Birras:
Special video announcement regarding the RP.

You son of a-

Birras:
Special video announcement regarding the RP.

*bows*

We are not worthy.

Birras:
Special video announcement regarding the RP.

EA does it one better.

lostclause:

Birras:
Special video announcement regarding the RP.

EA does it one better.

TeHe

Now for the love of christ on crutches can we start this and let Dasterdous join later.

Angus Young:

lostclause:

Birras:
Special video announcement regarding the RP.

EA does it one better.

TeHe

Now for the love of christ on crutches can we start this and let Dasterdous join later.

Seconded. Either that or we find someone else to join.

lostclause:

Angus Young:

lostclause:

Birras:
Special video announcement regarding the RP.

EA does it one better.

TeHe

Now for the love of christ on crutches can we start this and let Dasterdous join later.

Seconded. Either that or we find someone else to join.

We start tomorrow. Dastardos can join if he's in time, or I boost my own gang's strength. Either way I'm tired of this waiting crap.

And I intend to cut off Birras' legs for rickrolling my RP.

Octorok:

lostclause:

Angus Young:

lostclause:

Birras:
Special video announcement regarding the RP.

EA does it one better.

TeHe

Now for the love of christ on crutches can we start this and let Dasterdous join later.

Seconded. Either that or we find someone else to join.

We start tomorrow. Dastardos can join if he's in time, or I boost my own gang's strength. Either way I'm tired of this waiting crap.

And I intend to cut off Birras' legs for rickrolling my RP.

*Hands over bonesaw* Here you can use this.

Octorok:

lostclause:

Angus Young:

lostclause:

Birras:
Special video announcement regarding the RP.

EA does it one better.

TeHe

Now for the love of christ on crutches can we start this and let Dasterdous join later.

Seconded. Either that or we find someone else to join.

We start tomorrow. Dastardos can join if he's in time, or I boost my own gang's strength. Either way I'm tired of this waiting crap.

And I intend to cut off Birras' legs for rickrolling my RP.

Haha! I forsaw your attack and covered my legs with molten titanium!

Birras:
Haha! I forsaw your attack and covered my legs with molten titanium!

...I seem to have have allied with someone with a very odd way of thinking about things. Have you thought that all the way through? Or even a bit?

Azraellod:

Birras:
Haha! I forsaw your attack and covered my legs with molten titanium!

...I seem to have have allied with someone with a very odd way of thinking about things. Have you thought that all the way through? Or even a bit?

I'm not sure I understand the question...

When the titanium solidifies (which should be very quickly, at room temperature of exactly 68.3 degrees Fahrenheit), my legs will be covered with a half-inch of battle ready armor plating, definitely capable of standing up to a bonesaw.

Birras:
I'm not sure I understand the question...

When the titanium solidifies (which should be very quickly, at room temperature of exactly 68.3 degrees Fahrenheit), my legs will be covered with a half-inch of battle ready armor plating, definitely capable of standing up to a bonesaw.

...but ...but ...oh never mind.

Azraellod:

...but ...but ...oh never mind.

Now you've got the right ideas when it comes to Birras.

Birras:

Azraellod:

...but ...but ...oh never mind.

Now you've got the right ideas when it comes to Birras.

Pfah! I mock you and your ineffectual plating. I patented the OctoLegLaser when I was negative eight years young. It was designed to sever legs, no matter their armour. It does not cut armour however, so I'm afraid that you'll have two stumps, extended by useless lumps of leg-shaped metal.

And if that fails I'll beat you with a ladle. Booyah!

So...How much longer?

darkenergy134:
So...How much longer?

At this point, about the time that the Moon's orbit degrades and we all die.

darkenergy134:
So...How much longer?

Octorok said we'd be starting today so hopefully soon.

OK if this does not start soon I quit

darkenergy134:
So...How much longer?

Sentinel10:

darkenergy134:
So...How much longer?

At this point, about the time that the Moon's orbit degrades and we all die.

You guys are so fucking impatient, honestly, calm the fuck down all of you. Do you have somewhere better to be that you cant wait a few days? Jesus Christ are you sitting on your computer every waking minute pressing F5 on this thread and holding a pistol to your head promising if it doesn't start soon you are going to end it all? I highly fucking doubt it.

And another thing, you think Octorok wants his RP to start off this way, with this many difficulties and problems before the thing has even started? No. I'm sure if it were up to him we would have started 2 weeks ago and already had 30 pages done, but it didn't work out that way and thats just how the ol' cookie crumbles. And maybe he has a job, friends, a girlfriend, a life and can't spend every moment tending to the needs of impatient RPers.

Angus Young:
OK if this does not start soon I quit

Oh your going to quit are you? I'm sure you have many important matters to tend to on the old internet eh? Whats the matter, is all this waiting cutting down on your lolcats time? Perhaps youtube has seen less viewing from you because you are so desperately waiting for
this RP to start. Quit making threats and being so damned impatient.

This rant has been brought to you by Shapsters.

Shapsters:

darkenergy134:
So...How much longer?

Sentinel10:

darkenergy134:
So...How much longer?

At this point, about the time that the Moon's orbit degrades and we all die.

You guys are so fucking impatient, honestly, calm the fuck down all of you. Do you have somewhere better to be that you cant wait a few days? Jesus Christ are you sitting on your computer every waking minute pressing F5 on this thread and holding a pistol to your head promising if it doesn't start soon you are going to end it all? I highly fucking doubt it.

And another thing, you think Octorok wants his RP to start off this way, with this many difficulties and problems before the thing has even started? No. I'm sure if it were up to him we would have started 2 weeks ago and already had 30 pages done, but it didn't work out that way and thats just how the ol' cookie crumbles. And maybe he has a job, friends, a girlfriend, a life and can't spend every moment tending to the needs of impatient RPers.

Angus Young:
OK if this does not start soon I quit

Oh your going to quit are you? I'm sure you have many important matters to tend to on the old internet eh? Whats the matter, is all this waiting cutting down on your lolcats time? Perhaps youtube has seen less viewing from you because you are so desperately waiting for
this RP to start. Quit making threats and being so damned impatient.

This rant has been brought to you by Shapsters.

While I appreciate the valiant defence of my honour in my absence, it really is my fault. I made a promise to start yesterday that I did not keep and I take responsibility for that. Thankyou for the very notable rant on my behalf.

I'm just coordinating things with Birras-the-Flatulent and then I'm going to kick start this bastard of a thing. I've been trying to get a final player in without reopening the RP, and think of ways to play with a man down. As it is, I have no solutions and we'll just have to do.

And in reality I'm just very lazy. True, my girlfriend and friends exist but didn't contact me yesterday but for the awesome party I was at and I can't be bothered with a job at 14. Too much work in my free time - having said that though, I did find the time to go to a party...

It is now a quarter past seven in the evening. I intend to have this started tonight.

Shapsters:

darkenergy134:
So...How much longer?

Sentinel10:

darkenergy134:
So...How much longer?

At this point, about the time that the Moon's orbit degrades and we all die.

You guys are so fucking impatient, honestly, calm the fuck down all of you. Do you have somewhere better to be that you cant wait a few days? Jesus Christ are you sitting on your computer every waking minute pressing F5 on this thread and holding a pistol to your head promising if it doesn't start soon you are going to end it all? I highly fucking doubt it.

And another thing, you think Octorok wants his RP to start off this way, with this many difficulties and problems before the thing has even started? No. I'm sure if it were up to him we would have started 2 weeks ago and already had 30 pages done, but it didn't work out that way and thats just how the ol' cookie crumbles. And maybe he has a job, friends, a girlfriend, a life and can't spend every moment tending to the needs of impatient RPers.

Angus Young:
OK if this does not start soon I quit

Oh your going to quit are you? I'm sure you have many important matters to tend to on the old internet eh? Whats the matter, is all this waiting cutting down on your lolcats time? Perhaps youtube has seen less viewing from you because you are so desperately waiting for
this RP to start. Quit making threats and being so damned impatient.

This rant has been brought to you by Shapsters.

dear God. Thank you, thank you, thank you for this wonderful person.

Octorok:
...with Birras-the-Luxury-Yacht...

Note:While it's spelled Luxury Yacht, it's pronounced Throat Warbler Mangrove.

For the purposes of this post, please assume that it's yesterday again.

Cyclops laughed uproariously as the two bikers wrestled on the floor, in the mud, the blood and the beer. As the rain came down harder still, and the wind battered the filthy metal doors of the gang's home, full-patch "Spin" was coming down hard on the delivery boy. Poor teenager was nervous about a pizza callout to the notorious clubhouse, and didn't know what to expect from the bikers. From what he'd heard, they'd either cut your nuts off or tip you twenty quid, depending on their level of drunkenness and the overall mood of their group.

Ian North had dreaded the fate he might receive from the bikers when they realised that his pile of pizzas was getting colder. The number of pizzas meant that they had to be delivered down the ramp at the side of the clubhouse, not the front door, and the rain made the long walk uncomfortable, not to mention dampening the pizzas.

It was a common joke to do this, order more than 20 pizzas and have them delivered downstairs. And on such a night at this, a cold and stormy Halloween, it made for a distraction.

Cyclops clapped along in rythm to the punches, and the rounds of laughter from the score of bikers around the scene. But his mind was elsewhere. He thought of the sea, and of a particularly rough patch near Cornwall that interested him particularly. As he grinned his eyehole wrinkled and made his face look that much more gruesome in the shadows and dark moodiness of the night.

//////////////////////////

The wind tore at the frail hull of the ship, and the terrible wrath of the sea tossed the small vessel about like a child's plaything. The salt spray lashed up against the sides, washing the deck with each wave. The captain made a desperate struggle to hold the steering lock in place, straining his muscles to hold on. He had to land his cargo, no matter the costs. If he crashed then the coastguards would get involved, and if that happened, he was a dead man.

There were only three people on board, and the other two were having equal difficulties. The designated navigator was at the computers, trying to see through the fuzz of the storm to find the coast, and the other guy, that biker, Wood, was manhandling the barrels from the hold into crates on the deck.

As the vast whoosh of a wave crashed into the ship, he slipped and dropped the barrel on his foot. The captain could not hear the man, but could see his face contort with pain and swear at the sea. Were it not for the struggle to hold the ship on course, he might have laughed. As it was, a bead of sweat wormed its way agonisingly down his spine, irritating him to the point of insanity.

A rush of relief struck him as the bead dropped to the floor. At the same time the boat struck the rocks.

//////////////////////////

He stubbed out the near invisible cigarette end on the soaking sand, and stood on it with his boot, out of habit more than necessity. Red griamced as he faced the pounding waves, and was fearing the worst. It wouldn't be the first boat to crash on this treacherous stretch, and sod's law dictates that if the worst thing possible can happen, it will.

He had one ear turned towards the sea, facing the banks of rocks on his right. He began to panic about the consequences if this went wrong - how would he explain it to the Cyclops?

The water splashed annoyingly on his boots, the water lapping into his socks. He flicked his shoe to dispose of the water, and it shot off into the darkness.

"Fucking thing" he muttered angrily, before hopping tentatively forward to the eadge of the rocks. Just by the headlights of the van could he see his boot, floating in a pool gathered amongst some nearby rocks. He leant over to it, and at that exact moment, a very funny thing happened. He bent over to reach it, and sudden;y felt a sharp, dazzling pain in his neck, before he toppled forward, feeling nothing but the gentle wash of the sea against his face, the slow collection of blood and shingle filling his ear, and then - nothing.

Connor stared at the two wrestling on the ground in disgust. "Fucking weaklings." He thought to himself. He looked down at cyclops, but his mind was far away, only barely paying attention to the fight right in front of him. Lier sighed and leaned against the wall. "Where's the damn pizza?" He asked.

Corinthian didn't approve. They were at war damn it, now was not the time for drinking and wrestling, now should be a time of discipline, a time of training. Instead Cyclops was not preparing the gang, he was softening them. He watched the wrestling impassively. Normally he enjoyed a good fight but the problems were weighing too much on his mind right now.

"...and mix them together in a big jug," The Colonel concluded his drink order to the barkeep at the Demons' hideout. Of course, the barkeep already had this order memorized, as it was the exact same convoluted mixture of liquids he ordered every time something remotely good happened.

"Good news, boss?" asked the barkeep, while pouring some vodka into a large milk jug.

"Why, yes, however did you guess? I found a ten quid note stuck to the bottom of my shoe this afternoon, and I have information regarding a shipment that is a bit...important to the Dogs."

"Oh yeah?" replied the barkeep, barely paying attention as he grated lemon zest into the concoction.

"Yes, indeed. I have Shanks and Magical Trevor taking care of it right now," The Colonel paused to take a swig from the now-completed (and I use this term lightly) beverage, wiping a tear from his eye and sliding a dirty ten quid note over the counter. "Those Dogs will never know what hit 'em"

/////////////////////

Shanks smirked, as he often does while preforming his namesake. "Although I hate to lose a good knife, nothing beat watching a stiff float out to sea," Shanks paused to light a cigarette, and continued with Magical Trevor and his magical briefcase to the crashed ship.

The ship had a sizable gash in it, which made a convenient entry point for the pair of not-so-law abiding citizens. In their search for the cargo hold, they heard a meek cry for help from down the corridor. They found the captain, his legs pinned by a crate. "Thank God...please, help me..."

The pair of gangsters looked at each other and nodded. Trevor set down his briefcase and walked over to the man. "Sorry, nothing personal," were the last words the poor seaman heard before a steel toed boot came crashing down onto his face.

Upon arriving in the cargo hold, the pair were delighted to find that, aside from a couple of superficial dings and dents, the barrels containing the valuable cargo were unharmed. Shanks found a dead Dog of War partly covered by one of the barrels. He took the pocket knife from the deceased gent's pocket and placed it into his own. Trevor set down the briefcase once more and hefted one of the barrels, finding the weight to be about half as heavy as he would expect from a drum filled with oil.

As Shanks loaded the last barrel onto the lorry, he saw an approaching van of the Dogs' color. "Trev, get in the cab and prep a pipe."

Magical Trevor was known as such due to his near superhuman proficiency with explosives. The unfortunate Dogs in the pursuing van were about to learn as such. Trevor opened up his briefcase to reveal twelve segments of lead pipe each with a wick extending from them, and each in a fitted Styrofoam compartment. Trevor selected number three out of the bunch and uncurled the wick. Shanks hurriedly rushed into the cab, hand extended, to which Trevor bestowed the pipe bomb. Fiddling with his lighter, Shanks ignited the end of the wick and stuck his head out the window, staring straight at the van. "Closer...closer..." With a great heave, Shanks flung the device at the vehicle. The bomb exploded, the shrapnel shredding the tires and rupturing the break controls. The driver didn't know what had happened before he went careening into the open ocean.

Shanks and Trevor breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief before Trevor turned to Shanks and said "Want to go get a beer later?"

Connor became enraged. He walked to where the two members were fighting and threw them to opposite walls. He turned to face the gang "Dammit! We shouldn't be fighting each other! We are in the middle of a fucking gang war! We should be preparing for the enemy, not destroying ourselves from the inside and being so frivolous!" someone threw a beer can at him. Connor caught it in midair and crushed it. "Who...threw...that?" He asked. the whole room quieted, dreading his rage.

Cyclops groaned and stamped his foot, loudly, on an empty beer can. Although the whole room had gone deadly silent but for the whimperings of the battered teen in the corner and the heavy breathing of the biker lashing him earlier, Cyclops did not even look upset. Hell, he looked delighted.

"Atlas, shut the fuck up. We're not the military, this is how we train. Brothers. Comrades. That's our strength. Pump weights if you want to, but I'm not having my crew jogging round in the fuckin' rain." his face exploded into a grin again, making his eye look nauseatingly like it was closing.

"We are at war. I know that as much as any of you - I saw my own nephew beaten to death, and my wife's in hospital. But we're bikers. Free on the road, away from the confines of the law, or society. How many of you have said in your time as bikers - "Fuck the law"? Eh?"

His speech had lessened the tension slightly, but he could still see a dangerous tint in the giant's eye. "Look we deserve some relaxation. It's Halloween, the night is young, and I've got over sixty bikes in the pouring rain, fighting the war that we deserve a fucking break from. Plus I've got a nice little investment coming in tonight that ought to help us pay for some new toys." He spat on the floor to mark the end of the speech and marched over to the next room. "It's obvious there's worry in this room. Now out there", he pointed to the shattered sky, "I expect worry. You're in danger out there, fighting for your honour, and your lives. But in this place" again pointing, this time at the stripper in the corner and then gesturing around himself vaguely, "You should feel safe. Not just the sense of home in it or the alcohol, but the bulletproof walls, windows and doors, the stash of weapons and guns downstairs and the state of that street outside should help."

He paused, awaiting a reaction. "I've got some calls to make."

As Cyclops left to go make his calls, Cain turned to look at the teenager. "Jesus Christ..." he muttered, holding back tears. He ran up and put a hand over the teen's bloodied face. "Let's clean you up." He picked up a water bottle and began dampening a cloth with it. He used the cloth to wipe the boy's face. "I'm so sorry... Please, take this." He took a twenty out of his pocket and handed it to the boy.

Atlas walked past Cain. "Huh. Didn't see you as the sort who was kind to others. Especially after killing your brother." He turned to the pizza boy, who was turning away, trying to be a smaller target. "And you. Don't think for a second i stopped the fight because i felt sorry for you. Hell, i might have even gotten a punch or two in if not for the circumstances. And then... Well, let's just say you wouldn't be here if that happened. Now get the hell out of here before i change my mind."

Cyclops collapsed with a thud into the large office chair.

He looked desperate, wild even, raking his hair with his free hand. Sweat ran down his palms and his eyes were wide open.

At first he muttered a hoarse whisper, "Dead?", then jumped up and yelled down the phone, running on rage and adrenaline, "Where the fuck were Red and Spike's boys? Those bastards had better not be slacking off, or have scarpered." The voice on the other end of the phone continued to talk, and Cyclops looked nothing if not downright insane.

He threw the phone to the floor, wrenched open the safe and removed a sawn-off shotgun hidden in a compartment at the bottom of it. Shaking, he kicked the door of his office straight through and stormed into the clubhouse.

"Mount up! I want these fuckers found and I want their fucking heads on a platter!" he spat, his voice losing control.

"We've lost an entire goddamn boat of coke, and I've got eight dead bikers. Red and Circles were both chucked into the sea, but our guys found the remains of a van and we reckon that Spike and his lads were in it when some nutter blew it up."

He marched past the scene of the crying teen and the blood on the floor, before turning to the assembled mob of confused bikers.

"I don't give a shit who these bastards think they are, get armed and get on your wheels. Bikes only, I want this to be a message to these pricks." His leather coat swept across the filthy floor as he proceeded to the underground bike storage to retrieve his Harley.

"And someone phone Garden. I want our lawyers down there to settle things with the police in case we don't clear this mess up. And when that's done I want all available fighters on the warpath tonight." His eye swiveled rapidly, "I want guys brought in, I want bikes torched and at least one dead Avenger or one dead Demon, I don't care which." By now the clubhouse was alight with motion, and as two bikers vanished to summon the aid of the gang's allies and legal barriers, the rest were bustling with adrenaline, unsure of what they may be fighting.

Atlas smiled. "Nice." He pulled his gloves from out of his belt and put them one. he flexed his hand and punched a dummy someone had set up as a joke a while ago. when Atlas straightened up, the dummy was headless, eyes run though by spikes. He then grapped his bike chain and looped it around his chest, making sure that it only was on the toughened parts of his jacket. He ducked to get though the door and walked over to his bike.

Corinthian hung back to talk to Cyclops.

"Where're we planning on hitting? We gotta gut punch these suckers like they did to us, where should we do it?"

Cain grabbed a pistol and put it in his jacket before heading up to Cyclops and Corinthian. "Listen, 'Clops," he began. "We lost a few good men today, as well as that boat of coke, but right now, don't you think they'd be expecting retaliation." He looked at Cyclops for a second before turning to Corinthian. "If we're gonna storm a place, it better not be their base, because if we do, I betcha that the Dogs are gonna lose their hind legs." He grabbed a cigarette and put it in his mouth before lighting it and continuing his speech. "I don't wanna start a dispute here. But Cyclops... You can't let your feelings get the better of you. You'll either turn out as a faggot or dead."