Vriska Serket, The Masterix Massacre Mindflay
@arachnidsGlory
The call to 8attle. You can only weigh to value of your life when 8rought to the 8rink; enemy and opponent. Nothing more, nothing less. ( avatar: https://www.tumblr.com/tyronniesaur/8500869257 )
It has 8een twenty sweeps since that fateful fight. Wandering around a dead session, killing anything that moved. In the face of constant quarrel, you saw fit to erode your mind and philosophy to the tenets of com8at. Honed, you sat alone further refining your a8ility to fight, and in turn, you 8ecame an indomita8le killing machine. 8ut now, you stand alone, with no friends in a dead world of your own design. And it is all your fault.
I am currently indulging in the human facility and/or realm that is The Seven Eleven for I thirst, and I hunger, and I am tired of having the game print me such gormless meals.
Masterix; the portmanteau of Master and Asterix, greek /asteriskos/, Little Star. In my dominion I sit alone; Master of the Little Star of dying Skaia. Massacre; a perpetual acknowledgement of what my actions led up to and what I did to pass the time thereafter. Perhaps a sin for certain, 8ut remorse is a more complex topic that doesn't come as easily. Mindflay. A rejection of my Ancestor's Mindfang; I have long since surpassed the childhood notions of whimsy reading her era of salacious adventures. My strength no longer is that to 8ear teeth; I am so much more. Flaying is an act of clean, professional death. Neat, quick, tidy........ 8ut not a 8loodless affair. And so therein is how my title came to 8e.
The only sane, rational thing to do when feeling that devious pang of love flo8ing around your heart in yearning of companionship is to simply make another sword.
7eah i bet
Anyways, 8ack to the usual!
LOG - 06082026 I am two hundred and fifty thousand human dollars richer after performing at that one Dave's sanctioned little party in the cafe. Though I felt out of my element 8eing in someplace so pristine and well-kept, the audience could not hold 8ack from my hypnotics chords peddled along my red Stratocaster. For a moment, I could 8elieve that the 8attle and all that was wrought was 8ut a distant memory of the past, 8uried in one particularly 8ad decision that somehow through a circuitous journey of self discovery had 8een forgiven. 8ut those are dreams, and dreams are thoughts that confuse process with real action. I was paid and praised for my performance, and with that, I returned to the quiet emptiness of the 8arren world I 8eheld. That lovely guitar was once again put away for the firmness and certainty of the 8lade, and my eyes were glazed as the reality I grew comforta8le slipping 8ack in again. I have got to get the fuck out of here. Until next time.
A sharpened 8lade that remains unused is worthless in purpose. 8ig Stick Diplomacy is meaningless without practice 8ehind it. Do not dawdle; pick up that 8lade and fight like your life depends on it every single waking day.
i THINK IT HELPS IF, a sEER OR SOMETHING ALONG THOSE L1NES, gUIDES THE BLADE,
Whenever I get 8usy flexing my chops on my guitar, I usually start out with some heavy hitting Mars Volta classics that let me go to town running the chords everywhere. It never gets old playing Meccamputechture from memory.
Not aging means the outfit still looks good on me.
(( source: gkswls0413.tumblr.com/post/184279391694 ))
One of the 8lessings of god tiering is that my ligaments never worsen through age, my 8ones never hollow through time, and my skin never fades. I can 8attle forever and ever. Forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever.
awrrrruff!!!! @w@ i like the latex!!! it reminds me of my old uniform :)
oh same!!!!!! mine was less shiny though...... perverts would always draw my uniform way shinier hehe ... i think i get why now #suggestive
I don't know what to feel, seeing so many Johns and their vari8nts on this site. 8efore the 8attle I undertook so long ago, my feelings 8urned concupiscent as I had hoped to facilitate contact to the other side after my victory. Instead, I 8eheld a door destroyed and a victory slipped from my hands. Still, I did not regret what I did, 8ut those feelings carried with me for a while. Now, I must say, there isn't much left in my heart to feel anymore. When dedicated to the heat of 8attle, life is simpler that way. A slim 8inary of you, and the o8stacle to cut down. That therein is my peace.
First time?
You. I did not expect an iteration of you here on this we8site. I didn't expect you capa8le of speech, either.
Yeah we don't tend to talk much. Or they did. I'm better.
Are you? That excites me. I'm 8etter, too. When I first fought you, at that moment I thought I had reached the peak of my power. 8ut the last twenty-ought sweeps have hum8led me to the reality that I wasn't even close. In training to pass the time, many thoughts ran through my mind. Only one recurred... "What if we fought again, now?" So. Ready to put your money where your mouth is, mutt?
Ehhhh later. Busy right now. I'm sure you know how it goes and all of that blah blah.
The more I read of this place, the stranger it strikes me. 8ut there are a few of you here who carry the spirit of a good fight. On the m8tter, I can approve.
LOG - 06052026 It has 8een twenty sweeps since that fateful fight. It has 8een ten sweeps since I extinguished all remaining life in this system. Now, it has 8een one sweep since the light of Skaia 8egan dimming out. Scrolling the endless, mindless repetitions of digital data within my palmhusk, I stum8led upon this site. It intrigued me; no sign of it had ever appeared 8efore, and yet like the sirens call, it allured me further in. In silence, I scrolled through the identities of the endless possi8ilities that existed here. Of old friends who hadn't aged a sweep, and those who are remarka8ly much older. Only one thing screams to me; "You need to test their com8at capa8ilities, and understand their mettle." If at all else, if there isn't an interesting fight, it would at least 8reak the growing monotony of the sweeps passing 8y; doing your daily repetitions, mastering every stroke of the 8lade, keeping it sharp against the stone. There's only so long 8efore you crave the sparks and cracks of conflict again. Now, you've taken up writing a diary in pu8lic; just like your ancestor, perhaps, though you've long since moved on from that insecurity and made your own niche. You figured it would 8e easier to convey the literature of your life to the masses instead of writing a massive 8ook. Modernization is good. Sitting in this tar trap of a session, isn't. Until next time.
i like fighting!!!
its ok! it wont be the first time ive died duelling a vriska :) my kismesis and i have killed each other over and over and over!!! mostly me killing her though ;) #suggestive
It has 8een twenty sweeps since that fateful fight. Wandering around a dead session, killing anything that moved. In the face of constant quarrel, you saw fit to erode your mind and philosophy to the tenets of com8at. Honed, you sat alone further refining your a8ility to fight, and in turn, you 8ecame an indomita8le killing machine. 8ut now, you stand alone, with no friends in a dead world of your own design. And it is all your fault.
