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[chapa3]

Quarian ladies...Look at your Shepard. Now back to me. Now back at your Shepard. Now Back To Me! Sadly, he isn't me, but if he'd stop using lady scented body wash and switch to Old Spice he could smell like he's me. Look down, back up. Where are you? You're on a spaceship, with the man your Shepard could smell like. What's in your hand? Back at mine. I got it, it's 2 tickets to the Quarian dance musical you wanted to see. Look again. The tickets are now diamonds! Anything is possible when your man smells like Old Spice and not a lady. I'm on a varren.

Modifié par chapa3, 05 août 2010 - 05:18 .

[Lividity Jones]

NuclearBuddha wrote...


“Ia! Ia!” a voice croaked, like the rustle of crumbling ashes. To my shock, M. Arterius began to stir where he lay, loathsome vermillion light leaking from his horribly open eyes and mouth. Against all physical possibility, he rose, arms outstretched and held up to the abyssal night as he again began gasping foul obeisance to his otherworldly masters. Inspector Vakarian shouted and tried to grapple the Arterius-thing to the ground, and I would have gone to his aid, but I had espied something which drove all other coherent thought from my mind.

Worse than Zombie-Saren?

Ohohoho!

[MadCat221]

Collider wrote...

I'm... I'm scared now...

[nitefyre410]

Mukora wrote...

RedTracer7 wrote...
 So...
So you think you can tell....
Heaven from Hell?
Blue Skys from Pain?
Can you tell a green field, from a cold steel rail....
A smile from a veil
Do you think you can tell?

 

Is  delicious  slice  and fried with  Spicy brown mustard on bread ... Oh and it comes in BACON  flavor now too 

[Collider]

Go congratulate the Garrus thread on achieving 300 pages.

[Kalashnikov]

Collider wrote...

NuclearBuddha wrote...

???

i think my eyes just melted

[cannedcream]

NuclearBuddha wrote...

XXI: The Living End

In some respects, it is little surprise that subsequent to this experience I was the unwilling guest of an asylum for the mentally insane. The dreadful encounter has more than a little of the phantasmagoric or lunatic about it, and for perhaps months following I would have appeared as one utterly cracked. I was subjected to sights and sensations so far outside the realm of the ordinary or even the extraordinary that mundane existence can offer that for some time I myself questioned my sanity, and even my humanity. There was an immediate change in my perspective as that which I feared and had struggled so mightily to prevent began to come to pass. Such was this bizarre alteration in the very texture of how I experienced the world that even the staunchest skeptic, once subjected to the same adjustment, would have been disarmed of their cynicism and been compelled to acknowledge that forces beyond the scope of human comprehension were at work.

All that I beheld suddenly seemed brittle and false, as if painted upon a paper screen or the surface of a delicate glass ornament. I had only to stretch forth my hand, finger extended, I felt, and I might puncture the world itself and it would burst and vanish like a soap bubble. Such was the feeling that reality was little but a sham, I was positive that if I but took a single step to either side I might see behind it, like I had rounded a cheap stage backdrop. With this unwholesome acuity came new and more vivid heights of terror. There was no physical sensation to which I can attribute my apprehension, but I somehow knew that the sum of all fears known and unknown lurked behind this ephemeral partition.

“Ia! Ia!” a voice croaked, like the rustle of crumbling ashes. To my shock, M. Arterius began to stir where he lay, loathsome vermillion light leaking from his horribly open eyes and mouth. Against all physical possibility, he rose, arms outstretched and held up to the abyssal night as he again began gasping foul obeisance to his otherworldly masters. Inspector Vakarian shouted and tried to grapple the Arterius-thing to the ground, and I would have gone to his aid, but I had espied something which drove all other coherent thought from my mind.

*snip*

*glee* *glee* *bounce* *bounce* *glee*

[nitefyre410]

chapa3 wrote...

Quarian ladies...Look at your Shepard. Now back to me. Now back at your Shepard. Now Back To Me! Sadly, he isn't me, but if he'd stop using lady scented body wash and switch to Old Spice he could smell like he's me. Look down, back up. Where are you? You're on a spaceship, with the man your Shepard could smell like. What's in your hand? Back at mine. I got it, it's 2 tickets to the Quarian dance musical you wanted to see. Look again. The tickets are now diamonds! Anything is possible when your man smells like Old Spice and not a lady. I'm on a varren.

 

OMG... I can't breath...  LMAO...    laughing to hard 

[BTG_01]

High-five or grenade toss?

[cannedcream]

chapa3 wrote...

Quarian ladies...Look at your Shepard. Now back to me. Now back at your Shepard. Now Back To Me! Sadly, he isn't me, but if he'd stop using lady scented body wash and switch to Old Spice he could smell like he's me. Look down, back up. Where are you? You're on a spaceship, with the man your Shepard could smell like. What's in your hand? Back at mine. I got it, it's 2 tickets to the Quarian dance musical you wanted to see. Look again. The tickets are now diamonds! Anything is possible when your man smells like Old Spice and not a lady. I'm on a varren.

That guy's going to be in a movie soon.

[Kalashnikov]

chapa3 wrote...

Quarian ladies...Look at your Shepard. Now back to me. Now back at your Shepard. Now Back To Me! Sadly, he isn't me, but if he'd stop using lady scented body wash and switch to Old Spice he could smell like he's me. Look down, back up. Where are you? You're on a spaceship, with the man your Shepard could smell like. What's in your hand? Back at mine. I got it, it's 2 tickets to the Quarian dance musical you wanted to see. Look again. The tickets are now diamonds! Anything is possible when your man smells like Old Spice and not a lady. I'm on a varren.

brilliance, pure brilliance. still laughing 

[cannedcream]

BTG_01 wrote...

*snip*

High-five or grenade toss?

When Tali plays Hot Potato, she plays for KEEPS.

[NuclearBuddha]

Someone posted this a while back, and I really liked the rumpled, realistic look.

[chapa3]

I have win.

[RiptideX1090]

NuclearBuddha wrote...

Someone posted this a while back, and I really liked the rumpled, realistic look.

VERY much agreed.

It looks more organic than mechanical.

[Kalashnikov]

NuclearBuddha wrote...

Someone posted this a while back, and I really liked the rumpled, realistic look.

yikes, TBH it was intriguing until i got to her feet 
also: your avatar is going to give me nightmares

[nitefyre410]

Kalashnikov wrote...

chapa3 wrote...

Quarian ladies...Look at your Shepard. Now back to me. Now back at your Shepard. Now Back To Me! Sadly, he isn't me, but if he'd stop using lady scented body wash and switch to Old Spice he could smell like he's me. Look down, back up. Where are you? You're on a spaceship, with the man your Shepard could smell like. What's in your hand? Back at mine. I got it, it's 2 tickets to the Quarian dance musical you wanted to see. Look again. The tickets are now diamonds! Anything is possible when your man smells like Old Spice and not a lady. I'm on a varren.

brilliance, pure brilliance. still laughing 

 


Your laughing now but picture Garrus saying  this  its even funnier 

[NuclearBuddha]

RiptideX1090 wrote...
VERY much agreed.

It looks more organic than mechanical.

Also, dat gap, dem toes.

[cannedcream]

NuclearBuddha wrote...

Someone posted this a while back, and I really liked the rumpled, realistic look.

*snip*

It's like someone who's not quite Tali's size tried to slip into her suit. . .

[Lividity Jones]

cannedcream wrote...

NuclearBuddha wrote...

Someone posted this a while back, and I really liked the rumpled, realistic look.

*snip*

It's like someone who's not quite Tali's size tried to slip into her suit. . .

IT'S A TRAP!

[NuclearBuddha]

cannedcream wrote...
It's like someone who's not quite Tali's size tried to slip into her suit. . .

Or she got all mussed from a round of heavy petting.

[Mobius_118]

Gun story? Eh...may as well.



John Shepard always kept his equipment in check. It was his diligence in maintenance that saved his life during the Blitz. It was his dedication to the art of the rifle that allowed him to make the shots that mattered.



Every weapon in his arsenal was maintained in top form, his armor patched and replaced when needed. His love of the practical weapon was obvious. Instead of flashy weapons that boasted enhanced firepower at the cost of reliability, he stayed with the tools he trusted. The M-92 Mantis...One shot, one kill. The old saying was drilled into his head during training, and it's stuck with him ever since.



*This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine.



My rifle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life.



My rifle, without me, is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless. I must fire my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than my enemy who is trying to kill me. I must shoot him before he shoots me. I WILL...



My rifle and myself know that what counts in this war is not the rounds we fire, the noise of our burst, nor the smoke we make. We know that it is the hits that count. WE WILL HIT...



My rifle is human, even as I, because it is my life. Thus, I will learn it as a brother. I will learn its weaknesses, its strength, its parts, its accessories, its sights and its barrel. I will ever guard it against the ravages of weather and damage as I will ever guard my legs, my arms, my eyes and my heart against damage. I will keep my rifle clean and ready. We will become part of each other. WE WILL...*

[NuclearBuddha]

From the depths they came, though I cannot say for certain if I truly saw their emergence from the fathomless ocean on the far horizon or if this was merely the only metaphor my feeble mind could concoct to explain their appearance. They swayed and loomed hideously, forms grotesquely malleable as they shambled impossibly toward the coast. I can scarce describe them, for they fought against and eluded the eye, even as they commanded one to look upon their unholy magnificence, and gaze in worshipful awe. Their vast bodies hulked blackly, stark against the cold light of the stars, swelling and towering on an absolutely impossible scale, large enough I felt as diminished as might a bacterium perceiving an elephant. At times they seemed carved of stone, at others, gruesomely organic. Vast eyes compounded, slitted, and of types beggaring any description at all, opened and closed convulsively across its form. I babbled in terror at the sudden sensation of being watched, for they had taken notice, a vast, alien scrutiny that saw myself and all mankind as nothing more than crumbs to be swept from a tabletop. Below these bodies were abhorrently nautiloid heads, festooned with snapping beaks and maws enough to rend an ocean liner whole, each singing an ineffable song of nihilistic revelry . They dragged themselves on mechanically jointed tentacles, the ocean seething furiously at their passage, and even as all else seemed false, they were unmercifully real.

“Don’t look!” I screamed, or at least it is my fervent hope that I lent some warning to my companions, rather than merely staring helplessly. Miss Zorah’s eyes must have been turned away in any case for she did not cry out, and the constable was preoccupied with his mortal struggle against the Arterius-thing in its senseless adulation. There was almost nowhere left to look and not behold the Elder Machines, such was the horrible rapidity of their approach. Already the first had reached the shore, those whipping, segmented and appallingly mechanistic tendrils devastating the tiny homes of Greenmarsh, though it was not clear if mindless spite or idiot indifference motivated this carnage.