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Devils of Glass City; Not everything is as it plans to be.
Topic Started: Nov 19 2007, 08:41 PM (6,353 Views)
Dude2000
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OoC: But I thought it was day... Whatever, we'll just say the sun hasn't been up long enough yet. It's dawn or something.


Mors stood before Chris with the collar materializing.


"...THE (censored)?!?!?!"



Meanwhile...


Gabriel and Rafar heard the obscenity shouted from the inside.

"Sounds like that wraps things up." Rafar said. He then flew off.

"Indeed...Farewell deathbringers!" Gabriel smiled as he fluttered off.



To be, or not to be: that is the question. To die, to sleep; no more; and by a sleep to say we end. To die, to sleep; To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub. For in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause. That makes calamity of so long life, for who would bear the whips and scorns of time when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, to grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the dread of something after death, the undiscover'd country from whose bourn no traveller returns, puzzles the will and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
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Twilight Sage
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A light applause was heard behind light; Xerus was still smiling, even though he could be next. "Well, that's three. Looks like you might want me to complete the collection. The only clever man to take me under his control was Edgar Allan Poe. No one else wil lget me."
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Top one is by Crash, and the bottom one is by RunawayRed.
Thanks to the both of you!
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Dude2000
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"F(censored) (censored) (censored)!!"


Mors sat down.


"...(censored)."



He gazed at the new deathbringer.

"Kill this (censored) please."



To be, or not to be: that is the question. To die, to sleep; no more; and by a sleep to say we end. To die, to sleep; To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub. For in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause. That makes calamity of so long life, for who would bear the whips and scorns of time when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, to grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the dread of something after death, the undiscover'd country from whose bourn no traveller returns, puzzles the will and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
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Shadow X
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Zion couldnt believe what happened..He stood there akwnolodging the situation...
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_________________________ My New Profile
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I AM SHADOW X R.I.P.
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Malceure
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Voltaire: "Leave it to Light to have planned this out already." Voltaire laughed hysterically, realizing how undeniably more interesting this will be than his previous life. Walking over to Light, he couldn't resist laughing at Mors. "It would seem you're not as smart as you think."
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Dude2000
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Mors scoffed.

"At least I lasted longer than you, child."

He then felt his collar and shouted another obscenity.


Meanwhile...


Rafar and Gabriel, in the dawn sky, soared through the air.

"You think he got caught?" Gabriel asked innocently.

"He sounded just like he did all those years ago. So I'd say yes." Rafar responded.

"Hmph, well, I'm sure he's already planning some sort of 'accident' to befall his master."

"Indeed. I wonder what it is..."



To be, or not to be: that is the question. To die, to sleep; no more; and by a sleep to say we end. To die, to sleep; To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub. For in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause. That makes calamity of so long life, for who would bear the whips and scorns of time when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, to grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the dread of something after death, the undiscover'd country from whose bourn no traveller returns, puzzles the will and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
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Malceure
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Voltaire's face returned to his normal lazed expression.

Voltaire: "Now that we have had our battle for today, mind if we turn in? I am sure we can get started in the morn..." Voltiare looked up, noticing that it was already 6:00 A.M. "Nevermind..."
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Dude2000
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Mors stood above up and walked over to the wrecked display of eggnog and grabbed a gallon of it.

"Bottom's up."

He then started chugging the whole thing.



To be, or not to be: that is the question. To die, to sleep; no more; and by a sleep to say we end. To die, to sleep; To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub. For in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause. That makes calamity of so long life, for who would bear the whips and scorns of time when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, to grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the dread of something after death, the undiscover'd country from whose bourn no traveller returns, puzzles the will and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
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Malceure
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Voltaire's Thoughts: "I think you need money to by eggnog too. Oh well, guess we will find out soon enough."

The cashier came walking down, horrified by Mors display of gluttony.

Cashier: "Sir! You have to pay for those..."

Voltaire was quick to sweep her off of her feet, holding her gracefully in a cliche romatic pose.

Voltaire: "My dear. I do hope you have not forgotten of my proposal. It would be my honor to take you out on Friday night, perhaps 8 o'clock?"

Cashier: "Oh... oh okay... yes." She blushed, enjoying the moment while it lasted.
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Dude2000
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Mors continued drinking and finished it off. He then threw the empty carton back at the display.

He then withdrew his wings back into his jacket.

"This is going to be a long 80 years."



To be, or not to be: that is the question. To die, to sleep; no more; and by a sleep to say we end. To die, to sleep; To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub. For in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause. That makes calamity of so long life, for who would bear the whips and scorns of time when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, to grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the dread of something after death, the undiscover'd country from whose bourn no traveller returns, puzzles the will and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
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Malceure
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Voltaire walked the cashier to the door, waving optimisically as she did the same. That is, until she was out of sight, where he returned to his normal tone.

Voltaire: "I guess we can try and enjoy it as much as possible. All I know is I have a date this Friday, whatever that is." He lied down on the floor, not exactly full of energy in the mornings.
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Dude2000
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"How can you enjoy serving anyone, let alone a human?"

He looked outside and pointed to an old man with a walker, moving to his car.

"That human is just awaiting his death, and I cannot grant it. It's foolish to taunt a dog with food in your hand, for he will bite."

He turned back to Voltaire.

"We may not have the ability to directly bite...but the power of indirect influence is not to be underestimated."



To be, or not to be: that is the question. To die, to sleep; no more; and by a sleep to say we end. To die, to sleep; To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub. For in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause. That makes calamity of so long life, for who would bear the whips and scorns of time when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, to grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the dread of something after death, the undiscover'd country from whose bourn no traveller returns, puzzles the will and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
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Malceure
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Voltaire: "Do not fear, Mors. There is a surplus amount of Deathbringers in Glass City anyways. They will pick up the slack. That is, if Light doesn't get to them first." He laughed, though he knew it may very well happen.
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Dude2000
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Mors sighed.

"What do we even do? Sit around and act as his butler?"



To be, or not to be: that is the question. To die, to sleep; no more; and by a sleep to say we end. To die, to sleep; To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub. For in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause. That makes calamity of so long life, for who would bear the whips and scorns of time when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, to grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the dread of something after death, the undiscover'd country from whose bourn no traveller returns, puzzles the will and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
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Card Hero
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"perhaps when i'm finished" light chuckled "but i have much i must do before that point. for now, we shall return to my house."
light started to walk out of the store, awaiting for the three deathbringers to follow him.
[nor_cash=0,0]BACK TO THE ADVENTURE!

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