problematic z

get this hothead outta here

The plane lifts off the runway and CIA turns to the captive men, he pulls a gun from a holster and ***** it. CIA begins to yell, "THE FLIGHT PLAN I JUST FILED WITH THE AGENCY LISTS ME, MY MEN AND MINISTER TURNBULL HERE BUT ONLY ONE OF YOU!" he then gestures to the Celt with his gun. One of the soldiers grabs the Celt while another opens one of the emergency doors of the plane, CIA begins to yell again, "FIRST ONE TO TALK GETS TO STAY ON MY AIRCRAFT." Wind fills the room as the Celt's head is stuck out of the door. CIA runs over and presses the gun to the Celt's head. "WHO PAYED YOU TO GRAB MINISTER TURNBULL?!" he yells in the Celt's face before turning the gun away from his head and firing a shot into the air. CIA then stands up, screaming, "HE DIDN'T FLY SO GOOD! WHO WANTS TO TRY NEXT?" the CIA man grabs a third, unknown captive and screams in his face. "TELL ME ABOUT CHRISDENA, WHY DOES SHE WEAR THE MASK?" CIA pulls the hammer back on his gun, "LOTTA LOYALTY FOR A HIRED GUN!" Zachariah's voice is heard suddenly, CIA turns away from his captive and the door is closed. "At least you can talk! Who are you?" Zachariah speaks up again, his voice muffled by the bag, "It doesn't matter who we are. What matters is our plan." CIA leans forwards, pulling the bag off the man's head. To his surprise, it was not in fact Zachariah, but CHRISDENA HERSELF wearing an odd mask. "Nobody cared who I was until I put on the mask." she says. CIA appears troubled. "If I pull that off, will you die?" he asks. "It would be extremely painful." she replies. CIA, seemingly without thinking retorts "You're a big guy." Chrisdena looks him in the eyes, "For you." The plane flies over Melbourne CBD. "Was getting caught part of your plan?" asks CIA. "Of course!" replies Chrisdena. "Minister Turnbull refused our offer in favour of yours." she adds, "We had to find out what he told you. "Nothing.. I said nothing!" spits Minister Malcolm. Unbeknownst to CIA and his men, a large aircraft carrier hovers over the small private airplane. "Well congratulations, you got yourselves caught!" says CIA with a sarcastic grin. "Now whats the next step of your master plan?" Chrisdena narrows her eyes, flexing her abnormally large muscles. "Crashing this plane...-" Chrisdena slowly gets to her feet, "-WITH NO SURVIVORS."

Zachariah limps up towards a private jet, noticing a man staring at him. "I'm cia." says CIA before two men in military garb slam the buts of their guns into Zachariah's head, rendering him unconscious. Zachariah is dragged onto the plane and a bag is put over his head.

Zachariah darts through the bushes, despite bleeding heavily from his leg and face while limping heavily, he stops to catch his breath as he hears rushing air and looks up at the night sky and soon hears the deafening roar of jet engines. Zachariah grins widely, his teeth covered in blood. The young man continues his rapid limp onto the airfield, paying no mind to his pursuers.

Zacharius rises to his feet and wrings his hands as he looks over his shoulder, he begins to limp towards the side of the road, pulling the 1911 he had originally used against Bill Eastbo from the front of his pants and wiping the blood from it with his shirt before limping away into the bushes.

Zachariah looks up at Malcolm from beneath Geoffrey's corpse, he gives the Minister a smile before pointing at Garrett, "GREENIE SCUM! GET HIM TURNBULL!"

Zachariah crawls away from the wreckage and towards Geoffrey's body, lifting it over himself with the last of his strength and using it as cover.

"OH SHI-" The truck hit the left side of the vehicle with a colossal metallic bang, sending it flying through the air. the Celt's revolver firing past Zachariah's head by accident. Zachariah's head is slammed against the back of one of the seats as the vehicles connect, knocking him out could. The car lands on its roof and skids for several meters.

Zachariah's shotgun pellets ricochet off the bonnet of Geoffrey's car as he screams like a mad new south welshman, he glances back at the Celt with a mad look in his eye, he notices an incoming truck in the corner of his eye about to cross the path infront of the speeding vehicles.

Teacher Application: Mc Name: Sode1 Skype: Character: Adeon Magics known: Fire evocation. Magics to teach: Fire evocation Time Practiced: A really long time. About four years*.

Adeon winced as he peeled back a bit of scorched leather from his shoulder, overlooking the western sea where the beam relentlessly tore at the heavens. It was not because of the pain that he winced but because of the guilt that plagued his mind. Through bravery, skill and greed for coin the party had succeeded in destroying what they perceived to be the nexus of Blood Mage power in the realm, little did they think before embarking on such a suicidal job that the structure's destruction would act as a catalyst for a full blown Blood Sorcerer offensive upon the world and the guilt was on their shoulders. This was no longer a matter of coin. It was to fulfill the code.

A severely scarred man watches the murder occur coldly, unable to lift a finger to assist the Elf due to the code he follows. As Vulpes peels the skin from the Elf's skull right before him, he can't help but frown and fear that the onlookers believe his order to be responsible.

((If you're thinking about joining a human military, this is the place to be. Great guys OOCly and can always be relied upon for engaging and memorable RP.))

goodbye rosebro

fisstech aka sugar (cocaine)

ill miss u

Adeon looks at the posters, appearing somewhat disgruntled. "Well... What's the bloody reward?" he asks to himself while peeling one of the papers from the wall and looking over the two sketches with a frown, "Who does this kind of **** for free?"

Adeon catches word of the warrant, upon hearing of the reward he furrows his brow and frowns, throwing his arms up in frustration. "Three bloody hundred and fifty for a ploughing Lich? Even that prick Coren could pay better than that!" He huffs, leaning back in his seat and crosses his arms, "Mustn't be that much trouble if the reward is so little." The hunter turns towards one of his fellow Marked, muttering in a hushed voice, "Give this job to one of the newer lads, we've got bigger fish to fry."

A disgruntled, tired and dirty Hunter made his way through the rural areas of western Athera, searching tirelessly for signs that the Three Headed Beast had made its new home nearby. Each batting of a bird's wings made him flinch as he constantly looked to the skies with caution. The events in the Embermoor ravine had taken a toll on the Hunter's nerves despite his many years of experience, never had he seen so many experienced men die in the space of a few seconds due to the actions of a single beast. "No ordinary monster." he muttered to himself as he rememberd the words of a certain wise man that had spoken to him after the failed assault. The Hunter continued his journey along the south-western peninsula, determined to solve the problem he had created and to avenge the lives taken by the Hydra. He traced the sign of the Lorraine cross upon his chest as he trudged down an overgrown path. He frowned, knowing these may be his last few days alive.