My AIM is the same as here. Busy at the moment. Go ahead and send me an IM so I have you on my list in the future. It'd be nice to talk to someone on the inside. Army, right?Hicrodonma wrote...
Well then I'd like to welcome you to the brotherhood of the Infantry. And if you'd like some info my AIM is legato4949. I'll hook a future brother up.
The Official Migrant Fleet of Tali'Zorah fans
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gkillerrin
, avril 06 2010 05:11
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#243926
Posté 21 juillet 2010 - 11:34
RiptideX1090
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Retour en haut
#243927
Posté 21 juillet 2010 - 11:34
uhdnrt
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My guess is continuous. It seems to have taken a couple of weeks/months for the cerberus cronies to get indoctrinated froma dead reaper. Who knows how long with an active reaper - but it based off of proximity. Once away from it, certain powerful people (benezia, saren), managed to start to break free of the indoctrination, so it is likely both distance and time exposed.Formis_Sage wrote...
Does anyone know If you have to be under influence of Indoctrination all the time (Days, weeks) without pause to become indoctrinated. Or it's enough to get near Reaper for example for one hour, then after few days for 2 days.... ?
#243928
Guest_michaelrsa_*
Posté 21 juillet 2010 - 11:35
Guest_michaelrsa_*
Guest_michaelrsa_*
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Hey Rip, you've decided to start writing Guardian again, right?
If so, I'm glad. We could use something that's not from Shep or Tali's POV on here.
If so, I'm glad. We could use something that's not from Shep or Tali's POV on here.
#243930
Posté 21 juillet 2010 - 11:37
RiptideX1090
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michaelrsa wrote...
Hey Rip, you've decided to start writing Guardian again, right?
If so, I'm glad. We could use something that's not from Shep or Tali's POV on here.
Yeah.
You guys want to see what I have so far?
#243931
Posté 21 juillet 2010 - 11:38
Titanium Man
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RiptideX1090 wrote...
michaelrsa wrote...
Hey Rip, you've decided to start writing Guardian again, right?
If so, I'm glad. We could use something that's not from Shep or Tali's POV on here.
Yeah.
You guys want to see what I have so far?
Explain. With words!
#243932
Posté 21 juillet 2010 - 11:39
RiptideX1090
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Hicrodonma wrote...
Aye. I be Army.
Cool. I've considered the Marines, but I know I'll likely go in Army and work my way up to Ranger. Hope to anyway.
Anyway, thank you, and again, welcome home.
#243933
Posté 21 juillet 2010 - 11:40
RiptideX1090
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Pain.
Garrus Vakarian’s entire world was pure, agonizing pain. His face burned with the intensity of wildfire, fresh shrapnel still smoking against his flesh, continuing to burn into him. He wanted to scream, wanted someone, anyone, to hear him, to help him. He reached for his rifle, as if guided by instinct. It was the only comfort he had left, a damaged, broken old piece of ceramic. Some part of him knew it was always going to end this way, dying alone, on a station where nobody would care, where nobody would mourn him. He had welcomed it. He always knew it was suicidal to come here, to be a vigilante where the odds were literally a million to one. He hadn’t had much left to live for after the Normandy was lost, after Shepard had left his world.
Shepard.
Garrus felt hands over his armor, rolling him onto his back. He was greeted with the face of a dead SpecTRe. The title never seemed so appropriate. That’s exactly what Shepard had been; a ghost, an apparition of light amongst the sea of darkness that the dying turian had drowned himself in. Garrus’ eyes met Shepard’s. They stared at each other for a moment, two dead men whose fire still burned, despite the wick having been long since spent.
“Garrus!” Shepard’s voice is laced with concern, and possibly fear. It was a tone Garrus had only heard Shepard use once before, on Virmire. That didn’t bode well.
Garrus tries to speak, to say something, goodbye, or maybe that he’s sorry for all of this, for trying to be the hero that Shepard was, and letting it end in such a disaster. The words don’t come out, only a strangled gurgling sound as he chokes on his own blood, now seeping from down his face to the back of his throat.
“We‘re getting you out of here Garrus, just hold on!” Shepard’s eyes never break themselves away from Garrus’, almost as if willing him not to go. Shepard’s hand finds his, gripping it, giving him an outlet for the pain, a way to hold on to the world around him. “Radio Joker, make sure they‘re ready for us!” Shepard’s voice drips with urgency, sending a shiver down Garrus’ spine. If Shepard is scared, the damage must be bad. That didn’t bode well for him at all. One of Shepard’s companions responds, sending a mayday signal via their omni-tool. Garrus doesn’t hear what they’re saying, focusing all of his energy, all of his being on Shepard’s face.
“Come on Garrus, just hang in there.” Shepard’s voice has gone soft, trying to sooth Garrus’ racing heart, hoping to slow the loss of blood. One of his companions gently applies medi-gel to his face, sending waves of fresh pain down his neck. He tries to move, tries to scream, and again, the only sound that emanates from his mutilated throat is the sick gurgling of his own blood. Shepard forces Garrus back onto his back, preparing him for another round of medi-gel.
“I‘m sorry Garrus. Help is on the way. Just stay with me.” Garrus can feel himself slipping. The turian vigilante’s will to live has been tested in ways that would break even the hardest of his kind over the past two years, but the logical, tactical, analyzing part of his mind already knows the truth. He’s lost too much blood. He’s leaving here in a body bag. Almost as though sensing his will weakening, Shepard’s hand grips Garrus’ harder.
“I still need you, Garrus,” Shepard says, his voice quiet, calm, almost weak. After a long silence, Shepard feels Garrus’ hand grip his own, gently at first, then with a grasp that would shatter a lesser man’s bones. Being rendered mute no longer matters, the half dead alien’s meaning is clear.
I’ll be here if you need me.
---
Garrus lazily opened his eyes. He had been resting his head on his palm, quietly waiting for his meal to arrive at the small restaurant where he had chosen to spend his shore leave. Shepard had decided it would do the team some good to take a day or two to rest before jumping through the Omega 4 Relay. His team had been running ragged, and it was clear they needed time off to relieve some stress. Suicide missions were tense enough as it was, but going into one with a weary crew would be about as effective as a volus with brittle bones punching a krogan body builder in the chest.
Garrus had been spending a great deal of his time thinking in solitude. It was one of the reasons he spent so much time alone down in the gunnery station on the Normandy. It gave him time to reflect, and the calibrations necessary to keep the weapons in top form also had a very Zen appeal. It was probably one of the reasons turians had become so accepting of human Buddhism; a turian’s mind was conditioned for discipline, and anything that helped foster a meditative state, such as cleaning a rifle or calibrating armaments, was useful in achieving and maintaining that discipline.
Of course, Garrus himself had never had much patience for religion. He hadn’t had much patience for much of anything really, with the possible sole exception of sniping. Something about cradling a scoped rail cannon in his heavily armored arms brought him a clarity of mind he couldn’t quite achieve otherwise. Calibrations helped, but nothing could best the final exhale of air before steadying the shot and slowly pulling back the trigger. If there was another kind of peace in the universe, Garrus had never experienced it. Even here, on Illium, on shore leave for some rest and relaxation, Garrus’ mind couldn’t help but wander to thoughts of tragedy and violence.
The brooding turian’s thoughts returned to his time as Archangel. Guardian of the lost souls of Omega. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten the name exactly, who coined it, or even what it had meant when he first heard the news vids flashing the latest story of a Blue Suns warehouse in flames and attributing the deed to the newest upstart to try and fix the station. When he finally did discover it’s meaning, he actually laughed at the irony. Someone out there had likened him to a mythical being of light, protection, and selflessness. Garrus couldn’t help but feel a bit sour at the notion. He may have been a protector at heart, but he certainly didn’t feel worthy of such an esteemed title as Archangel. Given with what the people of Omega had to work with, he could certainly understand their thinking, but knowing his own motivations and reasons for his decision to move to Omega, he certainly didn’t feel very deserving of the praise he had received.
Shepard’s death had hit him hard. All of Garrus’ time in the military, all his time at Citadel Security, none of it had been as meaningful as his time with Shepard. He’d never met anyone like him. His father, Executor Pallin, they were blind, stubborn fools, using the rule book as some kind of security blanket, afraid to step outside it’s safety net even when it meant the innocent suffered and the guilty got away. Not Shepard. Shepard did it for all the right reasons, and he actually got things done that way. He didn’t just stop the criminals, he saved people from them. It was more than anyone else that had ever shoved their ideals down his throat had done. Shepard was more than a comrade, more than a mentor. He had saved Garrus from his father’s blind teachings, from C-Sec’s choking red tape, and most importantly, from himself.
Garrus turned his head, catching his reflection in a nearby window. His face was heavily scarred, as was his armor. It gave him a monstrous appearance. It was appropriate he thought. The flesh finally matched the monster who wore it. Garrus began absentmindedly playing with his glass of water, seemingly lost in the fluid’s swirling dance, his mind lost somewhere between reflection and depression.
Garrus had a serious mean streak. He new that. Hot headed, his father had said. Garrus knew it was more than that though. It wasn’t enough to catch criminals, he wanted to see them suffer, just like they made those they victimized suffer. Wasn’t that the point of justice, to protect the innocent and punish the guilty? Garrus had seen horrors throughout his life that had left him jaded and cynical. He’d never forget his stint in the turian military, the first time he had taken on a batarian pirate gang. It was a high-risk operation, but that hadn’t fazed him in the slightest. The youngest and brightest of the Vakarian clan kept a cool head and a tactical mind. He never lost a fight. Fought a few to a draw, maybe, but never lost.
What confidence and teachings he had gathered hadn’t lasted past the airlock. The sight of what the batarians had done to the passengers of the turian frigate they had taken would haunt him for the rest of his life; children screaming as the implants in their skulls came to life for the batarian’s amusement. Garrus and his team had taken special care to make sure no batarian left that hell hole with less than fifty bullets in their corpses. One for each victim. Seeing the cruelty and harsh reality of the galaxy first hand had shaken Garrus’ beliefs to the core, his father’s lessons lost on a heart left bitter and angry at the injustice and decay that choked the innocent and honest. The more time he spent in the military and C-Sec, the more Garrus craved punishing the criminals he so desperately fought. His frustration only compounded as the people the turian officer spent so much time and effort bringing to justice were so casually released back onto the streets with little more than a slap on the wrist. C-Sec was soft, unwilling to properly avenge those left to rot by a society that didn’t care. Murder, rape, slavery, and nothing Garrus did seemed to so much as make a dent in it.
The investigation into Saren had been the final straw. When the inaction of the people who were sworn to uphold galactic law and order refused to act as a madman went about with an A.I. army, attacking colonies, there was something wrong. Garrus had been disgusted with Executor Pallin, as well as the Council. Their complacency had nearly cost the galaxy it’s life. It was fortunate they had Shepard to charge in and save the day.
Commander Shepard. Human. Ex-Alliance Military. Current Cerberus Operative. First Human Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. Garrus ran over the commander’s impressive resume in his head. He knew it all by heart. Every deed. Every action. He knew his philosophy, his thought process, everything he possibly could without actually being the one wearing the N7 armor. He knew that Shepard favored a right handed posture, but was more or less ambidextrous.
Garrus Vakarian’s entire world was pure, agonizing pain. His face burned with the intensity of wildfire, fresh shrapnel still smoking against his flesh, continuing to burn into him. He wanted to scream, wanted someone, anyone, to hear him, to help him. He reached for his rifle, as if guided by instinct. It was the only comfort he had left, a damaged, broken old piece of ceramic. Some part of him knew it was always going to end this way, dying alone, on a station where nobody would care, where nobody would mourn him. He had welcomed it. He always knew it was suicidal to come here, to be a vigilante where the odds were literally a million to one. He hadn’t had much left to live for after the Normandy was lost, after Shepard had left his world.
Shepard.
Garrus felt hands over his armor, rolling him onto his back. He was greeted with the face of a dead SpecTRe. The title never seemed so appropriate. That’s exactly what Shepard had been; a ghost, an apparition of light amongst the sea of darkness that the dying turian had drowned himself in. Garrus’ eyes met Shepard’s. They stared at each other for a moment, two dead men whose fire still burned, despite the wick having been long since spent.
“Garrus!” Shepard’s voice is laced with concern, and possibly fear. It was a tone Garrus had only heard Shepard use once before, on Virmire. That didn’t bode well.
Garrus tries to speak, to say something, goodbye, or maybe that he’s sorry for all of this, for trying to be the hero that Shepard was, and letting it end in such a disaster. The words don’t come out, only a strangled gurgling sound as he chokes on his own blood, now seeping from down his face to the back of his throat.
“We‘re getting you out of here Garrus, just hold on!” Shepard’s eyes never break themselves away from Garrus’, almost as if willing him not to go. Shepard’s hand finds his, gripping it, giving him an outlet for the pain, a way to hold on to the world around him. “Radio Joker, make sure they‘re ready for us!” Shepard’s voice drips with urgency, sending a shiver down Garrus’ spine. If Shepard is scared, the damage must be bad. That didn’t bode well for him at all. One of Shepard’s companions responds, sending a mayday signal via their omni-tool. Garrus doesn’t hear what they’re saying, focusing all of his energy, all of his being on Shepard’s face.
“Come on Garrus, just hang in there.” Shepard’s voice has gone soft, trying to sooth Garrus’ racing heart, hoping to slow the loss of blood. One of his companions gently applies medi-gel to his face, sending waves of fresh pain down his neck. He tries to move, tries to scream, and again, the only sound that emanates from his mutilated throat is the sick gurgling of his own blood. Shepard forces Garrus back onto his back, preparing him for another round of medi-gel.
“I‘m sorry Garrus. Help is on the way. Just stay with me.” Garrus can feel himself slipping. The turian vigilante’s will to live has been tested in ways that would break even the hardest of his kind over the past two years, but the logical, tactical, analyzing part of his mind already knows the truth. He’s lost too much blood. He’s leaving here in a body bag. Almost as though sensing his will weakening, Shepard’s hand grips Garrus’ harder.
“I still need you, Garrus,” Shepard says, his voice quiet, calm, almost weak. After a long silence, Shepard feels Garrus’ hand grip his own, gently at first, then with a grasp that would shatter a lesser man’s bones. Being rendered mute no longer matters, the half dead alien’s meaning is clear.
I’ll be here if you need me.
---
Garrus lazily opened his eyes. He had been resting his head on his palm, quietly waiting for his meal to arrive at the small restaurant where he had chosen to spend his shore leave. Shepard had decided it would do the team some good to take a day or two to rest before jumping through the Omega 4 Relay. His team had been running ragged, and it was clear they needed time off to relieve some stress. Suicide missions were tense enough as it was, but going into one with a weary crew would be about as effective as a volus with brittle bones punching a krogan body builder in the chest.
Garrus had been spending a great deal of his time thinking in solitude. It was one of the reasons he spent so much time alone down in the gunnery station on the Normandy. It gave him time to reflect, and the calibrations necessary to keep the weapons in top form also had a very Zen appeal. It was probably one of the reasons turians had become so accepting of human Buddhism; a turian’s mind was conditioned for discipline, and anything that helped foster a meditative state, such as cleaning a rifle or calibrating armaments, was useful in achieving and maintaining that discipline.
Of course, Garrus himself had never had much patience for religion. He hadn’t had much patience for much of anything really, with the possible sole exception of sniping. Something about cradling a scoped rail cannon in his heavily armored arms brought him a clarity of mind he couldn’t quite achieve otherwise. Calibrations helped, but nothing could best the final exhale of air before steadying the shot and slowly pulling back the trigger. If there was another kind of peace in the universe, Garrus had never experienced it. Even here, on Illium, on shore leave for some rest and relaxation, Garrus’ mind couldn’t help but wander to thoughts of tragedy and violence.
The brooding turian’s thoughts returned to his time as Archangel. Guardian of the lost souls of Omega. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten the name exactly, who coined it, or even what it had meant when he first heard the news vids flashing the latest story of a Blue Suns warehouse in flames and attributing the deed to the newest upstart to try and fix the station. When he finally did discover it’s meaning, he actually laughed at the irony. Someone out there had likened him to a mythical being of light, protection, and selflessness. Garrus couldn’t help but feel a bit sour at the notion. He may have been a protector at heart, but he certainly didn’t feel worthy of such an esteemed title as Archangel. Given with what the people of Omega had to work with, he could certainly understand their thinking, but knowing his own motivations and reasons for his decision to move to Omega, he certainly didn’t feel very deserving of the praise he had received.
Shepard’s death had hit him hard. All of Garrus’ time in the military, all his time at Citadel Security, none of it had been as meaningful as his time with Shepard. He’d never met anyone like him. His father, Executor Pallin, they were blind, stubborn fools, using the rule book as some kind of security blanket, afraid to step outside it’s safety net even when it meant the innocent suffered and the guilty got away. Not Shepard. Shepard did it for all the right reasons, and he actually got things done that way. He didn’t just stop the criminals, he saved people from them. It was more than anyone else that had ever shoved their ideals down his throat had done. Shepard was more than a comrade, more than a mentor. He had saved Garrus from his father’s blind teachings, from C-Sec’s choking red tape, and most importantly, from himself.
Garrus turned his head, catching his reflection in a nearby window. His face was heavily scarred, as was his armor. It gave him a monstrous appearance. It was appropriate he thought. The flesh finally matched the monster who wore it. Garrus began absentmindedly playing with his glass of water, seemingly lost in the fluid’s swirling dance, his mind lost somewhere between reflection and depression.
Garrus had a serious mean streak. He new that. Hot headed, his father had said. Garrus knew it was more than that though. It wasn’t enough to catch criminals, he wanted to see them suffer, just like they made those they victimized suffer. Wasn’t that the point of justice, to protect the innocent and punish the guilty? Garrus had seen horrors throughout his life that had left him jaded and cynical. He’d never forget his stint in the turian military, the first time he had taken on a batarian pirate gang. It was a high-risk operation, but that hadn’t fazed him in the slightest. The youngest and brightest of the Vakarian clan kept a cool head and a tactical mind. He never lost a fight. Fought a few to a draw, maybe, but never lost.
What confidence and teachings he had gathered hadn’t lasted past the airlock. The sight of what the batarians had done to the passengers of the turian frigate they had taken would haunt him for the rest of his life; children screaming as the implants in their skulls came to life for the batarian’s amusement. Garrus and his team had taken special care to make sure no batarian left that hell hole with less than fifty bullets in their corpses. One for each victim. Seeing the cruelty and harsh reality of the galaxy first hand had shaken Garrus’ beliefs to the core, his father’s lessons lost on a heart left bitter and angry at the injustice and decay that choked the innocent and honest. The more time he spent in the military and C-Sec, the more Garrus craved punishing the criminals he so desperately fought. His frustration only compounded as the people the turian officer spent so much time and effort bringing to justice were so casually released back onto the streets with little more than a slap on the wrist. C-Sec was soft, unwilling to properly avenge those left to rot by a society that didn’t care. Murder, rape, slavery, and nothing Garrus did seemed to so much as make a dent in it.
The investigation into Saren had been the final straw. When the inaction of the people who were sworn to uphold galactic law and order refused to act as a madman went about with an A.I. army, attacking colonies, there was something wrong. Garrus had been disgusted with Executor Pallin, as well as the Council. Their complacency had nearly cost the galaxy it’s life. It was fortunate they had Shepard to charge in and save the day.
Commander Shepard. Human. Ex-Alliance Military. Current Cerberus Operative. First Human Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. Garrus ran over the commander’s impressive resume in his head. He knew it all by heart. Every deed. Every action. He knew his philosophy, his thought process, everything he possibly could without actually being the one wearing the N7 armor. He knew that Shepard favored a right handed posture, but was more or less ambidextrous.
Modifié par RiptideX1090, 21 juillet 2010 - 11:40 .
#243934
Posté 21 juillet 2010 - 11:41
Formis_Sage
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I think when you became Indoctrinated, you can't fully get yourself from it's influence, Benezia only sealed part of her mind before Indoctrination and Saren was only thinking about turning against Nazara but weren't able to so he killed himself, action not against Nazara nor against us, neutral.uhdnrt wrote...
My guess is continuous. It seems to have taken a couple of weeks/months for the cerberus cronies to get indoctrinated froma dead reaper. Who knows how long with an active reaper - but it based off of proximity. Once away from it, certain powerful people (benezia, saren), managed to start to break free of the indoctrination, so it is likely both distance and time exposed.Formis_Sage wrote...
Does anyone know If you have to be under influence of Indoctrination all the time (Days, weeks) without pause to become indoctrinated. Or it's enough to get near Reaper for example for one hour, then after few days for 2 days.... ?
I just need to know if you have to be under influence of Indoctrination all the time without any pause to become Indoctrinated.
#243935
Posté 21 juillet 2010 - 11:44
Formis_Sage
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Great, Rip, this FF was totally amazing, it's good to see continuing.RiptideX1090 wrote...
<EPIC Garrus brosnip>
#243936
Posté 21 juillet 2010 - 11:46
RiptideX1090
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Formis_Sage wrote...
Great, Rip, this FF was totally amazing, it's good to see continuing.RiptideX1090 wrote...
Still so much to do...
#243937
Posté 21 juillet 2010 - 11:48
Formis_Sage
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There is always too much things to do. I say, enjoy every moment because it won't be better.RiptideX1090 wrote...
Still so much to do...Formis_Sage wrote...
Great, Rip, this FF was totally amazing, it's good to see continuing.RiptideX1090 wrote...
#243938
Posté 21 juillet 2010 - 11:49
Hicrodonma
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Very nice Rip. And I wish you luck on Rangers. I'd try to get it in your contract. But we'll save the military talk for Aim.
#243939
Posté 21 juillet 2010 - 11:50
RiptideX1090
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Formis_Sage wrote...
There is always too much things to do. I say, enjoy every moment because it won't be better.RiptideX1090 wrote...
Still so much to do...Formis_Sage wrote...
Great, Rip, this FF was totally amazing, it's good to see continuing.RiptideX1090 wrote...
That isn't very condusive to an artist or writer's thinking.
Everything can be better.
But thanks. I appreciate teh sentiment, if nothing else.
#243940
Posté 21 juillet 2010 - 11:54
Formis_Sage
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Garrus also said that he's expecting the worst because then there is a small chance he will be pleasantly suprised. He has a good point but it's not the best way of thinking all the time.RiptideX1090 wrote...
That isn't very condusive to an artist or writer's thinking.Formis_Sage wrote...
There is always too much things to do. I say, enjoy every moment because it won't be better.RiptideX1090 wrote...
Still so much to do...Formis_Sage wrote...
Great, Rip, this FF was totally amazing, it's good to see continuing.RiptideX1090 wrote...
Everything can be better.
But thanks. I appreciate teh sentiment, if nothing else.
#243941
Posté 21 juillet 2010 - 11:55
RiptideX1090
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Hicrodonma wrote...
Very nice Rip. And I wish you luck on Rangers. I'd try to get it in your contract. But we'll save the military talk for Aim.
I won't be heartbroken if I don't get in. The only thing I DO have my heart set on is becoming a sniper. Been a dream for years. I'm a good enough shot, I know I could do it. But, yeah, this isn't the place.
#243942
Posté 21 juillet 2010 - 11:56
RiptideX1090
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Formis_Sage wrote...
Garrus also said that he's expecting the worst because then there is a small chance he will be pleasantly suprised. He has a good point but it's not the best way of thinking all the time.
It's the only way I know how.
#243943
Posté 21 juillet 2010 - 11:56
Seth Burns
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Well if people are talking militarily, I'll just spew out a fact that few probably care about and say that I'll more than likely join the Marines once I'm through with highschool.
#243944
Posté 21 juillet 2010 - 11:57
RiptideX1090
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Seth Burns wrote...
Well if people are talking militarily, I'll just spew out a fact that few probably care about and say that I'll more than likely join the Marines once I'm through with highschool.
Best of luck, though you'll need more than that in the Corps, I think.
#243945
Posté 21 juillet 2010 - 11:58
Formis_Sage
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"Enjoy every moment because it won't be better."
You will learn to get maximum from every moment so it's not neccesarily bad. Only if that maximum is at the expense of the others.
You will learn to get maximum from every moment so it's not neccesarily bad. Only if that maximum is at the expense of the others.
#243946
Posté 21 juillet 2010 - 11:58
Hicrodonma
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I wouldn't recommend the Marines and that's not Army vs Marines bias.
#243947
Posté 22 juillet 2010 - 12:00
Formis_Sage
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In some way it's a bit similar to what I said.RiptideX1090 wrote...
It's the only way I know how.Formis_Sage wrote...
Garrus also said that he's expecting the worst because then there is a small chance he will be pleasantly suprised. He has a good point but it's not the best way of thinking all the time.
#243948
Posté 22 juillet 2010 - 12:02
Seth Burns
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Hicrodonma wrote...
I wouldn't recommend the Marines and that's not Army vs Marines bias.
Why would you not recommend it? Just wondering.
#243949
Posté 22 juillet 2010 - 12:04
Formis_Sage
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Moving to another location, not safe here. Will be back
And here is some music Megatrax - Presidential Crisis
And here is some music Megatrax - Presidential Crisis
#243950
Posté 22 juillet 2010 - 12:05
Lividity Jones
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Blah blah armed forces blah blah blah depressing blah blah not Tali blah blah...
Holy **** Riptide out of ****ing nowhere.
Holy **** Riptide out of ****ing nowhere.
