Story Reposted from Dev Corner
Warning for mature readers only!! This one will get graphic..very graphic with alcohol, pirates, grit, dirt, raunchy jokes, an truly memorable commentary. The environment of the world I'm building is as close to realistic as I can get it without slapping an "over 21 only," "You're getting carded to enter" feel. Please bear this in mind, and Enjoy!
(Errr yes editors note: I like opinions! I am aware of the innumerable spelling and grammatical errors. Yes, I know I like dots... they convey for me a sense of dramatic pause.. haha. I will try to omit this with each polishing. This is a rough draft, and I already see the order of it changing. I'd appreciate it if you ignore any spelling errors for the time being.
Jotting down the story as it flows into my head. Edit after.
Round 1 editing (quick spelling/grammar check. ommission of unnecessary dots with proper punctuation) Status : 50%
Round 2 editing (capitalization of I's) status: 20%)
We had come rather far in our brief existence within this age old
We have bleed, and we have shed blood...
We have grown and we have regressed... 5 cycles of this... only to be
knocked back to square one
Finally, now it seems we have broken free from our blue marble of a world...
our self imposed prison.
My heart pounding...
Gunfire rattles through the corridors. Thunderous claps impact against the ship's battered frame, toppling and scattering objects off their resting places.
A flash of light blasts my eyes shut..
My body stumbles backwards as the upper deck caves in on a waterfall of flames.
A steel beam swings out in my direction...and time grinds down to a near standstill as I count these last few seconds of my life..
My foot hits something mid-stumble, my body gives way, and I'm sent sprawling onto the main corridor. A thunderous roar of crashing debris, scraping metal, an tons of steel plummet onto where I stood mere moments ago.
I scamper back onto my feet & take off down the corridor. An explosion rips through the bulkheads to my right sending me reeling into the wall like a rag doll, the crunch of my ribs reverberates through my core.
Adrenaline... surges through me and it's quite possibly the only thing that keeps me going.
I claw my way back to my feet..again, as deathly silence envelops me.
The ringing in the back of my head and the frantic beating of my heart urge me forward.
A security detail clad in repulsing armor comes around and streams down towards me... guns level sweeping down their firing lanes scanning for targets. They stop and take point from me 20ft down range...I can barely hear them screaming, waving frantically with their hands, pointing...behind me. All i hear is the dull vibrations filling my head..and the obvious signs of a concussion waving over me...
I swing my head around..and time once again drones into a near moment of complete stop.. a shower of sparks beautifully erupts near me..and the sparks seem to flutter down.
A large explosion rips through a section of wall, and the mechanical legs of a navy Araneae class walker clambers in..accompanied by her consort...
Fear overcomes me as I dive for cover, not concerned with my shattered ribs and innumerable other injuries pulsating through my body.
The security detail opens fire, letting loose a hive of extremely pissed railgun rounds. These monstrosities are built to withstand small arms fire.. A streak of fiery light screams past my face towards the lead Araneae. The kinetic rocket rips through the right half of her prosoma, mechanical parts an inner fluidic gunk spewing onto the floor.
A second streak of light followed by a third barrel past towards the remaining Araneae...and the distant whirling of cycling Gatling guns hums, filling the air with a sticcatto of lead.
A barrage of rounds eagerly hunts down the lead rocket.. unleashing a concussive bubble that sends me flying towards the Araneae, crashing onto my stomach. A simple side step sends the third rocket into the ceiling punching a hole into the upper deck.
It returns fire..thump thump..two bluish orbs arc towards the security detail. Violent electro static fields erupt around the bluish orbs, letting loose a river of sparks paralyzing whoever gets hit by the pulsating static discharges.
An the whirling starts again... lighting up the air as the rounds hit the now very immobile security detail mowing over half of them down. Bodies rip apart, brains, guts, and pieces of flesh scatter everywhere..
I return my gaze towards the Araneae Walker, now advancing forward, pelting the area with more rounds than would be necessary to kill a full grown elephant. The few souls of the security detail either make haste for their retreat or throw down their weapons with arms raised. I squint back towards the hole trying to focus as waves of unconsciousness crash over me. I see a glimpse of something human,clad in death black armor. Not just one but a squad rush out and reinforce the walker. shouting orders at the soon to be prisoners... Noone ever lives to tell the tale of the Wolf Brigade.. whoever sent them wanted us bad.. dead or alive. These Navy Elites prefer dead.. and then my eyes meet with the commander. His death's head helmet's eyes flash an iridescent red as he gazes upon me.
The Commander pauses, then points in my direction as 3 Wolves rush over to collect me... I begin fading in and out of consciousness. They inject me with a stimulant, I begin to feel its effects flow into my blood. My body tingles as I'm induced into a pain-free dream-like state, my body seeming to rise on its own as nano machines tickle my motor cortex alive.
Then I'm gone, lost in my own dream. Oblivious of where my now Automaton-like body is taking me, though I had a faint idea that this would be the end of my life as a Raider....soon I would be a number..processed and forever forgotten.
' A tail of fire, barrels past, rocketing itself into the cold barren void of empty space.
The comet's light becomes refracted, seemingly splashing across the experimental chameleon armor of his very stolen United Federation Navy issue plating.
Compliments of a rather dumb, late hauler captain trying to play catch up by traveling through pirate space. A barely visible smirk can be seen in the reflection of the viewport window, creeping up his face.
"Comms eta on supply drop!" He growls, downing whats left of his Jameson Whiskey, vintage 03.
Turning on a heel he makes way towards the tube chute. (lift)
"Eta on drop, 2 jumps roughly 10 minutes Cap'n," replies the comms officer.
"What floor please" chimes the bubbly female synthesized computer.
"Bridge," he mutters... annoyed that for all this technology the only two places he's ever gone are his quarters or the bridge and still this thing asks him.
"Cap'n Emergency transmission..patching you in," says the comm's man.
"This is the Zep (static)... taking fire.. (static)...Explosions go..(static).. bulkheads 5-7 gone..we managed...(static) warp... theyll be on us when...(static)...out! Orders Sir!"
As fast as thought, a holographic video super imposes itself on his retinas.
The image paints itself against the backdrop of the lift walls.
Live streaming footage from the Zephyrs battered hull cycle past...
'Adjust angle 90 spin till hostiles are in view' his mind commands...
The portside cam spins.. panning out.. till small metallic specks appear... 'zoom and focus'
the metallic specks rocket into view..the camera bouncing as it locks and focuses.. Crimson bolts of ionicly charged rounds whizz an zip past... some pelting into the rended charred metallic flesh of the hauler...
"sh*t!" he grumbles out loud adding, " Gunnery we got ourselves a UFN patrol. Twin Ultima class gunboats backed by a Primus Cruiser.. over"
Gunnery crackles in, " Aye cap'n musta been from er raid that landed us her' in der first place mate,"
"Aye. Zephyr continue inbound rendezvous destination has not altered, you can make it! Insta jump threw the next system if ya havta, reinforcements will be there!"
"Aye!" Cries the bewildered hauler captain.
'We've been rationing since last week, we can't hold out like this without supplies.'
(to bring one up to speed the authorities of the UFN are very quick to respond, damn near psychic if ya ask me, raiders often coordinate with a secondary "unaffiliated" hauler captain who happens to be very affiliated.
Once a juicy hauler has been selected by the in-system hauler the raiders will enter.. with the authorities scrambling to intercept. Its all very methodical, the raider zips in lighting up the selected hauler whilst the friendly hauler totters over obliviously.
As soon as the vessal has been disabled, hopefully on the first strafing run as by this time Navy guns are most assuredly being brought to bear, the raider pumps as much fuel as he can in his oversized afterburners and scoots as far away as possible, with navy interceptors panting to keep pace. Now whilst all this is taking place and the navy vessels are getting farther out of range, the hauler meanders over, boards the disabled target ship and then hot foots it out as quickly as possible. Boarding is a very very bad thing to do that the Navy wags it's finger at whilst unhooking their big metallic guns from their oversized holsters, compensating much?
Here the two ships pray nobody follows as they make good their escape and rendezvous at a pre-designated location.
Pretty crafty eh; yes, yes, we know you're impressed, so back to the story)
"Comms!!" he barks " Pop out the beacon, we got one shot at this!"
"Navigation bring us out to gunnery optimal's then swing her round Front, Gunnery ya know what ta do when those navy boys show up, give em a disco show to remember and keep ya finger on that EMP pulse, if we can't take em down, we're shuttin everythin down an prayin' the beacon brings our boys around first."
(For those of yalls not in the know, this wonderful term "disco show" means firing an absurd amount of missiles an rounds as possible, which ironically is a very beautiful thing to watch as it arcs across space, that is of course if you're not on the receiving end)
"Ayyeee!" The obvious tension rising in there voices.
"Bridge has been reached, please watch your step as you disembark the lift!" chimes the computer happily.
'Good lord something has got to be done with that bloody computer'
"And can I get another bloody drink!" He hollers as he steps out of the tube chute.
"All hail Brian Gingerbeard! Irish Scourge of the 7 systems!" Booms the first mate, Odin Thunderfist, who hands him another glass of Irish Whiskey.
"Hail the fearless leader!" the bridge crew bellows, raising their glasses in unison.
"Yaaaarrrrrrrrrr!!!!!" he snarls
"Yaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!" We snarl back
We all cock our heads back an down our drinks.
(The cap'n had us rehearse this for 3 solid hours till we got it perfectly choreographed... we never did get it perfect.. after 3 hours of solid drinking we all perfectly stumbled around however. The cap'n was pleased enough with this.)
He strides to his chair, a pre-space age Laz-E-Boy, an props himself into his favorite position.
"Here we go boys!" Gingerbeard grins!
The room temperature rises... so does the speed at which our hearts beat.
The hauler flings past at FTL speeds, as do the twin Ultima Gunboats.
The hauler drops out of its fold, the Gunboats directly above it.
"FIRE," Gingerbeard bellows!
The slow concussive booms of the quad 150's light up the dark sky... madly chased by the searing flames of the Tempest heavy missiles...
The Ultimas swing around, caught completely off guard as the first volley pummels into her aft engine plating. The 150's rip through the reinforced plating with surprising ease, puncturing her main reactor. She screams as her metallic structure buckles and rips asunder, slowly engulfed in her own inner reactions.
The other Gunboat, however, was a tad bit faster on the draw; she funnels heavy plasma into her injectors an she zips past the torrent of rounds and missiles whizzing past. She adjusts her trajectory an begins her roundabout approach keeping pace a step ahead of the 150's firing solution.
"Gunnery, you're bloody missing!" Gingerbeard cries.
"Adjusting firing solution Cap'n," Gunnery barks back.
"Zephyr, you may wanna get some distance from the jump in point," Ginger commands.
Theres no reply, but moments later the remaining engines on her aft kick to life as she begins backing away.
The Primus, as if on cue, pops out if its fold. She begins to arc towards us as klaxons scream internally that her main Ion Beam is charging.
There 400's lock an starting hurling absurd sized rounds at us.
The 150's after adjusting begin bombarding the incoming Gunboat, she barrel rolls majestically, slicing through space changing her trajectory yet again.
She lets loose with Electron Cannons! They begin peppering our shields, which against everything else is a tough cookie to crack, but these guns are cookie smashers. She's like a 3-year-old fiendishly stuffing her face, on our shields.
"Navigation punch those engines! Once we reach top speed shut em down an swing her round... and let her drift. Gunnery get those Flak Missiles ready an get ready to knock her outta the sky.. You know what'll happen if it pops off a Thunderbolt Missile..!"
The gunboat unleashes another barrage, as ionized rounds shatter the last layers of shielding, leaving her prey's hide exposed.
"Aye," I cry adding, "shields down!"
"Missiles toggled and ready to fire cap'n," Gunnery replies.
"Fire when ready," commands Gingerbeard!
The Flak's rush out of their tubes like angry babies being ejected from an even angrier momma. You can almost hear them scream as their proximity warheads edge ever closer to the incoming gunboat.
Another klaxon fills the room.. A blue streak races from the Gunboat an whistles past the Flak's...
"sht Sht SH*T, Gunnery! Incoming," Gingerbeard hollers!
A whirling of the autoguns pumps about 1000 rp/m (rounds per minute) into the surrounding empty vicinity directly ahead of us, filling it with a wall of lead.
The blue streak bobs an weaves like a prized boxer but the sheer weight of rounds finally jabs into her detonating Electron Warhead... A bluish orb of expanding static engulfs the front of our ship, and we begin to rotate slowly, uncontrollably.
'to late...' is the last thought everyone onboard thinks.
"Ionic Discharge detected!" Cheerfully exclaims the computer.
Everyone shoots the computer a cold glare. 'We have got to do something about that Bloody computer!'
The main holoscreen focuses on the Primus, finally locking in its trajectory solution into her main gun.
Our systems begin cutting out from the Thunderbolt's EMP effects, our primary reactor shuts down.
The seconds tick down as time seems to come to a bloody slow crawl.
The Ion beam lances threw cold dark cruel space. It impacts on our rear, surgically slicing our engines from the rest of our vessal. Everything goes dark inside, back up generators kick in, struggling against the ion discharges snaking across the hull. The Gunboat begins her bombing run. Explosions dribble over our hull peppering into our reinforced armor.
An explosion rips through the bridge, and all I can remember is someone screaming at me as I lose consciousness, the last words I hear are Odin's, "All hands prepare to be boarded... grab your guns we make our last stand inside.. all armory locks have been disengaged suit up an lets give these Navy boys something to work for!! Yaaaarrrrrrr!!!!" He orders through ship speakers.
I feel myself getting carried away, as unconsciousness comes the dream begins to fade...
...I attempt to shake off the effects of whatever they injected into me. As I begin stirring, relearning how to move, two very ominous guards burst into the room and drag me out. They toss me into the showering room. "5 minutes and hurry the F*ck up, your to stand before the Council in 20! Move it move it!!"
Warm flowing water is abruptly cut off as razor cold water cuts into my skin. I hasten my pace muttering all manner of obscenities.
I begin towling myself off when another guard walks in and throws a pair of dingy oranges on the ground.
"Put these on!" He growls.
"F*ck off!" I snarl back, finally coming out of the drug's tender embrace.
As I finish dressing, I feel arms drop down on my shoulers pinning me in place. I try to struggle but to no avail. A black bag is wrapped over my head and I'm carted off into a waiting vehicle.
The vehicle drives for what seems to be hours then stops, I'm hustled off, half dragged, through a maze of halls and finally brought into a room. They remove the black bag and light stings my eyes as I attempt to regain vision.
Standing before the Council I could feel the judgement of its entirety
bearing down on me... I had been called in at an odd hour, 4am UTS
(Universal Time Standard)according to the wall-mounted clock, from my cell.
Head Council Member Tar'nos finally arose, "Ah the well-known raider Janos, I
hope your incarceration has been to your liking. Janos your history is, well
rather impressive, but rest assured if the need hadn't arisen, trust me
when I say this... your death would have been swifter."
'Oh boy here we go..' I thought ' they always give you something important
when you're least conscious and on the death block..hah'
"Yea.. well I ain't interested. I don't work for governments if ya weren't
aware.. i kill, steal, and live how I want, when I want!" I barked back in
"Step forward Captain Kovylovski..."
'WHAT!.... Kovy... He was by far the most renowned Captain in the fleet..
Retired at age 43. Called back into service on 3 occasions, each more difficult then the last.. what did he want with me.. and why was he
back in service?'
" Janos! I hear you're the best pilot.. I need your services for something
special." He grinned, the scar streaking across his cheek stretching in the
light. "Lets say that the authorities here are willing to... release you and
drop all charges if you undertake this rather... interesting offer."
'During his years towards the end of the Mars Rebellion, a Martian Assassin
had infiltrated his bridge crew, forced the ship into emergency shutdown, and had taken control of the contents of the cargo bay: a very classified Ionic Emitter.
(nobody remembers the guy's name; even the martians are embarrased when the story is brought up)
(authors editing mark for round 1, to be finished tomorrow)
It was a precursor to the Ion beams of today, powerful but highly
unstable. In one final act of obstinance, he intended to use it against the
Council headquarters on Luna. He had tricked the ship into thinking there
was a reactor leak, with the general crew abandoning ship from the
radiation; only the bridge officers remained. Flooding the bridge section
with an archaic Gas named BZ from old earth days, with the crew disoriented
and hallucinating, he entered and incapacitated them. Captain Kovylovski,
being the stubborn Russian that he was, shook off the effects enough to don a
breath mask and fought the assassin into submission, receiving a vicious
knife wound across his cheek in the process. However, the damage had been
done, the assassin had hardwired the firing coordinates in and disabled any
override function. With minutes left, he ejected the reactor core into space.
The concussive force of the reactor detonating rocked the ship's trajectory
enough to cause the beam to miss. Miss being an understatement: the beam
vaporized the currently being renovated west wing of the council complex for the Martian Council. Everyone scratched it off as irony, and he was hailed as a hero. I recalled from my conversation with a rather drunk guy, conversation also being an understatement, as I was waiting for a contact an here comes this blithering idiot rambling on about Mars... why I remembered this much I haven't the foggiest idea.'
" Yea and what'd you have in mind?... Why me? I'm sure you federal types got
any number of hot shot pilots you can order around." I sarcastically
He stared at me for a few minutes, then responded, "Well for a number of
reasons, but to put it bluntly, you're expendable. Look Janos, I'm no fan of
criminals, but where we are going we need survivors, and we need the best
that humanity has to offer. Now in my case, all formalities aside, I'm pretty
much done... a hero I may be but forgotten I am fast approaching. Useless
even to most... so in the same way just as expendable.."
Head councilmen Tar nos abruptly cuts in, "Now, now, Kovylovski that's just not
"Oh shut it Tar nos.. You may be able to pull that for home and country s###
with Navy Personal but it ain't impressing me!" leers Kovylovski.
I let out a chuckle before adding,"... so where are we going then cap'n?"
"I believe I can answer that question a little better," steps in a figure
who seems vaguely familiar. "In a nearby System to Sol, code named MHC-R3, we
have discovered an Ancient Star gate of some sort. We currently have a dozen research ships inspecting the artifact, and we believe we can activate the gate... though for how long is any one's guess and what may be on the other side is beyond us."
' Images of the first interstellar star ships race through my head.. big bulky
monstrosities devoid of fine lines and using pure brute chemical force to
steamroll their way through space as their occupants slept in cryoracks. Whole
colonies where shipped in this manner until... that's it the fabled space fold
engineer.. Soshimo Ommato.. this has to be his son making him...'
"Taki Ommato," I muttered.
"Why yes! Indeed I am Taki son of Soshimo.. perhaps all raiders aren't as brutish as they draw them out to be in the media reports!" Taki says sarcastically, "Any who, we have an unprecedented opportunity here..."
"Are you coming?" I cut in.
"Of course! I wouldn't miss a chance like this in a lifetime! I mean seriously, how often does one come across an extraterrestrial Star gate in his lifetime," he adds, with the grin of a schoolchild who discovered his first praying mantis, creeping up his face.
"Anyone else you'd like to parade in front of me while I'm here.." I chuckled mockingly.
"Well actually.." A heavy hand clasped my arm as I spun around excitedly
"No ######ing way!" I shouted. "Fury Hellsong!! Scourge of the trade lanes!.. Master Basher extraordinaire! Bogeyman of the bedtime stories! How did they convince YOU of all people?.."
"Hahaha!' he bellowed, " Well aside from the cool 100mil they offered me, which I admittedly first thought was just a bait, they promised to scrub my records clean and even offered me a license to kill on the other side of well, wherever we may be going, I couldn't turn down THAT!"
"Well seeing as the Most Wanted man since good ole Grankors days has been given a pardon for this, hmmm cant quite put my tongue around the word for it,I'll just say possible suicide mission," I chuckled, "I guess ya managed to recruit me."
Captain Kovylovski stepped forward and clasped my arm, his age not reflecting at all in his strength and laughed with us. "Very good very good! We have been given command of a Primus class Strike Cruiser."
Head Councilman Tar nos raises his hand for silence and says, "Well seeing as this has moved along smoothly Jainos, you are hereby declared a free man. Congratulations. Captain Kovylovski you and your team will be moved offworld to Ishukone Shipyards where we have arranged for your stay. The UFN Sondar will be at your disposal effectively tomorrow. Dismissed and good luck."
'I can't help but think how f*cking awkward all of this is. One moment I'm slated for the butcher block. The next I'm given a pardon, a high five, and a ship to pilot. A Navy Primus at that, the very same class of ship that got me into this entire predicament!'
I look skyward and wag my finger, "Bloody ironic aren't ya fate," I cooly state, a huge grin creeping up my face.
(i)I'm led out of the Council Complex to a waiting vehicle. I happen to notice one of the guards from earlier holding the door open for me.
I walk over rather proud of myself. To which he looks gingerly at me muttering, " No hard feelings, sir."
I ponder for a second before asking him, "you got a cigarette mate?"
He pats his pockets and reveals a fresh pack. He hands me one.
"Got a light?" I add. To which he hands me a light. I take one deep puff and calmly hand him his light back. He stretches his arm out to take his light. I step towards him, cock back an give him a good clean uppercut to his solar plexus, cooly stating, " Apology accepted mate."
I brush my shoulder off an get into the idling vehicle.
5 hours later,
Location: Neo New York
Twas a stormy, snowy night, were all manner of mischief was in the air, before the former pirates took flight!
Hellsong and I have headed down to a bar that neither of us have been at in quite a while.
(Raiders rarely get to return to earth; usually its to be processed, and trust me you don't get to go to a bar on death row.)
"How long ya reckon it's been since we stopped over Mickey's, mate?" I ask Hellsong. Patting him on his back, half supporting myself up.
"Oh tis been lets see, 125 raids ago me thinks, give or take a dozen," he slurs loudly, signs that the past 5 bars we've hit are finally getting to the man. "Haha," we both bellow! I open the door, and hear the familar sounds of a scuffle in order.
We both look at each other winking at one another, grins like the cheshire cat creeping up our faces.
'Typical,' we both think, one slightly slower then the other from the drink.
(Typical pirate wink, ya know the one implying drunkin bar fight. The return wink signifying Aye we might get to knock some heads.)
The door opens as light rushes out, obviously trying to escape the drama inside, bathing the wintry night.
Hellsongs eyes open, My mouth slightly drops.
' Now thats not typical,' we both think, again one slightly slower than the other.
A rather stunning redheaded lass was in the process of beating the tar sh*t outta some drunk idiot who probably came on to her one too many times.
The brutish drunkard is in the process of a windmill fist, attempting to knock the girl out from above. She juts both arms up, absorbing the blow with her forearms. Fluidly ,she extends her right foot out and kicks down, hard onto the mans upper thigh, giving him a rather painful charley horse and making sure his leg will have a limp for the foreseeable month. His leg gives in, and the poor guy begins falling forward. (TIMBER!!!)
With almost cat-like reflexes, she puts her weight on her front leg which is by now firmly placed back on the ground and darts backwards.
She then darts back in, extending her left knee up, his face rushing forward to headbutt it, squarely with his nose. The force of the blow knocks the man back, doing a half backflip, probably not on purpose, and reeling into a very accomodating table.
At this point his buddy, another brutish man, is in the midst of picking up a bar stool, most likely not intending to give her a seat; well, not in the polite context at least.
I draw my heavy plasma pistol out, it hums briefly, as I take quick aim.
The green bolt zips into the bar stool with precision reserved for, well a non-drunken person, shattering the wooden stool, sending bits of shrapnel everywhere. Ironically, little bits plunged into the mans face; where this not a serious moment, I probably would laugh at the sight.
He snaps his eyes towards me rather sheepishly holding a stool leg, the look a child with his hand in the cookie jar has right when the parent walks in.
She glances at me hastily before grabbing the man's cuff and tugging him close. Her left elbow crashes into his temple, instantly dropping the guy with a loud thud.
'Probably just killed the man, or put him in a very deep coma.'
Blood starts ooozing from his eye sockets an nose.
'Nope he's dead'
She stares at me for a moment, briefly saying thanks as she gathers her things and just as quickly leaves.
The table man crashes onto the ground as the accomodating table decides he's too heavy to hold up and gives way.
"Now Aye! 'old on dere just a sec.." my mouth staggers, before Hellsong clasps my back an shoves me in, calmly pointing at the 2 blokes on the ground.
She turns her head ever so slightly and I get the faintest impression that she smiles, but it coulda just been my drunken imagination talkin.
"Right," I mutter, vaguely recalling what just happened, and we make our way to the back booth. ( You know the booth where all manner of shadowy people go, the one in the dark corner with a small lamp that flickers on an off; well maybe not a small lamp, but the one in the corner)
We proceed to ingest another bottle o rum and manage to stagger back to our the hotel, compliments of the citizens taxpayer money.
'Our last raid!' I chuckle to myself.
Time: 7:00am (UTS)
Location: He doesnt have the foggiest idea
I awake, haphazardly attempting to get out of bed, succeeding only in faceplanting with the floor.
"oOy, my bloody 'ead" I mutter aloud.
(temporarily on hold will I work on the tc)
This post has been edited by Sleipnir : 08 February 2011 - 06:29 PM