WIP
Earth Apple setting sun, you told me you were the one.....
I can't get the fucking song out of my head.....
Then again, any thoughts I have, I can't get out of my damn head.
And ya know, every time I go to talk....it just ends up as prolific gibberish, probably better off plastered on the walls of a sanatorium.
.....
Maybe, just maybe, there's a reason for that.
My story isn't that special, or that's what I've always thought. I'm really just like every other soldier around here. We run in troupes, packs of little monsters that couldn't escape the toll their little experiments took on us. I tried to fight it for far longer than the others did. I had a Ph.D. in neurosciences. I attended university. Was promised a reprieve of everything that the war had to offer for the soft-minded fools. But, I fed into the idea that I could serve my time and be done with it. Forget the pains of what I saw and continue my life. Raise my children, watch my wife grow gray as I grew fat.
I was an imbecile to think any of that was any shred of truth.
My body took the brunt and painted me with the blush of a raving lunatic.
I might spew the devil's words in morbid and twisted moral phrasing, but I'm still very much here.
See the guy in the pic up above? That used to be me. I was an ugly motherfucker. My wife says I was one of the most handsome bastards to roam the lands...
Once upon a ....a...
"STRIP THE FLESH AND SALT THE WOUND!!"
...fuck me...
-Shoot Him Already, He's got a fucking broken leg, like the shit you see on a lame horse.-
As Krieg aged into his 20's, he started at a high demand university. He was learning everything that a man could ever want to gain notoriety in the world. Krieg began to make a name for himself as his practice found itself hosting him to begin the building stages. He worked day and night to become something from the slums he'd started his childhood. He'd also stolen a name to make himself. But raising the ranks required certain sacrifices. Sacrifices like answering the call to his country.
Starting as the simple infantry soldier, Krieg was the kind of man who found himself taking on additional bounties to save his family from being another statistic of a quickly crumbling economy. He couldn't live with them, and they couldn't live in the barracks.
Vault hunting was decent enough to keep a roof and a few beds, food on the table.
Was he supposed to keep a family? No.
But it was noticed. Ignored for his skills of hunting man and eliminating enemies for the greater good, the government drafted Krieg into the Crimson Raiders. They feared his fall into the hands of a militia, or worse.
Service before self! For your country!
And all that babble!
For a while, there was a stint of pride in his work. After all, he'd been charged with leading a forward scouting team. Tasked with reporting to the rear, enemy line placements were soon obliterated, and battles were easily won.
But...not all military careers are the extensive and lengthy tours that you see in those 'Your country needs you!' brochures. Stars and officer ranks were far out of reach for these heroes. For Krieg.
When soldiers dropped like flies after one particularly nasty round of government exploitation, the military forever labeled his unit as recuses monkeys, to live out the horrors only they could dream of.
Krieg's unit was intentionally exposed to everything known to man.
Over...
and over...
...and over...
Eventually, they ventured to chemical warfare testing and exposed every last one of them to a form of gas that permeated their entirety...changing and morphing everything about them.
Unassisted in barren land there was nothing else left.
Abandoned by his nation, his comrades, and his family, Krieg realized that the death of his platoon and an obliterated biological family wasn't worth the tears.
Gone were the smiling faces of his wife and two microcopies...
"OVER HERE, MY SWEET MEATS, YOUR PRINCE OF JUSTICE AND GENOCIDE HAS SOMETHING TO SAY: Gone are the days of the tentacle and the age of the gods and mercy far away...We are fighters of the middle, the second act in the three-part MEAT play, and I WILL WIN BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR!"
It was time to start over.
Despite walking away, nothing ever indeed finished its torture.
Functionality slowed as Krieg began to spout off idiotic phrases without a shred of control. There was no off switch. A constant spattering of mashed letters occasionally conveyed messages, but the more straightforward means of communication were lost.
Krieg eventually became antithetical to his past.
What fractured remnant of his Ph.D. awarded psyche remained suddenly became an inner voice.
"I can't see her anymore... She was so clear and bright... but the blood is in my eyes, and now I can only watch the ocean of blood... Its waves crash against my forehead again and again, AND I JUST NEED TO LEARN HOW TO SURF!!"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-KRIEG-
34 years old.
Male
Romantically prefers women, but will fuck anyone for the sake of fun.
6'9
Bald
Heavily Muscular
Career Psycho
Weapon of choice: Saw on a stick.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
RULES:
Must be over 21.
Novella to Multi Para
I ain't your next IRL romance.
I come and go as I please.
Plot Preferences: Gore, war, romance, vault hunters, bounty hunters. I don't get phased by much.... Surprise me, but I am not going to have him fuck 24/7. Give a man's dick a break every once in a while.
Comments
Now he's fucking blabbing off about green? Seriously? Negan wasn't growin' a damn garden, but in the same instance... He had little knowledge that blood was actually good for greener pastures... Must be the vitamins. The unsightly grin that tugged at the Alpha males features was enough to make anyone's skin crawl. His eyes large and round from excitement that he'd gained from his newfound friend.
In all truth, it took a hell of a lot to impress the barbed-wire-bat-weilding sociopath, and he's gotta say... That shit was interesting.
"You do like a little of the crimson bath, don't ya'?" Biting his bottom lip, knowing himself what blood makes him do and feel. The sticky, red purge of ones ailments was enough to give the man a skip in his step. An abrupt sniffle left him as he cleared his throat, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sniggered. "Now, excuse the ever loving fuck outta me, if I'm being too forward with this... But do you wanna go on an adventure with me?" Negan asked in the earnest. "Just us buds, ya know?" A slight squint in the beady tawny orbs, as he kept his heady gaze on the man before him.
Negan typically had a difficult time making... Friends.. As it were. No skin off his dick if it didn't work out, but when it did... It ment a lifetime supply of awesomeness. "Maybe poke around a few shit holes around here and have some fun... Play around with a couple lives here and there for shits and giggles?"
[I would absolutely love to plot or write with you some time! Feel free to drop me a line if you're available! ^^" ]
|. Seems like it!! Looking forward to fucking shit up with you, my friend.
"You suggesting that we have a need for a fountain during this shit stack?"
Negan was pretty sure his bevy of bellas were enough of a garden for him. People to slaughter.. Women to fuck, and his personal dick brigade of friends to keep everyone in line seemed great at the moment. What else was the Alpha male missing?
Ohhh right... Substance. Eh fuck it. He preferred the latter.
|. Been curious about this profile for a while now...
Give a man's dick a break every once in a while.
^^ xD Haaaa.
[Thanks for accepting. Correct me if I'm wrong, but your character is based on the playable Psycho from Borderlands 2, right? I friggin' love that game. It's definitely in my top 5 list. I hope we can plot some time?]
“You’re gonna scream, just like she did; open mouth, open heart, blood and noise forever piercing my skull, poisoning me with its psychopathic purple liquid. We watched it all, and felt the knife edge split down the middle… CAN YOU HEAR ME?.” ― Krieg
I got chu, boo. What ya need help coding with?