shields with no cover, eh? Here we go.
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The smell of death was in the air. Someone...or something...had been here recently and laid waste. A cold feeling of sorrow for those that needlessly lost their lives here swept over him. But he knew that suicide was wrong...that was probably the only thing he cared to learn from his dad after he went and got himself killed in a drunk driving accident.
A rustling sound in the distance...could someone possibly still be alive? Then the sound of bullets being fired. He had found the killer. Crouching behind his shield to load his trusty Colt .45, he unstrapped the shield and held the gun in both hands as he had been taught as part of his mandatory course just to get a permit to have the damn thing.
There was only one chance. If he missed, he was also going to be just another piece of meat to the one who had taken so many other lives here. Praying to God for safety just to be on the safe side, he squeezed the trigger...
..but he was grasping the gun wrong and accidently shot himself and left a gaping hole in his neck..
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